After minutes that felt like hours, Desdemona returned with a pair of slippers and a robe made of what appeared to be black silk—if they had silk here. It looked luxurious, a shimmering shadow draped over her arm. As she unfolded it, I saw that a four-pointed crown was embroidered in golden thread on the back. Was that a symbol of me?

She’d approached so that she stood between me and the blue-skinned Majordomo Ilmatar. With a sigh, he stepped to the side so that he could see me, then bowed from the waist. “Please don’t hesitate to call upon me if you need anything, Dark Lord.” Then he turned and marched out, leaving only the High Priestess and myself, now alone beneath a vaulted ceiling, the cold air still biting at my skin.

For a moment I held out my hand as if to take the robe from her, and she gave me an incredulous look. It took me a moment to realize she obviously intended to drape me in it herself. Putting on my own clothes was a little out of character, apparently, for someone with “Great” in their name.

I awkwardly held out my arms, trying to react as little as possible when the impossibly soft fabric touched my skin. The robe felt like wearing nothing at all, but it completely banished any feeling of the cold. As far as I could remember, it was the most comfortable thing I’d ever worn.

Despite myself, I let out a sigh of contentment. Desdemona moved in front of me and tied the sash tightly around my waist, then knelt at my feet and placed my feet gently into the slippers.

Once she’d returned to her feet, she performed a similar bow as the congregation had earlier, placing her hands together. “I trust this is more to your liking, Master. If you’re ready, please follow me.” When she arose, her hair had fallen in front of her eyes. With a brush of her hand, she tucked the loose strands behind her ear, and looked up at me, the hint of a smile on her face.

I suppose I must have been smiling back at her, because for the first time in this strange place, I felt a measure of warmth.

“Show me the way,” I said.

She led me from the temple, down a long hallway furnished in blood red carpet. Our path was lit by iron sconces on either wall as we walked alongside each other—her with confidence, me hesitantly, trying to match her pace as best I could.

When we reached the end of the hallway, Desdemona walked through a small door into some kind of pod which seemed to scale the side of the tower. My eyes widened. They have elevators here? I wondered what powered them, but I was still worried about asking too many questions. Desdemona already seemed unsure of me, and I didn’t want to take my chances.

I hadn’t expected to find this kind of technology. I wished I knew what other false ideas I held about this place. I would have to be cautious.

After boarding the elevator, she leaned forward and pressed a button at the very top of the panel, which was covered in some kind of demonic rune I didn’t recognize.

No sooner had that thought entered my mind, than I realized the rune translated to “Master’s Sanctum.” I had an entire floor of this place to myself? But I had no idea how I’d understood what the rune—a carved web of crossing, jagged lines—actually meant. It seemed I could understand both the written and spoken language of the demons.

My eyes scanned the other buttons, passing over such tantalizing destinations as: Temple Sanctum, where we had apparently started from, Council Chamber, Hall of War, Hall of Pleasures, Temple Library, Temple Hospital, Priestess’ Dormitories, Archives, Servant’s Quarters, Kitchens, Upper Dungeons, Lower Dungeons…

The tower layout wasn’t the only thing I noticed, to be honest. When Desdemona leaned forward to press the button, my eyes couldn’t help but wander as she bent over. I found myself lost in her firm, toned legs. The shape of her ass couldn’t help but show through her robes, her curves undeniable as she bent forward. Even under such loose, flowing garments, her body could not be hidden.

Truly, I felt she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I felt my cock begin to harden, and in a panic I turned my gaze back towards the window before she was done.

Looking out the window, I saw a similar vista as I had from the temple. Grey storm clouds still hovered in the distance, but now I could see what lay underneath them. The rain was falling on a drab city surrounded by towering black walls. The buildings were all made from the same dark stone, and were covered in sharp edges and unnecessary spikes. They looked like they’d been copied and pasted from block to block. The city appeared to be located in some kind of massive valley, surrounded as far as I could see by the dagger-like mountains I’d already seen from the temple. Rain streaked down from the farthest clouds. The storm would reach the city soon.

Outside the walls, the city appeared to be surrounded by a deep chasm which separated us from the valley beyond. A massive stone bridge spanned the chasm, and a giant gate controlled access to the city. The tower we were ascending appeared to be the tallest building around. As I looked up, I noticed a faint red glow from behind the clouds. Was that the sun? It looked so small and dim from here.

“I hope you are pleased to see your domain after so long, My Lord,” Desdemona said.

I turned to her, trying to behave casually, though in truth part of me was still remembering her bending towards that elevator button. An image of it flashed through my mind, unbidden. I blinked my eyes and looked away, wondering what the hell had gotten into me. I hadn’t felt this horny since I was a teenager. Had being placed in this new body done something to me?

“Sure,” I said stupidly, not knowing what else to say but dreading the silence even more. My mind tried to think of something to say, of anything besides Desdemona Fell standing so close to me that if I leaned even slightly our shoulders would touch. I turned back to the window, trying to compose myself. “I have missed the endless rain.”

She stepped closer to the window, right after me. Our shoulders touched, and she smiled up at me. I was sure now that I was taller than I had been in my previous life, but she was only a couple inches shorter than me. She had long legs, I realized.

She looked pleased with herself, and that look of pleasure—her lips slightly parted, her eyes alight—could not help but make me blush. My ears were burning.

“I’d read in the sacred texts that it was raining on Dreadthorn the day your previous form had passed from this world,” she said. “I asked Asmodeus to ensure it would be raining on your arrival today too, Master, as if no time had passed. The storm should be upon us by next bell. Asmodeus requested your forbearance for the slightly delayed timing.”

Wait, seriously? I thought. They asked to be forgiven because the storm they conjured was slow? Mona was still beaming at me. I supposed since she had done well, I should say something. But she didn’t like praise. “Skillfully done,” I said, then turned away quickly, back to the window. If I’d landed in this so-called city of Dreadthorn, why did the weather seem like Seattle? “It is … very pleasing.”

The elevator came to a stop. “Here we are,” she said, but her voice had grown colder again. When I glanced at her from the side, I saw she was scowling slightly. But when we locked eyes, the scowl disappeared.

She was always a moment too late for me. I wondered if she knew how quickly I could track her expressions, and how well I could see from the corner of my eye. I didn’t remember being able to do that nearly so well before, either.

In truth, I felt like I’d gained quite a lot being in this new body. My senses felt sharper, clearer. My reflexes felt effortless, as if time itself slowed down for me. But I still didn’t understand what I’d said that had bothered her. In that regard, I was as hopeless as ever.

Desdemona gestured with her hand towards the now open doorway. As I looked, I stopped for a moment at the threshold of my chambers, in awe. To either side of a large set of double doors stood two guards in black armor. As we walked past them they put their fists together and bowed, as the congregants had done down in the temple, and I gave a nod to each of them. Thankfully, there seemed to be no expectation that I return the gesture.

Desdemona led me into a large palatial chamber which appeared to occupy most of this entire tower floor. I almost said, “Wow,” but caught myself, holding my mouth shut through sheer will.

The room was sumptuously adorned, with curtains in black and blood red draped across massive windows. A large bed sat in the center of the room, atop a raised platform surrounded by black marble steps with gold veins. To my left, a set of dark purple and gold couches and lounge chairs sat on a plush carpet next to a fireplace. The fireplace had a flue which led towards the ceiling. To my right, a set of what ominously appeared to be a variety of torture and execution devices were arrayed. I saw something resembling a rack, and some kind of bed with a trough underneath which at first I thought looked like it was made for water boarding or some other kind of forced drowning. Or maybe the trough was meant to collect blood. I couldn’t really say. There were other devices, too, which looked sharp and menacing but whose exact purpose I didn’t even want to guess at. Greg-Theryx was clearly a cheerful fellow. Amusingly, at the far end of the torture devices there was a bathtub and a wash basin.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

On the other side of the bed sat a large desk. Against that wall, one small bookshelf was packed full of large tomes and scrolls, with an armchair sitting nearby, close to the window. Somewhat anachronistically, against the wall where we’d entered the room, there was a square metal receptacle with a handle, like some kind of garbage chute. What was that for?

As I looked around, Desdemona had gone back and closed the doors to the chamber. Then she walked past me and climbed the marble steps, her wide hips swaying as she walked. She sat on the bed and leaned back slightly, resting her weight on her palms. “Well,” she said, looking at me meaningfully. Her lips curled in a playful smile, and the fire in her eyes danced. “What would you like to do now, Master?”

Was she implying what I thought she was? Also, why hadn’t she left after showing me to my chambers? I figured she was only here to show me the way and provide a quick tour. How was I supposed to pretend to be Greg-Theryx while a sexy demoness threw herself at me?

I walked towards her, unable to look away from her eyes, climbing the steps to the bed. I kicked my feet out of the slippers and sat down next to her. I turned to look at her, and she leaned in towards me, until our faces were mere inches apart.

I didn’t even know what to say. Tempted as I was, she thought I was someone else, which felt wrong. And it seemed impossible to stay in character for much longer. Surely, if she had not already realized I was not her god, she would the moment I touched her body with anything less than god-like confidence and precision.

Imagine giving it up to a demigod, and they turn out to be an awkward, clumsy fuck? My bluff already seemed destined to fail at any moment.

But it was hard to reject the magnetic pull of her. I tried to remind myself that the demons, presumably, had little regard for emotional intimacy—hence the immediacy of her unspoken proposition. Worse yet, perhaps this was merely a part of what was considered her duties. This woman was a succubus, I supposed, so I shouldn’t look at this situation the way I’d look at it on Earth. And yet…

“Yes, Master?” She was still gazing at me expectantly. I felt my cock harden again, clearly visible within my robe. Her eyes fell, and when she saw my reaction to her presence, she smiled. Her face turned slightly, and she whispered in my ear, “Do you find me appealing, my Lord? I wanted more than anything to be your High Priestess, you know. I gave everything I had during training, so that I might be able to serve you as you justly deserve.” Her breath felt hot against my ear. “It makes me so happy.”

But there was something about the situation, about her—something wrong—that I just couldn’t shake. Though my body was more than willing, the rest of me had some catching up to do. I placed my hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. Then I stood up from the bed and walked forward, pausing on the steps. Uncertain of what to do, I turned to look at her again.

She was staring at me from the bed, a look of shock on her face, and perhaps even … fear? Her voice quavered when she spoke. “I thought that when you mentioned feeling … depleted … this is what you meant? That you wished for … relaxation?”

“No, Desdemona, I desire to be alone. You may return tomorrow… I’m sure we’ll have plenty of work to do.” It was only an assumption, but seemed a safe bet.

To my surprise, her eyes fell, and she slowly shook her head. “I knew you were a bastard,” she said. “But I didn’t know how sadistic you truly were. ‘Return tomorrow?’” She got up from the bed and reached into her robes, then drew the knife again, the same knife she had offered me earlier. This time she knelt before me, her knees against the marble, her trembling hands holding the knife, handle outstretched.

“We both know there will be no tomorrow,” she said. “You will send the torturer for me tonight, Master, and you will have a new High Priestess, perhaps that cunt Phaedra, by morning. So go ahead and kill me. Cut me to shreds, torture me, and throw my lifeless body from the tower. Isn’t that what you did to all the rest whom you found wanting?” She looked up at me, and this time the fire in her eyes was pure hatred.

“I… I’m not going to do any of that.” I didn’t know what to say, but realizing she expected me to kill her for the smallest error, that all her flirtation had been charming deceit to ensure her own survival, I felt sick. I knelt down beside her. The marble was cold and uncomfortable, even through the robes. I leaned forward, almost bowing, until I was at the level of her eyes.

She looked up, startled, red tears streaking down her face as if her tears were made of blood. She shook her head. “I don’t… Was it the ceremony? Please, at least tell me what I did to offend you? Give me discipline, and I’ll do better… Or kill me… But don’t leave me like this, in this state of fearful unknowing.”

“I am not displeased at all.”

“How could you not be displeased? When you withhold from your High Priestess your Godseed, or even the smallest physical touch? A mere caress?”

Godseed?! It seemed like the wrong time to ask about whatever that was. “I’m really not displeased at all, High Priestess. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life, and you’ve done everything I asked. I’m simply tired, that’s all. It was exhausting, being dead.”

As soon as the words slipped out of my dumb mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. Her eyes flashed, turning from fear to anger in an instant. She flipped the knife and lunged towards me, aiming for my heart.

In a panic my hand flew out, and the blade stabbed through my palm. Pain shot through me, and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming, not wanting to alert the guards. I couldn’t remember being stabbed before.

With my other hand I reached forward and covered her mouth, pushing forward now, holding her down against the floor, fearing that if she were to call for the guards, my second existence could be over before it had even started. Her eyes widened. Perhaps she had underestimated my strength, even as I leveraged the body she herself had given me. Or perhaps she had acted recklessly, never expecting to succeed.

“I meant being in the dark,” I said carefully. “Slumbering. That’s all. Of course, gods don’t die, so I couldn’t have been dead.” Carefully, I took my other hand away from her mouth, just a little, and took the knife from her now limp hand, then pulled it straight out of me, a trail of my own blood spattering on the marble.

I knew this was a bad idea, against the basic principles of good first aid, but for some reason I’d felt compelled to do it. My mind had been howling in agony, and all my instincts had begged me to remove the blade from my body, to be free of it.

To my surprise, Mona didn’t scream or run. Instead she … pouted. “You know,” she whispered, sounding almost frustrated, “you’re very different from what I’d expected. You didn’t remember your requests for the summoning. You kept saying thank you like we were elves. You won’t fuck me, but you won’t kill me either…” She stared at me coldly. “Who are you?”.

“I…” I sighed. I looked down at my stabbed hand. A small amount of blood was coursing from the wound, trickling on the marble, but as I watched myself bleed, I realized the pain had already faded to nothing. Another perk of my new form? I wondered what to tell Desdemona. What to say that might convince her.

Nothing would. “Your ritual didn’t go according to plan,” I said at last.

“I recited it perfectly.” Her face looked indignant, even offended. Some of the rage was still in her eyes, but it had died a little after she’d stabbed me. That was just as well. “Are you an elf? Is this some kind of illusion?” The way she said ‘elf’ was tinged with disgust.

“No,” I said. “I’m not an elf. I am … Greg. You didn’t mess that part up.” I didn’t know why I said this, but seeing her like that, full of anger and confusion… She’d just been playing, before. Trying not to die. Trying to please her “Master.” Now she was being real. Her rehearsed obeisance had fallen away, and underneath it I had found a real person.

I just had to hope that she’d hear me out.

“Huh,” she said. She looked me in the eyes, deeper than she ever had before, as if searching for something. I looked back, not knowing what was next. Not knowing where we could possibly go from here.

She still could have yelled for the guards at any time. Though I wondered, now, if they really would have sided with her against me. Would anyone even believe her if she told them I wasn’t who I was supposed to be? If Greg-Theryx really had killed so many High Priestesses on nothing more than a whim, why would they trust her? Why wouldn’t they think she was merely trying to save her own skin?

“Are you going to tell anyone?” I asked.

She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Carefully, I got off her and rose to my feet. “How about a truce? You don’t tell anyone, and I don’t kill you.”

“And what if I were to kill you myself?” she asked.

I looked down at my hand, flexed my fingers just to be sure I could. I poked near the wound with my other hand, feeling only a faint twinge of pain when I did so. The bleeding had almost stopped already. For a wound of such size to heal so quickly was impossible. Or perhaps merely inhuman. “Could you? Kill me?”

She glared. “You underestimate me at your peril.”

“Probably,” I admitted. “But I see no reason for us to fight. If I really was this Greg-Theryx fellow, I get the impression you’d already be dead after all … this.” I still held the dagger in my unwounded hand, pointed at the floor.

After a moment, I stood, then extended my wounded hand towards her. She looked surprised for a moment, then carefully took it and rose to her feet. There was a twinge of pain, but that was all. I hoped I had made my point. “I have a lot to think about,” she said. “You are not who you are supposed to be.”

“Maybe I’m an improvement?” I offered.

“Blasphemy,” she said, and stared daggers at me. Then she turned and hurried towards the doors. I thought of trying to stop her, but it seemed pointless. If she decided to give up my secret, I supposed that would be that. I didn’t have it in me to kill her, or torture her, or whatever else it might take to stop her.

How was I supposed to keep on pretending to be a dark god, in this strange world where I knew nothing and no one? She pushed through the chamber doors and stalked into the elevator, staring at me coldly for a moment, her finger hovering near the buttons until the elevator door shut between us.

The guards closed my chamber doors without a word. I’d gotten what I wanted, I supposed. Now I was finally alone.

I paced back and forth for a while before collapsing onto my massive bed, staring up at its canopy of fine silk the color of midnight. I wondered if I should have killed her, if I should have done the evil acts that I was supposed to do, the acts she had coldly listed, that had happened countless times before.

I tried to remember my past life, but my memories were fading, as if they were only a dream from which I’d at last awoken. But even if I couldn’t remember the details, I felt I wasn’t the kind of person who could’ve killed someone just like that. I wasn’t cut out to be an evil god. I probably wasn’t even cut out to be an evil used car salesman.

I wanted to say my new life had been fun while it lasted, but I’d been back a couple hours, if that, and I was already totally fucked.