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Heading deep into the forest, Asmo and Satan companionably chatted, Asmo explaining again many of the finer points of nymph hunting.
"Now you've practiced the Charm spell enough that you'll be able to lure a nymph without a problem. Just remember, we're trying to get them to give us their name. Without their name we can't bind them."
Satan nodded and gave a self-deprecating chuckle, "I remember. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to get a name on my first try though.”
Grinning Asmo said, “Well, you never know - but yes, it’s very unlikely. It’s difficult to charm their names out of them at all.” He frowned. “Anyone would think they don’t want to be pets. They’re certainly keen enough for sex when you manage to catch one.”
Shrugging Satan kept walking. “I think I’m best off practicing luring them first. Once I know I can do that, then I can try the next step.” He suppressed a grin.
If only his brother knew what plans he had for their prey. Asmo may delude himself into thinking that the nymphs were delighted to surrender themselves to the Avatar of Lust once caught, but Satan was under no such pleasant illusion. He knew they were capturing a creature completely against its will, something beautiful and exotic… and that is precisely why he had asked Asmo to teach him how to do it.
They set up camp in a clearing, Asmo explaining it was important not to use the same area too often. “They aren’t incredibly smart, but they do become wary and will start to avoid a place after a while.”
Clapping Satan on the shoulder Asmo smiled at him. There was nothing pleasant about the smile. It was a delighted leer, a look of lascivious anticipation that darkened the atmosphere around them. Satan returned the smile, his own fangs glinting at the promise of beginning the hunt he had long anticipated.
“Let’s start hunting,” said Asmo. “You take the small waterhole we found and I’ll head to the grove. Work on perfecting your charm lures and drawing them in. Don’t worry if you don’t bring any nymphs back to the camp on your first try - I don't mind sharing my spares.”
The waterhole was an idyllic place. The pool was cool and tranquil under the dark Devildom sky. Night lilies floated on the surface, their heady scent wafting over the area, sending one’s sense reeling with their mild hypnotic effect. Good, Satan thought, hopefully that confuses the nymphs.
Satan stepped through the charm spell, carefully reeling out that psychic lure in the same way a fisherman baited his hook. He sat quietly under a tree, still and watchful as he waited.
The wait wasn’t long. She was beautiful. Small and gentle in the way of nymphs, her sparkling dragonfly wings flickered as she hovered over the water before darting to one side, landing in the grass. He couldn’t help but notice that her tiny feet were bare as she cautiously stepped along the water’s edge.
The nymph was wary, looking about her with care, obviously drawn by the charm spell and just as obviously uncertain about the demon who’d cast it. Satan didn’t move, content to watch her for now, even as he could feel his trousers tighten uncomfortably as his cock swelled.
She was so beautiful, in a new and unexpected way for him. Her fragility just begging to be broken and remade into something that was entirely his. He could finally understand Asmo’s enthusiasm when Satan had asked to learn to hunt nymphs. There was something about their grace and beauty that truly made them irresistible. And the chase promised to be just as rewarding as the capture itself. He was the Lord of Masks, after all.
Schooling his features into a pleasant and open expression, Satan stepped forward. He was very careful not to tighten the net of the spell. He had a long term plan and catching the nymph with a temporary lure wasn’t part of it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low and calm, his tone friendly. “May I please sketch you?”
***
When the nymph returned home that day she was puzzled. She’d met demons before. Their lures were, unfortunately for nymphs, entirely irresistible.
Everyone knew the best way to deal with demon lures was to find the demon, fuck them quickly and then get away while the demon was still distracted. This way there was less chance of being tricked into giving your name and being enslaved to a demon for life.
And yet . . .
This demon only wanted to draw pictures of her, he’d never touched her. The moment she’d agreed to sit for him he had even dropped the charm spell, removing the lure entirely.
The nymph could have safely walked away at any time.
Instead she'd sat and watched him while he drew. His soft blond hair, the way it fell messily across his forehead, making her fingers itch to brush the strands away from those incredible blue-green eyes.
It was silent, the only sounds were the soft sshh of pencil on paper, the occasional gentle splash of water as a fish moved a little too close to the surface.
The intoxicating scent of night lilies surrounded them and the nymph found her focus had shifted to the demon’s hands. His fingers were strong, nimble and quick as he sketched, and she flushed as she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be touched by those hands.
Why wasn’t he like other demons?
Didn’t he want her? She'd seen the bulge in his trousers as he'd spoken with her . . . and yet he'd done nothing, ignoring his physical needs in favour of simply drawing her.
Did she want to be wanted? It was safer this way, she was still free and unbound, not a captive pet to a demon.
The demon had drawn two pictures, keeping one for himself and giving one to her. “May I see you here tomorrow?” he’d asked as he handed her the picture.
The nymph pulled it out now, looking at it again. Did she really look like that? The strength behind the soft and gentle expression. The beauty that was present in her heart as much as her physical form, her essential nature shining through simple lines on the page. It was as though he had captured her soul with a pencil and yet there was no magic here.
The nymph spent the entire evening looking at the simple pencil sketch wondering just what tomorrow might bring.
***
That same evening Satan returned to the campsite. He was happy with his progress and reported back to his brother that he felt confident now using the charm spell and hoped to see what tomorrow would bring.
Asmo, true to his word, was generous in sharing the nymphs he’d managed to capture with his lure. Watching the nymphs, Satan could see however that coaxing names from any of them was going to be impossible.
The nymph’s bodies were pliant and apparently willing but they were never off their guard, not even for a moment. Their eyes constantly watchful, waiting for the second the charm spell dropped and they could escape.
Satan couldn’t stop the small stab of pride. He’d kept a nymph by his side this entire afternoon and he’d done it all without an active charm spell. He found he couldn't help comparing the nymphs that Asmo had found with the one he'd found that afternoon.
The nymphs Asmo had found were nothing. To own a creature like the one he'd seen this afternoon? That would be everything.
Smiling, Satan had left his brother to his entertainment, retiring to his tent. Bringing out the sketch he'd completed he found his free hand sliding down into his trousers, gently stroking himself and as he hardened he couldn't stop imagining it was her fingers touching him.
Satan desperately wanted the nymph to trust him. It's why he'd shut down the lure that day, why hadn't so much as laid a finger on her, had done everything he could to appear as harmless as possible. He was prepared to win her name from her by any means. He wanted more than anything to see that trusting light grow in her eyes - and to see it snuffed out as he broke her completely, owning her body and soul.
Just the thought of it was enough to . . . he grunted, spilling into his hand as he dreamt of the nymph he would take as his new pet.
And like the nymph, he couldn’t help wondering what tomorrow might bring.
***
The nymph came to the waterhole the next day. Hiding behind a tree she was very aware there was no lure present. She could see the blonde demon, his sketchbook open and his pencil already busy.
Taking two steps she approached him, then stopped herself, almost in a panic. "What am I doing? What on earth am I doing?" she muttered to herself.
Satan heard her - the nymph was here! He continued to draw, doing all that he could to deliberately feed her curiosity, hoping it was enough to lure her in.
Two steps closer. Then she stopped. "H-h-hello?" the nymph started nervously, her soft voice as sweet and naturally tuneful as any songbird.
Smiling harmlessly, Satan looked up. Careful, careful, he reminded himself. "I'm glad you came," he said. "I've been drawing the local flowers while I waited to see if you'd be here. Would you like to see?"
Another two steps closer.
The nymph was in front of him now, just out of arm's reach and he could clearly feel her curiosity rising underneath the nervous exterior. Yes! He definitely had her hooked - now to carefully play the line, slowly reeling her in.
Turning the sketchbook so she could see more clearly he showed her the page of night lilies he'd been working on. "I don't know what they're called, I'm not good at plants," he smoothly lied, smiling as he saw the nymph's eyes light up.
"I could teach you," she offered, before clapping her hands over her mouth as though she couldn't believe what she'd said.
"Would you? That would be lovely, I'd like to be able to label everything I've drawn," Satan face was open, hopeful, relaxed and he could clearly see the nymph as she started to relax too, edging a little closer again.
Turning the page he watched her carefully as she said "Foxglove. You draw so beautifully."
Nymphs and flowers, flowers and nymphs. From all the research he'd done before they'd started hunting he'd learned there was an inevitable and eternal connection between the two and it had seemed the logical place to start.
But as they worked their way through pages of snowdrops and bluebells, daffodils and buttercups, Satan began to wonder if his plan was going to work at all. So far she had appreciated and happily named every picture for him.
The nymph was relaxed enough now that she was sat on the large rock next to him, the sketchbook spread across both their laps.
Satan turned the page - and then caught sight of her face. The nymph had blanched, suddenly pale. Her shoulders were tense and she was almost ready to run.
Quietly triumphant he tapped the small flower on the page, "This is one of my favourites, delicate and small, such a pretty shade of purple," he said mildly.
"R-really?" she stammered nervously, whispering "It's, it's an aster."
"Aster," he breathed and she found she couldn't look away, those hypnotic blue-green eyes, holding her in place.
With dawning horror she saw the calm and pleasant mask slip jarringly, the truth of his nature showing through his malicious smile. A rigid tail snaked around her, scraping over her skin, drawing beads of blood. Green-tipped claws gripped her chin forcing her to face him. With malevolent delight he repeated, "Aster…."
And as the trap closed around her, Aster the nymph realised it was far, far too late to run.