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Glutton For Punishment	By : AssassinaAquila Category: Digimon > Het-Male/Female Views: 4429 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: AssassinaAquila does not own Digimon and does not gain any money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-1. Prisoner Arc: Reward pt 1
- 2-2. Prisoner Arc: Reward pt 2
- 1
- 2
The Prisoner Arc I: The Reward part 2
The life of digimon is a harsh, cruel cycle. The strong strived to become stronger and eliminated the weak that were in the way, or else used them in some power-gaining scheme. Very few gained power from their own efforts, as once upon a time the only way for a weak digimon to overcome others was through the partnership of a human.
But over time, digimon evolved from their basic command codes and measly limitations. They adapted the use of “uploading” a fallen foe’s data; the stronger the foe, the stronger one became. Experience that should have taken cycles to learn could be done in one battle; attacks that one couldn’t naturally obtain could be taken from a defeated enemy in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, this method lead to an unforeseen consequence in the balance of the Digital World.
A near decimation of the digimon population.
More and more digimon were being uploaded by their conquerors than being created, and by the time those who cared figured it out it was far too late. A meager fraction remained from the previous amount for many cycles, and while the world slowly recovered, the survivors of the Great Upload Massacre evolved once again.
The code enabling the basics of their personalities was rewritten, due to the uploading of a digimon resulting in not only the gaining of their experience, but also everything that was their core. They became more complicated, more advanced, more. . . volatile.
Humans would call it insanity. A digimon would, perhaps solemnly, call it progression.
All Beelzemon knew was that one moment he was glaring at the others for making such a ruckus over ownership of the human captive (and no, he would not admit to even feeling the slightest twinge of jealous fury for them thinking that they had a right of a claim to what was clearly stated as his). The next he was shoving his beloved Berenjena down the idiot devimon’s throat. A red fog obscured the memory in between the two points, but he figured that it had something to do with the champion-level he was holding at gunpoint and the fearful, confused human in between.
Silence permeated the air, the type that glued tongues to the roof of the mouth and liquidated the spines of the weak. It held weight and presence, pressing against the chest and causing throats to tighten in fear at the oppressive aura. The remaining Demon Lords were sent against the backs of their thrones with straining muscles and tense jaws, and they waited for the upcoming shit-storm with bated breath. All save, for one.
Lucemon, unaffected by the tense atmosphere, merely opened an eye to watch the curious scene with unconcerned amusement. He had no reason to worry a single blond hair on his head, for the Glutton Lord held no threat to him. Though the leader wondered about the odd behavior, he found no significance to cause any sort of commotion.
So he sat back and enjoyed the show.
-/--
She didn’t get what was going on. From having the monstrous demons arguing over her ownership to the thing keeping her captive slowly molesting her, her mind went into a state of shock to save her sanity. The human faintly registered the cold, metal hand holding her arm opposite of her handler, a touch that was firm but far from unbearable unlike that of the other.
Sounds warbled in and out like a cacophony under water. The trembling of her captor magnified and gave the sensation of her mind rattling around her skull. Temperature fluctuated between sweltering hot and freezing cold, causing a cold sweat to break across her skin and shortening her breath to panicked pants.
Finally her knees buckled. The only keeping her up was the still painful grip of her hair and the pair of hands holding her arms.
She didn’t know how much longer she could last.
-/--
Beelzemon’s glower scored into the devimon like a dull blade—agonizing and causing far more damage. In response, the subordinate shook like the pathetic waste of space that the Glutton Lord had assumed.
He noticed the human’s strength waning as he continued his fearsome glare. The biker pressed his gun further into the champion’s mouth. “This is when,” he growled, exposing his fangs, “you let go, filth.”
The devil-like digimon slowly complied, though not from reluctance. A paralyzing fear ran through its data like venom, the fear that any sudden move would create a sudden and painful end via the Glutton Lord’s famous Heartbreak Shot.
Said Demon Lord found himself disappointed when the devimon was smart enough not to back away as soon as the girl was free, the champion digimon not willing to incite further punishment. Then he was more occupied by a suddenly limp human and only one free hand.
Running more on instinct than logic, Beelzemon quickly pulled the girl up over his head. He took advantage of her bound wrists and used them as leverage to adjust her against his chest, placing them around his neck and an arm below her knees for support. Her head lulled against his shoulder before resting at his neck—the biker would never admit that her warm pants sent delicious shivers down his spine, just like he would never admit that her warmth searing his skin caused him to clutch her closer.
A sneer twitched at the Glutton Lord’s lips, and he snapped his glare towards his seated companions while ignoring the digimon still held at gunpoint. His gaze dared the others to say something against his actions, to challenge him for the human.
“I believe that Lord Lucemon has made himself clear,” Beelzemon began, staring each of the lords down in a clear taunt. “The human is to be mine, and any who wish to dispute me may speak now.”
Nobody moved apart from glancing at each other, wondering if anyone had the balls to challenge the infuriated mega. None were willing to step up to him, not to the lord that had already proven his strength against them single-handedly—especially not for a mere human.
The human stirred slightly at his shoulder, and the biker digimon couldn’t help but spare her a glance. Her eyes seemed cloudy and unfocused as they met his, and at that point he made an irrelevant, petty observation that he immediately rebuked himself for after he thought it. He had no want to care that the color of her eyes was a dark, royal shade of blue that he had only seen from the depths of the great sea, and that it was the most beguiling hue he had ever seen. She pulled closer to him, an act of her own violation, and bowled him over with the expression of pure, unadulterated relief gracing her pale face not covered by the gag.
The twinge pulled at his chest again. Beelzemon quickly looked away, not wanting to admit that the girl’s irrational trust in him left him feeling awkward, almost flinching at her look. He had no clue how to react to her, and sought the more familiar terrified expression that covered his prisoner’s face.
The Glutton Lord tilted his head slightly while glaring down at the trembling devimon at the business end of his gun, feigning a contemplating guise as if he was actually considering sparing its life. Then he noticed the saliva accumulating around his Berenjena’s barrel and scowled distastefully. It shook at the look, but Beelzemon merely slid the gun out of the champion digimon’s mouth to press against its forehead, unintentionally getting an amusing spectacle of the devil going cross-eyed to keep the gun within eyesight.
“Don’t. Move.” The words were slowly enunciated, an unspoken threat underlying the snarl that the lord had said them through.
A threat clearly heard, as the devimon dared not move to even nod in understanding.
Half a heartbeat passed, and the mega abruptly turned away in what was conceived as dismissal. His three eyes glowered fiercely from the shadows of his purple helm, issuing another challenge at the other lords that, once again, was left unanswered.
Finally he turned to Lucemon, who had watched the spectacle with a look that could freeze a volcano’s heart, and gave the leader a sarcastic half-bow. He didn’t deny himself the pleasure of smirking at the distressed flinches of his cohorts when his beloved pistol (unintentionally) rounded upon them as he bowed. “By your leave, my leader,” he quipped, his contempt for the Pride Lord clear in his sardonic tone.
The half-demonic angel easily dismissed the ire as one would a fly—with a quick flick of a wrist and a delicate, if haughty, glance away. Beelzemon fumed silently at the flippant response but found no desire to for another clash, and sought the closest exit from the meeting chambers.
“Stop right there, you bastard!”
All those present winced at the shrill, piercing voice that cawed from the throat of none other than the resident harpy. Beelzemon closed his eyes and allowed a pained expression to cross his face, since his back was to everyone who mattered and wouldn’t notice the falter. So fucking close…
Lilithmon pointed a thin, talon-like finger towards him, her passably attractive face screwing into a rather unattractive sneer as she squalled loudly. “Lucemon, this behavior is unacceptable in the neutral grounds of the Congregation! His threatening of my servant cannot remain unpunished.” The digimon slut gave the biker a condescending scowl that might have sent a weaker-willed digimon to their knees, confident that her frequency in the leader’s bed would grant protection and immunity.
No one was impressed.
Lucemon sighed and placed his head in his chin in a manner that almost seemed pained, giving the Lust Lord a rather apathetic stare. “If you wish for retribution on your servant’s behalf, so be it.”
The slut beamed smugly and reclined in her throne, as if waiting for a show to begin. Until—
“Do it yourself.”
Lilithmon faulted with a pronounced flinch, smugness being quickly replaced with the chill of doom. She chanced a look at the Glutton Lord, meeting the red-eyed glare that he tossed her over his shoulder and the sight of the pistol still cradled in his hand with the feigned sense of ease, and immediately snapped back at the leader with an undignified squawk. “But Lucemon—”
“Enough.” Lucemon sat straight in a way that most would call regal, but the look that he tossed the female lord belied his hidden ire. “Beelzemon has done nothing except what he is entitled to as the human’s…let’s say benefactor, shall we? Master sounds so crude and shady.” He paused to chuckle, finding amusement in a joke that seemed to have cropped in his mind. “Besides, everyone knows how awfully—” he paused again to send a blatantly mocking smile at the human peeking over the Glutton Lord’s shoulder, “delicate, humans are. I’m sure everyone present would have given similar reactions if they were given a chance to enjoy such an exotic creature.”
The other lords besides Lilithmon and Beelzemon chuckled under their breaths, catching the intended implications in Lucemon’s tone towards the girl. Some of them even began to leer at her, licking their lips or otherwise taunting the poor thing in a suggestive manner.
She shrunk under their gaze, curling further into the biker’s hold though the wary glance she gave him betrayed a wane of confidence that she held for him. The Demon Lords weren’t the only ones who caught the leader’s message, and her eyes clearly held questions about his intentions and integrity.
Beelzemon found it amusing that she thought her opinion would even matter in the end.
“And so, Lilithmon,” the Pride Lord continued, “if you want your servant to be protected, then you must do so in the manner that Beelzemon has done for his—by your own power.” With this, Lucemon sat back, crossing both arms and legs in a way that was both casual and arrogant and said nothing more.
Lilithmon paled and gave the Glutton Lord, who still pinned her with his unwavering stare, an appraising and hesitant glance. Suddenly, she didn’t seem so eager to defend her servant any further.
Having come to the same conclusion, Beelzemon dismissed the geisha with a snort and resumed his exit. The human looked up at him nervously, but otherwise remained still and compliant in the Glutton Lord’s arm. As an afterthought, she glanced back towards the circle of Demon Lords, back to the center where she was showcased, and noticed that the devil that held her relaxed as the biker walked further away, stepping back slightly in relief.
She blinked. And flinched when a streak of red light flashed across her vision, a heart-stopping crack like thunder sounding mere seconds later.
And witnessed in horror as the torso of the devil incinerated in front of her eyes, its disembodied arms falling to the ground with a sickening thud-thump.
“Told him not to move.” His voice wasn’t cold and callous, like one would have expected. No, the words sounded…disappointed, as if he had warned a child not to do something but then caught them doing exactly that. But his smirk betrayed his amusement—his pleasure from the kill, and the gleam in his eyes said that he wouldn’t miss the sorry excuse of data. At that moment, the girl caught a glimpse of the true demon hiding under all the rage; a demon that did not burn with fury, but remained frozen in calculated movements and subtle manipulations. A type of demon that showed nothing but hate and rebellion to misdirect the fact that he was, in all actuality, slowly stringing them along into the positions that he wanted them in.
At that moment, the girl had a flash of understanding that she had been fooled. The demon known as Beelzemon hadn’t acted as her savior in a moment of compelled impulsiveness or sudden jealousy, but did it because she was human and would naively trust anything that came to her rescue.
And it worked.
Tears fell from her dark, watery eyes and a muffled sob escaped from her gag, but it was far too late to fight now. Darkness encased them, and they were gone.
-/--
Lucemon watched as the remains of the devimon decomposed into floating data, disappearing quickly to become one of the lucky few to return to the cycle of digimon rebirth. He listened in a bored manner as the chaos of melding voices erupted from those left in the meeting circle, some shrill and loud with rage directed to the recently departed lord as they felt confident to speak such insults behind his back while others were low in confused murmurs, questioning about the sudden attachment.
But Lucemon knew better—but of course, he knew all.
For a moment, the Pride Lord saw a glimpse of Beelzemon’s true nature. A smirk crossed his pale lips.
Perfect…
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Glutton For Punishment