DR Fanfic Part Two

	Ceridwen did not know it was possible to feel like your arms were going to fall off. She'd figured it was always just a figure of speech that books and stuff used to indicate how much someone's arms hurt. But as she stood there, shaking arms holding up the Blade of Glory that Mammon had gifted her, she realized that it was, in fact, disturbingly possible.
	“Good going, kid.” Mammon said, clapping Ceridwen far too hard on the shoulder. “You're getting the hang of that thing already.” She paused, apparently considering something. “Of course, Blades of Glory are meant to be easy to use, but still.”
	Ceridwen dropped the sword and fell face-first into a pile of hundred dollar bills. “Ow. Everything hurts. Can we stop?”
	“Yes, we can stop. You look like you've more or less got the hang of it.” She sat down beside Ceridwen's flopped out form, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into the pile of paper. “Though, yknow, swordplay's only one part of being a good dragon. We gotta know what else you're capable of. What kinda breath weapon do you have?”
	Ceridwen raised her head up and blushed slightly. “Uh... I don't exactly have a breath weapon yet... but I can do magic!”
	Mammon frowned. “Oh. I see. You're one of THOSE. Uh, did you have to learn the magic from books, or were you born with it?”
	“The second one. I was born with it.”
	Mammon let out a sigh of relief and leaned back again. “Okay, it's forgivable. So what can you do with that magic, exactly?”
	“Uh, I can make portals and teleport! And shapeshift. And turn invisible.” She said, feeling like maybe Mammon wasn't exactly too into magic.
	Mammon shrugged. “Well, sounds decent. I'm not really into that magic stuff, but if you're born with it I guess you might as well use it.” She stood up and stretched, coincidentally putting her pretty fantastic body on full display for Ceridwen. She felt her tilde meter boost slightly at the sight.
	“Anyways, I'm fucking starved. Let's go get some food.”
	Ceridwen nodded and stood too. “Food sounds really good right now. What is there around here?”
	Mammon shrugged. “Here? Nothing at all. This cave is exclusively for treasure. But I know a guy. Get in the car, we're going to Beelzebub's house.”
	Ceridwen tilted her head in confusion. “Beelzebub?”
	“Prince of Gluttony, King of the Locusts, Angel of the Pit, and roughly a billion other fucking titles. He's kind of slow, but he's a nice enough guy. And he makes the best food I've ever eaten.”
	Ceridwen didn't exactly feel like someone known as the “Prince of Gluttony” could exactly qualify as “a nice enough guy”, but the idea of food was too appealing to her worn out, hungry self for her to raise much of an argument.
	The ride to Beelzebub's home was roughly as obscenely fast as the last ride, but this time there were no other cars and hairpin turns to make Ceridwen sure she was going to die horribly, so it was significantly more calm. This time Mammon put on the soundtrack to something called “Wicked”, and sang along to literally every song. Even the unbearably sappy ones. As it turned out, the Princess of Greed had a pretty good singing voice.
	Eventually, the desert gave way to what seemed to be a thick forest, though with enough path so that the car didn't hit any trees. Ceridwen could hear a dense buzzing of insects in the air, and could occasionally glimpse small bodies flitting through the trees. Seems the “King of the Locusts” thing wasn't just a title...
	In time, the two reached a log cabin. A thick cloud of locusts surrounded the building, the buzz of tiny wings almost deafening. Mammon walked through the cloud without fear, as did Ceridwen, and Mammon promptly pounded on the front door. “YO, BEELZE, OPEN UP!” she shouted, which Ceridwen figured was her way of being polite.
	The door opened to reveal a tall, unhealthily slender snake man. He had a bowl containing something steaming in one hand and a confused look on his face. “Mammon? Why you here? You bring food?”
	Mammon shook her head. “Nope, here to get food, buddy. I know for a fact you always make enough to share.”
	He frowned at Ceridwen. “Who girl? She food?”
	Ceridwen was not pleased with this turn of events.
	“No, Beelze, girl not food. Girl friend. Her name is Ceridwen.”
	Beelzebub took a second to process this, then nodded. “Hi, Ceridwen-friend. I'm Beelzebub. You want food? I have stew.”
	Ceridwen was tempted to say no, but if she was being honest with herself the stew smelled incredibly delicious. “Uh, sure!”
	And so, a few minutes later, she was sitting at Beelzebub's impeccably clean kitchen table, eating the best damn stew she'd ever had in her life. She'd heard of things being orgasmically good, but she was pretty sure her tilde bar wasn't supposed to be going up when she ate. But here she was.
	“So, how've things been going, Beelze?” Mammon asked, having finished hers in basically no time flat. “Keeping up on your paperwork, not pissing off Satan, all that?”
	“Yup. Made sinners suffer. Then did paperwork. Then made cupcakes. Is good day.”
	“Aw, shit, you made cupcakes? Can we have some?”
	Ceridwen found that, for two ostensibly supernatural entities, these two talked an awful lot like friendly coworkers. And what was this about making sinners suffer? “Uh, what exactly is it that you two do?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
	Mammon glanced over at her, raising a brow. “Oh, shit, I never told you, right?” She spread her arms in a somewhat dramatic way, grinning. “We work in the Hell business. Torturing sinners, making sure nobody gets their asses out, all that jazz.”
	Ceridwen was... less than pleased. “What?!? Does... does that mean I'm in Hell right now?!? Is this just a trap to get me tortured?!? Oh god, how are you gonna torture me?” Suddenly, that tilde bar reared its ugly head. “Oh god... how are you gonna torture me?”
	Mammon was not entirely sure where this was going, but she had the feeling she wasn't gonna like it. “Uh, Ceri, honey? We're not doing any of that. Promise. I was serious about teaching you to be a dragon. P-please... please calm down.”
	Ceridwen was... oddly disappointed? I mean, sure it was nice to not be getting tortured in Hell, but some small part of her had been excited about the idea of torture of a decidedly sexual bent. “Oh. Uh, good!”
	Mammon stood, apparently not having gotten a cupcake, and stretched. “Welp, Mammon, Ceri and I've got places to be. We're gonna go rob the Bound.”
	Beelzebub frowned. “Robbing Bound? Bad idea. Remember last time?”
	Mammon did not seem to share Beelzebub's pessimism... or possibly just simple self-preservation instincts. “Aw, cmon. How was I supposed to know they booby-trapped the larder? Anyone could've made that mistake!”
	Ceridwen did not have any idea who “The Bound” were, but something about booby-trapped larders didn't sound like her idea of a good time. “Uh, do we have to do this? We could just... get a pile of dollars or something, and start there!”
	Mammon looked at Ceridwen the same way you'd look at a three-legged puppy. Namely, a combination of sadness and pity. “Oh, kid, no. That's... no. Listen, if we're gonna start your hoard, we gotta start BIG. The Bound are a bunch of sadomasochistic psychos, yes, but they ALSO have some of the best potions and magic clothing you've ever seen. Comes with having amazing fashion sense and magical powers, yknow?”
	“But... won't it be dangerous? I mean, they put traps in their pantries!”
	Mammon waved a hand dismissively. “Aw, kid, being a dragon is dangerous. Look, I promise, I won't let 'em hurt you too bad.”
	“I don't want to get hurt at all!”
	“Details, details...”
	A bit later, Ceridwen and Mammon had bid Beelzebub goodbye and gotten back on the metaphorical road. Ceridwen was... surprisingly nervous about this whole thing. As much as gathering loot did appeal to her inborn draconic instincts, the idea of dealing with “a bunch of sadomasochistic psychos” didn't exactly sound like something she wanted to deal with.
	“I promise, kid, it'll be fine. They'll listen to me. Mostly because they don't want to deal with me more than they absolutely have to. And even if we are about to deal with a bunch of weirdos, we have these!”
	And with that, Mammon pulled a revolver the size of her head out of seemingly nowhere, a huge, metal beast with a golden cylinder and bullets you could probably use as skipping stones.
	“...could I just wait in the car?” Ceridwen asked, not exactly too intent on dealing with both The Bound AND Mammon's apparent reckless disregard for firearms you could kill an elephant with.
	“Nope! Don't worry, I'm not gonna start you off too big. That's why I brought along one of these.”
	Unlike Mammon's revolver, the pistol she followed it up with seemed almost... toy-like. It was small, and a bright red in color, seeming almost gem-like in texture.
	“This thing was carved from a single ruby. Works like a dream.”
	Ceridwen should probably have been more surprised she was being handed an actual handgun made of ruby, but at this point she was so desensitized to all this madness that she just nodded and accepted the gun. Mammon provided a quick tutorial on its function as they drove, though Ceridwen had to do most of the prodding herself as Mammon's hands and eyes were currently occupied.
	Eventually, the forest gave way to what seemed to be mountain, and Mammon slowed down slightly to navigate the rocky paths. Ceridwen noticed the skies darken, even though it had appeared to be day when they'd arrived, storm clouds filling the sky.
	They arrived at a large mansion that would have made your average vampire apoplectic with envy, resembling more a set from a horror film than an actual place where people would live. Mammon strode brazenly to a nearby window and peeked in, glancing around.
	“Okay, they're definitely not home. Which is good, less work for us.” She approached the front door and pulled a set of lockpicks from her pocket, beginning to fiddle with the door's lock. “Load that pistol and follow my lead. This should go just fine.”
	Ceridwen was pretty sure this was all about to end horribly, but followed Mammon's lead regardless. For all of Mammon's blatant greed and apparent insanity, Ceridwen found that she trusted her fellow dragon... though she wasn't entirely sure why.
	The lock clicked open, and Mammon opened the front door slowly. “Now, be quiet. There's probably someone around here, and we don't want to let them know we're here. I, uh, didn't exactly leave this place on the best terms last time.”
	“You robbed them earlier?” Ceridwen guessed.
	“Yup. This is just round two.”
	“Fantastic.”
	The mansion looked roughly similar inside to how it looked outside, both refined and terrifying. Tapestries that seemed to follow the viewer with their gaze were hung up, woven from what seemed to be genuine fur. The furniture, when applicable, seemed to be made from leather, and several weapons and, oddly enough, hooks were hung with care.
	“You ever seen Hellraiser, Ceri?” Mammon asked, glancing through an open doorway to check for Bound.
	“Uh, no? Should I have?”
	“Just felt like preparing you.”
	Eventually, Mammon and Ceridwen found a large, wooden, and most importantly, heavily locked door. Mammon grinned widely and went for the lockpicks. “The potions cabinet! I can't believe we got this far without a trap! Ceri, keep an eye out, I'm gonna get us in here.”
	Ceridwen nodded, raising her pistol and glancing at the two doorways that lead into the room. This seemed to be just a hallway, several paintings of sickly-looking individuals clad in leather gazing down at her, bloody wounds and pieces of metal visible on or in their skin. It was, to put it bluntly, extremely freaky.
	Mammon let out a quiet hiss as the locks clicked open, and the door to the closet swung open. “Yeah! Okay, Ceri, just a bit longer. Then we'll grab some outfits and make a break for it!” She said, beginning to stow several bottles of mysterious fluids in a linen bag.
	Just then, someone entered the room, a young tiger woman clad in what seemed to be a leather bikini and nothing else. “Excuse me? What are you doing here?”
	Ceridwen was stunned. This woman shared the same sickly appearance as the people in the paintings, but rather than being heavily wounded and freaky, she was... well, really hot. She could feel her tilde meter jump up a few notches at the sight of her.
	Mammon whirled around, and then visibly relaxed. “Oh. It's you. Uh, hey, I was just... borrowing some stuff. I didn't wanna be a bother, so I just came in quietly. I, uh, brought a friend! Her name is Ceridwen! Why don't you two talk?”
	Mammon leaned in and whispered to Ceridwen. “That's The Witch. She's kinda... the baby sister of the rest of the Bound. Super naive, super trusting. Just distract her while I grab some stuff and we can get going!”
	Ceridwen nodded, and The Witch smiled. “It's always nice to meet new friends. Follow me, I'll get you some tea.”
	Ceridwen followed The Witch through the house, managing to ignore the spookiness now thanks to the incredibly hot bod she was confronted with. She was sat down in an elaborate dining room, and after a few minutes of sitting alone The Witch returned with a porcelain teapot and two teacups seemingly made from bones. A real Addams Family sort of thing.
	“So, Ms. Ceridwen. How did you come to encounter a scoundrel like Mammon? You don't seem the sort who usually engages in daring daytime robberies of Hell's Uncharted Lands.”
	Ceridwen frowned. “She just... showed up one day, and offered to teach me to be a dragon. And I guess, to some degree, she is? I'm learning an awful lot, just... not what I expected to learn.”
	The Witch poured out two cups of tea, and slid one across to Ceridwen. “I see. Yes, that does strike me as something Mammon would do. I hope you realize that I know full well the two of you are attempting to rob me and my family blind.”
	Ceridwen could feel the blood drain from her face. “Uh, really? Uh...”
	The Witch chuckled softly and took a sip of tea. “Relax, my dear. I'm indulging the both of you. To be honest, my siblings could use with a bit of a setback. They've gotten far too egotistic for their own good.”
	Ceridwen relaxed. “...oh. Well, if you say so.”
	The Witch gave Ceridwen a look up and down. “Actually, I'm hoping that Mammon decides to rob my wardrobe. You'd look quite fetching in one of my outfits... well, the ones without blades and hooks on the inside. Something tells me you're the sort who wouldn't appreciate such a thing.”
	Ceridwen blushed, imagining herself in what The Witch was wearing. She could admit, there was some appeal to the whole idea. Her tilde meter rose further, almost reaching its peak...
	The Witch smiled softly. “Well, I suppose that's enough beating around the bush, as it were.” She leaned in towards Ceridwen, a hand touching the dragon's thigh lightly. “You are quite attractive, miss Ceridwen. Stunningly so.” She leaned in, her words a whisper of breath against Ceridwen's ear. “I've never experienced the pleasures of sins of the flesh before... and I was hoping, perhaps, you'd be kind enough to show me?”
	Ceridwen's eyes were drawn to The Witch's chest, and then crotch... oh merciful god, there was a bulge, why was there a bulge?!?
	“We could show each other such amazing things, Ceridwen...” She continued, nearly hypnotizing Ceridwen with the softness of her touch and voice. “All you have to do is let me have a taste...”
	The Witch reached down to begin pulling off her leather panties, exposing her...
	Suddenly, as if Mammon just knew exactly when to ruin the moment, she burst in, holding a now full to bursting linen sack over her shoulder. “YO CERI ENOUGH MAKING NICE, WE GOTTA GO! ACTUAL KILLER SADOMASOCHISTS INCOMING! GO GO GO!”
	Ceridwen had never known it was possible for a girl to get blue balls before, but as the dragon was rapidly discovering, today was a day for firsts. And yet, her self preservation instincts beat out her desire to get laid, and so she followed Mammon anyways, casting one last desire-filled glance back at The Witch, who simply smiled coquettishly and gave a little wave.
	As they left the house, Mammon slid Dukes of Hazard style over the hood of the car and hopped into the driver's seat, tossing her bag of loot into the back and revving up the engine. Ceridwen could vaguely see distant figures coming up the path as she got into the passenger seat.
	If Ceridwen had thought Mammon's driving was fast and reckless earlier, this proved to make the past look like a field of roses in comparison. The engine practically screamed with the effort put upon it, and Ceridwen could barely see the leather-clad figures they roared past, aside from the scent of leather and blood.
	“Listen, if they follow us? Start shooting. Take the pistol and start shooting.”
	“What? I thought you said they wouldn't hurt me!”
	“They have a very strange definition of what is and isn't hurting people, Ceri! Just shoot!”
	Ceridwen nodded, looking back at the rapidly moving road behind them... and suddenly, she could see something approaching. A large creature seemingly composed of steel and leather straps, bounding towards them impossibly quickly. Ceridwen let out a cry of fear just as Mammon started cursing. “They sent the fucking Tormentor?!? All I took was one Potion of Advanced Lust! They hoard that shit like there's no tomorrow!”
	Ceridwen liked the idea of a “Potion of Advanced Lust”, but was significantly less thrilled by the monster following them. She fired off a few bullets, and missed with every shot. As it turns out, it's hard to fire a pistol effectively when you're in a moving car and have never fired a gun before.
	Mammon drove like a woman possessed, skidding around sharp turns and gunning down straight paths, doing her best to shake off the Tormentor. The creature roared and swung a claw, and several large steel spikes embedded themselves in the back of the car with a thud of impacted metal, the car skidding briefly before being righted by Mammon's impeccable steering. “For fuck's sake, Ceri, haven't you ever handled a magic gun?!?”
	“No, I haven't! And I'm not entirely sure why you're so convinced I should have!”
	Mammon sighed and shook her head. “By god, we need to have a nice, long talk about this later. But for now...” She reached into the back seat, and pulled out what Ceridwen realized was an actual, honest to god, golden machine gun. The metal glittered and gleamed, and even the wood seemed to be of the highest quality. “Here! Spray 'n' Pray! Higher caliber, too!”
	Ceridwen was pretty sure this was one of the worst ideas Mammon had ever had, but she still aimed back at the beast following them and pulled on the trigger... and promptly nearly fell out of the car as the gun's intense recoil hit her. As it was, only a few bullets pinged the creature, flesh well hidden by steel bleeding as the bullets punched through its armor. The creature roared in pain, and swiped again, several more spikes whizzing past Ceridwen, one coming dangerously close to her eye.
	The gun clicked empty, and Ceridwen and Mammon frowned in perfect unison. “Well, that didn't work.” Mammon said, seeming a bit concerned. “You got any other bright ideas?”
	Ceridwen wracked her brain for something to help them... and her gaze shifted to right beside them, where the mountainside gave way to what seemed to be an impossibly long fall. She got an idea.
	She focused her magical energies, preparing to summon two of the biggest portals she'd ever summoned in her life. And with a burst of magic, they appeared, one in front of the Tormentor and one hanging over thin air. Just as she'd predicted, the creature dashed through the portal before it could even think to stop, and promptly began to fall, letting out a roar of rage as it did so. The beast was defeated.
	Mammon breathed a sigh of relief, and began to slow down the car. “Okay. I never thought I would ever, ever say this, but... good job with the magic, kid. You did good.”
	Ceridwen couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in the older dragon's praise, even if Mammon did seem a bit crazy. The rest of the ride was completely uneventful, aside from briefly passing by the broken, splattered remains of the Tormentor. Ceridwen held back a wave of nausea, as she was distinctly reminded that she was responsible for the creature's death. She felt Mammon pat her on the shoulder.
	“Relax, kid, the Tormentor dies every other week. They'll rebuild him, same as they always do.”
	“They rebuild him?”
	“Sure. Honestly, that thing's more machine than hellhound at this point.”
	When they arrived back at Mammon's cave, Mammon opened the loot bag and dumped its contents unceremoniously onto the ground. Within were several bottles of potions, along with carefully made leather clothing and a single golden ring.
	“Now, the way I see it, even though I did most of the heavy work, we're gonna do a 50/50 split since it was your first gig, alright?”
	Ceridwen nodded, a bit mystified by how much Mammon had managed to fit into one bag. Some of these potion bottles were huge!
	“Now, from what I understand, these potions...” She gestured to two particularly large bottles. “Are not potions at all. They're lube.”
	Ceridwen blushed bright red. “W-what?”
	“The Bound are absolute freaks, Ceridwen. You can have 'em if you want, I don't really have any use for them.”
	Ceridwen considered her options... and then took the bottles.
	“I'll be taking this Elixer of Gold Conversion, and this Dress of Bullet Deflection.” Mammon said, setting aside a small bottle and one of the dresses. “I think that bra and panty set keeps you warm when it's cold outside, if you want it.”
	What Mammon didn't mention was that she was pretty sure it was also the only thing in this entire stash that could safely stand up to Ceridwen's... rather impressive chest. Even with the Princess's incompatible orientation, she had to admit they were pretty impressive.
	Ceridwen examined the clothing, then took it for her own. They divided up the rest of the potions and outfits, before Mammon picked up the golden ring and examined it. “This, my dear Ceridwen, is a Ring of Lurid Dreams. It's a pretty minor magic item. If you wear it to bed, you basically have some kinda weird sex dream that night.”
	Mammon handed it to Ceridwen. “And it's officially yours. We gotta start your hoard somehow, and every good hoard has at least one magic ring! Even if this one is pretty skeevy. Consider it a gift from me to you.”
	Ceridwen looked the ring over. It was golden, and set in the very top was a rather large piece of Alexandrite. It was, to put it bluntly, absolutely beautiful. “Really? You're giving this to me?”
	Mammon shrugged. “Well, technically, it's part of your cut from the heist. And I want nothing to do with it. But yeah, I suppose so.”
	Ceridwen nodded. “Thank you...”
	Mammon stood and stretched, stowing her part of the loot back in the bag and offering Ceridwen another one to hold hers. “Anyways, we should probably get you back home. But real quick...” Mammon dug through a nearby pile of jewelry, and pulled out a small pendant. “Wear this tomorrow. At 3:00 PM it'll teleport you to my lair, and we can continue your training, alright?”
	Ceridwen nodded, putting the pendant in with her other treasure.
	“Great job today, Ceri. We'll make you a real dragon in no time, I can feel it in my bones.”
	The car ride back to Ceridwen's home was about as nerve wracking as the ride to Mammon's lair was, especially when they got out of Hell and there were other cars to contend with again. But she made it home in one piece, and the rest of the day passed more or less peacefully.
	That night, Ceridwen prepared to get some sleep, and she carefully considered the ring Mammon had given her. Would it really give her the kind of dreams Mammon said it would?
	As she drifted off to sleep, she awoke in her dreams to discover The Witch, buck naked, holding a riding crop. “Hello, Ceridwen... you've been an awfully bad girl, haven't you?”
	Over the next few hours, Ceridwen discovered just how effective the ring actually was.