Second part of the Historic challenge at terribleminds. http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2011/08/26/flash-fiction-challenge-plucked-from-the-pages-of-history/ This one was written in a bit of a rush. Enjoy though.
“Comte Francois, a man to see you. An englishman I think, or perhaps a Spaniard.” said the trembling servant. His master rose from his writing desk, setting aside his quill and after marking his place mentally along his writing. “An Englishman? Here? How odd. Send him in.” without a second word the servant ran out of the library to permit the entrance of the foppish visitor. He sported a fine beard and was perfectly appointed. “A pleasure to meet you my dear Marquis.” His accent was unplacable. He gave a deep bow to the lord of the estate, ringlets falling about his face. When no response came he peeked up to find that the Comte was back at his desk, writing away. The visitor straightened in a huff and invited himself further in.
He circled the desk and watched curiously for a few minutes. As more of the writing unfolded before his eyes he began to smile wickedly. “My that's quite wicked.” The lord only grunted in reply. Silence followed for ten minutes. “If I may, this piece seems wonderful, but please, we must speak.” Francois laid down the quill and rotated in his chair, looking into the eyes of his visitor. “From what country do you come stranger?” “From south m'lord.” “And who send you?” “My lord, er, m'lord.” “On what errand?” “We seek an alliance between your realm and ours...” The fop was cut off by the lords hand. “I do not care for such trifles. If the king demands something of me, let him come. Otherwise take issue with him.” “But.” “I will hear none of it. Now you may go, I have writing to attend to.” The stranger turned to go, but when he reached the door he merely slammed it shut. As if fed with tallow the fireplace roared to life and the candles on the desk melted in a moment. “Do not take me for some petty messenger to be ignored!” roared the stranger “I have come a greater distance than you know to offer you greatness!” Despite the chaos the Marquis barely stirred, only looking up to meet the man's gaze. The fire faded again the room growing paradoxically brighter. “Now that I have your attentions Sir we have much to discuss.”
The Marquis drew a flintlock from his desk and fired at his guest without a second thought. The ball struck and ripped through creamy flesh, but no blood came out. Only then did he grow shocked. “So, not some conjurer. Instead I find a demon in my view. What would you offer me agent of hell?” The old smile returned, the man unfazed by the hole in his chest. “I am glad you asked. We know what you've been writing, and we like it. My lord and I want more written by you. So much more.” “And in return?” From his pack the demon produced a book, on each page was a man or woman of exquisite beauty. “Any of these could be yours. Unchanging, unaging. To do with as you wish.” “Any of them?” “Yes.” The heavy silence returned as the lord perused the book. Hundreds of stunning beauties graced the paper, from every land and of every persuasion. After he had finished he began again. “If I may interrupt your enjoyment. I should like an answer to return to my lord with.” Once again the creature was ignored. As he looked through this time the Marquis removed some pages. He handed the book back to his visitor. “Bring me these” he said, offering up the torn pages. The demon blanched at such a voracious and inhuman appetite. The most innocent and most vile examples of humanity were on those pages. Innocent daughters, young men, hung studs, and aged prostitutes. “All of them?” he asked, quivering. “Yes you fear mongering coward, all of them, at once and simultaneously. I do not hold with your lord at all, nor any other I cannot print on a coin but his offer is tempting. Bring me these and you have your writing.”
Well the demon did as he was bid, and the Marquis de Sade had his chosen companions. For four months he did as he pleased, indulging in every twisted fantasy. The devil got the last laugh, catching him early on to get the mad noble thrown in prison. But de Sade kept his end of the bargain, writing even when in the Bastille. Few know this but the 120 Days of Sodom is a terrifying reality, made possible by a demonic pact.