Esperiel was busy trying not to drown in cum.
When they had dragged her to the pit, she hadn’t thought much of it. What was the difference between being raped her, versus anywhere else? When they had put her on her knees and took crude swords and driven them through her wings, spiking her down to the ground, she had screamed in pain, but she had just thought it was another way to hurt her, one more humiliating agony to her eternal gangrape.
She just hadn’t considered what the consequences of more than a million rapes in a pit would be.
Bit by bit, rape by rape, demonic seed was pumped onto her body or into her holes where it slowly dripped off her or out of her, onto the ground. She hardly noticed, consumed by her ineffective begging and the brutal use of her body. She didn’t notice when her ankles were soaked, or when the cum started to stain her pierced wings… but slowly, one load at at time, the pool began to grow. Up to her knees, then her waist… That was when Esperiel finally began to see what the demons had in mind.
It didn’t help. Her begging for them to take her out was as effective as her begging for them to rape her cunt. Cumshot after cumshot rained down on her as demon stood in the muck, raping her ass anyway or forcing her to gag on their cocks, cumming on her hair or shoulders or face or directly into the growing pool as it slowly came up to her neck and lapped against her chin and tongue.
They meant for her to drown herself in it. Now, in between being throat-fucked, she was forced to suck up the disgusting seed filling her pool, swallowing it until she felt unbelievably sick to her stomach… one after the other, the demons put her body to cruel use, and she had to suffer through the consequences to find herself suffocating again, cut off from her Hope… and she needed that Hope more than ever right now. Strained through it was, she needed to believe that they would let her out of this pit… that she would ever be clean again. That the demon would find a new torment for her that, somehow, would be not as bad.
But they didn’t. Instead, Agatharon arrived, and began to make the rules clear. He didn’t tell her them, of course… the Archon was left to discover them for herself, but every time she broke one of them, the cruel demon would take hold of her white-stained hair and dunk her beneath the surface, letting her suffocate and desperately swallow in a fruitless attempt to lower the level of cum enough to let her breathe.
Esperiel learned many things in the next days that Agatharon spent with her in the pit. She learned that it wasn’t sufficient to kneel there and let a demon fuck her face… she needed to suck on them, to move her head back and worth, to swirl her tongue on their lengths. She needed to swallow their lengths actively. Or else, drowning. She needed to meet the eyes of the demon who had a cock in her mouth. Or else, drowning. She needed to use her hands to, when they were free, to caress the demon using her, hold his balls or stroke his thighs, or slide up and down the length of his cock. Or esle, drowning.
She spent a lot of those days drowning… but by the end, she could have passed for a cocksucking whore on the street of any port city on Mundas.
By the time he finally let her swallow his load, she realized by the level of the poor hadn’t dropped from all the drinking she’d had to do… the demons were pissing in it. It was an even fouler insult to for them that it would have been for another, as like herself the demons had no need to produce waste – they had the biologic processes to do it, but had no need for the sustenance that would produce it. They went through the trouble just to further pollute her… and now she knew why the pool of cum had grown increasingly more foul over time. Salty tears slid down her face to drip into the pool, raising its level microscopically as she felt a stream of piss splash off her hair.
“Are you done yet?” a pouting voice said. Leshara sat on the edge of the pool, her feet draping down into the disgusting pool and kicking gently like an innocent girl as she looked on the disgraced Archon. “You’re taking foreeeever.”
Agatharon looked down at her with naked contempt and hatred. “Sure, I’m done. Your turn.” His words caused a ripple of dismay to flicker through the horde, who had had been waiting for days in fear of the mighty Demon Lord for their chance at Esperiel… now another of the greater demons was taking his place. The sharp faced torturer slid out of the pool, the foulness coating him nearly as thoroughly as it did Esperiel as he grabbed a waiting succubus, her tongue already out eagerly and ready to clean him.
“About time,” Leshara said with a smile. Then she jumped at Esperiel. The weight of the succubus’ impact almost made the Archon fall over into the pool of cum completely, but she deftly landed directly onto her shoulders, already grindings her pussy against Esperiel’s face.
Despite everything, everything that had been done to her over the last decades of unending rape, this was new. Leshara had never made her please her, or one of the other succubi before, and Esperiel protested. “This… this wasn’t part of the bargain!,” she protested, hating how even the tiny movement of her lips caused them to brush against the woman’s soaking wet slit. “You… you can’t breed me!”
“Are you sure?” Leshara said with a grin. “I think you made it perfectly clear that it had never been done before… so no one really knows how to do it, do they? Maybe this is the secret!” She smiled cruelly down at the Archon. “I guess we’ll find out.”
It was absurd… but this whole thing was absurd. And it wasn’t like she could stop the succubus… or anyone else… from raping her however they chose anyway. “Lets see…” she said slowly as if thinking. “You killed five succubi in your rampage. They were no threat to you, and you cut them down regardless. Five is a good number… Make me cum five times… and I’ll let you out of this pit.”
Then the succubus heaved, and Esperiel’s balance gave out finally… and she toppled down into the puddle of demonic issue.
Cum and piss and worse flooded into her eyes, her nose, her ears… and none of that was the worst part. That was that she needed to open her mouth. Already her connection to Hope felt flickering, and it was just get worse as she suffocated down here. Resigning herself to the disgust, she opened her mouth and felt the cum of a million demons mingle in her mouth as she worked her tongue across the slit of the Succubus.
Somehow, even through the foulness coating her mouth and tongue, she could taste Leshara… unique and sharp and like cinnamon, it seemed to burn on her tongue with each lap. She licked and licked and licked and licked, and the succubus idly reached back to play with Esperiel’s cunt and tits while she did. The brush of her hands on Esperiel’s sex was enough to give her a momentary flood of Hope that she might fuck her, might add one more to the tally, before she realized that was impossible and that Hope died out, leaving her insides even more barren than before.
She licked Leshara to one shuddering climax, then sucked her clit to a second one. A third she earned with her tongue deep in her cunt, but after that the Archon stopping making any progress. She licked and kissed and caressed and worshipped, but Leshara’s body didn’t seem to respond to anything she did. Her lungs burned, and she was having trouble remembering what Hope was before she had the hateful idea to stuff her tongue up the demon’s ass. The immediate orgasm Leshara shook through gave her hope, but she still needed to earn the fifth… and it was a long, torturous, suffociating process of fingering the woman’s holes one after the other while her tongue fucked the other one… but at last she came her fifth time.
Esperiel held out desperate Hope that Leshara would keep her promise, even though it was desperately hard through the cum filling her lungs… and she was rewarded as she felt the Succubus yank one of the swords out of her wings. A second, third, and fourth sword followed, and the entire time Esperiel kept licking at her cunt and ass, fearful that she might change her mind as she stopped. Then the Succubus got off her, and Esperiel lunged for the surface, hacking and retching to expel the cum from her lungs to suck in oxygen and Hope both, coughing pathetically as she rekindled the sputtering fires of Virtue within her.
Her hand still wrapped around a fistful of Esperiel’s wings, Leshara pulled her to the edge of the pit and generously helped the redhead out of the pool of filth. Then the succubus pulled herself out, and the woman was like a ivory statue, so thoroughly coated with cum was her pale skin. Esperiel knew that she must look much the same, but she was too disgusted to look. “My girls have cleaned you a hundred times now,” Leshara said with a smile. “And as far as I’ve seen, you have yet to repay their kindness in the slightest. That ends now. From now on, no succubus touches you without your tongue on one of them the same way… and that starts now.” She stood over the kneeling Archon, a cumsoaked demoness of indescribable femininity. “Clean me up. All of it.”
Gagging, Esperiel did it. Sucking down the cum a demon shot into her mouth was bad enough, and swallowing down mouthfuls of foulness to survive and keep breathing was one thing… this was something else, somehow more disgusting from its sheer unnecessity. But even though it didn’t touch on her oath, she did it… not out of desire, or Hope, but simply for fear that something worse would happen to her if she did not. It took a long, long time, the cum soaking so deep into her tongue that the Archon was certain she would never taste anything else, but at last the Succubus was clean.
One of the woman’s chitinous fingers held up Esperiel’s chin, making her look up at her. “Do you know what I just realized, plaything?” When Esperiel blinked and slowly shook her head, Leshara smiled and continued. “I promised I’d take out of the pit. I never promised you could stay there.” She put one strong food on Esperiel’s shoulder, and shoved, setting weakened Archon tumbling back down into the pool with the horrified, if brief, scream. “She’s all yours, boys,” she said to the eager horde as she turned and strode back to find a cock worthy of her to fill her.
A red, burly demon with a heavy brow and a single broken horn rammed its dick up Esperiel’s ass, breaking the degraded Archon’s hindquarters with a cock like an ironclad cudgel. Her frame rocked back and forth, the Archon feebly taking it as she was pounded from behind, battered by the barbaric lusts of her latest abuser. Compatriots of this horny red devil smote their hands together in parody of applause, hooting and hollering in base, diabolical tongues as they cavorted in a merry mockery, leering and jeering at Esperiel’s present state. The demon raping the Archon’s ass struck her on the hip with a huge, meaty hand, and Esperiel whimpered at the feeling of the impact. He was crashing into her, bearing down on her with a mountainous weight, a hefty and ponderous essence focusing its immaterial mass at the intersection of their existences, oppressing the Archon’s spirit as she was fucked in the ass.
Esperiel shivered, biting her lip as the huge, fat cock plumbed in and out of her anus, indescribably dirtying her after she had already been stained and sullied beyond repair. She was filthy, so filthy, so lowly and pathetic. She endured these attentions uselessly, lying there like a cold fish as she was dominated and overrun. The ruddy, towering erection plunged in and out of her aching, throbbing, searing asshole, her substance splitting and shredded, straining at the seams of a shape it had no real will to maintain. Like a beautiful mortal woman getting fucked in the ass, she was humiliated by her latest oppressor, debauched and dishonored like a common mortal whore. Esperiel swayed drunkenly on the ground, pitching and sliding from the fervent, forceful thrusts of her rapist. He pounded her and pummeled her with his massive, hard phallus, and Esperiel hated how she could still cling with such elasticity to the girthsome intrusion, even after uncountable violent sodomizations still tight enough to feel the pain of her asshole getting stretched out by this massive erection.
No tears were left to spill from her eyes, and no fighting spirit remained to motivate her struggle. She did not fight any longer against this endless ravishing, not even with the least dregs of defiance. She simply suffered it, bitterly defeated, enduring with whatever she could hold together of her sanity, clinging to the dwindled and fraying threads of a perverted, distorted hope. She clung to the idea that they would let her go once they had done her enough times, and this Hope was the one thing still keeping her sane through the never-ending onslaught of molestation and abuse. In and out and in and out, she had been penetrated and pounded more times than she could count, receiving their harsh and spiteful “affections” over time beyond measure. It had been hundreds of rounds now, carried out over the span of a couple lifetimes of mortal men, with each demon getting to fuck her ass or tits or face or thighs or wings or hair or hands or feet or anything else at least once before her legs would be spread, her body licked clean by pawing, cooing succubi. Then she would need to beg her hated enemy to rape her and stuff her cunt… or else he might not, like he hadn’t twelve cycles ago. She had endured the agony of millions of rapes to earn a moment of the Incubus’ attentions, a chance to get her cunt stuffed full and violated anew by Zaasteroth, and because she hadn’t begged enthusiastically enough, he hadn’t given it to her… and she had needed to go through every cursed demon again before she got another chance.
For each round of her cunt getting used, she had to endure millions of demons fucking her anywhere and everywhere else. For years and years on end they would have their way with her, using and abusing her in the most perverse and excruciating of ways. Sometimes fire demons would semi-literally spit roast her from both ends, fucking her throat and anus with shafts like pillars of flame, and sometimes ice demons would smother her in a numbing embrace like the peaceful death of an arctic freeze, and sometimes demons from the deeps of unknown seas would drown her in a heaving, humping, orgiastic mass of their slimy, squamous bodies, and sometimes demons too alien for even analogous description by comparison to things within mortal experience would ravage her in the insanely twisting geometries of their convoluted, crystalline bodies. In every shape and size and color, in every gradation of power and dark majesty from least to very greatest, demons would grope her and rape her and taunt her with gibbering voices, subjecting her to a miserable and abhorrent existence of torment unending, a hellish experience worse than any mortal conception of a hell.
The burly, broken-horned demon destroying Esperiel’s anus pulled out with a grunt, expelling a gout of its loathsome cum, painting the Archon’s hindquarters in the color of its filth. Esperiel shivered, feeling the emissions hit her backside like the cords of wheeling whips, lashing the cheeks of her ass with a fluid flagellation and causing her hips to jolt, jumping up in the air before falling back down. She whined as this devil let go of her, and softly she whispered to him, expressing piteous, shamefaced pleas.
“Please… Fuck my pussy,” she begged him. “Just get it over with. Please.”
The demon snorted and delivered a sharp kick to the seraph’s hindquarters, thumping her ass and knocking her forward. Esperiel let out a pained, plaintive noise and clutched at the cheeks of her ass, wondering belatedly if the demon would break her body… but the ruddy demon stepped aside, and the cloven hooves of the towering, beefy Omodomos shook the plane about them.
The goat-headed demon snorted, largest of all the ones present, and grabbed Esperiel by the waist, hoisting her into the air like a doll. Vast and brutish, he was a thing embodying violence and dominance, a bloody, warlike, lascivious creature empowered by all the basest passions. His comparison to a satyr of Oppan was not unwarranted, Omodomos resembling one of those faelings as much in appearance as sexual appetite, even if his savagery far surpass the worse of the fae she had seen. He was very much the sort to indiscriminately snatch women up and furiously rape them, and his phallus had all the comical, horrifying proportions of a beast. He didn’t have the same excellent affinity for the erotic as Zaasteroth did, but he was still one of the most prodigious in that field, and there was something behind the sheer continental weight of his thrusts that nearly matched the infinitely dexterous manipulations and countless simultaneous penetrations of Zaasteroth’s nearly infinite manhood.
Omodomos’ dick slapped down across Esperiel’s upper back, and she gave a start at the feel of it. Her aspect became more dismal as she recognized the goat-headed abomination’s immense erection, and she whimpered with a hint of fear as he grabbed hold of her wings. This aspect of her being which gave her motive force surpassing other beings, permitting her both to span great gulfs of space and to maneuver between the innumerable planes as easily as a bird flitted from land to the heights of heaven, was a thing coveted much by those who lacked it. This quality of her being which gave her speed and soaring transcendence, these appendages of her celestial body which once bore her swooping and wheeling, deadly and untouchable, through the ranks of the demon horde, had suffered much abuse at the hands of her rapists, most of which lacked wings and none of which had wings who’s majesty that could rival hers. Agatharon had been one of the only demons to have a chance to equal her in that respect, and she had deprived him of one, had she not? And Omodomos was landlocked save for trying to ride of clumsy pillar of hellfire, powerful but slow and wingless. He was one of the few demons whose blows had been able to shake her, and one of still fewer who had been able to endure her blows in return, but his limited mobility had many times left him unable to reach her. He still remembered the frustration of seeing the Archon flit around, soaring out of his reach most of the times he tried to hit her back, and even after the passage of all this time — a long time even for their kind — his resentment of her evasiveness had not dwindled.
Agatharon of course had his own reasons to hate and harm Esperiel’s wings, but he was cleverer and more sadistic, and he was willing to stand aside and let Omodomos have a turn to do with his boorish brutality what he himself could not have done by any contrivance of his own so very much frailer and spindlier limbs. He folded his hands and watched with peering, coldly mirthful eyes as Omodomos hauled up one of Esperiel’s wings, moving it almost like he meant to snap or dislocate the appendage, and he sniggered as Omodomos rubbed his huge beatstick of a cock over the sleek, downy feathers, jerking himself off with her wings as he twisted them. The Archon clenched her teeth, feeling like she was close to losing what was left of her mind as the savage tormented her proud wings with his hands and his member, and she curled her fists and shuddered… but she did not resist. No, even against this she gave no attempt to fight, but only lay there and took it. She hated it still, and she wanted it to be over as soon as possible, but she had given up on pride and honor and purity. It was painful and humiliating, but she did not fight nor even raise her voice as Omodomos jacked himself off on her wings, using them as a mortal man might use tissues to catch his emissions and wipe up the mess made by his ejaculations.
While Omodomos continued to torture these appendages, soiling one wing and then the other, plucking and twisting them until they were oddly bent and thoroughly ragged, maybe not broken but still in far too much pain for her to wish to move them, Agatharon sidled up to slip himself over her front, grasping at her heaving, sumptuous breasts with his bony fingers and nestling his own manhood in the Archon’s luscious bosom. He rocked his hips, beginning to thrust up and down, back and forth between Esperiel’s bountiful, bouncing breasts, smacking their undersides with his narrow hips and casting them up down in a chaotic rhythm, soon thrusting quickly and unpredictably in the furor of his lust. He ravished Esperiel’s creamy chest, setting her teat to churn and roil like a storm-tossed ocean of milk, fucking her tits with many a sigh and a grunt and a piercing snicker. And Esperiel feebly writhed between the two demons, suffering their renewed attentions with all the patience she could muster—too little to last the whole prospective time, and wearing away faster than she was comfortable with. She realized it was only a matter of time until she snapped, and she suspected that her last strands of sanity would give way well before this was over. Still, she Hoped to bear it, simply taking it without a struggle, receiving their abuse and silently hoping they would soon deign again to use her cunt.
Omodomos grabbed Esperiel’s wings by the base, and he pulled up on them, lifting the Archon high. She strained and groaned, feeling like her wings were about to be torn out clean from the joint, and if she still had tears left to shed, she would have spilled them freely down her face. And as Omodomos hoisted her up by her wings, he dragged his massive cock down her back, trailing precum along her spine until his shaft came to nestle between her great, rosy buttocks. He grunted, sandwiching his cock between her ass cheeks even as Agatharon continued to pump his own cock between Esperiel’s breasts, the heavily armored demon pulling and twisting the Archon’s wings and the bat-winged demon grinning smugly at his cohort. Agatharon scratched Esperiel’s breasts with long, thin nails, pricking and scraping and pinching her here and there so that she felt pain like her tits were being shoved into an iron maiden, and made them jounce and jolt and jiggle with the rapid pumping of his pelvis, slapping the undersides of her mammaries and forcing them to rise and fall in time with his phallic assault. Esperiel stared bleakly down at the head of Agatharon’s cock, watching it come nearer and closer in her vision, going up and down between her bobbing, heaving breasts, and she felt him thread his fingers through her hair and press upon the back of her head while Omodomos continued torturing her wings and stuffing himself between her buttocks.
“I told you this would work well on her,” Agatharon remarked to Omodomos idly as he guided Esperiel’s unresisting head downward, speaking to his companion as if she wasn’t here… and for all she felt able to understand speech above a surface level, she might as well not be. “Her wings are her weak point.”
“You just want payback for what she did to yours,” Omodomos grunted, a rare moment of insight from the brute. “It’s nice to hear her pain, though.”
“Yes, it is wonderful to torture a high and mighty Archon like this,” said Agatharon. “I always enjoy watching a victim gradually go insane from suffering and despair. Agony is passion…”
Even as he said that, Agatharon compelled Esperiel’s lips to descend over the head of his cock, pushing his tip into her mouth. And he pressed on her head harder, forcing his dick in past her lips. A familiar look came into the Archon’s eyes, a dull recognition of what he was doing, and bleakly Esperiel braced herself for yet more deprivation. Agatharon pushed her head harder into her uplifted tits, fucking her melons so fervently and forcing her head so far down that the Archon’s face was buried in her own cleavage while his cock filled her mouth, his dick gagging her and her own breasts smothering her. And to add insult to injury, Omodomos pulled harder on her wings and swung back his hips suddenly, positioning her body and angling himself to plunge into the Archon’s asshole right as Agatharon cut her off from the source, choking her and forcing her to suffocate between his and Omodomos’ flexing, bucking forms. A weak, strangled noise came from Esperiel, but she did not struggle — not even against this — and she just meekly accepted it as she was fucked in the ass and smothered with her own rack, gagged with Agatharon’s cock and reamed by Omodomos’ towering phallus. She seemed to shrink in upon herself, dwindling and guttering like a candle’s flame nearly extinguished, her mouth lewdly smacking and her ass obscenely thumping, her gaping anus plowed by Omodomos’ enormous erection while Agatharon’s cruel cock stifled her breath and dirtied her breasts.
Esperiel was stuck in this humiliating position, trapped powerless and unresisting between the two demons. She hated this treatment. Even now, she hated everything they were doing to her. But she knew, she knew, she KNEW that she couldn’t fight it, and so she took it. She took it. God, she took it! She abhorred her helplessness, and she despised their twisted sadism, and she dreaded these moments of creeping despair when her Hope was choked off and she was made empty and feeble, her essence leached of the vestiges of her original virtue as the wellspring was blocked, her soul slowly withering in the endless torment of these infernal bastards. Her body moved in response to their pumping hips as a ragdoll might move in response to getting swung around, members devoid of motive power, heart bereft of will and agency.
In moments like this she was reduced to a gutless shell, to a brittle husk of a thing that even the lowest of the demons here could have broken. She’d been weakened to the point that she was almost snuffed out, almost reduced to the point of annihilation. But they always pulled back before that could happen, allowing her a desperate gasp at the last possible moment, letting her snatch upon some feeble flicker of a mockery of Hope so that she would find the strength to last through another day, another year, another lifetime of this unrelenting hell. Damnation and perdition! How could mercy be so cruel, and how could existence be so hateful? Better it seemed to utterly cease than persist in this torment! Almost she wanted them to destroy her and be done with it. Anything but this awful torture.
But they would not be so compassionate. They were far too cruel to simply end her suffering, and far too self-interested to let her off with that. She had sealed them away with her, trapping them all in this closed space, and they would either break her and make her set them free or torture her forever in revenge for doing this to them. On some level, Esperiel understood that, and in occasional moments of clarity she would allow herself to sink into the black mire of despair, realizing that the best outcome was simply for her to suffer through this treatment forever, to writhe eternally in a hell of vengeful rape and abuse. This was the punishment for her noble deed, the reward for her valiant sacrifice. They would not destroy her, and they would not let her fight them, but they would torture her and torture her and torture her until she was begging them to end it, until she either implored them to destroy her or fell, descending into the last extremes of depravity with her virtue’s uttermost exhaustion. They would dry up her hope and wither her spirit, wearing her down and breaking her mind until she was totally empty, until there was nothing left in her to be replenished. They would warp her and pervert her, little by little, bit by bit, until she had been pushed to such impossible lengths and degraded to such unfathomable depths that, surrendering completely, she would become one of them.
The first Archon to be changed by a minion of Becoming into one of his tools.
As Agatharon’s cock choked her and Omodomos’ cock pounded her ass, as her body was tossed this way and that between the two ravening figures, Esperiel felt a bottomless pit open up in her heart. For an instant, the very foundations of her identity gave way, and without anything to anchor her she teetered at the brink of an infinite abyss, a darkness deeper than the void of uncreated space beyond the walls of the universe, a nothingness that was the negation of everything good, a limitless and unendurable despair like the combined oceans of a million drowned worlds threatening to engulf her in their icy depths. She felt cold and gray and hideously empty despite how they filled her up, and in a misery more complete than the end of all things, she very nearly gave up right then and there. But one last thread still held her up, keeping her from plummeting into the abyss. It was not Hope, and it was not defiance — it wasn’t a resistance to their cruel machinations. It was some time shred of who she was that the demons couldn’t rape, a piece of her of that they couldn’t penetrate with their cocks, some last immutable thing that held her together before this onslaught. She could not say what it was. Maybe it was only fear, or only a revulsion at the despair she felt — maybe it was just that something inside her rejected what she was at the brink of becoming, even if it did not resist what was being done to her nor have the conviction to persist as she rightfully ought to be. It may be that it was only a fear of the change that threatened to overtake her, a final reactionary impulse rooting her in place where all else had failed and fallen before the unending torment.
But it let her hold on.
Agatharon came, gushing down her throat. Omodomos came, spewing into her ass. Esperiel weakly shivered, feeling them fill her up. She was limp and powerless, and she felt no new Hope seep into her when Agatharon pulled out his cock. She could breathe, but she couldn’t “breathe” — something inside her had been severed, and though she had held on, though she still persisted as an Archon, it felt like she had been disqualified from her birthright. She was adrift, broken somewhere deep down, and even if the demons showed unthinkable mercy and gave her a reprieve, she could never return to being the same as she had once been before.
She had lost her foothold in her cardinal virtue… would Stasis even have use for her, if she escaped now? Holding onto herself would be even harder from here, and decline would be even easier. Even for celestial beings like herself, the principle of entropy held true, and she had started down a path from which return seemed impossible. Esperiel felt sure she had began to descent down a dark pit from which she would never again be able to rise.
And to her horror, Esperiel didn’t even have the strength of heart to muster dismay at this realization. She felt nothing in the grip of this awful comprehension as the two demons let her slump back down, stepping away to let more swarm in in their place. No, she was simply numb, and she barely had the wits to react at all as more devils grabbed at her and pressed against her, finding purchase on her body and seeking whatever nook or cranny they could find to use and soil.
Grimacing weakly, the Archon could only take it. Not even with a Hope of being free but only in mortal dread of falling from her master’s graces, Esperiel numbly endured the continuing ravages of her demonic rapists.
This was the truth of hell, she was certain. Simply and plainly and exquisitely hell.
And it was at that point, with Esperiel holding onto her sanity only by a paralyzing fear of what would lie beyond it, that Zaasteroth came forward to have his next turn with the Archon.