“Finally,” Agatharon snarled.
Omodomos stomped forward, shaking demonic ash and dirt lose around Esperiel as he stepped up to her, grabbing her shoulders and bodily yanking her out of the hole in the earth with incredible violence. It hurt, far, far worse than she would have expected, and she let loose a scream that was cut short as the monster slammed her down onto her stomach, silencing her. The hulking, goat-headed demon grunted and grabbed Esperiel by the shoulders, hoisting up her torso, bowing her back uncomfortably. Esperiel had just a moment to realize that the armor had parted around his hips and then he was thrusting a suddenly surging phallus against her breast. Agatharon slipped behind her at the same time, and he grabbed her by the hips and nestled an erection of his own between her buttocks. They pinned her between their bodies, and she shuddered at the touch of their loathsome forms.
She saw Zaasteroth smirk, and it occurred to her… a little too late for her to take back her agreement… that the Incubus had worded the proposition very carefully. Only an attempt to breed her would count. Sexual intercourse, as a human would do it. Much could be done to her that would not fit that definition, a very particular form of intimacy. She had, in her innocence, taken no account of the limitless varieties of demonic perversion outside of the obvious configuration, the one that she was denied by the lack of Existence inside of her. She had agreed that she would be free after 850 million demons had had sexual intercourse with her vagina… and she had not even conceived of the myriad other ways in which the demons could be able to use and defile her before so much as starting to fill the quota.
There were a hundred ways they could prolong this, dragging it out. Still, she had Hope. These demons had a shard of Existence in them. They wished to breed. They would use her eventually. She just wished that she could take comfort in a more comforting thought.
Esperiel’s breasts rose and fell, grabbed and manhandled by Omodomos’s huge hands. The goat-headed demon worked her melons over his shaft, back and forth again and again, deforming them with a vigorous touch, exploring them ravenously, rapaciously. His hips lurched, driving the weight of his pelvic region against Esperiel’s sternum, setting her tits to jolt and jiggle with each collision of his hairy loins. The head of his cock glistened with precum, a thick and meaty thing that stank dizzyingly, and Esperiel’s head spun at each new whiff of it wafting up from her cleavage. She grimaced, feeling dirty as the demon used her breasts, shuddering at the touch of his detestable phallus. Her head lolled on her shoulders, the Archon trying not to look at the huge cock pumping between her boobs, to avoid the impassive eyes and hideous features of the brute presently raping her bosom.
Her nipples were tingling, prickling with sensations Esperiel did not wish to acknowledge. Her body might not be made for sex, but some treacherous facet of her form and substance resonated with this treatment – a common original nature remembered in her core. It was the part of her that remembered her form was almost human. Though Omodomos was weaker than her, in certain basic applications of raw kinetic energy — in brute force as primitive as that of the beasts he analogously resembled — he was stronger, even when she had had Dawnlight at her disposal. Now she was pathetically weak compared to the mammoth demon. He embodied a certain quality of the masculine with excellence, as might a seven-foot-tall bodybuilder with a ten-inch dick, and in as much as Esperiel embodied the feminine aspect, something in her nature responded to his. Confusing sensations that made sense to the Archon, that she had no experience with or use for. She detested his handling of her, and she resented how coarsely he amused himself using her… but her body treacherously made her feel it anyway.
Her full, rounded breasts roiled in response to the application of phallic, masculine force upon her tits. Omodomos fucked her cleavage with a bestial ferocity, even as her rear flexed and clapped about the erection of Agatharon. She could hear the demon grunting and muttering darkly as he rubbed himself between her buttocks and pawed and petted her wings, tugging and toying with the feathers like he was tempted to uproot them. His one remaining wing beat uselessly, unfurling to its full breadth and slapping her side with surprising strength. Once, those wings had let him defy the rules of the universe, speeding him between far-flung dimensions and across the infinite gulfs of space between worlds. He was once the swiftest of all the demons here, and where Omodomos had possessed unshakable solidity and surpassing kinetic potency, he had excelled in impossible agility and traversing the vast spans of both time and space in every direction.
But Esperiel had taken that from him, and he despised her for it.
“You bitch,” he crooned in hideous, blasphemous tongues from beyond the starless void, speaking with shrill and ghastly tones that would have rent the ears and shattered the minds of mortals who heard them as he began forcing his cock into her asshole one tiny shred at a time, making the Archon shriek. “You worthless whore. You scum of scum.” He called her far worse things too, using words with meanings of a labyrinthine subtlety and overpowering intensity that had no translation, defaming her with names too horrible to have any equivalent in any mortal language. Esperiel feebly thrashed, growing hot with anger and shame in response to Agatharon’s libelous declamations, and hotter still in response to the feeling of his erection sliding between her ass cheeks.
It hurt so badly…
Esperiel thrashed violently. Even with the weight of the demon on her back, she succeeded for a second in squirming away, a series of ululating moans rippling out of her mouth. Her shoulders worked, her hips bounced, her legs kicked within their bonds, struggling against the demon despite knowing it was hopeless. And Omodomos and Agatharon laughed at her struggles with pure joy and pleasure of domination, enjoying the way she wriggled like a pinned insect beneath them. She was weak, exhausted… they could have just waited for her to exhaust herself… instead, Agatharon shifted his weight, straddled her bouncing ass, positioning his cock back at her sphinter… and try as she might, she could not dislodge him away. He would take her in the middle of her struggles, at the strongest she would get.
Esperiel thrashed wildly, never acknowledging her helplessness, fighting to the bitter end with a cock between her breasts as she felt the pressure build at her sphincter… her rapist’s huge cock trying to breach her. She squeezed herself shut with every fibre of strength in her being. With Dawnlight, that might have been enough… might have given her strength enough to resist the brute force her rapist could muster. Now, however… it was just going to make it hurt more.
Agatharon pushed, letting all the weight of his body settle into his hips, letting his bodies mass be his weapon against her. The pressure against Esperiel’s sphincter grew unbearable. His cocks head pushed inexorably forward, an irresistable force of body and willpower against her tight, virgin entry… and then the pressure just slowly continued to increase. His raping cock forced the ring of muscle shielding her entrance down, prying it open millimeter after millimeter.
Esperiel hissed out a breath, and even the pounding of her heart seemed to slow as every muscle in her body was rigid…
And she felt her own strength collapse and him length be forced into her. The head of his bulbous cock stretched open her anal ring to double, triple, and more its normal size as it yielding to his pressure. She struggled against him… but her power had fled her. Esperiel was defeated… again. Her strength fell away. And he pushed in. Finally, the head of his cock passed within her anal ring. She shrieked, the agony like nothing the Archon could have possibly imagined existing. He felt impossible large, like the was nothing inside her any longer but his cock.
Her legs kicked uselessly, unable to impart the force she had once been able to exert, throbbing from pain and exhaustion, and she let out a sudden scream as he sadistically plucked a feather from one of her wings.
It felt like a sword in her core… Esperiel’s eyes bulged, and she spat a celestial invective more terrible than purgative hellfire, but in her present position these words carried no weight, and they struck with no more impact than the incantation for a spell chanted by a magic-less peasant. She had no Dawnlight to fuel even the most paltry of oaths, so while she hated him and cursed him, she could not make him feel the sting of her loathing. He was unmoved by her insults, except to cackle and thrust harder, and to raise the feather to her throat and tickle the skin mockingly, bringing furious tears to her eyes.
Then Omodomos grabbed her by the head, thrusting his cock up farther and faster, and he shoved down so that her mouth descended. Esperiel exclaimed in a momentary astonishment, and in crying out she left herself open to his insertion. Still pumping between her tits, the head of the demon’s meaty cock was forced into Esperiel’s mouth, and she tasted it and gagged. But he pushed down on her head harder when she tried to pull it back, refusing to let her spit out his dick, and he thrust more brutishly, jarring her tits so that they heaved up and slapped her face, humiliating the Archon further. She made muffled noises, muttering sullenly into Omodomos’s dick, and with her eyes wide Esperiel made a horrified face as he used her her mouth as a plaything and made her suck him. She refused to move her tongue over his abominable manhood, but he pushed her head and used this movement to get himself off in addition to the bouncing and sliding and slapping of her tits around his thick, pulsing shaft. Her face darkened with colors of shame, and her countenance twisted in miserable expressions while her body bucked and spasmed from many different sensations.
With all the glory of a conquerer over the defeated, Agatharon sank his shaft between the cheeks of the raped archon. Millimeter by millimeter, his cock forced its way deeper into her helpless bowels. There was no struggle anymore, no hope of her refusing him anything – he was merely claiming his prize now. Esperiel wanted to weep in her absolute helplessness… it felt like the the totality of her existence was reduced to the cock cutting her breath and the stretched and torn ring of muscle around the demonic invader. She felt like quivering, feeble, defenseless thing, the very act of being penetrated defining nad defilin her utterly as her body was transformed from a warrior for Father Stasis into a hot clutching receptacle for their cock.
Esperiel’s face slapped against her plump, wobbling tits, and her eyes squeezed shut as she endured the hideous taste of the brutish demon’s enormous cock. Her frame lurched in the coarse handling of the flanking devils, her body writhing in shame even at the just the start of her perverse penance. The Archon shuddered as Agatharon’s thrusting quickened behind her, as he brushed the plucked feather over her nose and made her tense in expectation of a sneeze. He smote her ass cheeks as he rubbed himself between her buttocks, using the Archon’s behind to jerk himself off. Esperiel smoldered in the humiliation of this two-pronged defilement, and in her heart of hearts she cursed both the demons and all their ilk, cracking her eyes open to glare especially at Zaasteroth.
The demon just stood there, watching, as Leshara embraced him from behind, wrapping her arms around his torso and exploring him as she desired. His eyes, however, were focused exclusively on her defilement. She detested the incubus, and she could see how he had tricked her with the exact wording of their deal. While even a greater demon like him could have easily just broken their agreement, he had bothered to manipulate the terms to create this backdoor for her suffering. Why bother? She didn’t understand. Sure, he might be able to now abide by the word of the agreement while spitting in the face of its spirit, but why bother when she was already relying on Hope that he intended to follow through on the conclusion anyway?
Esperiel squeezed her eyes shut again. She was starting to have trouble breathing — that is, with performing those functions in an Archon which were roughly equivalent to respiration in an organic creature — gagging on Omodomos’ cock as he raped her face and tits, the thug obscenely forcing Esperiel’s head to bury itself in her own bosom. She was starting to go blue in the face, and she was aching from want of breath. Weakly she kicked, trying reflexively to throw off these damnable demons who were double-teaming her, but she did not have the strength, and she could barely do more than mildly inconvenience them. Omodomos laughed, and Agatharon sneered and pressed his face into the small of her neck, breathing loathsomely against her skin. She shuddered from disgust at his closeness, and she made a choked, muffled, heaving noise like a weak dry sob. Agatharon shivered in delight, and his cock spasmed. Cum sprayed over Esperiel’s lower back and buttocks. At the same time, Omodomos suddenly lifted Esperiel’s head off his cock, and the goatish demon expelled an ejaculation of his own to spray all over Esperiel’s face and chest. The Archon was too busy gasping down new breaths to even think of protesting this treatment. She could only gasp in relief and passively receive their gushing, spurting semen.
Agatharon and Omodomos looked briefly as Zaasteroth… the sole concession the other greater demons seemed to pay that he was the one making the rules here. He met their eyes and cocked his head, face unreadable. His lips twitched, shifting into a position so slightly and so briefly different that it was impossible to tell if it had been a smile or a frown. He then gestured, and the pair grinned and stepped back, moving to flank Zaasteroth once more. The four greater demons stepped back, and for an instant Esperiel felt a twinge of dismay. Hope sprang eternal, but she was not some naïve little child, and she knew better than to underestimate the ingenious cruelty of demons like them. Her mouth opened, and she almost said something a split second before she stopped herself. But she did stop herself, Hope telling her that she would be fine as long as she endured it, and discipline exerting itself to steel her spirit and tamp down on those momentary flashes of weakness. She would not let them hear her beg, and she would not give away any signs of doubt or dread. Not so soon, and not so easily. But there were many, many demons present, and as Zaasteroth and the other two stepped back, Esperiel could sense the horde bristling with anticipation and creeping closer to her. A couple stepped forward, one a gawping, squamous, fish-eyed creature and the other a horned imp.
The abyssal demon grabbed her by the waist with webbed hands, and he stuck a stout, slimy cock between her legs. He slid his flippers down her side, pressing her legs together so that his floundering phallus was sandwiched by her thighs, not aiming for her sex but squeezing himself between her legs and fucking her thighs. His cold lips slapped against her neck, and he sucked and chewed her skin with toothless gums, making her shudder at his briny touch as he began to wetly thrust, smacking his navel against her hindquarters while he rubbed his shaft vigorously between the Archon’s plump, smooth, powerful thighs. He molested her balance, making use of those anchoring and supporting members that had held this accursed seraph upright for so long, using her thighs like a cheap sex toy. And the imp crawled up Esperiel’s side with a devilish grin, beating his wings and grabbing onto her cum-spattered tits for balance as he took out a ruddy dick and forced up one of her strength-sapped arms, raising a limb that was too exhausted to smite him, the very arm that had annihilated demons of his class by the droves, wiping out whole swarms of them in single great strokes. He leered at Esperiel, smacking his lips suggestively, and pressed the tip of his dick against a smooth, pristine, hairless underarm.
Esperiel was an Archon – even after fighting for hundreds of years she did not have body odor or anything analogous. She did not even perspire, and there were no bacteria nor anything like bacteria that could fester upon her body. The only way she could be dirtied at all was by contact with demons, and even they did not have the same kind of foul smell as wrought by mere mortal dirtiness. She couldn’t stink… but still, it was emblazoned into her mind that that was a dirty or hidden place, and it still felt embarrassing to let a imp use her underarm, and it felt uniquely unclean to her as the diminutive devil pumped his hips back and forth to rub his burning dick against her armpit. Her face was ablaze, the Archon blushing hotly, and she looked away, too disgusted by this treatment to bear to watch. But she could feel the imp’s dire erection sliding this way and that, smearing her underarm with an odious salve of precum, getting himself all over her fair, silky skin. And she could feel the scaly, fish-eyed, web-fingered demon that fucked her thighs from behind, this demi-aquatic abomination like the bastard spawn of Dagon licking and gumming and suckling her nape while he worked his clammy cock between her creamy, quivering thighs.
Another demon came up while these two were still going, a faceless, slobbering thing somewhere between a gargoyle and a cube, and it surmounted Esperiel’s bosom, sandwiching its member between her breasts in imitation of Omodomos. It could not reach her mouth while thus nestling, but it was content to just use her tits, and it tipped its bulk this way and that as its length slid between Esperiel’s breasts, setting the substantial, sumptuous globes to bounce and jiggle beautifully. And while the faceless thing fucked Esperiel’s tits, one of its clawed hands curled around her neck, squeezing her throat until she could no longer breathe, throttling the Archon while her tits and thighs and armpit were fucked by these three lesser demons. They were swarming her from every side, and she was barely able to stand it. She hated the feel of their diverse bodies, each of them twisted and hideous, each of them using her selfishly, sadistically. Stoutly Esperiel clung to Hope, persisting in the embodiment of her essential virtue, but it was hard, and she struggled against the waning of her spirit as the demons quickened their bodies against hers, thrusting faster and harder and more furiously all around her.
The demon fucking her thighs came all over her legs. The demon fucking her armpit came all over her underarm and her ribs. The demon fucking her tits, still squeezing Esperiel’s throat, spurted all over her bosom and her collar. Her eyes were bulging to the point that they almost resembled the protuberant orbs of the lower abyssal, and she was gagging and spitting in her efforts to breathe. This third, faceless demon kept hold of her throat for a little longer before it shoved its cock straight into her mouth, and it let go only once it was stuffing Esperiel’s throat. Even without Dawnlight, breathing was less essential for an Archon than for a mortal human, but that just meant she could suffer longer.
Esperiel didn’t know it, had never needed to consider it once in her long life, but in stopping her breathing what the demon was really interrupting was her taking a piece of the universe into herself, changing it, and sending it back out into the universe infused with her embodied virtue. The process created resonance between the Archon and Hope… and the demon cut her off from her source in that platonic ideal. The lack of resonance was as painful as the ache in her lungs, but more damaging was the the tiny weakening of the resonance between her and her virtue as it wasn’t being used. Each second she wasn’t breathing coaxed her to weaken and lose her way. This would not kill her, or at least not in fast way, even without understanding what was happening Esperiel could feel the pain of it. It was every bit as terrifying and excruciating for her as suffocation was for a mortal creature. She was being drowned in evil, her source strangled, swarmed and smothered and defiled in every way but that which would count toward the total for her and Zaasteroth’s agreement.
The imp and abyssal continued to play with and use her, the little one switching sides to her opposite arm while the squamous dullard spanked her with one webbed hand and jerked himself off with the other. The fish-eyed demon slapped her ass and jerked himself off, and the snickering shrimp groped her chest and diddled her armpit, rapidly bucking his diminutive hips, and the faceless, half-geometric gargoyle fucked her face so that she choked and gurgled. And more demons came up in the meantime, leering partly with lascivious desire and partly with loathing at the Archon’s flush, nude, heaving body as she was racked between her rapists. A demon like a tornado of salt and fire pressed his shaft into Esperiel’s slack grip, scalding and scouring her hand so that she closed it reflexively, grabbing the newest molester’s member as he started to piston through her grasp. A lesser incubus nestled itself between her cum-spattered breasts, a cephalopodic mass of tentacles without a head or body, and it slithered in her cleavage and sinuously wrapped its muscular tendrils around her plump, wobbling tits. And a brutish, tiger-striped demon of similar type to Omodomos hauled up one of Esperiel’s legs, groping her calf and pressing a huge cudgel of a cock against her sole.
Esperiel couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening as she teetered between all these various demons. She jolted and smarted from the slaps to her ass and unthinkingly moved her hand over the searing, scouring thing that imposed itself into her grasp. Her hips bucked, swinging foolishly, and her eyes rolled pathetically in their sockets, her face hot with tears and discolored by the slow suffocation of getting first strangled then fucked in the throat. She was faint and dizzy, and hope that she was going to withstand this felt it first flicker within her as she began to truly understand the lengths to which these demons were able and willing to go to prolong her punishment. Surely one of them should have fucked her by now…
She was aware of one dick rubbing under her arm and another rubbing against her foot, and she was aware of the varied, monstrous bodies of the devils drowning her in malice. Normally she could have blown away demons of this low level without effort, but their sheer numbers had overpowered her, and she no longer had the strength to fight them off. And with the state she was currently in, she barely even had the will to keep resisting.
She felt the imp cum, spurting grossly under her arm, and she tasted the gargoyle’s semen flooding her maw, and she felt cum like molten fire spray over her hand, and still more cum shot out over her foot, and her ass clapped from a final hard spank, a blistering blow to her plump, scrumptious bottom that made her moan miserably into the manhood that was choking her and arch her body in a graceful curve, twisting sinfully, shamefully amid these numerous bodies. They were defiling her from head to toe. They were using her and abusing her, raping and ravishing her from top to bottom, fucking her everywhere but in her pussy — every which way but that which counted for her and Zaasteroth’s agreement. And suffocated as she was, cut off from the root of her essence, hope dwindling inside a battered and beleaguered heart, Esperiel could not help but cry out, when the cock in her mouth was finally removed, imploring without any recollection of pride nor any idea of shame for the demons to stop torturing her, half-begging and half demanding that they fuck her properly.
“No…” she moaned. “It doesn’t count like this! Please, just… just do it in… just use my vagina, please!”
From his perch, watching her, Zaasteroth laughed. “I actually think they don’t even know what that word means, slave of Locleos. You’ll have to be more crass if you want lowly things like these to follow your meanings. I’m sure you know a word or two…”
Her eyes were wild with impulsive despair, even as she was restored and began to draw in new strength. Even as her hope was slowly renewed, a gnawing, malignant dread oppressed her spirit. She was close to weeping. It hurt, and it was so intense… she had fought demons for more than a hundred years, and just half an hour into her punishment and she already felt the all-too-human urge to give up. But she had to keep fighting. She had to keep trying. She had to hang on as long as she could. Still, the words burst from her lips. “…fuck my pussy…”
The demons heard her cry out and sneered, pleased by this show of weakness from the formerly arrogant and overpowering Archon. They let out coarse laughter and jeered at the woman, withdrawing to make room for their fellows. And as a new batch came in, even more demons than before with shapes just as varied and abominable as the last wave, and these washed over Esperiel, pressing upon her from every direction, groping her and grinding against her, using and abusing her. But these demons, just like the previous ones, refused to even touch Esperiel’s pussy, and instead they fucked her everywhere else, getting creative as they could only get for deeds of cruelty and perversion like this, torturing the Archon in a tantric roil.
Zaasteroth watched impassively, aloof from the teeming masses of lesser demons who threw themselves at Esperiel in wave after wave. For hours on end, each batch of three to a dozen demons would fuck Esperiel in all holes but the one that mattered, pounding her ass and raping her throat and getting even more creative than that, using every rise and every fall of the Archon’s heavenly, voluptuous figure to get themselves off as they punished her with their pulsing penises. The incubus indulged in a smirk now and then when he saw Esperiel get especially wretched, seeing her will ebb to precipitous troughs as she was filled and coated with more cum from the various devils, her body by now sticky and filthy from the accumulated emissions of her rapists, every wasted ejaculation of the demons an exquisite and deliberate mockery of mortal fecundity. Agatharon and Omodomos leered at the spectacle, and they would occasionally step in to show the lower ranks how it was really done, but Zaasteroth stayed carefully aloof. Not because he didn’t enjoy the sight of the Archon’s slow, excruciating degradation. Far from it! This was the most fun he’d had in centuries, and he relished every second of it, watching as the unending waves of flesh slowly wore away at Esperiel’s endurance. But he did not come forward to touch the Archon himself. Not yet.
He didn’t need to. There were hundreds of perfectly good succubi among the demons who filled this infernal oubliette, and he was content to let the lusty, foxy temptresses throng adoringly around him. With mortals and spirits of lesser power, succubi were domineering and manipulative, feeding aggressively and caring not one whit for the comfort or dignity of their partners. But in the presence of an Incubus of his power, all but the most powerful Succubus was happily reduced to a state of mewling, desperate fawning worshippers… if any mortal worshipped a god that demanded they be cum-guzzling concubines who flung themselves bodily upon the numberless phallic tentacles of greater incubi at any rate. It was hard enough for Leshara to keep her mind, and even she found it hard to keep her hands off the other greater demons. She was technically Omodomos’ lover, but a succubus was anything but monogamous… and whenever he was busy with Esperiel, Leshara was all too happy to amuse herself with either Agatharon or Zaasteroth.
It was not at all difficult for Zaasteroth to amuse them all, and he enjoyed fucking them en masse well enough too… but his mind was always on Esperiel. If his tentacles fucked the succubi more roughly than usual, it was only because he was especially enthusiastic from watching Esperiel get raped over and over again. They were little but playthings to him at the moment, something pleasant to use to jack off while he watched the beautiful Archon be defiled. Still, while Zaasteroth COULD have entertained every one of these hundreds of succubi at once, he left a few for Agatharon and Omodomos to enjoy for themselves along with Leshara., and when he caught Esperiel looking in their direction, he would make a point to lift two or three of the prettiest succubi currently writhing amid his tentacles up to a level where he could kiss and fondle them illustratively, as if giving the virgin Archon instructions on how to treat her rapists.
Esperiel probably thought he was enjoying the show of her being used like a cumrag. He was… but his refusal to be distracted was more than that. For his plans, he needed Esperiel to be weak… vulnerable. However, keeping her in that state surrounded by millions of enraged, brutal demons carried with it inherent risks. He had hand-picked every one of the horde here, demons that had the right mix of intelligence, loyalty, and terror of him to keep to his rules… but he was going to take no chanced. Zaasteroth needed to be ready to intervene if it looked like the rabble were going to get a little too rough.
Not out of any genuine sense of mercy, of course. He needed her to suffer. He just also needed her alive.
Esperiel pitched to and fro as a cock was pumped in and out of her ass, a demonic shape holding her from behind. Her eyes were dim from the fatigue of this unending copulation, the Archon tragically enduring the attentions of her ravisher. She swayed this way and that with the movements of the demon’s hips, a brutish pelvis slapping against her perfectly rounded posterior while her ample breasts swung from her torso, swaying this way and that in obscene, pendulous motions. She might have moaned in her misery as she was raped, having suffered through years of use and abuse at the hands of innumerable different demons. The horde had been taking turns with her unceasingly, battering her body, mind, and will on every front with their vulgar, rapacious sexes. Thick cocks plunged in and out of Esperiel’s body, driving to and fro in her ass, in her mouth, in her hands and against her wings. A hazy blur of demons moved around her, the Archon’s senses dulled and her attention flagged almost to nil, the seraph dumb and nigh insensate as she rocked on the waves of hatred and lust.
Her asshole spasmed, gripping a fat dick. Her lips wetly smacked, a weary mouth meekly slurping on the distasteful cock that stuffed her. She was exhausted by endless ravishing, by several years straight of continuous gang rape, and by the perpetual refusal of her captive captors to condescend to using her cunt. It had taken her the first year to realize that they weren’t going to do it… They scorned her sex in favor of all the rest of her body, precisely aware of how this prolonged her suffering and deliberately devious in this grueling delay. that they weren’t going to eventually start using her properly in a way that counted… not without encouragement. Demons lacked self control, she knew that… so as they dragged it out as long as possible, slowly the Archon began to sob and beg each new demon who approached her for him to use her sex, her pussy, her cunt. It was a ploy, to look pathetic… to make them rape her… but the very act of needing to do it was also pathetic in truth. It was an abandonment of her pride and honor, leaving her dignity and her virtue in ruins… even more so as the demons someone still refused, laughed at her pleas and mocked her prostrate form. A kaleidoscopic menagerie of shapes swirled around the feebly swaying Archon, watching her get spit roasted through the ass and mouth, eyeing her limply draped, cum-spattered wings and her pendulously swaying melons. There was cum in her hair, cum on her face, cum coating her breasts and her ass and every inch of her body. Only her pubic region was clean from semen, but it did drip with a shameful moisture born half out of fear and half out of unreasoning, unwelcome, unaccepted pleasure.
Still, she kept trying. She had Hope it would work eventually.
Agatharon was gripping Esperiel’s head, the bony, angular, one-winged devil leering down at the Archon’s bare back and gorgeous wings. Omodomos was holding her by the waist with his massive, meaty hands, ramming a cock like an iron pillar in and out of her gaping, battered anus. These two had come in to take the place of the lesser demons again, coming down to show the rabble how she ought to be used. The pair’s dicks had become disgustingly familiar to Esperiel, and even in her shell-shocked, sluggish, and deadened state of mind she could tell at the first contact which dick belonged to which demon. She hated the fact that she was able to tell this so promptly and easily, but she did not have the strength of will left in her heart to lament the position she found herself in or regret ever considering Zaasteroth’s deal. She was just tired, and she wanted it to end, but she knew that it wasn’t anywhere close to over. It only counted if it was in her pussy, only if she was defiled in her most sacred chalice, the seat and source of her feminine aspect. They had to dirty her in her purest place, to impose on her inmost reaches, or it wouldn’t even add to the tally. By the terms of the agreement, she had not yet paid for even one of the demons she had destroyed. Raped for years, and still a virgin in the only way that counted.
Esperiel voiced a millionth wretched and beleaguered plea as Agatharon withdrew himself from her mouth. Like a woman who was breaking down and beginning to forget why she resisted. One whose will was being slowly drained by relentless assault and whose heart was ready to surrender just so that her suffering might come to its end either by mercy or murder.
She was not utterly broken yet… but Esperiel felt beaten down and pitiful as she imploringly groaned, begging the demon to fuck her pussy instead. “Please!” she said deliriously. “Fuck me! Just fuck me, please…!”
And whether her words touched on some vestigial bud of charity in the black hearts of her tormentors or the demons’ own designs finally chanced to intersect with her desperate, unhappy desires, Zaasteroth moved. The writhing mass of his tentacles stilled and retracted, releasing his euphoric succubus harem from the tortuous thrall of the greater incubus’ numberless members, and the gray shape of a handsome man stooped atop that cthonian knot of great, slimy, wriggling, sinuous tendrils, smiling with a triumphant malevolence over the plaintively prostrated form of the Archon of Hope Esperiel, whose only hope now lay with his dubious mercies. She wished again that her memory wasn’t so perfect. All of them. Seventeen million, eight hundred and forty five thousand and twenty two demons. Every single one of them. She had begged each and every one the demons left in this prison, and been denied by all of them in turn. All of them but HIM.
Zaasteroth approached her… and abruptly stopped. She felt a stab of fear in her heart that he wouldn’t come… but then the incubus gestured to his succubus thralls. Those voluptuous creatures, artful perversions of the universal platonic feminine who transcended mortal limits and presented themselves in obscene resemblance of idealized female beauty on whatever plane they chanced to occupy, consorting in sensuous spiritual predation with the hapless mortals of every race, moved in accordance with their master’s indication and swept in almost tenderly around the whimpering Archon.
Esperiel, thoroughly soiled by the emissions of her uncountable rapists and exhausted from literal years of helplessly being used and molested by vengeful, vindictive demon hordes, showed not even the least pretense of resistance as the smiling, heaving succubi touched her and stroked her and turned her over, letting the breath of their salacious essence sweep thrillingly, seductively over the Archon’s unguarded skin. Lips that were the purest expression of kissable fullness and sweetness brushed languidly but unabashedly over the feebly shivering form of Esperiel, and tongues embodying the most superlative excesses of sexual prowess flicked hungrily over tender, tantalizingly chaste flesh, delighting in the taste of a remaining virginal virtue in the Archon that presented itself to their senses even through the caked on filth of crusted, sticky, unimaginably pungent demonic semen. Eyes of liquid lasciviousness shone with a light that was the very spark of a pleasure debased and exaggerated through inordinate indulgence, rolling lewdly in their too-perfect faces as they presented their countenances in gleeful twistings and mockeries of feminine expression, warping their features into unrepentant masks of sheer pleasure as they wetted the crusty layers of semen that were cemented over nearly every inch of Esperiel, dissolving the filth with tongues that were like molten eroticism and kindling in Esperiel’s flesh a new dimension of experience, teaching this Archon the exquisitely fleeting pleasures of hedonism. It was sensation so intense that it would deaden the senses of any mortal who experienced it, dulling them to all ordinary and natural pleasures so that they became fanatical addicts, engaging in ever more extreme and furious stimulations to try and recover those first heights of bliss.
Esperiel wasn’t taken that far… but she wasn’t immune either.
The succubi tortured Esperiel with sighing, fiery breaths, smiling twistedly, lecherously up and down over the Archon’s helplessly wriggling body. Nubile, salacious figures of every desirable shape and dimension pressed upon the Archon, countless mouths working their way patiently, sadistically over the sensitive, tingling skin of their victim. Their bosoms squashed against Esperiel, and their bottoms pressed upon her, and they rubbed slatternly sexes stained with the all-permeating heat of Zaasteroth’s infinite manhood. The succubi moaned in delight at the wretched submission of the hated Archon, reveling in the touch and taste and smell of this throbbing, whimpering being once so high and mighty but now laid low. They hated Esperiel, and in this hate they desired her, wanting both to watch the bitch suffer eternally and to break her and corrupt her into something just like themselves but even lower, to turn the pure and valiant seraph into another lowly lesser succubus, divesting her of all her former power and majesty, stripping away everything extraneous from her existence – reducing her as if by skinning and dismemberment to nothing but naked sensuality, to a spiritual embodiment of sex perverted and excessive. They were indescribably eager to see this holy, mighty Archon turned into a pitiful moaning slut who existed only to please their master, and in these dark dreamings, these unhallowed and horrible hopes, they stirred an awareness within the one they licked and fondled, teasing and cleaning as they swayed their bodies and rocked their hips for the amusement and arousal of their magnificent lord, Zaasteroth, arching their backs and spreading their legs in excruciating presentation.
But finally Esperiel was clean, if “clean” was the right thing to call the state in which the moaning, leering, groping succubi left her, and the hell-born harlots obediently withdrew to let their master behold the fruits of their diligent, deviant labors, wistfully anticipating long and furious rewards for their service. And their twisted hopes again rubbed against something in Esperiel, the concept at the core of the seraph’s being resonating however unwillingly with the lecherous, lascivious thoughts of those depraved existences in all the planes of the underworld. Esperiel could not help but be aware of what the succubi hoped to see her become, and she could only shudder and Hope with what strength remained in her heart that if Zaasteroth were going to be successful in his mad plan to turn her into a demon, she would die first. It was getting harder for Esperiel to cling to any Hope, all of which seemed increasingly hollow, and gradually she was becoming divorced from the very virtue she was created to embody.
She clung to herself with all her might, and bleakly, dismally, Esperiel gazed up at Zaasteroth as he stooped over her. Their eyes met, these two beings perceiving one another’s existence, and they stirred, each responding to the other.
“Please…” Esperiel begged pitifully. “Please… fuck me.”
Delicately, airily, Zaasteroth replied. “If you insist.”
And Esperiel felt the incubus take her up in his tentacles, turning her over and over in the endless contortions of those writhing, flexible members as they hoisted her body up, glistening from head to toe with succubus saliva, and presented her to their owner, Zaasteroth manipulating the Archon’s unresisting form as a child might do with a doll in their hands. He smiled, considering the lovely form, leering and pawing her with his countless tentacles, binding arms and legs, fondling breasts and bottom and sorely abused wings, groping every protrusion and probing every indent. A tentacle slid over her pussy, and Esperiel was seized with a spasm of dread. She shuddered, feeling a renewed spirit of resistance to the incubus’s fondling preparations. But it was too little too late, and even had it been timelier, there was no longer the strength within her to enforce that refusal and defend her final bastion of chastity. No, she could only uselessly struggle, squirming and whining, as Zaasteroth’s tentacle, perfectly phallic in shape, pressed its tip to her womanhood and forced itself in.
He broke through her resistance, defiling her last trace of purity, and all around her Esperiel became anxiously aware of his countless other tentacles closing in on her. Zaasteroth thrust one of his many cocks into the Archon’s cunt, taking her virginity for himself, and he rubbed more of his cocks over her body and thrust them into her holes and through her gaps, experiencing every inch of her from every direction, intersecting her existence on every dimension with the overpowering presence of infinite cock like a mass of a hundred million ravishing tentacles, the caricatured concept of male sex and sexuality utterly permeating the helplessly suspended seraph, who started to scream with a renewed energy and reinvigorated emotion before Zaasteroth’s tentacles callously stopped her voice and her breath, gagging her and cutting her off from the wellspring of her essence, divorcing her experience from the very concept of Hope and asserting himself over her as completely and rapaciously as only an incubus of his level could do.
Esperiel felt him in her asshole, tentacles slithering their way sinuously into her gaping, abused rear. Her teeth gnashed helplessly against the seemingly invincible demonic tentacle inside her, and her buttocks roiled and rippled with the rocking of her hips, hindquarters tossed this way and that by the coiled, intruding mass of several thick tentacles squeezing themselves in through her back door. And tentacles rubbed over her buttocks and slipped their way into her crack, kneading and massaging her ass all over as he fucked her, plunging in and out, in and out, in and out and out and in and over and over until she thought she would lose her mind. The tangled, writhing tentacles moved at once as a single coordinated mass and with independent motive, pounding her with their full combined weight but also twisting and turning and sliding around inside her asshole and pussy with legion motions, assaulting her cunt and anus with a myriad of movements. And now and then his tentacles fell across her ass and lower back like something somewhere between the thong of a whip and an elephant’s trunk, both stinging her like slender flailing cords and thumping her with a substantial, muscular mass.
She could taste him in her mouth and feel him wrapping around her throat, Zaasteroth delving a dozen or so of his tentacles deep into her mouth and constricting the curve of her pale neck. Her lips stupidly smacked around the sopping girth of the numerous phallic shapes pumping in and out of her mouth, her nostrils flaring without hope of bringing in air as the incubus stuffed her mouth with his cocks and strangled her with his tentacles, garroting the Archon with his prehensile girth and forcing her to service some of his many manly members. Esperiel’s eyes were bulging, and she feebly tossed her head, moaning into Zaasteroth’s tentacles; she hated the taste of them, and she hated him for tricking her and using her and tormenting her like this, but still she sucked and slurped, the unthinking reflex having been drilled into her over all the countless sessions of rape and exploitation she had so far endured. Zaasteroth was smiling as he gazed into her eyes, and he stroked her cheek, cupping her chin with his hand and watching with something between fondness and amusement as the Archon stupidly, hopelessly sucked him off.
Esperiel loathed Zaasteroth, and she hated the sensations of being used by him, of being ravished by him. Yet at the same time, somewhere deep down in her tortured and humiliated heart, she felt a welling of secret, shameful gratitude. His tentacles had plunged into her cunt, forcing it wide open, bursting through her chastity and defiling her last sacred regions. He fucked her pussy with his many fat, slimy tentacles, plunging them in and out of Esperiel’s plump cunt, pounding her and pounding her. He was the first one to condescend to give her this, the only one so far to have deigned to fuck her in the pussy as per the agreement, and despite everything, despite her knowledge that these twisted terms had been devised by him and this situation contrived by him, something deep inside Esperiel could not help but feel… grateful… toward the hated incubus. Gratitude was something deeply ingrained in an Archon’s nature, and she could not resist the urge to moan and monologue in a delirious thanksgiving to her demonic captor — could not help but want to thank her rapist for raping her pussy. And she shook with something like a guilty pleasure as her voluptuous form writhed upon Zaasteroth’s tendrils, her body twisting and thrashing in his grip like a prey animal snared by the vines of some fantastical carnivorous plant. He was engulfing her, filling her up so completely that his existence nearly overwrote her own, and tears half of shame and half of anger and just a barest remaining fraction of bliss streamed down her ruddy cheeks.
Zaasteroth’s tentacles wrapped around Esperiel’s breasts, squeezing the globes as they bounced and flopped around. Her hills of creamy flesh squashed and warped under his manipulations, an embodiment of the nurturing feminine and the mature and benevolent maternal deforming obscenely until it became nothing but the picture of platonic promiscuity, a bovine and imbecilic salaciousness that was the most perfect possible perversion of these massively plump and crushingly heavy mountains of mouthwatering mammary meat. He threw her tits this way and that with how he caused her body to rock and sway, and with how he groped and rolled them with his grasping tentacles, and he played with the nipples like he was expecting milk to come out. He thrust a few tendrils through her cleavage, too, fucking her tits with a smile that caused his adoring succubus slaves to sigh and swoon, filled with an instinctive longing and gripped by a crippling addiction to Zaasteroth’s tentacles, to his conceptual carnality. They watched him take and conquer the Archon’s tits, using and abusing every inch of Esperiel’s body, the intersection of his form and hers so complete that they were nearly a single existence. Yet it was not the fusion of two equals but an assimilation of the vanquished by the victor; he was dominating the Archon, utterly defiling every bit of her at once, and it was only by the mercy of his gagging tentacles that Esperiel was kept from impulsively surrendering everything to him in the heat of this first real conquest — only this, and a remaining core of revulsion that refused to be permeated and diluted by any sense of gratitude toward this damnable devil.
And as the fucking progressed, too, this resentment found itself resurging, and it wasn’t in the Hope of throwing him off — Hope thoroughly smothered by cock and stifled by Zaasteroth – it was in darkly desperate defiance. Esperiel thrashed and kicked and swung her arms, beating her wings and buffeting the incubus. In this refreshed fury, Esperiel pushed past the limit of patient suffering, the seraph’s celestial sinews remembered something of their native might, and for just a moment she thought the incubus would be overwhelmed, that she had power enough to escape his grip, and her eyes flashed with a terrible light. Filled with a spirit of wrath, a hatred not perhaps entirely righteous but certainly justified, Esperiel threw her weight against Zaasteroth… and he nearly fell back. Esperiel was weakened from a century of fighting, drained entirely of the power of Stasis, but she had done little in some time save suffer the attentions of these demons, and while they had used and tormented her, they had not seriously harmed her. She had not recuperated fully, but she lashed out with all the strength she could muster.
Then she felt Zaasteroth’s power surge against her. The strength moving Esperiel’s limbs was hollow, a last vaporous wafting of the reserves of power that had once resided within her. Seconds later, she was beaten again… she hadn’t even managed to get one of his cocks out of her holes. Esperiel was too spent and too enfeebled to long maintain this furious thrashing, but it was at least a token resistance, a sign that she would not yet submit to him or to them. And Zaasteroth smiled as he felt the Archon’s struggling weaken but not stop — not yet. She had remembered her anger in the throes of that degenerating pleasure, and she had remembered her duty even as she was pushed to the brink of apostasy.
He smiled as he came inside the Archon, as he came onto her and all over her, his phallic tentacles spewing plentiful emissions in mockery of mortal fertility, flooding the Archon and coating her at least as thoroughly as she had been before the succubi had begun with her. He took care to expel plenty of cum directly onto her wings, smearing and spattering them with his filthy, infernal ejaculation. He saw the shame in Esperiel’s eyes at being thus soiled, and he saw how her fighting spirit and resistance continued gradually to ebb despite that brief show of renewed defiance. It was perhaps the last surge of her refusal, and once they had pressed upon her and worn her down for a while longer, she would give in and submit as much in soul as she had in body.
Zaasteroth let the Archon slump down as he withdrew. He cast his eyes to his succubus concubines, and without need of a single word, they swept forward to swarm over the weakly, uselessly resisting Esperiel, kissing her and licking her and lapping up their master’s cum from every inch of the Archon’s lush, beautiful body. Zaasteroth watched this with amusement, and he smiled at them, satisfied and anticipating much future progress in the matter of this Archon’s corruption.
His grin darkened, and the incubus’ eyes glittered with malice.
Oh, yes… He looked forward to it very much.
“There,” he said delicately. “That’s one. Now you just have a few million more rounds to go. I’ll see you when it’s time for the next round of fucking your cunt.”
Esperiel looked up through the succubi crawling all over her, looking up at the demon lord with eyes that weren’t fill with hate but quiet desperation. “Please… fuck me again. Just… just fuck me again.”
Zaasteroth covered his mouth with a hand as if shocked. “Is… is an Archon imploring me to be selfish?” he asked mockingly. “Do I seem a bad host to the demons who followed me here?” He shook his head. “No, no, it’s their turn. I’ll go again… after they’ve all finished.”
Dazed and deeply aware of the dirtiness afflicted upon her, realizing just how long Zaasteroth and the others meant to keep her here, Esperiel shuddered and curled up, beginning to sob.
“Maybe you’ll manage to get a few of them to fill your womb in the meantime,” he mocked as the succubi backed up away from her, following close to their master. “You never know. Have Hope!”
Esperiel wept as she looked at the demon horde creeping back towards her… seventeen million, eight hundred and forty five thousand and twenty two of them. And it was plain they would not give her the time to grieve.
They would barely even give her the time to breathe.