Both the storm and the heat were unusual, elements that did not fit in with the picture perfect paradise Lezard had created. She liked it better this way, the unpredictable weather reminding her of Midgard. With the rain pouring down on her, for a time she could forget, could almost imagine she was there, rather than trapped in one man’s idea of heaven.
Lenneth’s Midgard hadn’t been perfect, hadn’t been free of problems. But it had held a charm all it’s own, full of people who had loved and adored their Goddess, who had worked with her to make the realm a better place day by day. Midgard had been Lenneth’s idea of paradise, and she knew it was no small coincidence that she had fixated on the one realm that hadn’t been home to any of her past tormentors.
That had changed now. Lezard might never again return to Midgard, but he had tainted the place all the same. Born an inhabitant of that realm, Lezard had taken his desires to new extremes, Growing obsessed with Lenneth, stalking her, hunting the power needed to capture her. In the past, Lenneth would have never considered a human dangerous, let alone powerful enough to rival the Gods in both strength and desire.
A human wouldn’t have been able to hold Lenneth. Their frail mortal bodies incapable of the strength needed to maintain any claim they might have laid on the Goddess. Another immortal, be they God, demon, or giant, would have easily destroyed any who dared try. Lezard himself should have been struck down for his daring, but somehow he had accomplished what had been thought to be impossible.
It was that supposed impossibility that had led Lenneth to be lax. That had let her grow pliant on her throne. She like so many others, Odin included, had never dared dream a human could wrought such trouble. And just like Odin had, Lenneth was now paying the price for that assumption. She wasn’t dead, but she might as well be, cut off from the life she had started to enjoy. A life that even now she regretted, Lenneth not wanting to remember or mourn what had been lost. If she let herself think about what she had had, the pain would never stop. Her tears would mingle with the rain on her face, Lenneth breaking down completely.
It was better not to remember. Not to think, not to feel. It was better not to yearn endlessly for that which she can never have, that which she wasn’t supposed to ever have tasted. In trying to free herself, she had perhaps done the most hurting of wounds. And that was saying something, when compared to all the hurts she had experienced in her past. But the rapes and the beatings, the torture of her flesh, didn’t hold the same broken hearted feel that losing her kingdom had given her. Refusing to cry, refusing to expend the proper amount of energy needed to mourn, Lenneth let the rain bombard her as though the cold waters could wash away her loss, and all her emotions.
She’d stand out there for hours, the storm looking like it would never let up. It was because this world’s creator was suffering his own kind of bad mood, the stifling heat a sign of his frustration, the storm itself a manifest of his rage. Lenneth wasn’t sure what Lezard had to be so upset about, though she had heard his anguished scream. She had not been driven to go to him, to even attempt to offer false comforts. He would either get his temper under control, or flood this world in reaction to whatever was so upsetting him.
The first time Lezard had stepped out on the roof, Lenneth didn’t so much as acknowledge him. He hadn’t said a word to her, but Lenneth had felt him watching her. The frustrations she caused within him, almost had a physical presence of their own, but Lezard had not acted to alleviate them. Instead he had merely stood there watching her, minutes passing before he abruptly stalked away. She didn’t understand him, or why Lezard continued to deny himself where Lenneth’s body was concerned. Not only had he not had sex with her, he had avoided Lenneth for the rest of the day. As though the temptation that she was, was too much for him to reasonably tolerate and resist for long periods of time. But her offer still stood, Lenneth waiting, wanting Lezard to end this game, and just use her like all the others had. She was resigned to that inevitable, unavoidable fate, and Lezard accomplished nothing by waiting.
Not understanding his reasons, and contemplating the seductions she might have to do, Lenneth still wasn’t distracted enough to not notice when reality split apart. His divine energy seemed to crowd in around her, Lezard stepping through a shower of gold sparkles. His arrival alone was not enough to get Lenneth to react, even though Lezard was decidedly a mess. Clad only in silk draw string pants, the black fabric soaked through in a matter of seconds, the God having had blood splattered all over him. Even the glass panes of his spectacles held droplets of the stuff, though the rain worked quickly to wash them off.
In his hands, Lezard held a covered object, Lenneth’s eyes briefly looking it’s way when Lezard thrust it towards her. Her gaze returned to his when Lezard announced rather gruffly that it was a gift for her. She was almost surprised, Lenneth not having been the recipient of many gifts. In fact she could remember only one other who had dared try to give her something, a human mercenary who had gone by the name of Lucian.
She remembered what followed the attempt to send her an earring, how Loki had used Lucian’s own desires as a cover for the God’s stealing of the Dragon Orb. Much chaos and death had followed Loki’s theft, culminating in the fight Lenneth shouldn’t have been able to win.
Once again Lenneth had been the catalyst to death and change. All because that human boy had desired her as so many others had. And just like the others, he hadn’t seen Lenneth as a real person, but an object. A tool needed to fulfill his own fantasies, Lucian wanting Lenneth to become another woman. Some village girl who had died too young, a crush Lucian had never truly gotten over. If Lucian had been capable of having his way, Lenneth would have been stripped of the one thing that had always been hers. Her name.
Shaking off that unsettling thought, Lenneth arched an eyebrow at Lezard. “The last time someone tried to give me a gift, it nearly resulted in the permanent end of Creation as we know it.”
Was that the slightest bit of hesitation that flickered in Lezard’s eyes? But it didn’t stop him from handing her the covered object, Lezard speaking. “I’ll risk it.”
The object was heavy in her hands, weighing a good several pounds. She couldn’t muster up the proper curiosity, even as Lezard eyed her for any reaction. He seemed almost anxious, as though he was eager to please her with whatever this was. Lenneth suppressed a sigh, and pulled off the cloth. Almost, almost she gasped in reaction, so taken aback was she by his gift.
The head still retained much of the beauty the Queen of Nifleheim had possessed in life. Even with blood splattered on her pale skin, her eyes wide open in shock, her mouth frozen in a silent scream. Hel looked as though she had known she was about to die, and judging by the amount of blood on Lezard, he had had to fight past her demons and personal guard to reach the queen.
Lenneth wasn’t quite sure what to make of this gift. Wasn’t sure what madness had motivated Lezard to target the ruler of Nifleheim. Did confusion slip into her eyes? It must have, for Lezard was speaking.
“I know it doesn’t begin to make up for what she did to you. What they all did to you. But she’s gone now, her soul wiped out of existence.”
Lenneth knew what Lezard was expecting, what he was waiting for. The thank you and gratitude she could not voice, Lenneth telling herself she didn’t feel much of anything to know Hel’s very existence had been ended.
Disappointed at her lack of response, Lezard continued. “She’s only the first. I will find and take care of the others.”
“To cement your hold over me….” It was more statement than question, Lenneth thinking it the only thing that made sense to her about Lezard’s most recent actions. He was taking out the competition, making sure no one strong enough existed to take her from him. But it didn’t match up to the shocked expression he wore in response to her words, Lezard quickly shaking his head no.
“What? No!” He all but sputtered, his movements agitated. “I didn’t, I mean I…” He was frowning now, the words stammering out of Lezard. “I didn’t do it for the reason you said! I did it FOR you, for your peace of mind.” He only grew more unsettled at Lenneth’s quiet stare. “I wanted to free you, to make sure you never had to fear falling into Hel’s hands again.”
“I don’t understand.” Lenneth said. And she didn’t. The mere idea of someone doing something for Lenneth, doing something nice for her benefit? It was inconceivable! Lenneth couldn’t comprehend Lezard acting in this way without a personal gain to himself. “Why would you bother?”
“Why?” Another frown from him, Lezard lifting a hand to roughly rush back the wet bangs on his forehead. “Because she hurt you! She was second to no one but Odin when it came to the depths of her cruelty and abuse. Hel tortured and raped you, got off on your screams. She laughed while you bled, swallowed down your cries with her kisses. She laid hands on you Lenneth, not out of love or kindness, but for sadistic pleasure.”
He was getting upset, his nostrils flaring, the amethyst of his eyes sparking with anger. The look on Lezard’s face said he wanted desperately for Lenneth to understand, and she was honestly making an effort. But the Goddess couldn’t get over the idea of someone being bothered by how she had been used by another. That she could matter that much, be something more than a possession or toy.
“She had to die.” Lezard continued insistently. “For your sake and mine.”
“Yours?” A wary note in her voice now.
“I couldn’t tolerate the thought of that bitch living even one second more after what she had done. She had to pay, they ALL have to pay.”
“Of course.” Lenneth said dully, abruptly dropping Hel’s severed head. “You had to do what you had to for your own peace of mind.” The head made a sickening sound, squelching as bits smashed against the roof top’s floor. Some sort of fluid splattered onto her bare feet, but Lenneth didn’t even flinch.
“I didn’t do it just for me!” Lezard exclaimed, even more upset than he had previously been. “I did it to avenge you, to avenge your honor.”
“Honor?” Lenneth nearly snorted in mocking disbelief then. “I have none. I haven’t had any virtues to reclaim since day one of my life.”
“You’re wrong. You have honor! You have integrity, kindness. Yours is a loving nature, evident in the way you helped the humans of Midgard to flourish under your rule. Yours is a pure soul, not ruined by all that has happened to you.”
She was determined not to feel, to not react to what Lezard was saying save to scoff at him. “Pure? Me?” Lezard gave an emphatic nod in response, Lenneth shaking her head no. “There’s nothing pure or untainted about me!” She beat at her chest with a fist, thumping it hard over her breast. “From the time of my first breaths, I have been defiled. Odin himself dirtied me before I could so much as speak. The filth has only piled up through out the years, until every part of me is dirty. It’s not just the sex, it’s everything! From the murders I’ve had to commit, to the wars fought over me, to the insanity I inspire in so many. For every crime committed in the pursuit of me, it only adds to the sins weighing down my soul!” She couldn’t stop, Lenneth actually feeling enough to sneer at Lezard. “And you think a death, or even a handful of deaths can somehow restore me to something I’ve never been?!”
In response, Lezard snagged hold of one of wrists. “Lenneth!” He drew her attention to the hand he held, Lenneth seeing the fresh blood that coated it. “Filth can be washed away so that one is clean again. It need not cling even to one’s soul.” He was gentle as he began using a cloth he had conjured to clean off her hand. The heavy rain helped things further, the blood being completely wiped away.
“It still remains…” Lenneth whispered. “Some bit of it still lingers no matter how much you wish otherwise…..”
He was still holding her hand, Lezard staring at her. She couldn’t bear the look in his eyes, that sadness a million times worse than any anger, any frustration or desire he had shown her. Lenneth wanted to destroy that look, to destroy that emotion that led him to pity her. For though she could handle his lusts, his temper, his bad moods, the pity was a foreign and ultimately too powerful an emotion for Lenneth to tolerate.
She was about to do something that ended all his beliefs about her virtues, something that would leave Lezard with no doubt as to how dirty a woman Lenneth truly was. The tightening of his fingers around her wrist implied she had somehow tipped him off, though Lezard hadn’t guess her true intent in the moment.
“Lenneth!” Lezard cried out, as with her free hand, she savagely ripped open the front of his pants. She shoved at him, and somehow, Lezard allowed himself to be caught off balance. As he fell back against a ledge jutting out of the crystal, Lenneth dropped to her knees. Hel’s severed head lay mere inches from her. those wide, horror stricken eyes locked onto Lenneth one last time. As though even in death, Hel had maintained her sick voyeuristic need to watch Lenneth debase herself.
Lenneth now had both her hands free, though she quickly occupied them with groping Lezard. Before the God even had time to right himself, she had shoved his flaccid cock in her mouth. There was no art or tease to what she was doing, just an expert way to manipulate him into an erect state quickly.
She nearly choked, both on him and the bitterness fueling her. He cried out her name a second time, but was otherwise still. Lenneth didn’t expect that to last, anticipating that at any moment he would start to move. That he would fuck her mouth as hard as he could, for as long as he could last. She was prepared for it, wrapping her arms around his legs, holding his bottom half to her as the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. Lenneth felt no true victory when Lezard’s hands tentatively went in her hair, only a bitter upset that he was proving her right. He was no different from any of the others, just as she was nothing more than a damaged whore. Forever used, forever dirty, and no amount of cleaning could change that.
Asgardian Pleasures 
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