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The corset was beautiful, if Velvette did say so herself. It was made with the highest quality silk she could find in Hell and hand-dyed Alastor’s distinctive shade of red, ribbed with the bones of some whale demon sucker who was stupid enough to think she was model material. The white and black beaded embroidery all over it was weeks of work, all done by Alastor himself so that Velvette wouldn’t ragequit quit and throw it into the incinerator halfway through.
(Velvette really hated embroidery. She usually left that finicky bullshit to her least favorite workers but the only hands she trusted on this piece were hers and Alastor’s.)
The eyelets were burnished gold and the black ribbon was unbelievably soft as it slipped through her fingers before she grasped it firmly and yanked. Alastor gasped as the corset pulled tight, his already tiny waist disappearing into practically nothing. For a brief moment, Velvette considered which of her organs could be removed to make her own waist that tiny, but she discarded that thought; everything she didn’t want had been taken out years ago.
“I should parade you around the studio like this,” she said to Alastor. “Give my useless fucking models some real complexes. I have a wasp demon in my lineup with a waist thicker than yours and honestly, the cunt should be ashamed of herself.”
Alastor’s reflection grinned at her from the mirror; the intimacy and wine had left his smile soft and languid, not nearly as sharp as it usually was. “Trying to give your models eating disorders again? For shame, my dear, for shame.”
Velvette snorted and held up a bolt of black silk to the corset, trying to color match. “If a single one of my girls isn’t already starving herself, then I am clearly not doing enough.” Wrong shade of black. The blouse needed to be something deeper, starker to really compliment his coloration. “The last bitch who was over the weight limit is in your outfit now.”
“And in my dinner yesterday,” he hummed. “Speaking of, do loosen those ties please. I still need room to eat.”
Velvette did, though with extreme reluctance and disappointment. As she did so, she ran her claws against the ridges of the corset, wishing that it was his fur under her fingers instead. But it had been a long night and Alastor’s touch limit had been reached hours ago after a few orgasms. His fond smile told her that he knew what she was thinking.
A few more bolts of black and a bit of white (he needed trousers too!) and Velvette finally had the shades she needed to finish the outfit. This was for some party that blonde bimbo was throwing with the other overlords and if they couldn’t be open about their relationship and alliance, then Velvette at least wanted to make sure that Alastor was dressed to the nines in her own work for it. It didn’t hurt that the thought of watching Valentino unwrap Alastor from the silk and ribbons made Velvette’s core heat up.
Velvette stepped aside and took a step back, letting herself admire the sleek lines and sharp colors of the corset against Alastor’s deeper fur, the contrast being exactly what she had been going for when she started the design. For the millionth time just this week, she mourned the fact that Alastor couldn’t be recorded; the tabloid spreads would’ve looked amazing even without being able to see the matching silk and lace panties and stockings. When she nodded in silent satisfaction, Alastor stepped down from the riser as gracefully as he could when walking on hardwood with hooves and headed to the changing screen for the silk pajamas waiting for him. While he was changing, Velvette called for more champagne to be delivered to the studio; the runner ended up being a meek dog sinner with flabby thighs and a flat ass and when she glanced up at Alastor’s silhouette behind the screen, a quick glare and flexed claws from Velvette had her eyes dropping down again. She poured the champagne quietly and then hurried out while Velvette made a mental note to get the bitch’s name for later.
By the time Alastor was finished changing, Velvette was already relaxing on the couch with a pillow against her side for Alastor to cuddle against without wanting to claw his skin off. There was some trash cooking show on tv for Alastor to mock and for her to secretly hunger over, but the volume was low, a clear sign that Velvette wanted to talk. She let him settle against the pillow and they both took a few sips of their champagne while watching sinners cry over souffles until Alastor set his glass down and looked at her expectantly. Velvette took another bracing sip, thinking about what she wanted to say, the questions that have been bubbling up for a few months now (some that have been bubbling up for seven fucking years—) and that she didn’t really know how to word.
Finally— “Do you actually believe in any of that redemption crap the princess spews?”
Alastor scoffed so derisively that Velvette felt her shoulders loosen. “Of course not! It’s complete nonsense from a naive child who should really know better by! But it’s entertaining nonsense, dear. And it doesn’t hurt to have some eyes and ears on the inside.”
Of course. How could she have ever doubted him? Ever thought he cared about Heaven? She had never met someone who thrived in Hell as much as Alastor did, like he was born to rule down here one day.
(In a just world, in the future they’d build together, he would rule. They all would. No more Goetia or Sins to get in their way, no limits to the circles they could reach, no weak ass, white bitch king limiting their power to make himself feel stronger. They would be the ones on top.)
“So what, we’re just watching and waiting? Seeing what they do until there’s something we can use?”
He hummed again and grinned at her. “Something like that.”
Mysterious bastard. She loved the hell out of him.
Finally though, it was time to get to what she really wanted.
“What are your plans for the princess?”
“Nothing in particular now that I’ve already made a deal with her. Did you have any ideas?”
“I want her,” Velvette told him bluntly. “Get me a few meetings with her, without her fucking attack dog at her heels. Tell her that I want to fit her for some event or interview or whatever, that I’m ‘honored’ by the idea of Hell’s very own princess wearing my clothes, and that’ll get her in my studio at least a few times for consultations and fittings.”
Alastor didn’t look sold on it. “What do you even want with Charlie, dear? I didn’t think she was your type.”
“She’s a bimbo dyke who has probably never taken a real dick before and smiles all the time.” Velvette shrugged. “It’s been ages since I got a new toy to break. Val has Angel, you and Vox have. . . whatever the fuck you two have with each other, but I haven’t had anything new to play with in ages.”
“What about Melissa? I thought you were having fun with her.”
Melissa? That bitch was sooooo last week. “Melissa is already as broken as I can get her.” Velvette rolled her eyes. “I told her that she needed a boob job the other day and she just asked me what size and then cried in her pillow all night. She didn’t even argue. It’s so fucking boring degrading a bitch who just whimpers and cries and nods along. At least the princess would be fun to break for a while.”
“Fine, fine, and what’s your plan for her if I do this for you?”
Velvette smirked at him and felt vindicated when he grinned back. And Val said that Alastor might’ve been getting soft, that he actually liked that dumb cunt. Velvette was right, as always! “I’ll dose her with a bit of love potion in some wine every session, just enough for her to think it’s the alcohol lowering her inhibitions. I’ve tested this on Hellborns before, she won’t even notice that it’s changing her until it’s too late and she’s begging for me to beat her pussy black and blue on livestream. I’ll break her down until she’s nothing but a braindead whore who’s done everything except be fucked by a real coock and then I’ll throw her to Val when I get bored. He loves breaking in dykes.” Velvette had fucking bullet points for this. She was ready.
Alastor tapped his claws against his glass, still grinning. “And what will I get out of this exactly?”
“Other than seeing the bitch who has been annoying you endlessly get put in her place?” He didn’t respond and Velvette groaned. “Fine! Fine. You can pick where we go out to eat for the next month.”
“Six months.”
“Three. I am NOT going any higher; cannibalism can be heavy on the hips for those of us who aren’t blessed with your waistline.”
“Deal.” Alastor held out a hand and Velvette took it, not flinching at all at his magic crawling over her plastic skin. There were no chains, just a simple thread with no consequences if it was broken. And to her surprised delight, Alastor punctuated the deal with a chaste kiss against her lips that only lasted long enough for her to sigh into it before he pulled away and settled back down.
In the time since they last paid any attention to the show, the kitchen had somehow burst into flames and half of the chefs were running around screaming while the other half were still trying to plate. The sight of flesh bubbling and melting on screen was enough to turn Velvette’s stomach a bit but next to her, she heard Alastor’s growl. She sighed in fond exasperation and took out her phone to make a dinner order. Hell, maybe she would even invite Val and Vox, now that she had finished what she needed to get done and Alastor was too overstimulated to let either of those fucks touch him. Their whiny disappointment would be the perfect end to the night.