The cum shot looked boring.
Valentino sprawled across the crimson velvet chaise in his penthouse office, four arms draped dramatically over the edges like a moth who'd flown too close to the flame of tedium and gotten singed. The massive screen mounted on the wall played back his latest production—Hellfire Honeys Vol. 47—and every frame made his antennae twitch with irritation.
He watched as some blue sinner whore arch her back, her tits bouncing as she rode some incubus with forgettable abs. The lighting was perfect. The angles were textbook. The moans hit every industry-standard frequency. And it was all so fucking stale.
"Mierda," he muttered, reaching for the remote with one gloved hand while another fished his opera length cigarette from his jacket. The smoke curled up past his heart-shaped sunglasses as he fast-forwarded through scene after scene. Spread legs, dripping holes, throbbing cocks—all technically flawless, all utterly uninspired.
When had this happened? When had the king of Hell's pornography empire started producing content that felt like it came off an assembly line?
His wings rustled around him, wrapped around his slender frame like a coat of agitation. The neon glow of Pentagram City filtered through the heart-shaped windows, casting pink shadows across the floor while he wallowed in creative despair.
"Maybe I need new talent," he whined to no one, smoke pouring from between his sharp teeth. "Maybe I need—"
The door to his office clicked open.
Valentino's head snapped toward the sound, antennae perking. A rabbit sinner stood in the doorway, her silhouette backlit by the hallway's harsh fluorescents. Something in her posture—shoulders squared, chin lifted—made his eyes narrow behind those golden frames.
"Val," she said, and her voice didn't carry its usual honeyed submission. "I want out."
Lila. Pretty little Lila with her doe eyes and her desperate hunger for fame. She'd crawled into his office three years ago—fresh off a messy extermination that had taken out her pimp and left her without protection. A rabbit demon, all soft curves and trembling limbs, begging for a place in his stable.
And oh, how Valentino had given her one.
He let the silence stretch, taking a long drag from his cigarette holder. The smoke drifted up in lazy spirals as he regarded her with the same expression he might give a piece of furniture that had suddenly developed opinions.
"Out?" He tilted his head, antennae twitching with theatrical confusion. "Out of what, conejita? I don't know what you mean."
Lila's jaw tightened. Good—he could see the effort it took her to maintain that newfound spine. Her fluffy tail twitched behind her, betraying the nerves she was trying so hard to hide.
"Don't play stupid, Val. The contract. Our deal." She stepped further into the room, and the neon light caught the shimmer of old bruises beneath her fur—souvenirs from her last shoot. "I want it dissolved."
Valentino laughed, the sound sharp and cutting as broken glass. Two of his hands came together in a slow, mocking clap while the other two remained draped over the chaise.
"Dissolved," he repeated, savoring the word like it was the punchline to a joke only he understood. "You want me to tear up the contract that saved your pathetic little life? The one that gave you a roof, gave you work, gave you purpose when you were nothing but extermination fodder?"
He rose from the chaise in one fluid motion, his wings unfurling slightly as he prowled toward her. At his full height, he towered over the rabbit demon, casting her in shadow.
"Remind me, Lila—what were the terms again?" His voice dropped to a silken purr. "I seem to have forgotten."
She didn't back away. That was new. That was interesting.
"Fifty years," she said, and her voice only trembled a little. "Fifty years of exclusive service to your studios. In exchange for protection and... and a percentage of profits from my content."
"Ah, sí, sí." Valentino circled her slowly, one clawed finger trailing along her shoulder. "And how many years have you served, mi conejita?"
"Three."
"Three." He stopped in front of her, bending down until his face was inches from hers. The pink glow of his heart-shaped glasses reflected in her wide eyes. "Which means you still owe me forty-seven more years of that tight little body. Forty-seven years of spreading those pretty legs whenever and however I tell you to."
"The contract was signed under duress!" Lila's voice cracked, but she held her ground. "I was scared, I was alone, and you—you took advantage—"
"I took nothing that wasn't offered." His hand shot out, gripping her chin with bruising force. "You came to me, remember? Crawling on your knees, tears streaming down that adorable face, begging me to take you in. And I did. I made you a star, Lila. Your little rabbit pussy has been viewed more times than any other female performer in the last two years."
He released her chin with a dismissive flick, watching her stumble backward.
"You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you?" A bitter laugh escaped her throat. "For the eighteen-hour shoots? For the scenes where I couldn't walk for days afterward? For—" Her voice broke. "For the private sessions with your friends?"
Valentino's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered behind those golden lenses. The private sessions weren't technically in her contract—they were favors, little bonuses he threw in when business partners needed sweetening. But Lila had never complained before. She'd smiled and spread and taken whatever he gave her like the good little investment she was.
"You're being dramatic baby," he said flatly. "It's unbecoming."
"I'm being honest." She was shaking now, her whole body vibrating with some mixture of fear and fury that made her fur stand on end. "I can't do this anymore, Val. I won't. There has to be a way out—"
"There isn't."
"Then I'll find one. I'll go to—"
"To who?" He laughed again, spreading all four arms wide in a gesture of mock helplessness. "Who exactly do you think is going to help you, conejita? Vox? Velvet? They're my partners. The other Overlords? They know better than to interfere with my property and honestly they don't give to shits either way I mean do you realize where you are." He spread all for arms wide at the floor to ceiling windows.
"This is Hell, baby. And in Hell, contracts are sacred and you signed it, dose not matter the reason or causes that brought you their. All that matters is that it was you who sign your name on the dotted line."
Lila's ears drooped, and for a moment—just a moment—Valentino thought she might finally crumble. Finally remember her place. But then something shifted in those doe eyes, something desperate and reckless that made his antennae twitch with curiosity despite himself.
"A buyout," she said.
"Excuse me?"
"A buyout." Her voice steadied, gaining strength from whatever foolish hope she was clinging to. "The contract has a clause—I read it, Val. Section twelve, paragraph three. Either party may negotiate early termination through exchange of assets deemed equivalent in value by both parties."
Valentino stared at her for a long moment, then threw his head back and howled with laughter. The sound echoed off the penthouse walls, bouncing between the neon-lit windows and the velvet furniture until it seemed to fill every corner of the room.
"A buyout!" He wiped at his eyes with one gloved hand, his whole body shaking with mirth. "Oh, conejita, you precious, stupid little thing. You think you have something worth forty-seven years of that delicious body? Forty-seven years of your tight holes and your pretty moans and your obedient little performances?"
He stalked closer, looming over her again. "Do you have any idea how much money you've made me? How much more you're going to make? What could you possibly offer that would be worth—"
Lila reached into the small bag at her hip—he hadn't even noticed she was carrying one—and pulled out a book.
Valentino's laughter died in his throat.
It was old. Ancient, actually, bound in leather that seemed to shift colors in the neon light—now black, now deep crimson, now something that hurt to look at directly. Strange symbols crawled across the cover like living things, and the air around it seemed to hum with a frequency that made his wings vibrate involuntarily.
"What..." He reached for it before he could stop himself, his fingers itching to touch. "What is this?"
Lila let him take it, her expression carefully neutral as she watched him turn it over in his hands. The leather was warm—not body-warm, but warm like it had its own internal heat source, its own heartbeat pulsing beneath the surface.
Valentino opened it carefully, his breath catching as he scanned the first page. The text was written in a language he didn't recognize, but somehow—somehow—he could feel what it meant. The words seemed to crawl into his brain through his eyes, whispering promises of power, of reach, of expansion beyond anything he'd ever imagined.
"It's a grimoire," Lila said quietly. "A dimensional grimoire. It contains rituals for... for opening pathways. Between realms. Between Hell and everywhere else."
His antennae stood straight up, quivering with excitement he couldn't quite suppress. "Where did you get this?"
"One of your private sessions." Her voice was flat now, carefully empty. "It was with one of those bird highborn. You sent me to them three months ago as a... a gift for one of their party's. For some business deal you were trying to close."
Valentino remembered. Unlike sinners hell bourn have always been difficult had been difficult and none more than those group of bird fucks—old money, old power, old attitudes about dealing with self-made Overlords. The rabbit had been a sweetener, a show of good faith.
"One of them got drunk," Lila continued. "Very drunk. Started showing off his collection of occult artifacts, bragging about all the rare things he'd acquired over the centuries." Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "He passed out before he could finish with me. I saw the book on his desk. I took it."
Valentino's eyes snapped up from the grimoire to stare at her with newfound interest. "You stole from a Goetia prince?"
"I took what I needed to survive." Her chin lifted again, that impossible defiance burning bright. "That book can open doors to other dimensions, Val. Other realms full of potential... talent. Content that no one in Hell has ever seen before. You could be the first. The only."
His claws tightened on the leather binding as possibilities cascaded through his mind. New markets. New performers. New content that would make Hellfire Honeys look like amateur hour. He could feel his creative drought evaporating like morning dew under hellfire.
"And you're just... giving this to me?" Suspicion crept into his voice. "In exchange for forty-seven years?"
"In exchange for my freedom." Lila met his gaze without flinching. "That book is worth more than I'll ever be, and we both know it."
Valentino stared at the grimoire in his hands, his mind racing through calculations that would make even Vox's processors spin. The leather pulsed against his palms like a second heartbeat, and he could practically taste the potential dripping from every ancient page.
Forty-seven years of one rabbit's pussy versus unlimited access to dimensions full of untapped flesh.
It wasn't even a question.
With a snap of his fingers, red smoke billowed from thin air, coalescing into a familiar scroll of parchment. Lila's contract materialized in his lower left hand, the soul-signed document that had bound her to him for half a century.
"You know what, conejita?" He pulled a pen from inside his jacket—gold-tipped, because he had standards—and began scratching amendments onto the contract with practiced efficiency. "I'm feeling generous today."
Lila's ears perked forward, hope and suspicion warring across her delicate features. She watched his hand move, trying to read the words upside down.
"Right here." He turned the contract toward her, tapping the pen against three freshly inked lines. "And here. And here. Standard termination language. Both parties agree that the remaining forty-seven years of service are hereby purchased in full through the exchange of one dimensional grimoire, item described as—" He glanced at the book again, that hungry gleam never leaving his eyes. "—one ancient text of interdimensional travel, formerly in the possession of some drunk Goetia pendejo who should really learn to lock up his toys."
He held out the pen.
Lila snatched it from his fingers like she expected him to change his mind. Her hand trembled as she scrawled her signature across the first line, then the second, then the third. Each stroke of the pen seemed to lift weight from her shoulders, her whole body loosening with every letter.
The moment her pen left the final line, the contract flared with crimson light. The parchment burned from the edges inward, consuming itself in flames that gave off no heat. Within seconds, nothing remained but a wisp of red smoke that dissipated into the neon-tinged air.
Lila let out a sound—half sob, half laugh—and pressed both hands over her mouth.
"There you go, baby." Valentino tucked the grimoire under one arm, already mentally cataloging which rituals he'd try first. "Free as a bird. Or a bunny, I suppose."
He watched her composure crack, tears streaming down her furry cheeks as the reality of her freedom hit her. It was almost cute, really. Almost enough to make him feel something other than anticipation for his new toy.
Almost.
"Now." He gestured toward the door with one elegant hand. "Get the fuck out of my office."
Lila nodded frantically, already backing toward the exit. Her paws stumbled over themselves in her haste, nearly sending her sprawling across the carpet.
"Oh, and Lila?"
She froze, one hand on the doorframe, terror flickering back into those doe eyes.
Valentino smiled—all teeth, no warmth. "Good luck out there. Hell's a dangerous place for a pretty little thing without protection. No contract, no Overlord backing... you're just meat now, conejita. Fresh meat in a city full of hungry mouths."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
"But hey." He spread all four arms in a magnanimous gesture, his wings unfurling slightly behind him. "If you ever get tired of running, of hiding, of wondering which alley is going to be your last—you know where to find me. Your holes will always have a place here at VVV Tower. I might even give you a discount on your next contract."
Lila said nothing. She just stared at him for one long moment, something complicated moving behind her eyes—gratitude and hatred and fear all tangled together like a knot that would never come undone.
Then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she fled toward whatever uncertain future awaited her.
Valentino didn't watch her go. He was already turning back toward his chaise, the grimoire cradled against his chest like a lover. His antennae twitched with anticipation as he settled back into the velvet cushions, cracking open the ancient text to its first page.
He pulled out his phone with his upper right hand, the grimoire still clutched possessively in the other three. His claws tapped across the screen with practiced speed, composing two messages simultaneously—a skill he'd perfected during particularly boring board meetings.
To Velvet: New project coming. Going to need outfits. Make them EXTRA slutty. I want tits spilling out, asses barely covered, the works. This is going to be big, muñeca.
To Vox: Get your recording equipment ready. All of it. The good shit, not that mass-produced crap you peddle to the peasants. I'm feeling inspired and I need cameras that can capture EVERYTHING.
He hit send on both and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him, already flipping through more pages of the grimoire. The ancient text seemed to respond to his touch, the symbols rearranging themselves into something almost comprehensible—diagrams of doorways, illustrations of creatures he'd never seen before, bodies twisted into configurations that made even his experienced eyes widen with interest.
"Now then," he purred, smoke curling from his lips as he began to read. "Let's see what kind of talent is waiting for Daddy in all those other dimensions..."