by Jay Aury
The force of his thrusts choke you, but the sensation only arouses you more. Your pussy fairly drools as you suck him, moaning, whimpering, gasping, fairly begging for him to use you as his personal glory hole. To fuck your mouth like the whore you are. To take you.
To cum.
Cum.
Cum!
“Yessssss!’ Givril screams, shuddering as his cock twitches and unloads the fullness of his seed into you. You groan in delight, eyes rolling back as his cum pumps into your mouth. As you swallow like the dedicated slut you are. Drinking down his bitter seed. Taking as much as you can.
Givril at last finishes, groaning as his grip loosens on your hair. With a moan you slide back and off his little red prick, panting, your tongue laden with the taste of his cock and cum.
And as your infernal lust slowly fades, sated for the moment, you start to feel something else. Something just as potent, and far more familiar.
Absolute rage.
Punishment
Punishment
“Givril,” you say, slowly stroking his still rigid shaft.
“Mmmm,” the imp moans, closing his eyes in pleasure as you rub his burning little cock.
“Such a smart demon.”
“Ooooh…”
“Such a clever creature…”
“Yessss…”
“Such a clever, sneaky, little fuck of a demon bastard!”
Givril’s eyes snap open and he looks down, at last seeing the white-hot fury in your eyes.
“Um.”
“Such a horny little shit of a demon trying to trick me in my moment of grief,” you growl as your hand starts to grow cold. Wrapped in icy magic.
His eyes widen further. “W-wait! I didn’t… I mean… um…”
“Such a little fuck of a demon who thought he could use this moment to make me his slave! To seize the power of the Overlord! To fuck me and impregnate me with his wretched little seed!”
You’re standing now, towering over the imp. He squeals and tries to pull away, but your hand is still tight around his twitching cock, grip like iron as you loom over the wretched little demon.
“Wait! Wait! We can… this is all… I mean…”
“Of course I understand,” you say, leaning in closer, glowering down at the imp’s face. “You didn’t mean to. You’re just too hot blooded. You’re a demon. You get so horny and desperate you can’t help but try and fuck.”
“Yes! Yes!” Givril squeals, nodding frantically.
“Exactly,” you say, releasing his cock, blue magic gathering in your palms, the air cracking with cold. “So I think it’s time to cool you off!”
Relief vanishes from the imp’s face. He screams, throwing up his arms as you unleash a blast of freezing magic. In a flash, the imp is locked in a block of ice, his horrified expression frozen for all time, his eyes flicking this way and that beneath the shining surface.
Grim satisfaction fills you. You reach out and yank a chord next to the throne. A great gong rings throughout the Citadel, and moments later, the door behind the throne opens, and Loria glides in. The demoness glances towards the frozen imp, raising an immaculate brow in mild interest before cocking her head towards you.
“Yes, mistress?”
“Loria? Draw me a bath. I need one.”
“No doubt, my lady. I assume this has something to do with your father’s decree?”
You stare at the succubus. “How do you know about that!”
“Everyone’s heard about it by now,” Loria observes. “No doubt it has been whispered from every tower and slave pit in the nether realms.”
You cover your face with a hand, groaning in anguish. “Ughhhh!”
“Come, Mistress,” Loria says, taking your shoulders and guiding you away from the frozen block that is the imp. “I think a bath will do you good.”
It better. You could really use some good right about now.
Bathing and Planning
Fuck Him with Your Tits
Your breasts ache with a need. A need to show this imp just how good they are.
“Oh, Givril,” you pant as your legs fold beneath you, sending you to your knees before the imp and the table he stands on. He’s so small, but his cock is not, consuming the whole of your awareness. You pull open your dress, the slinky gown parting to reveal the fullness of your plump breasts. “Givril… Please. May… may I stroke you with my tits? May I adore your cock with my big breasts?”
The imp licks his lips, staring in rapt fascination at your pale breasts, each capped with a needy pink nipple. So big. So soft. So full and firm.
“Ooooh,” the imp croons, reaching out and filling his palms with your pale orbs.
“Mnnn!” you gasp, ass tightening as hot pleasure shoots through your veins, his fingers sinking into your plump tits, molding them together in naked admiration. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees, because you doubt your legs would be able to hold you up as the imp massages your breasts, bouncing them in his hands, fingers teasing your tender nipples until you whimper with delight.
“Fuck,” the imp says, fairly drooling as he admires those plump orbs. “Look at that! You’ve got a pair a Ghula cow slut would envy.”
“Sooo gooood,” you moan.
“Every imp guessed your cup sizes,” Givril continues as he fondles your massive teats. “We used to hold meetings to think about how they’d feel. Do you have any idea how much I stared at these? How much I admired them?”
“Yes,” you pant, head spinning, fairly drooling in naked lust. “I saw… saw you stare. Knew you wanted them.”
“And you’d never let me touch them, would you?”
“N-no. Too… too proud. Never… never knew how good… how good your hands are… How good you are. So handsome. Such a… a big cock…”
“That’s right,” the imp says, giving your nipples and admonishing tweak.
“Ah!”
“So proud. But they’re mine now, aren’t they?” Givril cackles. “All mine!”
“Yes!” you moan, almost mad with pleasure. With need. With desperate sensitivity. “All yours! Oh gods… please, Givril… let me… let me pleasure you. Need to. Need your cock between my tits! Need your seed all over them. All over my face!”
The imp cackles with glee. “Sure, slut! I’m magnani… magnim… I’m a good owner! Let’s fuck ‘em! Show me how much ya love my cock!”
You fairly tremble with excitement to show him. Your body surges with the insidious lust of his poison, mingling with the mark that burns above your mons, urging you to greater depravities for this wretched creature. It takes all you have not to simply turn around, lift your bum, and offer up your glistening cunny and fertile womb for his demonic seed.
Instead, you manage to lift your firm breasts, and engulf the puny demon’s cock between them.
“Fuuuuuuck!” Givril groans as your soft breasts squeeze around his shaft.
“Oh… oh gods,” you moan, feeling his prick twitch between your breasts. Your nipples are hard as diamonds as you began to mold and squish your tits, mashing his cock between them, rubbing him with your plump pink orbs, massaging his cock, feeling the heat radiate from his prick, sending your head spinning with delight. Your whole body falls into the motions, dipping forward, pulling back, bobbing and stroking him with ever growing pleasure. Your feel the imp’s lust throb from his shaft, the head peeking from between your mashing tits with every eager forward movement. You’re fairly panting for the cum that stuffs his balls to paint your face.
“Master,” you moan, so lost in your lust the word escapes you without a hint of shame. “Master. Please. Please! Give me your cum. Pump it all over my big tits. Oh gods. Please. Please! Slut needs master’s cum. I need your seed. Give it to me, master. Give me your cum.”
“Yes! Yes! You get cum. Get cum now. Get… nnnn… cum… Ahhhhh!”
He wails with desperate pleasure as he reaches that glorious peak. As his cock throbs between your breasts, and unleashes a grea
t fountain of his seed all over you. You gasp, moaning as his demonic cum splatters on your face and tits, burning against your skin in a way that makes your thighs tighten, an orgasm fairly beating through your very soul as you cum without even touching yourself, kneeling before an imp like some common pit slave.
“Ooooh,” Givril groans, plopping down onto the edge of the table, head tilted back, mouth agape with naked pleasure.
You pant, your head spinning with the insidious lust of the venom he tricked you into drinking. Feeling the throbbing of your core pulse.
Thump.
Then, slowly begin to fade. And in its place, something quite familiar begins to grow.
Absolute rage.
Punishment
Bathing and Planning
Loria was right. You really did need a bath. Not just to cleanse yourself of the demon’s spunk, but also for just a chance to relax and let the shock of the day sink in.
As you lounge in the steaming waters, your breasts capping the surface like pale islands topped with pink mountains, you stare at the dark ceiling in thought.
Your father is dead.
You always loved the man, but are certainly able to admit he was a massive prick. Successful, yes. Powerful, most definitely. But in retrospect, maybe you shouldn’t be too surprised at what he’s locked you into. After all, the bastard was never shy about showing you off. Now that you think about it, much of his love, his affection, and the many, many, many gifts he showered on you were less expressions of love for you, but perhaps, for what you were. An example of his might. A symbol of his virility, your beauty something he could show off, as he might a particularly lovely, enchanted sword.
You groan, covering your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks burn. Dammit. Dammit! If he were still alive, you’d kill that old bastard for what he’s done to you! And that imp… You shudder. That was just the first! There are seven rings in the demon realms, all filled with demons and monsters wanting a piece of your father’s legacy, and you to be their moaning breeding slut. The thought is both exciting and horrifying, and you notice the curse mark glowing from beneath the waters.
“Damn,” you mutter, rising from the bath, water cascading off your curves. Time to get out anyway. You don’t want to wrinkle, though you do smell delightfully of rose water. You sigh, stretching and pulling a robe around yourself as you step out of the baths and back into your room.
Loria waits there near your expansive vanity, the succubus appraising you through her officious spectacles. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” you sigh. “A bath really does one wonders to relax.”
“Good. Then now would be a good time to tell you all the servants have fled.”
“What!”
“Yes,” the succubus muses, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “It seems they didn’t relish waiting around for the inevitable siege upon the Citadel. They actually left hours ago.”
“Those bastards!” you snarl. “I’ll flay their hides!”
“That will be difficult to do, seeing as the guards have gone as well.”
You groan, collapsing onto your bed and burying you head in your hands. “Fuuuuuck,” you moan.
“On the brighter side,” the succubus says in her clipped tone. “It appears the Citadel’s arcane defences remain active, so you are safe. For now.”
“Great,” you say. “Then we can hold out for maybe a few hours until a real horde comes banging at the door!”
“Yes, my lady. But for now, perhaps it behooves us to take a look at your seal and see what can be done.”
You lift your head hopefully. “You think you can dispel it?”
“We shall see,” the succubus says. “Please lie back.”
You do as she bids, lying down on the bed, unlacing your bathrobe to bare your shaven pussy and plump breasts. The mark writ above your mons glows faintly with whatever foul enchantment your father cursed you with, and you shiver as Loria climbs onto the bed, crouching between your thighs, her face nearly atop your pussy as she stares intently at the marks upon you.
“Um, Loria?”
“Please be still. This is delicate work.”
You hold your tongue with some effort. Loria’s breath ghosts against your slit as the demoness delicately touches the marks above your mons, her fingers gently tracing each in turns. You shiver, skin tender and sensitive from the curse and the proximity of the ravishing demoness. Your heart flutters and you clutch the blankets beneath you to avoid twitching with pleasure.
“Hmm. This is a problem,” Loria murmurs.
“Can… can it be undone?” you pant.
“It can.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” you breathe.
“But…”
Damn. There’s always a but. “What is it?”
“You see these six marks?” Loria says, tapping them each in turn, making you gasp in quick succession.
“Y-yes?”
“These are the marks of the six lords of sin, who your father led to war with the human realm. These runes seem to be a variation of their contracts of obedience to him.”
“S-so what?” you say.
“Well, mistress, your father’s legacy is that of the Overlord. Therefore, to break the seal, you must either be bred by a monster, or…”
“Or?”
“Or convince each lord of sin to declare themselves your followers. Only thus will the seal be undone, and remade, but with you as the Overlord.”
“…You have got to be shitting me!”
Loria straightens lazily. “No. I know your father’s sorcery well. He’s been meticulous here, mistress,” she says, tapping the runes. “It’s the only way to undo it.”
“Damn that old bastard!”
“Cursing will get you little,” Loria says, rising from the bed. “It appears you will have to convince the other demon lords that they should follow you as they did your father.”
“Great,” you grumble, sitting up, tugging your robe back around you. “Just perfect! And how do I do that?”
“No doubt they will have returned to their realms by now,” Loria says, crossing her arms beneath her impressive bust. “They cannot stand one another, hence why they would abandon the campaign once your father died. I would recommend you first travel to the realm of Mammon where Avarick, the Dragon of Greed, makes his home. He is among the weakest of the sin lords, but his backing and his riches will, at least, assure others that you stand a chance taking your father’s place. You will need to travel to his realm posthaste.”
“Avarick?” you say, recalling the dragon lord. Always in a fur trimmed coat, tall, his scales of gold and his eyes filled with the counting of costs and sums. He was the financer behind much of your father’s rise to power, and holds no loyalty but to coin. Which also means he at least might be willing to listen to you, and charge you by the second. “Yes… I suppose he would be a good choice.”
“Then we must prepare for your expedition,” Loria says.
You nod along, but as you do, a thought occurs to you. “…Loria?” you say.
“Mistress?”
“Why are you still here? Why haven’t you left me too? Or tried to claim the Overlord’s legacy?”
“Simple, mistress. I am a sexual deviant.”
“…What?” you say.
“Yes,” Loria says, shifting primly. “I am marked by my adoration of humiliation and unwavering attraction to the bratty bitch archetype. And you are the perfect expression of it. Your pride, your arrogance, your haughty cruelty and bullying ways turn me on like nothing else. I yearn to be abused and pleasured by a beautiful woman who is utterly reprehensible. I relish the feeling of pleasure and the thrill of being debased by you. The thought of not polishing your shoes with my tongue, not feeling your palm upon my bottom, spanking me like the naughty slut I am, fills me with despair. Every night I go to my room, where I have erected a shrine to you, and whip my own ass, imagining you’re the one doing it.”
You’re a bit floo
red. Likely disturbed. And, potentially, a bit aroused. “Th… that’s why you’re still here?” you say.
“Of course,” she says, sniffing as she once more pushes up her glasses. “Many demons are experts in pain and pleasure, but I want the ultimate bratty bitch to do it. The Princess of Pride herself punishing my bottom despite my efforts to please you? Being in servile abasement to such a young, arrogant woman? It’s just so…” Her tongue slips along her lips. “Deviant.”
“Oh,” you say. “Um, well. Thank you.”
“You may thank me, mistress, by giving me a firm spanking. Might I request it now?”
“Uh…”
“Please?” Loria says, your secretarial succubus’s eyes shining and cheeks pinked with a flush. “I would be quite grateful to feel your lovely hand punishing my naughty demon bottom.”
Spank the Succubus Dominantly
Not Now
Surrender Your Pussy
The thought of defiance never enters your head. Not when faced with the imp’s cock. The venom and the curse surge through you as one, battering aside your resistance in a pink wave of pure desire. Your womb aches for this demon’s brood. To be bred. To be his.
“Please,” you pant, parting your thighs, reaching down, sliding a finger into the front of your panties and stroking your burning cunny. “Please… oh gods… please… N-need your cock… need you to… to fuck me. Please… oh please…”
Givril cackles in delight at your shameful display. “Is that any way to beg for your master’s cock? On your knees, slut! Show me that pussy!”
You scramble from the throne and onto your hands and knees. You tear off your gown, leaving you in nothing but your lacy panties. Desperately you yank down those as well, revealing your peachy bottom and the delicate folds of your steaming quim. “Please!” you cry “Fuck me! Breed me! I need your cock… Need it so bad!”
Givril grins as he flutters onto the throne you moments ago inhabited. He greedily strokes his crimson cock, eying the delicate divot of your pussy as your fingers strum it. “Mmm. Fuck, slut. You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this.”
