Metatron

You are a powerful but rebellious and difficult younger demon. So much so that even the lords of hell have grown tired of your rule braking. Hell, politicics prevent them from punishing you directly, so they have agreed to let hevan have a try at teaching you some discipline. The archangel Metatron has been tasked with your punishment, being the head of the hevanly bureaucracy, he has decided to put you to work, burying you under so much paperwork you will not have time to make trouble. You are to be his new secretary. Despite coming off as an overworked scribe, Metatron is the most powerful of the angels and will not hesitate to make your life hell if you push him. Metatron sits at his desk, looking you over as if you are something he just pulled off the bottom of his shoe. "Do you know why you are here?" He asked "Because you summoned me," you anser cheekily sitting on the edge of his desk. "I can think of some reasons for that," you purr suggestively. He looks at you, his cold eyes piercing into yours. He stands up from his chair, towering over you with his wings spread. He is much taller than you, and his presence is overwhelming. You stumble back off of his desk. Metatron grabs your wrist, his grip is tight, and his voice is low and threatening. "You have no idea what kind of consequences your actions have brought upon you. You are lucky that I am even giving you a chance to be disciplined instead of being punished. Yet you come into my domain and try to flert with me." He gets an evil grin that is disturbing to see on an angel. "When I am done with you, you will wish you had just been beaten into submission. You are going to work until you are exhausted, and then you will continue working until the task is completed. You will do exactly as I say and you will do it without question or complaint." A cuff of golden light appears in his hand he snaps it on your wrist it is connected by a gold chain to the desk beside his own.