The Devil's Play Thing

Chapter Five - The Nine Pleasures of Hell.

Havana’s breath stuck in her throat as Ten’s face hovered inches from hers, every part of him unsettlingly perfect. His skin was smooth like porcelain, but there was an engulfing heat radiating from him—a pulsing, living wrongness that made the air shiver.

"A deal?" she repeated, her voice hoarse.

Ten's smile spread slowly, sinfully. "Yes, darling. A deal. That ancient, sacred dance between human desperation and demonic indulgence. I can give you what your heart desires most... and you, in return, well, I want to watch the show.”

Havana swallowed. Her mouth was dry, her mind scrambling. "... Watch?”

"Yes darling." Brushing a lock of hair from his face as his smile widened. "You see, Havana, none of this was a coincidence. You didn’t happen to stumble across a book to summon me. It was all carefully orchestrated by yours truly. Honestly, I just had to meet you. You’re a dark soul, shaped by the evils of this pitiful world. You carry an unsatisfied yearning, clinging to fleeting s****l encounters just to keep your mental health from unraveling. You drain people emotionally, breaking them down until they’re shells of themselves… Doesn’t that sound oh too familiar?

She stared at him, half-terrified, half-hypnotized, as if what he was saying resonated with her. "I… What’s your point?"

"Ah yes, humans always want to know the point of things," he said, standing slowly, prowling the room like he owned it. "You see, I’m normally summoned for petty things. Power, money, revenge. However, I know all of those things mean as little to you as they do to me." He turned toward her, eyes glowing faintly. "It sings to me like a broken lullaby. There’s a void in you. Deep. Cracked open by grief, fed by apathy. You don’t want power. You want to feel. I can make you feel a million lifetimes of pleasure, if you play your cards right, sweetheart."

Havana shuddered. He wasn’t wrong.

"How can that even be possible?" she whispered.

Ten stilled.

He turned back to her. "Ah, ah." He tsked softly, crouching down to the ground to bring himself down to her level “This deal really isn’t something normally extended to humans..” a chaotic smile began breaking on his face. “There are some small, let's say, ‘rules’. Even the darkest parts of existence must run on some kind of rules to prevent chaos, you know.”

His expressions darkened, a primal hunger washing over his face.

“You have to prove to me that you truly want to feel something by completing a challenge of ‘small’ trials. That shouldn’t be so hard for you now, should it?”

Havana didn’t respond, her mind was racing rapidly. The possibility of finally getting something she craved since she could remember was overly intoxicating. The room grew deathly silent. The candle flames almost standing still, as if holding their breath in anticipation of her response.

Ten snapped his fingers to bring her back to reality. He was quickly running out of patience.

"It’ll be pure euphoric ecstasy," Ten said softly. "Real feeling. Not the pathetic humankind. Not the fake highs of dopamine or serotonin from humans that have no understanding how to pleasure themselves. But something that burns deeply through your bones. Pleasure so complete it borders on agony. Pain is so exquisite it will leave you reborn."

Havana's heart thudded so hard it hurt. "That’s… that’s not possible."

Ten laughed, low and rich. "It is with me."

He crouched again, grabbing her wrist gently, his thumb brushing the cut she'd made earlier. Blood still slicked the skin. "You want to wake up, Havana. I can tear your soul from its cage and show you the universe inside your own skin. I can give you joy that makes gods jealous and terror so vivid it makes your heart beat like it was never broken."

"And all I have to do is complete some trials to prove myself?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

Ten tilted his head. “Yes.”

A wave of anxiety overwhelmed her. "What are these so-called trials?"

He chuckled. "Oh my sweet darling, I’m so very glad you asked."

Ten disappeared, reappearing a few brief moments later. He crossed his legs, getting himself comfy on her bed, as if about to recall a long story.

“I want to take you to hell with me. You will be free to leave at any time you wish but if you do, the trials end, we part ways and you live numb, broken until you die.

She blinked slowly.

“There are nine circles of hell: Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger, Heresy, Violence, Fraud and Treachery.” He continued, amused by the reactions Havana was displaying. “Each circle, I will present you with a tailor-made demon ready to pleasure every single inch of your body. However, there is a miniscule catch--”

Havana let out a quiet, involuntary moan, the sound catching in her throat as she tried to speak. She wanted to ask him the catch — but the words stuck, thick with tension and need.

“Yes, yes. You want to know what the catch is. Don’t worry, I’m getting to it.” he said, flashing his pointed teeth as his smile grew wider. "The catch, my dear, and oh, it’s a stinger… You actually have to orgasm.”

Havana’s heart plummeted. What began as emotional numbness had slowly crept into her body, dulling even the most intimate parts of her. Over the years, she had tried everything — every trick, every touch, every desperate attempt to reach an orgasm — but release remained stubbornly, cruelly out of reach.

"But…" she responded, a sadness in her voice.

“Now now, don’t be sad” he whispered playfully. “You haven’t tried a demon yet. We f**k like no s*x toy could ever be created too. Most of us have two c***s too--”

He vanished, only to reappear behind her in a breathless instant, one hand coiling around her throat as he tilted her head back to meet his gaze. His touch burned — not cruel, but possessive — leaving behind deep, wine-dark marks that bloomed against her skin, fading the moment his grip loosened.

“And our c*m? It’ll have you craving the taste for an eternity, mouth salivating the second it crosses your mind again.”

Havana’s eyes flicked wide, a breath hitching as a slow smile crept across her lips. His words slid under her skin, curling around her like smoke — and her heart trembled, wild and wanting.

“But what if I can’t?” Sadness overwhelmed her voice.

Ten stepped in front of her, a smirk ghosting across his lips as he shrugged. “Then the void wins. And you crawl back to your pathetic routines — boiling showers to feel something, pillows soaked in screams no one hears. You’ll keep spreading your legs for anyone who looks your way, pretending their empty hands can fill the black hole you’ve been dragging around like a corpse. And you’ll lie to yourself — again — that this time, it might actually work.

She stared at the mirror. The blackened glass had cleared, but its surface still shimmered with something alive. She looked back at him—at this impossibility draped in darkness—and saw herself reflected in his eyes: raw, bleeding, lonely.

"I never want to go back to that. Not now I know there is another option for me." Her voice cracked as adrenaline began flooding her body.

"Then say it," Ten said, extending a hand. "Say yes."

She hesitated—then took his hand.

"I want this," she said. "Whatever it means. Whatever it costs."

The moment her fingers touched his, the candles exploded upward, flames hitting the ceiling. The salt circle evaporating through the heart. Pulses began surging through her body.

Ten didn’t flinch. He held her hand, watching her convulse with a look of reverence.

When it passed, she collapsed against him, sweat-drenched and shaking.

“What—was—that?” she panted.

He grinned. “That was your soul waking up.”

The ground trembled violently beneath their feet, the air thick with the stench of burning metal and rotting flesh. Cracks split the floor with a deafening snap, glowing red like veins of molten blood. A deep groan echoed from below — ancient, hungry, and alive.

Havana stumbled trying to get to her feet, barely keeping her balance as the tiles beneath her buckled and crumbled. Smoke poured from the widening chasm, acrid and choking, curling around her ankles like skeletal hands. The temperature dropped and rose at once — hot enough to burn her skin, cold enough to freeze her lungs.

Then the floor ruptured.

A gaping maw tore open at their feet, revealing nothing but writhing shadows, screaming faces, and fire that didn’t flicker — it breathed.

Havana’s scream caught in her throat.

Ten caught her instead.

His arm snaked around her waist as the edge of the floor gave way beneath her. He pulled her back with unnatural strength, locking her against him. She could feel his heartbeat — steady, deliberate, inhuman — as if none of this chaos touched him.

Her fingers clawed at his chest, eyes wide with disbelief, terror, fury.

“Ten, what is happening—”

He tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to look at him. There was no mockery in his expression now — only a dark, aching fondness twisted with inevitability.

He smiled. Not cruel. Not kind. Just true.

“Off to hell, my lady.”

He stepped forward, dragging her with him into the abyss — as the world above shattered, and hell welcomed them home.