Sometimes I wonder how I got myself into this situation. Staring down into the blazing eyes of Jezebel. I messed up, I know I did. It was only a little, I love when she gets angry at me. It reminds me of the first time we met.

 My mother had two basic rules. Never fall in love and never summon a demon. I couldn't follow either. I wanted so badly for some woman to fall in love with me. I can't even remember her name. I tried to woo her. Sing for her. Cook for her. Show that I could provide for her. It had no impact whatsoever. I turned to love potions and charms, nothing. Not even a twinkle in her eye.

Alas I turned to demons. Jezebel, a minor demon of lust. A small sacrifice of blood, perfumes, a few rare flowers and some magic words; that's all it took. She arose from ground and a magnificent purple flame. Her eyes matching their intensity staring directly at me. From that moment on I knew Jezebel was the woman...demon for me.

Now I stare into those incredible eyes once more. I knew I was supposed to wash the dishes. I didn't. I wanted her to yell at me. It's so thrilling. I wanted to experience it one last time. It's a shame I have to kill her really. It has come to my attention each time we are intimate she takes another year from my life. The best relations I had ever had, probably the best I ever will.

I can not waste my life away giving into this lustful demon. I suppose that is why she is the demon of lust and not love. Brief moments of ecstasy for a lifetime of negative consequences. Tonight shall be the last night we lie together. By morning I will have sent her back to Hell where she belongs.
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