Esperiel couldn’t keep track of how long Zaasteroth fucked her. It went on and on and on without ceasing, without relenting, the rapacious and formidable incubus having his way with the compliant, almost mindbroken Archon. He fucked her every hole, using her like a toy, plunging his numberless manhoods into her so that it completely overpowered her. She felt like she was slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity, with nothing but pain and agony to remind her that she existed at all… nearly all other sense of self had vanished.
Cock, cock, cock, everything she experienced was cock — or his tentacles anyway, which to her were one and the same thing. His cock was all she saw, and his cock was all she felt, and his cock was all she smelled, and his cock was all she tasted. It felt like a dream… or maybe every other bit of her life before then had been the dream, and this was all that was real. His cock was every bit of her… it was everything, beginning and end and east and west, up and down and left and right. His cock was the only thing supporting her, it was the only thing giving her any feeling at all. But for Zaasteroth fucking her, she would have been numb and uncaring, drained and deadened by this endless torture.
And even here, even now, she knew it was but an illusion. That promise that she would be free if she could be fucked enough times… she would never be free. It was a lie, all a lie. They would drag this out forever — he would rape her eternally, and watch her get raped while he played with his succubus thralls. It would never end, not until the ending of all creation and the completion of time’s finite arc. She wished that she could disappear entirely, vanish into the darkness and never return.
As long as it took for her to be raped by all the other demons in this hellhole between sessions with Zaasteroth, the time it took her to be raped by him lasted even longer. Even with countless millions of demons taking their turns whenever he got bored with her, and each of them taking their sweet time and not at all hurrying the intercourse’s completion, still each of Zaasteroth’s single sessions with her outlasted all of them.
He was endless, and he was merciless. He fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her — over, over, over and over and OVER again. The incubus dragged it out so excruciatingly long each time despite the ferocity with which he fucked her, not holding back or being tender save when that amused him more that viciousness… and usually he preferred a sort of virile brutality with how he fucked her. He combined the forcefulness and power and girth of Omodomos with the wicked cunning and sadistic stimulations of Agatharon, and he far surpassed them both with a vulgar magnetism and an indescribable expertise. Sex was his domain, his paint and his brush, and he was an artist in how he used it. He afflicted her with all his potency and all his proficiency, fucking her from every angle and fucking her using every trick, giving her sensations she could have never imagined and filling her with feelings she was loath to confess.
Not even the flames of stars burned as hot and as slow as the flames of Zaasteroth’s lust, and no thought or emotion had ever pierced Esperiel so deeply as Zaasteroth’s thousand pricks now penetrated her. He fucked her in every entrance, from every direction, with all together and all at once, a combined speed and power that felt like it would crush her or pulp her or reduce her to nothingness. It should have destroyed her… but her strength as a masterwork creation of Stasis himself meant that she she persisted in being, even amid the most ferocious of his fucking, and that she continued to be aware of what he was doing to her even when the sensations overwhelmed her and drowned all her wits into a broodmare idiocy, penned and bound and lashed by his writhing, plunging, thick, sinful tentacles as he fucked her and fucked her and fucked her…
Until that last non-hope, that last root of feckless and ill-fated obstinate resistance, was dredged up to the surface and washed away by an ocean of cum and anguish.
His lips descended rakishly, closing coarsely, contemptuously over hers. It was the first time he had kissed her. The only time any of these demons had kissed her. The first time she had been kissed at all. Something about tenderness of the gesture slew Esperiel, finishing her off in a single elegant stroke. Part of her fell for him, a part of her so low and debased that it was no better than his succubus mistresses, no better than a demon of lust and sex. This part of her clung to Zaasteroth even as he pulled his lips back, and she lurched forward with a gasp, longing instinctively to bond their lips once more, wishing desperately to stay like that forever.
Another part of her, removed from this first part and still aware, knew the last shreds of shame and disgrace she could muster. This part of Esperiel saw herself as she whimpered and cooed and begged Zaasteroth to kiss her again. Like she was standing outside her body, she looked at this pitiful, moaning creature and felt revulsion. She realized that it was over. She gave up on herself, seeing just how low she had fallen.
Nothing was left to hold back the all-consuming wave of Despair as Zaasteroth came inside her, and upon her, flooding her and drowning her in his emissions so that she was coated with them as with batter. And he let her go, allowing her to drop to a barren, wasted, empty plane. “And that,” he said, “was your last one.”
Esperiel slowly pushed herself up to hands and knees – a movement that might have taken her centuries to find the strength for – and looked around in horror.
Zaasteroth stood before her upon his writhing mass of limbs. Omodomos stood, fully dressed in black armor but with his massive weapons dropped carelessly at his sides. Agatharon’s one good wing beat in place, like it longed to launch her up into the sky. And Leshara knelt on the ground tittering, her half-lidded eyes watching Esperiel with a lustful gaze. That was it.
No other demons. No horde. All of the flitting shadows and chitinous behemoths, all the horned imps and hulking monstrosities, all of the burning apparitions and writhing masses of tentacles… they were all gone now. The Darkstone was empty of all but the five of them… and Esperiel understood at last.
She was an Archon no longer. The virtue and strength to which she had clung, the power that had formed the lock on the prison door, had been quite literally fucked out of her… the Hope that she had existed for dislodged and rejected by her very soul. Esperiel’s essence had been transformed beyond any compatibility with Stasis’ power. Had they slain her as she had slain so many of their fellow demons, the seal would have persisted, powered by her martyrdom to last forever… but by turning her into this filthy… thing… they had caused her seal to reject her. Unmake her, past and present… the seal gone as though it never had been.
Father was right. Time really was an illusion to one such as them. From the perspective of those outside, mere minutes might have passed in the world by the time the demons could come pouring out over the world again. And then, in that moment, Esperiel – who had been laid low, who had succumbed to despair and let her Archonic nature be washed away – understood that she was now no different from these demons. “But…” she whispered, too tired to properly feel horror. “I imprisoned you… from both sides. It… it shouldn’t matter what… what you do to me…”
Leshara smirked. “Of course you did. We knew you would. That’s why my sister was left outside… shielded from being pulled into the prison by your own holy wards on your fortress. And now she has succeeded… and we are free again.” She looked up at Zaasteroth. “But she’s not one of us, is she?”
“No,” Agatharon hissed. “She’s not.” He turned to Zaasteroth, furious. “You told me she would turn. That she would fall. That you could turn her into one of us. That was the deal!”
Zaasteroth didn’t even look ashamed. “She’s stronger than I thought. Plans change. It’s no matter. You’ll reclaim your wings soon enough, I suspect.”
Agatharon hissed in barely-held anger, and Omodomos shifted to put his body between the two greater demons… never looking away from the far more dangerous Zaasteroth. “We also cannot leave her like this,” he said firmly. “She could be a threat still.”
“We won’t,” Leshara said with a smile. “I think we all have something to give her, don’t we?” She skipped forward, smiling wildly as she pushed Esperiel over, sending the exhausted, weakened girl crashing back to the ground. “I had intended this as a present to welcome you as one of my sisters,” she admitted as she rested both hands on Esperiel’s temples. “It should have been a gift… but it seems it’s not to be. Since I can’t give you something, I guess I’ll just settle for taking away the last shred of your dignity instead.”
And abrupt ecstasy washed through Esperiel, enough to make her loudly moan… it felt like rings of fire were coursing over her body, radiating from the places where the succubus touched her. “You’ll never be able to be touched by anyone who respects you,” she said with a smile. “Only the touch of someone who hates you, who considers you filthy garbage can please you now… and it will. Being raped by anyone who is disgusted by you is going to make you cum, now… and that will be the only thing that does.” The succubus rose, cooing pleasantly. “Have a nice life, Archon… or whatever you are now.”
Then she kicked Esperiel right between her legs as viciously as she could. And Esperiel came.
She still felt all the agony… it made her scream in sudden anguish… but at the same time, the sheer hatred and callous disregard behind the hit washed over her as pleasure, and her body reacted entirely against her will as she came writhing on the cum-soaked ground like a whore. The orgasm lasted long enough that she didn’t even realize that Leshara had walked away to be replaced by Omodomos, but she caught a glimpse of the succubus walking for the portal of light in the distance, the exit from the Darkstone.
And then she felt true agony as Omodomos touched her. She came at the same time. As his cock sank into her ass from behind, she could sense the mix of hatred and disgust… and respect… lurking inside of the demon warrior. A grudging fear of her prowess, the danger she represented. It caused her unbelievable agony, even as his hatred made her cum. “You still have something else to hold onto, slut,” he growled as he raped her with savage thrusts, grabbing onto her right arm. “Something else I can take from you.” As his hand tightened on her wrist, Esperiel felt something… sinking… into her. Some kind of foul magic, like black chains of barbed wire winding through her muscle and bone, weakness and agony… and as she felt that, she felt nothing but pleasure as the respect from the demon vanished, replaced completely by his contempt for her. Esperiel flexed her hands, and was shocked at just how weak her hand felt, how slow it was. “You’ll never hold a sword again,” Omodomos promised her, and Esperiel cried as he finished inside her, cumming as the evidence that the demon no longer viewed her as a warrior or a champion – not a threat, just fuckmeat. He, too, stood and strode for the exit.
Then Agatharon stood over her, pulling her back against him as his cock sank into her asshole. Wave after wave of unwanted pleasure coursed through her, hated pleasure stronger than any other… showing her precisely how much the demon despised her. He didn’t hesitate… he grabbed hold of her beautiful wings and used them to pull her against him as he raped her ass. Her wings had seen better days… unable to heal during her long captivity, they had barely a third of their feathers left, and they were soaked in cum and piss and shit. Despite that, they still looked magnificent… shining with a glory that Esperiel herself didn’t feel any longer.
“Fucktoys,” Agatharon hissed as he reamed her, “should not look like Archons. It might start giving them ideas in their empty little heads. So I’m going to take that away from you… stop you from getting confused.” With that final taunt, he began to grab handfuls of her feathers and rip them out of her, each one making her cum from the sheer hatred pouring off the demon, transforming the blistering agony of her mangling into orgasms… one after the other, an endless stream. Her wings were bare long before he finished, and he began to pull and twist on them, letting her hear the cracking of the bones in her wings as he broke them one at a time.
She was a gibbering mess on the ground, drooling from both her mouth and her cunt as she blubbered pleas for mercy that were cut off by orgasms… but when the first wing ripped off her back, it broke through even her shattered perceptions, even through the mind-breaking orgasm that it caused. “Please…” she begged weakly. “Not that! Not…”
“Fuck you,” Agatharon hissed. Then he ripped off the second one, and Esperiel’s world went black as she came.
When she managed to focus again, he was gone. She was alone with Zaasteroth standing over her, smiling softly as he looked down at her. “We really did do a good job on you…” the incubus mused. “Congratulations, Esper. You’re my masterpiece. I’d be happy to keep you as a good little fuck pet, if you feel like coming with me.”
She stared at him in horror, drowned into an even deeper and blacker hopelessness by his words. Esper. Detached from Stasis… the name fit. Esperiel… she no longer was that being. But she wasn’t what he had sworn to make her, either. It felt like it took an era, but slowly she gathered up the strength to speak again, to offer even a whisper of defiance. “You… hypocrite…” she hissed with weak breath.
Zaasteroth continued smiling at her. “An Archon would be the authority on hypocrisy,” he agreed. “How so?”
“Bastard… you are… some… avatar of change… but it’s been… an eternity,” she managed to choke out. “Where’s… your… change?”
Zaasteroth laughed. “Change has… purpose, Esper. I’ve already changed myself into what I need to be. It’s your time for you to to become what I need you to be.”
“Then… you… failed…” she murmured.
Zaasteroth tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“Told you…” she whispered as she slowly tried to rise. “Told you… you would never… break me. That I’d… never become… like you. Join… you…” she looked at him, and put all the spirit into her glare that she had left. It felt pathetic, but it was all she had… the last shred of the Archon she had been. “I’m… not… a demon. I’m not… you… failed…”
Zaasteroth looked down at her, his expression odd. Then a smile slowly spread across his face. “Oh, poor, deluded thing,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Whatever makes you think you haven’t become precisely what I wanted you to?”
“No…” she murmured. “I’m not… I can’t be…”
“No?” he chuckled. “What good is another succubus to me? Even a former Archon? No, you’re something else, Esper. A weapon to kill your father. The Archon of Despair.”
“Never…” she whispered as she stepped up to her, leaned over her, and then sank down before her to her level. “I’ve already given you my gift,” he said with a smile, “but I also have something to take from you, as well.”
She looked up at his, defiance returning. She had lost her Hope. Her dignity. Her skill and power as a warrior… and even her wings. She was no Archon anymore, no matter what he said… she was barely even a masturbatory tool. “What else,” she hissed, “could you possibly take away from me, you bastard?”
“Your illusions,” Zaasteroth answered. Then his pressed his lips against her ear and whispered to her.
He didn’t say much. Just a single sentence. Four words… four words that rang with truth and power. She would have rather gone through the entire eternity of rape and torture again than hear those words, spoken with that certainty.
“Liar…” she whispered as Zaasteroth rose up and headed for the gaping portal, the rift out of this prison where once Esperiel’s seal had stood inviolate. “Liar!” she called after him.
She didn’t believe her own words.
The fallen Archon watched him disappear, and she wished in that moment that she could have simply been destroyed. But at the same time, she was too afraid to stay here all alone, too afraid of solitude and nothingness. She was broken and pitiful and totally fallen, and with a whimper, a feeblest stirring of her soiled and degraded body, Esper began dragging herself toward the portal. Out there was Stasis. Out there would be proof that she had been lied to. Nevermind that, as far as she could tell, Zaasteroth had not ever lied to her. He had even kept his end of the bargain. She was free to leave… But at what cost? Soaked in cum, debased and distorted, Esper slowly dragged her naked, abandoned body across a ragged, blasted, barren plane.
And the worst part? The part that made her sure that she had gone mad, and was being left to languish in her broken insanity?
Her ears still burned from where Zaasteroth’s lips had touched them to whisper to her. It had hurt.