The devil’s in the details, they say. All those little nuances, those nooks and crannies of circumstance and causation. This is doubly important in the study of demonology.
She crosses the hall like lightning on speed, cracking the air in a rolling roar of sex and lust and phwoar. Why cult priestesses insist of wearing corsets, I do not know. It definitely seems to drive their little minions mad with desire. It’s probably a staff motivation thing.
I’m what you’d call…a contractor. I’m brought in when the high ups are concerned about quality control. Product assurance is important when you ship demons wholesale and I provide the guarantee. So as she sidles up to me, with those hips swaying, with those lips sighing and those eyes begging me to touch her; kiss her, love her,take her, (and let’s just say it wasn’t the first time), I sighed. These women seduce and sell themselves for power and lust and please I can hear the judgments a mile off you hypocritical bastards. Men do it too, they’re just not as good at it.
So she sidled, and batted those eyelashes as if to say, hello fuck me now and lets forget about work. They do this when their nervous. Of course she’d left off half a ritual sacrifice, skimped on proper tallow and clearly had no sense of appropriate demonic theatrics.
She had to go, she was a liability. So then I sidled too, that’s what I do. I tell the bosses who’s doing well and who’s fucking up the apocalypse one typo at a time and I get a great big pay check. It generally works out well in the end. The fat cats get paid, and you always have a supply of new sacrifices as you weed out people who just don’t have pride in their work.
Of course, there was a time when those women managed to distract me. heaving bosoms and leather, who wouldn’t be? Right? But no more, no sir. Oh I still fuck them. Don’t get me wrong. I just remember to fire them afterwards.
The devils in the details, it’s why I get hired so much.
Yours eternally.
Satan.
