Lucifer, the prince of darkness, made a rather unusual decision. He resolved to marry a mortal woman, but with a specific preference: he sought a virtuous woman, one whose heart was pure and untainted by the sins of the world, and corrupting her would be the ultimate challenge for him that would bring him great pleasure.
Lucifer believed that by perverting a woman of such purity, he could prove his dominance over humanity and further establish his reign of darkness. Little did he know that this decision would set in motion a series of events that would forever change the course of his own existence.
Seeking counsel, he turned to his trusted demon companion, Crowley, who possessed a keen understanding of human nature. He sought guidance on how to differentiate between a good girl and a slut.
"It's rather straightforward," Crowley remarked. "Give a little catcall, and the woman who turns around is most likely a slut."
Lucifer, in his human form that surpassed any male model, embarked on a journey across the Earth. His appearance was striking, an embodiment of allure that seemed almost otherworldly. With features that defied perfection, he exuded a charisma that was impossible to ignore.
He moved through different landscapes and cities, employing catcalls to attract the attention of women he found appealing. Amazingly, every woman who heard him whistle turned around, enamoured with his striking appearance, and expressed a desire to engage in sinful activities with him—a request he most definitely didn't reject. He'd fucked his way through two-thirds of the fertile female population and was on the verge of giving up.
As Lucifer stood on a sidewalk, a petite woman with long ebony hair framing her pale face passed by him, her focus consumed by her thoughts. She seemed utterly oblivious to his presence, not sparing him even a glance. However, the captivating sway of her hips, causing her luscious figure to dance with each step, drew Lucifer's attention, kindling a desire within him.
Eagerly hoping she might be the one he sought, Lucifer mustered a confident whistle, yearning for her not to respond. To his astonishment, she continued walking, her lack of reaction positively surprising him. He tried again, offering a more assertive catcall. Nonetheless, her focus remained elsewhere, seemingly unaffected by his efforts to engage her.
In a mere heartbeat, Lucifer's nefarious heart surged as he clutched her hand, guiding her into the unfathomable depths of Hell. The descent was an unsettling voyage, a path that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. Lucifer's grip on her hand remained firm as they traversed through a shadowy veil that separated the mortal realm from the infernal domain. The shift between worlds was both fluid and startling, an enigmatic transition akin to stepping through an unseen gateway that connected separate realities.
As they approached the heart of Hell, the air became thick with an oppressive weight, a sense of malevolence pressing down on her shoulders. The scene before her was a terrifying depiction of suffering and desolation, a nightmare that defied imagination. Obsidian rock spires jutted from the landscape, their jagged shapes warped and contorted by the touch of ancient maleficence. Molten lava rivers snaked through the landscape, resembling fiery veins that pulsed with an otherworldly intensity, casting an eerie and macabre glow on the surroundings.
Her eyes darted around, wide and fearful, as she took in the nightmarish inhabitants of this realm. Monstrous beings writhed and moved stealthily through the murky shadows, seemingly conjured from the depths of nightmares.
Their bodies contorted and twisted in a macabre dance that echoed the realm's torment. Eyes gleaming with malice locked onto her, a disturbing reminder of the darkness that pervaded their existence. The air seemed to reverberate with an eerie chorus of hushed voices, whispers carrying the remnants of forgotten cries, and the never-ending reverberation of anguish. Lucifer's presence in the eerie scene exuded an unsettling aura of command and power.
As they approached a looming structure, he led her forward with purpose, her steps faltering as she tried to match his confident stride. A swarm of demons awaited them, their eyes glittering with unsettling anticipation.
"What is your name, little girl?" inquired a demoness, her voice tinged with an otherworldly curiosity.
"Lily," she uttered, her voice trembling slightly.
In response, the demoness took her hand, guiding Lily through winding corridors until they arrived in a dimly lit chamber. Within, a haunting sight awaited—a black wedding dress draped over an ornate pedestal.
As realisation dawned on Lily, the gravity of her situation settled like a heavy fog. Her breath caught in her throat, and the enormity of the impending wedding, cloaked in the sinister ambience of Hell, became a stark reality she was now forced to confront.
Lily's gaze lingered on the black wedding dress, its fabric exuding an aura of darkness that seemed to devour the very light around it. Her apprehension mingled with an undeniable curiosity, creating a storm of emotions that churned within her.
The demoness gently lifted the dress from the pedestal and beckoned Lily to come closer, holding it up as if it were an ethereal gift. Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her, Lily was drawn to the dress, its dark allure capturing her attention.
Lily allowed the demoness to help her into the gown with trepidation and an odd sense of surrender. The fabric engulfed her with its cool texture against her skin, and for a brief moment, she felt as if she were becoming a part of this realm.
As the dress settled around her, Lily caught her own reflection in a nearby mirror. The image that stared back at her was both familiar and strangely altered, a visual representation of the crossroads she had reached. It was a reflection of the woman she had been and the woman she might become in the embrace of darkness.
Taking cautious steps, Lily moved along the corridor toward the grand hall where Lucifer awaited, her gait betraying a sense of insecurity. Lucifer sat upon the throne, his gaze transfixed on the scene unfolding before him. The very sight of Lily—enveloped in the dark allure of the wedding dress—seemed to captivate him, holding him in a thrall that was both intoxicating and haunting.
Lucifer's eyes bore into her, a mixture of admiration and a profound sense of possession, as if her every movement was scripted by his desires. Lily embodied his vision, an obedient good girl, and Lucifer couldn't wait to corrupt her innocent pussy.
He rose from his seat and extended his hand toward hers. Their fingers intertwined, a foreshadowing of the enchantment that was to come. A tender kiss sealed their bond, allowing him to share a fraction of his formidable power, gifting her with immortality.