Page 66 of The Dark Lord Awakens (Dark Service #1)

Lucien/Beau

“ W hat the hell?” I muttered, frustration mounting alongside pleasure.

Was this a demon thing? Some weird quirk of this body that required more intense stimulation than I was used to?

Whatever the case, I was starting to think I might actually die from sexual frustration, which would be a pretty embarrassing way for the Dark Lord of Iferona to go.

“Here lies Lucien Noir, who faced many dangers but was ultimately defeated by his inability to get off. May he rest in perpetually horny peace.”

I tried changing positions, tried different rhythms, tried focusing on different fantasies—Azrael taking me from behind, Azrael pinning my wrists above my head, even briefly revisiting old fantasies about Professor Sinclair and Professor Holloway from my university days.

Nothing worked. I remained stubbornly on the edge, desperate for release but unable to find it, like a roller coaster that climbs to the top of the hill but never drops.

“This is insane,” I groaned, collapsing back against the pillows, still hard and aching. “What does it take to get off in this body? A written invitation? A complex ritual involving the phases of the moon? A signed permission slip from the Minister of Orgasms?”

A soft snuffling sound from the doorway made me nearly jump out of my skin. I yanked the sheets up to my chin with the speed of someone who’d been caught watching porn by their grandmother.

Mr. Snuggles stood in the doorway, his tiny cat-sized dragon form silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. His purple eye glowed in the darkness as he tilted his head, regarding me with what seemed like genuine concern.

“How did you—” I glanced at the door I was certain I’d closed. “Did you seriously just phase through solid wood? Is nothing sacred?”

Mr. Snuggles made a low rumble, padding into the room with that peculiar grace that made him seem both adorable and slightly otherworldly. He hopped onto the bed before I could protest, his tiny claws making little dimples in the silk sheets.

“No, no, no,” I hissed, trying to shoo him away without exposing myself. “This is private time, Snuggles. Human private time. Don’t dragons have some concept of personal space?”

He blinked at me with that single purple eye, looking so innocently confused that I almost felt bad for scolding him. Almost. Then he did something strange—he sniffed the air, his little nostrils flaring, and made a rumbling sound deep in his throat that I’d never heard before.

“What? Do I smell weird?” I asked, then immediately regretted it. Of course I smelled weird. I was in the middle of a one-man party that wasn’t going according to plan. “Look, just… go find a nice pile of treasure to sleep on or something. I need some alone time.”

Instead of leaving, Mr. Snuggles moved closer, nudging my arm with his snout in what seemed like… was that encouragement?

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, using my free hand to gently push him away. “I am not having this conversation with a pet dragon. Shoo!”

He stubbornly refused to budge, instead settling more comfortably on the bed with a look that clearly said he had no intention of going anywhere.

“Fine,” I growled, throwing back the covers and standing up in all my naked, still-aroused glory. “If you won’t leave, I’m removing you.”

I scooped up the miniature dragon, who made a surprised little huff as I lifted him. He stared directly at my very obvious erection with what I could have sworn was professional interest rather than the decency to look away.

“Are you… judging me?” I asked incredulously, suddenly feeling self-conscious despite the absurdity of caring what a dragon thought about my anatomy. “Stop staring! This is weird enough already!”

I carried him to the bathroom, his tiny body warm against my bare chest, and gently but firmly placed him inside. “You stay here until I’m done with… whatever this is going to be. Dragon time-out.”

Mr. Snuggles gave me what could only be described as an exasperated look before I closed the door on him. I heard a disgruntled snort from the other side, followed by what sounded like claws scratching at the wood.

“Sorry, buddy. Some things aren’t meant to be spectator sports,” I called through the door.

Remembering how Azrael had contained Mr. Snuggles during my bath sessions, I concentrated briefly, drawing on my shadow powers to create a simple barrier across the doorway. A faint dark shimmer briefly outlined the doorframe before fading from sight.

“Just a little something I picked up from watching Azrael,” I murmured, feeling a small surge of pride at successfully casting the containment spell. “That should keep you occupied for a while.”

I returned to the bed, ignoring the indignant rumbling now coming from behind the magically sealed door.

“Sorry, buddy. Some things aren’t meant to be spectator sports,” I called through the door before returning to the bed.

On impulse, I reached for the blue interface. “Supremo,” I whispered, hoping my voice wouldn’t carry beyond the room. “I need… um… personal items.”

The interface brightened, casting a blue glow over the bed. [Welcome, Lord Lucien!] The voice boomed cheerfully.

I still cringed and glanced frantically at the door, irrationally terrified that Azrael might somehow hear it despite knowing full well the interface was only visible and audible to me. Old habits from sharing thin-walled dorm rooms die hard.

“Shhh! Lower your voice!” I hissed, feeling ridiculous for shushing an interdimensional AI that no one else could hear. “I need… um… personal items.”

[Helpdesk Supreme acknowledges volume adjustment request. This unit observes that valued customer appears to be in a state of significant physical distress. Would you like to browse our medical catalog?]

“No, no, no,” I interrupted, feeling my face heat up despite being completely alone. “I mean… you know… adult adult items. The kind you don’t display in the front window.”

[Helpdesk Supreme requires more specific parameters. ‘Adult items’ encompasses 247 different product categories including financial planning services, retirement home furnishings, and denture adhesives.]

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” I whispered harshly. “Things for… pleasure. Personal pleasure. Like… bedroom things.”

From the bathroom, I heard a muffled sound that suspiciously resembled a dragon snickering.

“You can’t even hear this conversation!” I called toward the bathroom. “Stop eavesdropping on things you can’t possibly be eavesdropping on!”

[Ah! Bedroom items! Helpdesk Supreme can offer luxury beds, ergonomic pillows, weighted blankets, sleep-aid diffusers?—]

“For the love of—” I took a deep breath. “Sex toys! I need sex toys!”

The moment the words left my mouth, I heard a strange choking sound from the bathroom, like Mr. Snuggles had swallowed a hairball made of surprise.

The interface dimmed momentarily, then brightened with what I swear was a judgmental blue glow.

[Helpdesk Supreme notes this request represents a 99.8% deviation from typical Dark Lord procurement patterns. Most rulers in your position order implements of torture, not pleasure. Would valued customer prefer to redirect to our ‘Instruments of Suffering’ catalog instead?]

“No! I want the pleasure catalog!” I hissed, mortification warring with desperation. “Just show me what you’ve got!”

[To access adult content, Helpdesk Supreme requires completion of a brief 27-question survey regarding your preferences, experience level, and flexibility metrics. This ensures optimal product recommendations.]

“Twenty-seven questions?! I just need something to get off with, not apply for a mortgage!”

A muffled snort came from the bathroom, followed by what sounded like claws scrabbling more insistently at the door.

“You’re not helping!” I called out.

[Helpdesk Supreme can abbreviate the questionnaire to the seven most essential questions. Question one: On a scale from ‘slightly adventurous’ to ‘interdimensionally notorious,’ how would you rate your experience level?]

“Barely adventurous,” I muttered, sinking further into the pillows. “Just show me the basics.”

[Noted. Question two: Would you describe your current needs as ‘curious exploration,’ ‘moderate satisfaction,’ or ‘desperate enough to consider bargaining with elder gods’?]

“The last one,” I growled. “Definitely the last one.”

[Helpdesk Supreme notes your desperation levels with… professional interest. Question three: Do you prefer items with autonomous functionality or manual operation?]

“I don’t even know what that means!”

[This unit will mark you down for ‘requires detailed instruction manual.’ Question four: What is your preferred material composition? Options include silicone, enchanted crystal, sentient shadow essence, or living metal that adapts to user preferences.]

“Silicone! Just normal silicone!” I whispered frantically. “Nothing sentient or alive, for God’s sake!”

[How disappointingly conventional. Question five: What size category are you comfortable with? Options range from ‘modest beginner’ to ‘legendary challenge’ to ‘anatomically inadvisable.’]

“Modest to moderate,” I said, then reconsidered, thinking of Azrael’s tall form. “Maybe… um… large? But not anatomically inadvisable!”

A strange scratching sound came from beneath the bathroom door, as if tiny claws were trying to dig their way through.

[Helpdesk Supreme notes this selection with what humans might call ‘raised eyebrows.’ Question six: Are you interested in supplementary restraint devices, or do you prefer to maintain the illusion of control?]

“I—what? No! Maybe? I don’t know!” I buried my face in my hands. “Just put down ‘undecided’!”

[Fascinating. Final question: Is this purchase for personal use, or are you planning to incorporate another participant? Helpdesk Supreme observes that Lord Azrael’s quarters are approximately 37 meters from your current location.]