Houses of Lust

The Houses of Lust are the infernal dominion of Asmodia, the androgynous Lord of Lust, where beauty curdles into obsession and ecstasy is stretched into torment. This is no sanctuary, but a labyrinth of indulgence without end, a realm built to erode restraint and enslave the will. Here, the boundaries between flesh, stone, and spirit blur, forming great palatial estates of writhing architecture that pulse with life, desire, and corruption. Their halls echo with laughter, moans, and cries that never cease, carried on Air thick with perfumes both sweet and suffocating.

Born of Asmodia’s own divine excess, the Houses were shaped not through mortal hands, but through the unchecked tide of lust itself. Asmodia poured their essence into the emptiness of the Void, weaving silken palaces and grotesque manors from the very fabric of temptation. Yet the realm did not grow by their will alone. Every whisper of forbidden desire, every dark fantasy nurtured in mortal hearts, bleeds into this plane. With each unspoken craving, the Houses swell, their foundations fed by the ceaseless hungers of countless souls. In this way, the dominion is both Asmodia’s creation and a reflection of the mortal world’s hidden appetites, an eternal mirror of indulgence turned monstrous

The Houses are not static. They shift and ripple with the ebb and flow of mortal lusts, reshaping themselves into endless forms of grandeur and grotesquerie. One day a crimson-draped palace of onyx pillars, the next a grotesque fortress of writhing bodies frozen into marble, each estate reflects both the decadence of Asmodia and the cravings of those who unwittingly sustain it. Visitors find themselves lost not only in its twisting halls but within their own desires, as Asmodia’s presence coils around them in every touch, glance, and whisper. In the Houses of Lust, no soul enters unaltered, for the realm thrives on the surrender of will until nothing remains but worship of indulgence without end.

Geography

The Houses of Lust sprawl across an endless barren expanse, a wasteland of blackened Earth beneath the eternal glare of a swollen, blood-red sun. The terrain is deceptively still at a distance; rolling plains and hills that, upon closer inspection, reveal themselves as the sumptuous forms of titanic bodies, flesh fused with stone and landscape. Valleys curve like reclining figures, while jagged ridges rise like exposed ribs and spines, creating a topography that is at once alluring and grotesque. No rivers cut through this land, nor oceans border it; Water has no place here. Instead, streams of molten red and black ichor pulse like veins through the soil, converging into pools that shimmer with intoxicating heat.

The manors themselves dominate this alien horizon, looming palaces of Obsidian and flesh draped in crimson silks that billow without wind. Each House rises like a jagged shrine, towering above the wasteland with impossible geometry; arches bending at unnatural angles, walls breathing as though alive, and balconies shaped like open mouths welcoming their prey. These palaces are not fixed landmarks, for they shift across the plane as desires swell, drifting like mirages across the wastes. To the lost wanderer, they seem both impossibly near and forever distant, always pulling the desperate further inward.

Though the land offers no natural beauty in the mortal sense, it captivates with its own infernal allure. The endless black plains gleam faintly under the red sun, casting long, sinister shadows that ripple across the flesh-stained hills. From the heights of any House, the view stretches into a horizon that never ends; an ocean of dark indulgence, broken only by the silhouettes of other distant manors rising like teeth from the barren earth.

Accessing the Houses of Lust

Entry into the Houses of Lust is never a simple matter of will. As this realm is a demiplane woven into the fabric of the Seven Hells, one must first pass through those infernal dominions before even glimpsing its crimson horizon. The passage is most often found deep within the most debaucherous infernal courts, where gateways of obsidian and silk lie hidden behind labyrinthine corridors of temptation. Mortals who enter are not guided by maps or signs, but by the pull of their own darkest cravings; desire itself acting as the compass that draws them into Asmodia’s domain. For those without spellcraft, only infernal bargains, ritual sacrifices, or the direct guidance of a fiend can secure passage.

Succubi and incubi traverse this boundary effortlessly, their essence bound to the Houses as both servants and emissaries of lust. In their company, mortal consorts may be drawn into the plane through acts of carnal union. These transitions are often dreamlike, experienced as sudden shifts in perception: a bedchamber dissolves into a hall of writhing flesh, a whispered seduction transforms into the roar of a thousand voices in ecstasy. For those wielding higher magics, Plane Shift, Gate, or rarer boons, the way is more direct, though rarely safer, for entry without invitation leaves travelers exposed to the will of the plane itself, which bends to Asmodia’s hunger.

Effects on Travelers

The Houses of Lust engulf all who enter in a haze of corruption that attacks body, mind, and soul alike. From the first step across its threshold, the air saturates the lungs with intoxicating fumes; spiced incense, cloying musk, and a faint metallic tang of blood. The realm itself radiates heat like a fever, causing hearts to race and skin to flush as though aflame with hunger. Every surface writhes faintly underfoot, warm and pliant, pulsing as if alive. These constant assaults strain the body until appetite, pain, and fatigue blur into one continuous, devouring sensation.

The longer a traveler lingers, the more severe the toll becomes. Pupils dilate until vision bleeds into distorted light, leaving some blind to all but the throes of Asmodia’s ecstasy. Muscles stiffen into postures of pleasure or torment. Those who lose themselves entirely risk becoming permanent fixtures of the plane: sightless thralls, endlessly writhing in ritualized debasement, or flesh-bound extensions of the architecture itself; pillars of bone, moaning walls, or statuesque forms forever locked in ecstasy. The Houses do not kill their prey swiftly; they consume travelers slowly, reshaping them until no distinction remains between soul and scenery.

The psychological erosion is equally merciless. Memory fractures under the constant deluge of sensation, identity dissolving into the collective rapture. Pleasure becomes indistinguishable from pain, longing from violation, consent from compulsion. Even those who manage to escape rarely leave unmarked. They carry with them phantom aches, invasive dreams, and a hollowness of will that leaves them vulnerable to Asmodia’s whispers long after departure. To walk the halls of this demiplane is not merely to risk death, but to hazard transformation into one of its countless, faceless offerings.

Flora and Fauna

The Houses of Lust are fed by a perverse ecology sustained not by sun or soil but by mortal craving. Every plant, creature, and parasite here is shaped by Asmodia’s will and the unending torrent of dark desire leaking from mortal souls. Unlike the nurturing growths of natural worlds, the flora here thrives on flesh, fluids, and the fevered energy of indulgence. Likewise, the fauna are twisted mirrors of sensual archetypes—seductive, grotesque, and always hungry.

Flora

• Crimson Vines. These writhing, blood-red vines creep across walls and ceilings, sprouting fleshy blossoms that secrete nectar both intoxicating and addictive. Their tendrils curl like grasping hands, seeking the warmth of passing bodies. Prolonged mortal exposure to their nectar induces fevered visions of lust until the victim collapses, drained.
• Whisperfruit. Bulbous, black-skinned fruit that murmurs in soft voices when handled, whispering temptations or recalling a mortal’s hidden shame. Those who eat the fruit taste pleasure so intense that it erases one memory of their choosing, willingly or not.
• Velvet Parasites. Moss-like crimson growths carpeting the ground, which embed microscopic hooks into bare skin. Victims often do not notice until it is too late; the moss slowly weaves into their flesh, turning patches of their body into a living extension of the plane itself.

Fauna

• Blind Courtesans. Former mortals who have been reshaped into eyeless thralls. Their bodies are marked by silken flesh and elongated limbs, endlessly contorting in grotesque dances of desire. They are neither fully alive nor dead, and serve as both ornament and lure within the Houses and the landscape.
• Erosinids. Insectoid predators resembling wasps with glittering, glass-like carapaces. Their stingers inject venom that triggers intense, consuming desire—directed only toward the wasp itself. Victims willingly allow themselves to be carried back to the hive, where they are slowly consumed alive.

Landmarks

The Houses of Lust are defined by three central landmarks, each radiating Asmodia’s essence in different ways. Together, they form the spiritual and physical heart of the demiplane — the palace where Asmodia rules, the theatres where their will is celebrated, and the countless manors where their influence spreads like wildfire.

The Heart of Thorns

At the center of the realm lies Asmodia’s palace, a vast cathedral of barbed obsidian and silken shadow. Its walls throb with veins of crimson crystal, sprouting into jagged thorns that twist overhead like the ribcage of some colossal beast. At its core beats the great living organ known as the Heart, pumping a dark ichor that seeps into the wastes, sustaining the endless ecstasy of the realm. Here, Asmodia manifests most often, enthroned upon coils of veined stone and crimson silk, their palace doubling as both temple and prison. The Heart’s pulse shapes the rhythm of the plane itself; when it slows, the manors fall silent, and when it quickens, the entire demiplane shudders with frenzied lust.

The Crimson Manors

Radiating outward from the Heart of Thorns are the Crimson Manors, sprawling fortresses of flesh, stone, and velvet that litter the landscape like malignant growths. Each manor is unique, its halls endlessly shifting, with chambers designed to ensnare the senses and consume the will. From the outside, they appear as decadent palaces glowing faintly in the gloom, their windows pulsing with red light. Within, mortal souls and fiendish hosts intermingle in endless masquerades of indulgence, until revelers are either lost to blindness or become part of the very architecture. Scholars claim that the manors are extensions of the Heart itself, growing like tumors across the black plain, each one tethered to Asmodia’s will.

Beneath every manor lies a labyrinth of chambers where the veneer of decadence rots away into raw cruelty. Here, pleasure and torment are indistinguishable, fused into a cycle of escalating excess that grinds away at both body and soul. The walls are slick with a pulsing, fleshy sheen, echoing with cries that blur rapture and agony until neither can be discerned. The air is heavy with incense of blood and spice, each breath thickening the hunger for more.

These dungeons are where revelry mutates into obsession. Mortal prisoners are tempted until every threshold of sensation is crossed and shattered, their bodies reshaped by fiendish hands, their spirits plucked apart like strings. Death itself is treated as the final crescendo of desire; a climax of suffering so intense that it becomes indistinguishable from ecstasy. Yet even this is not an end, for the souls of the fallen are often reconstituted, stitched back into the walls or reborn as thralls to begin the cycle anew.

The Theatre of Ecstasies

Carved into the black earth, the Theatre is a grand amphitheater of marble and living flesh, where Asmodia’s cults stage unending performances of pleasure and torment. The theatre is both stage and altar: every cry, moan, and scream is offered as sacrifice, the audience compelled to join until their voices are devoured by the chorus. Fiendish dancers, succubi, and incubi preside over the performances, drawing mortals into contests of excess where winners are granted fleeting glimpses of Asmodia’s favor, and losers vanish into the walls, absorbed into the eternal audience. Legends say the Theatre’s acoustics carry beyond the demiplane itself, whispering into mortal dreams, luring the weak-willed to seek out Asmodia’s domain.