Chapter Text
Vox has always looked down on the majority of Hell's population for blindly buying his products. It's been laughably easy to set up 24/7 surveillance throughout the entire Pride ring. Signing their own privacy away, the idiots.
Well, perhaps a few of the cameras were installed through… less savory methods. There was the occasional mass hypnosis to incentivize a purchase, or drones placing security bugs in hard to reach places. No matter the method, the city is covered now. His eyes see all.
It's one of those nights where he's thankful for it. When Vox is bored, or avoiding something, he likes to flip through his mountain of live camera footage like real TV channels. It builds anticipation, waiting for a scene in the sea of mundanity to jump out at him.
Sometimes he laughs. Sometimes he cries (though he'd never admit it). But, most of the time, he jerks off.
He doesn't know what he's hoping for tonight, as he skims through them in a blur, visions of streets and offices and hallways and kitchens all jumbling together. Boring, boring —
Suddenly he's faced with something so unexpected, so marvelous, he almost pinches himself.
Angel Dust, bless his heart, recently finished setting up some new cameras in that pathetic hotel (not that he'd remember, Vox made sure of that). He'd gotten one hooked one up to the princess's bedroom, which should've led to some fascinating intel.
The only problem was Charlie's rampant workaholism. Most nights she passed out the second she hit the pillow. Any relevant conversations are rarely had in her bedroom. And if she's fucking that fallen angel, it's either somewhere else or under the covers. So, his experiment has borne little to no fruit.
Until now.
Charlie's sprawled out on the bed, face up, and he has a perfect view of her from the lens tucked behind a bedpost. She's biting her lip, one hand shuffling down her pants.
"Oh…" she mouths, sighing with relief as her fingers reach their destination.
Vox puts the remote down, a sinister grin spreading across his face. Now this will be fun.
Charlie attempts to unbutton her shirt with her (he assumes) non-dominant hand, grunts in frustration as she fumbles the buttons. Her expression is so cute, scrunched up like that. It makes him want to shake her. She finally takes the shirt with both hands and yanks it off over her head, shuffling it to the side.
Vox is rock hard. It happens so fast, he's almost dizzy. He reaches down absently, traces the line of his dick as it strains against his slacks. He wants to zoom in on the tantalizing scene, but a part of him likes the awkwardly high angle. He leaves it, for now.
One of Charlie's hands slips under her bra band, her fingers straining underneath to cup a breast. She gasps, pinching a nipple, squeezing, before wrenching her hand away with another frustrated pout. Ah, yeah, that angle is always a bit difficult.
He unzips his pants just as Charlie reaches behind herself and unclasps the bra entirely. She flings it aside, and it lands off the bed. She takes one in each hand, kneading them up, teasing her nipples with her thumbs.
"Mph," she moans, biting her lip as she arches into her own touch.
Fuck, her tits are nice. Pillowy, sitting nice and high, perfectly sized. Vox wants to bite them, sink his teeth into the soft flesh and torture her with his tongue until she screams in pleasure. Until she begs him for more. He thumbs at the tip of his cock, exhales a groan of his own as he spreads around a bead of precum.
Now this is good television.
It doesn't take long before Charlie shimmies out of her pants as well, leaving only her underwear. She returns to her work, one hand reaching low. Grinding up against her palm, Vox can read a trace of words on her lips, but he can't make them out.
Time to zoom in. He roams the camera up and over her body, raking across those long legs, that tuft of hair between them, heaving ribcage. Her face, panting and pink, tiny tongue licking at her lips. She takes two fingers and slips them inside.
"V-vaggi," he can read her lips now, "ah, s-shit. Like that." She's writhing, her head twisting left and right, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her face is screwed up in pleasure, and she breaks into a tiny smile as she slides wet fingers across her clit.
"Ah!"
Vox feels himself throb in his hand as he starts to jerk. He wants to stroke leisurely, make it last, but every time Charlie moans or squeaks he finds himself speeding up against his own will. His heartbeat is thumping, all the blood in his body pounding full speed ahead to his dick.
She's completely naked now, rubbing herself with singular purpose. Her eyes are pinched closed, fluttering so prettily. "P-please," she whispers into the air, "Ngh, I'm so…" she breaks off into another moan, louder this time. Three of her fingers drive inside as the other hand teases and taps.
Vox moans with her: "Fuck, princess." The slick sound of his fist is deafening. "If I'd known you were such a little whore," he growls into the empty room. "I'd have tracked you down and destroyed that pussy myself."
And then an absolutely heinous idea hits him. He runs a quick calculation - the likelihood of getting away with it is decent, but not 100%. He'll have to be careful. But the tempation to make the fantasy real is too great. And Vox is a powerful overlord. He deserves to take what he wants, when he wants it.
And right now, that's little miss Morningstar. Lucifer be damned.
Vox snaps a finger and zips through the screen, appearing on Charlie's bed.
His knees land on the mattress, dipping it, but his cords go to work before she can notice him. They spring from his back and toward the prone princess, ripping her hands away from her body and over her head, binding them together. Two more separate her legs, wrapped around her ankles. Her eyes snap open.
"Wha —"
"Shhh." Vox slaps a hand over her mouth, grinning wide. His fingers dig into Charlie's cheeks as he looms over her body, his dick still hard and poking out of his pants. Weeping for her.
"That was a nice little show you put on."
Charlie glances up, clocks who's suddenly appeared in her bedroom, then glances down to his obvious arousal. She shakes her head, yelling muffled protests into his hand.
"Why don't you relax for me, princess. I promise I'll make you feel good." He activates his hypnotic eye, clicking it awake with practiced ease.
She knows what's coming, is looking everywhere except at him. Her breath is coming in frantic, sharp pants through his fingers. He clicks his tongue and gently coaxes her face toward him. He's stronger than her.
Almost there. Come on.
"I said r e l a x, sweetheart."
With his inescapable screen, he fills her vision. Charlie's eyes finally catch on his own, and she sighs as her vision swirls into red. Her body slumps back against the bed.
Vox chuckles in quiet triumph, then snaps two fingers. The camera's recording.
"That's a good girl." He nudges his way between her legs, pressing them apart with his knees. "Now, what were you up to just now?"
"Getting off," she replies.
His cock practically jumps against his hip. "And what were you thinking about, princess?"
"Vaggie."
Vox tugs at himself, a string of drool dripping down from the corner of his mouth. "What was she doing?"
"Sitting on my face," Charlie says, and her cheeks flush pink again, though her expression stays dreamy and neutral. "I eat her out, and she comes for me, over and over."
"That does sound nice," Vox agrees. "Do you want to cum too?"
Charlie nods, and Vox drags a sharp claw up her thigh, stopping at the dip between her leg and hips. She's quivering beneath his touch.
"Are you close, Charlie?"
"Yes," Charlie says, and her entire body vibrates beneath him like a violin string. A note being held for just a bit too long.
Vox digs his fingers into the meat of her thigh. She gasps at the sudden pain. "Too bad. You can't cum until I say so," Vox says.
"Okay."
Of course, she has to agree with him.
"Now, I want you to think about... men. Your girlfriend's off limits."
Charlie frowns, slightly. "Who?"
Vox smiles. "If you could fantasize about any man, who would it be?"
A part of him feels insane for hoping she might say his name. Maybe she harbors a secret crush, or lust, or something like that. He finds he's suddenly a little too invested in the answer.
She processes for a moment. "Alastor," she says, finally.
Vox howls with laughter, he has to mute himself so he doesn't wake up the entire damn hotel. Oh, Satan, this is perfect. Far from angry, he's ecstatic. He clutches at his sides, air huffing through the vents in his ribs.
He'll steal her from right under his nose.
"Alstor would never fuck you the way I'm about to," he says, finally, leaning down and placing his hands on either side of her. "No, you'll be thinking about me. Vox. The media overlord. The only cock you'll even consider from now on is mine."
Charlie nods. Her hair is splayed out behind her, rendering her more angelic than demonic. Her breasts shift slightly as her breath deepens. His mouth waters.
"You find me very, very attractive," Vox continues, sliding one greedy hand up her body, "A thousand times more attractive than Alastor. And you want nothing more than to submit to me. To suck, to fuck, to take anything I give you." He finally reaches one of those glorious breasts and kneads at it, marveling at the softness. Charlie arches up into it, struggling against the wires binding her.
"Y-yes," She breathes, her expression shifting. That tongue flicks out again, licking at her lips. "Whatever you want."
"You want me to own you. To destroy you," he breathes, leaning down and laving his tongue up her torso, landing on her other breast and swirling around a nipple with precision. He laps at it with the tip before biting down, sucking it into his mouth.
"Vox," she cries out, and his name sounds so sweet on her tongue. "P-please."
He groans, his mouth is too full to respond, but his free hand surges down and roughly presses into her. Three fingers, much bigger than hers, quickly scissor her open. Fuck, she's so ready for him. Her legs flex and strain against the cords — she's probably overstimulated and trying to close them.
Vox leans up and kisses her. Her mouth opens, accepting his tongue, his breath, anything he deigns to give. He licks inside sloppily with a groan, and she twitches up into him. She actually doesn't taste sweet as he thought she might be - something on her breath is a little smoky, a little spiced. What a pleasant surprise. He sucks out one of her lips and bites it, making Charlie's breath hitch. His dick throbs again, so he grinds it against her thigh.
Well, he can't tease them both for too long, after all this. He'll put her out of her misery.
"What do you want?" Vox asks, shifting his hips down and lining his cock up. He slides it slowly through her folds, up and down, wet slickness coating his sizable length.
"I want you to… d-destroy me."
"That's exactly right," he grunts, and he nudges the head in before slamming inside to the hilt. He covers her mouth as she screams, can feel his name on her lips like a prayer as he pounds into her. His cords pull her legs up until she's folded nearly in half, splayed open for him.
"You're secretly a bad girl, aren't you Charlie?" He huffs out the words between thrusts, "fuck, you looked so good on camera," slap, "but feeling you is —" slap, "ngh! next fucking level."
Her body melts for him, falling more and more open as he pounds into her. Vox stuffs two fingers into her mouth, which she sucks on obediently. He never gets tired of seeing willful people break for him, all their minds so pliable the second he has them cornered.
His hips snap into her hard, pushing her up further and further against the headboard. Her pussy is dripping, squeezing him so tight, even if he wanted to stop he doubted he could.
He wants to see her break.
"Alright sweetheart," Vox breathes, "You can cum."
She cries out around his fingers, tears leaking from half-lidded eyes as she pulses around him, sucking him in. She's writhing aginst the cords. Her fucks her through it, completely merciless, basking in the wet squeeze.
It's taking every ounce of willpower to not spill inside her right then and there. He takes his fingers out of her mouth, wipes them on his pant leg.
"Did you like that, Charlie?" He's still driving inside, but shallower now, an absent flexing of hips.
"Y… yeh… yes." She tries, interupted with each thrust.
"I'm going to let you go," Vox says, "and you're going to worship me, princess. And then maybe I'll let you cum again."
He releases her, and she shakily turns over and gets to her hands and knees. She crawls toward him, each movement somehow remaining graceful even as she's sinking into the soft bed. It's almost catlike.
Vox sits up higher on his knees. He unbuttons his shirt, sighing at the ventilation. He's getting too warm.
When her face is at dick-level, she wastes no time. She wraps her lips around him and glances up at his response — the action is too cute through tear-dampened eyelashes. They stick together like some kind of woodland creature. He places a hand on the back of her head and forces her close, sheathing himself in her mouth.
"Fuck, yes," he heaves, using the princess of hell's head as a fleshlight. She's gagging and groaning around it, wet spit slicking, and the delicious friction is building quickly inside him — but he can't keep going much longer. He wants to finish strong.
He pulls out of her mouth, a string of drool connecting her pouting lips and his tip, then yanks her upright. He throws her face down on the bed and shoves himself roughly inside her again. Charlie gasps.
"Please," she says, as he picks up the pace.
Fuck, she's begging for it so nicely… but Vox can't finish inside her. That'll open up a whole can of worms he's not ready to deal with. Tangible evidence can't be explained away with hypnotic suggestion. He wrenches her face to the side until she's looking at him again, leaning over her.
"After you come on my dick a second time," he says, his eye spinning for good measure. "you'll go to sleep. You won't remember any of this ever happened. Only that you had a very nice time with yourself this evening."
She nods, glassy eyed, and he smiles. "Perfect. Now, submit to me princess." A thought strikes him, and he grins maniacally. "As your newest king of hell."
"Y-yes," she stutters, "my king."
He fucks into her hard, and she moans with each thrust. Boneless, compliant, willing. A perfect doll for him. God, the view from doggy style is better than any camera could give him. His claws grip into the swell of her hips, yanking them back.
"That's perfect Charlie. You look so… fuXXXK," Vox gliches. He slaps her ass, hard, unable to stop himself, and she yelps. Shit, that'll leave a mark. But the sound she just made was worth it. "You wanted me to wreck you, right? I bet you lxxxxove getting fucked like this."
"Y… ye…" Charlie's panting into the pillow, he can tell she's holding back her orgasm with all everything she's got.
He can be a merciful god.
"You're doing so good." He gives her slower, deeper thrusts, her hands bracing against the headboard to meet his thrusts. "Ah. F-fuck. Cum for me, Charlie. Milk your king's cock." The result is instantaneous.
"V-vox," she chokes out, his name breathy and sweet as she convulses around him. She's breathing, "thankyouthankyou," her walls squeezing his cock, and he can't possibly hold back, but he has to —
"Shit," He growls, snapping in, in, in, but he manages to maintain composure for this crucial moment. He grits his teeth with the monumental effort it takes to zip through the camera, the warm body beneath him, the pussy choking the life out of his dick suddenly gone.
He's in his chair, in Vee tower, watching Charlie sprawled out on her stomach. She's exhausted, coming down from the remnants of the hypnosis and her orgasm. Her head flips to the side, facing the camera. She looks fucked out, utterly spent, his final command taking hold as she's forced to drift off. Her eyes valiantly try to stay open, maybe to process what just happened, but Vox can feel his power wrenching them closed.
He jerks himself brutally watching these final moments of her, and it only take a moment before he's coming with a shout against his stomach. The amount is obscene, shooting up with such force that a bit gets on the bottom of his screen. He collapses back into the chair, panting. Vox is exhausted too — it must have taken more power than he'd thought to put Charlie under.
The last thing he thinks is that cannot wait to show this video to Val.
Then he passes out, his head lolling back against the chair.
"Jesus, he didn't even bother to put his dick away."
In the morning, Valentino tucks his partner's cock back into his pants and zips it up, tapping it for good measure. "Sick fuck. Must've been a good show."