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[b][u][center]Hurled Through Hell

Chapter 5

For Damiekinz

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

The badger was given back the bathrobe before he was shuffled onto the boat out of the Circle of Indulgence. Even as the boat left the docks, he was looking over his shoulder at the farmlands, imagining leaping off the craft and swimming back. He could still taste the joys of the food there, as well as the various pleasures that had come with it. His ass and thighs showed the results of spending so long there, jiggly and heavy and –

Well, he blushed a bit as he reached back and felt the heft and give against his fingers when he touched it. He wasn’t a fit badger any longer. Not really obese, nor even fat, but…well, fitness and hard muscle had never been his forte, and that was well beyond his reach now.

Jiggle.

Bounce.

Dimple.

“Mmmph…I guess I really did turn into a platter there…”

He shook his head, letting go of his ass. Forty-two years would hopefully pass soon enough to return to the lands of plentiful pleasure. The other Archfiends were unlikely to be as nice as Astaroth was, but he hoped against hope that they would be at least better than he imagined.

Not that he had much in the way of choice, he thought as he looked down at the river streaming past the little boat. The River Lethe would sap him of everything if he leaped in and tried to swim. Even if he could make it back to the Circle of Indulgence, he doubted that he would remember why he had wanted to be there in the first place, and…

Well, he didn’t trust the demons or the Archfiend to entirely treat him well if he didn’t have his memory intact. Something told him that he’d end up an installation like the females he’d first seen there, and that was not where his pleasure lay.

So, he would wait. Forty-two years…forty-two years in the Circles of Hell.

The farmland faded into the background, the gentle teal sky replaced with something bright orange and more reminiscent of the eternal flaming sunset than the gentle days of summer. The rolling fields and plains became something darker, red and black with the ash and dark fire of Hell, and he knew that he was leaving the happy places behind.

Soon, a great volcano loomed in the distance, and the next dock came in sight. He pulled his robe a little tighter around him. Not for lack of warmth, for there was plenty of that in the air, but more for comfort. The land ahead lacked any and all of that to his eyes, and he doubted that the next Archfiend would be as kind to him.

The boat tapped against the dock, and he stepped out on his own. As soon as his feet touched the dock –

BOOM!

Black fire exploded out of nowhere at the bank, and from the core of the fiery sphere stepped the next Archfiend.

“Haborym…”

Eoghann paused, feeling real fear for the first time in fourteen years. Unlike Berith, who had been teasing and playful despite their size, and Astaroth, who was not so much taller than him, Haborym was massive. The Cerberus hellhound stood sixteen feet tall, almost three times his own five-and-a-half feet tall, and he was a dark, flaming shadow of a silhouette. His muscle, his figure, his power emanated from him like a pulsing aura, and it was not the aura of someone that would make sure that someone else had a good time.

[i]Why would he?[/i] he thought. [i]This is the Circle of Punishment, after all.[/i]

He managed to force himself forward, stepping off the dock. Haborym’s three heads looked down at him, and the great Archfiend’s left head chuckled.

“It seems that the fat-ass has finally arrived. What, did you get bored of stuffing your face the whole time? Maybe you decided you needed to pay penance with that big ass of yours,” the left-most head said.

“He will have the same chance as the others, Ha,” the central head said.

“Heh, I doubt someone like him has half a chance compared to what he’ll find,” the first head, Ha, said, eyes crazed and lips turned up in a sadistic smile. “I hope to see him fall soon, Bor.”

“We shall see.”

“Mmmmmm!”

The third head, on the right, caught the badger’s attention. He blinked as he realized that it was gagged, huffing around it like some bitch in one of the other circles.

“Calm yourself, Ym. There is no need to be too excited just yet.”

“Heh. I mean to live up to our realm’s name,” Ha said, chuckling. “I have such plans for you.”

“If he fails in his trials. But first, you are poorly dressed for this.”

Haborym snapped his fingers, and the fire burst into being again. Black hellfire burst outwards from Eoghann’s fur, scarcely an inch from touching him directly, and the warlock’s breath froze in his chest as he realized exactly how much control the Archfiend must have had to use such a destructive spell so precisely. The tiniest loss of control would have meant that the fire burst outward from inside of him, ripping him to pieces.

It still ripped the robe from Indulgence apart, leaving him naked for a split-second before something else took its place. He grunted as leather armor took form around his chest and along his thighs, and the cotton of a loincloth fell over his crotch. It wasn’t the weight that distracted him, however, but rather its placement.

As the black fire disappeared, he looked down at himself and bit back a scathing retort. The ‘armor’ was more like a vague strap across his chest, one that didn’t do anything to protect him, and ran down his biceps about halfway to his elbows. A set of pads along his elbows and knees offered some faint protection, he supposed, but there was almost nothing to it, more like…like it was enhancing him, and –

Oh god, it really did show off at his chest. The pleasantly-plump build that he had built up in Indulgence really showed as it made his chest stand out more than he would have liked, and his cheeks burned as he tried and failed to adjust the strap to not push it up as much as it did.

And that was before even looking at the loincloth. It barely came down to just below his balls, and he groaned as he felt the back of it not even going all the way down to the curve of his ass. The whole thing was as exposing as it could get, and he grumbled as he pulled at the back and tried to adjust it.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered.

“Your attire for your time in my Circle,” Bor, the center head, said. “And you will wear it with pride.”

“I look like a fetishy gladiator.”

“And?”

“And –”

Ha turned to him, and those sadistic eyes gleamed as the left-most head lost its smile. Eoghann gritted his teeth and slowly swallowed his complaints; the last thing that he needed was to encourage [i]that[/i] one. As little as he knew about Haborym, he knew better than to test the patience of a head that was clearly ready to see him suffer.

“Fine. What now?” he muttered, trying to ignore the way that the loincloth back flap kept creeping toward his ass-crack. “What kind of punishment am I going to get?”

“Whatever you can’t avoid,” Bor said. “The rules are simple. You fight, and if you win, then you go without punishment. Perhaps you even claim pleasure. But if you lose, your punishment is decided by your opponent.”

“…How?”

“You shall see.” The hellhound stomped his foot, and the world shimmered, a red road appearing through the black sands leading into the distance. “Follow this road to the Coliseum. You will find your answers there.”

Before he could ask for more information [i]now[/i], the great and powerful Archfiend exploded into more black fire and disappeared. The badger covered his face, wiped some of the dust of the land off his chest, and sighed. It looked like he wasn’t going to get the guest treatment that he had in the previous Circle.

He missed Indulgence. He missed it a lot.

As soon as he set foot on the red path, time and space began to lose their meaning. He took five steps without anything happening, then on the sixth, he leaped forward. The mountain was measurably closer, and there was a distant building on a hill.

More to the point, there were demons and souls alike fighting all around him. He paused, staring at the duels about him, his jaw agape as a rat desperately defended himself from a massive black-furred demon hound. Swords flew and –

“Gods…”

He watched the rat take the blade straight through the chest, sure that the rodent was dead, but as soon as the blade pulled away, he saw that there was no wound. No harm, no blood, no gaping hole. Nothing.

Yet, the rat still stumbled, falling to his knees gasping. The hellhound chuckled, flicking his loincloth to the side and tapping his cock against the rat’s cheeks.

Eoghann took another step. Once more, he lunged forward through space, and the Coliseum was scarcely a mile away. All around him, more fighting continued, mortals against demons and imps. All around him, weapons flew, inflicting some sort of damage, but never showing a visible wound on their victims.

He watched as demons mounted mortals and mortals mounted demons. The constant fighting always seemed to end in sex of some sort, either rutting someone’s muzzle or shoving them down and pulling their asses in the air. Every time that he saw someone lose, the victor was quick to take their spoils.

[i]Are they too tired to fight back, or…[/i]

He didn’t know the rules of the Circle yet. The books had been vague about the Circle of Punishment, calling it a true hell for those that were caught in it, but they had been similarly vague about the others. The first two Circles hadn’t been as bad as the books had described them, and what he was seeing so far implied that there wasn’t as much pain and suffering in this realm as there seemed to be.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something good in this place, too.

Another step, and he reached the Coliseum. The doors were open and Haborym was waiting in the vestibule leading to the center of the arena. As the badger approached the massive hellhound, he strained to find the right words.

“Do you understand?” Bor asked before he could say anything.

“I…think so. We fight, but our weapons don’t do any real harm.”

“Ha!” Ha snorted. “No harm, he says. Little mortal, they do far more than that. They cut at the spirit, at the soul. They drain you of the will to resist, the will to stand. Wounds are nothing compared to the pain of the spirit when you lose all will to stand for yourself.”

“Silence, Ha,” Bor said, shaking the middle head. “But he is correct. You will find yourself drained every time that you take a hit. And the more that you lose, the less that you can fight back.”

“And…when I lose it all…”

“Then you have lost, and your opponent may do as he wishes.”

“Like every demon was doing on the way up here,” the badger muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What about magic?”

“Would that be fair?”

“I…”

Eoghann blinked. Magic. He hadn’t even tried to use his magic since falling into the Circles. He looked down at his hands, trying to seize his power…

But it refused to come. He stared at his fingers, his mouth falling open as he realized that the magic that he had used over and over again in the Material Plane would no longer come at his command. Ha chuckled, and even Bor shook his head with a small smile on his muzzle.

“Few can use magic. The fights under me shall always be fair. Everyone shall have a weapon, and everyone shall have a chance to fight off their punishment. But nobody will have the unfair advantage of magic. Fight with a weapon, or not at all.”

Once again, the warlock felt fear. All his adult life, magic had been a companion. Admittedly most of it had been the magic of the Archfiends through their pact, but it had still been his mind, his will directing it through the world. The idea that the magic would no longer come, at the very least for the next seven years, left him feeling a certain sort of helpless that he hadn’t realized was possible.

He clenched his hands into fists, huffing and shaking his head. No, no, there would be a chance. The Archfiend had been clear about that. And he had seen some of the other souls in this Circle winning their fights. It was possible. Not likely, but possible.

He managed to calm himself down by the time that Haborym rested a massive hand on his shoulder. Due to their size difference, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the huge thing could have spread across both his shoulders at once, given the right angle.

“Go to the center of the arena. Your opponent is coming. Win, and perhaps you will have some pleasure. Lose…and your pleasure depends on him.”

The dull ‘boom’ of the Archfiend disappearing almost knocked him off his feet. Eoghann tried to put his fear down, but all he could imagine was what would happen if he lost.

If. He told himself that it was still an if. He tried to believe it.

He walked out of the small corridor, stepping into the hot sands of the arena. The crowd all around him was difficult to see in the bright light, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw many mortal souls as well as many demons. Large swathes of the crowd were spanking each other, at the very least, and many of them were getting into a rut, as well. There were bottoms that were shoved over railings and fucked, others that were kept on their knees and used as pleasure toys for those seated in front of them, and more.

Demons fucked mortals. Mortals fucked demons. He could see champions among the mortal souls in small pockets in the crowd, surrounded by a small cadre of imps and minor demons, while others shifted and avoided some of the bigger fights breaking out in the stands around them.

[i]They just don’t stop…[/i]

It was starting to feel as if one was either fighting or fucking, and there was very little in-between. If one wasn’t doing that, then there was someone that wanted to do that to one.

He reached the middle of the arena, and from the other side approached another hellhound demon. If Haborym had one head and was significantly smaller – perhaps a little taller than Eoghann himself – that was what the hellhound approaching him would have reminded him of. As it stood, the red-furred, dark-eyed canine making his way across the sands was intimidating all on his own, and he carried himself with a smirk and a hint of pride that told Eoghann that he was going to be in for quite a fight.

He took one deep breath after another. The magic would have been good to have in the fight, but he had learned enough in his forty-nine years in the pact to be able to use a weapon. It had been a little while, but he knew more than the basics, and he had needed to fight his way out of magic-less situations before.

There was a chance. There was always a chance.

The hellhound stepped up to him, stopping a half-pace from him. A shimmer in the air between them resolved into a blade, floating up and down in place.

“Take it,” the hellhound said. “That one’s yours, pillow-butt.”

“I have a name,” Eoghann growled as he reached out and took the hilt of the blade.

“Heh, maybe, but it doesn’t fit you as well as that does.”

The badger gritted his teeth as he squeezed the sword’s hilt, swinging it back and taking a more defensive position. Even as he moved, however, he could feel the sheer heft of his ass jiggling back, wobbling behind him and drawing his attention from his opponent to that. His cheeks burned as he tried not to think about how much bigger and jigglier it was compared to what it had been seven years ago, but it was hard not to think about it when it was shifting and moving whenever he did.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Heh. Don’t know how Haborym thinks a doughy old man like you could put on a good show,” the hellhound said, holding his hand out to the side and conjuring a two-handed axe for himself. “Someone like you belongs back in Indulgence, raising your pillow-butt for anyone looking for a meal or a fuck. Maybe in one of the brothels, heh, showing off and getting used like the fuck-toy you are.”

“Hmmph.”

“How long were you there, hmm? Twenty years? Thirty?”

“Seven.”

“Heh, glutton of a badger, you are. Looks like you’re barely moving.”

“I’ll show you moving.”

Eoghann shifted his position, blade extended toward the hellhound, only to blush worse as his cheeks clapped in the process. He’d rarely had to fight in the nude before, but they’d never been [i]this[/i] bad. He could only imagine what it must have looked like from behind as he took his ready-pose.

[i]He’s big, and he’s strong. You have to be faster. The Archfiend said that if you hit him, he gets tired, so if you can tire him out first –[/i]

“Begin!”

Bor’s shout echoed across the arena, and before the badger could react, the hellhound was bringing his axe down. The two-handed blow swept from left to right, and there was no blocking it. There was only the faint chance of getting out of the way.

The badger leaned back, trying to throw himself backward. He avoided the decapitating move, but the blade still cut across the side of his neck –

“Nnnngh…”

And as he stumbled back a few paces, he still felt the ‘ache’ of fatigue setting in. His arms felt heavier, his legs quivered, and his hands shook as he struggled to hold onto the sword. It felt like he had been running all day, his body drained as could be.

And that had been just a glancing blow. What would have happened if the hellhound had managed a head-blow or something worse?

Eoghann groaned, pulling his sword back up as the hellhound spun the axe in one hand as if it were as light as a feather. His opponent chuckled.

“Feeling it already, are we?” the dog said. “Looks like this is going to be an easy fight. And I thought you were supposed to be something special.”

“Let’s find out.”

They ‘danced,’ inasmuch as Eoghann actually could. He could feel the weight and jiggles from his time in Indulgence slowing him down, his decade-plus time in the grips of the Archfiends having stripped him of some of his old instincts. He could still dodge and swing, parry to some extent, but the strength that he used to have was gone.

He rolled under one of the overhead swings from the bigger hellhound, but before he could strike back, the demon leaped away. Eoghann dragged himself to his feet, stumbling backward as he swung his sword left, right, left, barely able to nudge the axe’s swing off-course. There was no blocking the heavy weapon when it was swung with that kind of strength, but even parrying and redirecting it barely gave him any relief. He was tiring out further and further even without taking any direct hits, and he knew that the demon had more stamina than him. The hellhound wasn’t even panting yet, while he was heaving like a forge bellows.

“Too much time in bed and not enough time on the field,” the demon said when they locked blades. “Heh, too many times taking ‘daggers’ and not enough time playing with real weapons.”

“Nnngh…Not down…yet…”

“Heh, going to be soon, pillow-butt.”

The hellhound shoved forward, and the blade caught him across the shoulder. Again, Eoghann felt the drain, and he almost fell to his knees. He turned it into a roll at the last second, avoiding a second hit and getting behind the hellhound. With a desperate lunge, he caught the red-furred hound in the side –

“Mmmph!”

And had the slight consolation prize of hearing the grunt of exhaustion from the other man. It wasn’t much, but at least he wasn’t going down having done nothing to the hellhound.

The dog pulled back a few paces, cupping his side almost instinctively. No wound, no blood, nothing, just the impact of the blade and the tiredness that followed. Eoghann struggled to his feet, wobbling from side to side as he gripped his sword.

“One,” he muttered.

“Hmmph. Pillow-butt’s got some tricks.” The demon nodded. “Let’s end this.”

What followed was the most furious rain of blows that Eoghann had ever seen. On the Material Plane, he had fought masters of the blade and staff, had seen men that knew how to use an axe with the speed of a rapier, and he had barely survived some horrific monsters that moved with blurring speed with razor claws. None of them matched what the hellhound before him unleashed.

The axe spun with a speed that defied sight, becoming nothing more than a ring of dull black and silver. He charged, swinging it from side to side, and every blow sent sparks flying through the air when Eoghann managed to get his blade up to meet it. Each time they connected, the impact jammed his arms back, making his muscles ache more and more until –

CLANG!

His blade went flying as he lost his grip. Eoghann tried to keep dodging, but his body was already so tired, so drained. The blade descended, and in three quick cuts, he was done.

The badger gasped, falling to his knees as all his energy left him. Fatigue such as he had never felt settled over him, his arms and legs leaden as if they had been filled with liquid iron and left to set. They burned with exhaustion, and the only thing that kept him conscious must have been the power of the realm, because he was far too tired to ever actually stay conscious from this level of fatigue.

He could only watch as the hellhound lifted his axe above his head, roaring for the crowd. His loincloth was already tented, throbbing visibly for the crowd as he howled his victory for them. The crowd howled back, some of those that were in the middle of rutting arching their backs as they came right then and there. The hellhound laughed, turning back to Eoghann.

“Pathetic,” the hellhound said, letting his axe disappear in a burst of hellfire. “One blow. That was all you were good for. Well, at least I get the pleasure of your punishment.”

“Nnngh…”

The hellhound squatted down, flicking his loincloth to the side. The same hard, knotted cock that he had gotten used to seeing through the realm on the way to the Coliseum was finally exposed. He grunted as it slapped across his cheek, the heady scent of musk and the hot smell of a body under the summer sun hit him, and he groaned as his cock responded with a faint twitch beneath his loincloth.

“The sluts of Indulgence are always a treat,” the hellhound said.

Eoghann had nothing to say as he was shoved into the sand, his face half-buried in it as the hellhound walked around behind him. Despite being smaller than Haborym, the hellhound was still massive, several feet taller than him, and there was no resisting someone that had that much of an advantage.

He groaned as his loincloth was flipped up, and shivered as a deluge of oil rained down on his ass-crack. The feeling of it slipping between his cheeks was somewhat similar to the pleasurable sensation of the sauces of Indulgence, but without the sheer richness that they had. This was just…slick.

And as he felt the hellhound’s cock lining up with his asshole, he knew that he was going to need every bit of slickness he could get. It was huge, it was burning against his cheeks, and –

POP!

The badger’s jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open as he stared straight ahead. His legs shook and his arms did the same, and he was barely able to keep himself on all fours rather than falling face-first into the sand again.

The full thing. The full fucking thing had just gone in, the only part still hanging out being the knot, and even that was only because his ass had gotten as plump and fat as it had. He stared straight ahead, wheezing as he felt the sheer girth and heft of that massive canine cock, the tapered tip tickling his guts while the thick shaft rubbed hard against his prostate.

“Heh, just as soft as the Indulgence sluts always are. How’s it feel, pillow-butt? How’s it compare to those limp-pricks over there?”

He couldn’t get the air to answer, and the hellhound was already moving, dragging his cock back –

PLAP!

PLAP!

PLAP!

There was nothing of the slow, indulgent thrusts he had grown accustomed to. There was only a brutality to it, a rough, hard rut that cut through any and all idea that this was meant to be gentle and pleasurable. It was a punishment, a rut to put him in his place, and remind him where losers were always going to go.

And yet…

And yet, there was still pleasure to it. His cock was rock hard between his legs, dripping against his flapping loincloth until the fast pace knocked his loincloth from his hips. The little flap of cloth hit the ground, his black dick dribbling over it, oozing pre-cum against the fabric as the hound used him like a bitch.

Faster, harder, deeper, those claws holding his hips and pulling him back again and again and again. The clapping sound of flesh on flesh, the heavy feeling of those balls rubbing against the back of his, and the sheer heat of that cock inside of him were something else. They were rough, dominant, taking him down a peg with every thrust, until he was whimpering with humiliation and lust all at once.

Each time that knot slapped against his asshole, he could feel the pressure behind it threatening to knot-fuck him into oblivion. He knew that once it got in, any chance of retaining dignity would go out the window.

Despite that, the badger almost wanted to know how it felt. The need for new experiences from Curiosity and the raw hedonism of Indulgence were still there, and –

And everyone was watching. Everyone was staring at him from the stands. They were fighting and fucking, still, and yet, they kept turning to look at him. They stared at him and his ass, at him and his bouncy, jiggly ass getting used harder, and harder, and harder. He was the centerpiece of the arena right then, and –

POP!

Eoghann seized up as the knot popped in, his eyes going wide and his cock stiffening up. He felt his balls rise up as the knot ground against his prostate on the way in, on the way out, and –

POP!

And as it popped out, he came. The rush of pleasure and humiliation alike hit him harder than anything else so far, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he painted the sand and earth with his seed. Spurt, spurt, spurt went his cock, shooting white lines that turned to mud under him, and –

POP!

POP!

POP!

He couldn’t even catch his breath as the knot popped in and out of him, finally becoming part of the rut. Eoghann’s orgasm just kept rolling on, the impossible sensation getting stronger and stronger as his prostate was pummeled into oblivion, and his cock kept jumping, squirting, shooting across the sand and the loincloth beneath him.

All around him, the eyes of the crowd were on him, and his breath came hotter and harsher as he tried to catch it. The hellhound laughed in his ears, the whispers of pillow-butt slut and more hitting him hard.

He tried to get a grip on reality, to hold out against the rutting, but there was no mercy. Seconds turned to minutes, and at some point, minutes turned to hours. He wasn’t sure if he ever stopped cumming during that time; all he knew was that the knot never stopped popping in and out of his ass, even as it slowly gaped and got used to it.

Sometime after the hour mark, under the hot sun of the arena, he passed out and fell into deep dreams.

#

He woke up somewhere small, somewhere out of the way. Not surrounded by people, at the very least, and not with a knot deep inside of his ass. He groaned, huffing under his breath as he tried and failed to get himself off the floor. He was still sore, still utterly exhausted from the effects of the fight, and –

“Well, that was disappointing.”

He groaned at Bor’s voice, slowly opening his eyes again. The Archfiend loomed over him, standing at his side, and reminding him once more of the sheer size difference between them. Ha laughed.

“That was [i]pathetic.[/i]”

“Perhaps I shall send imps against you next time. Perhaps then you will have the barest chance of winning.”

“Or, you know, we could send the stronger demons in,” Ha countered, chuckling. “Oh, the humiliation that we’d get to see then.”

Eoghann grumbled under his breath, still struggling to find both the breath to speak and the words to mutter. That match had completely drained him, and it had been over in less than two minutes. The sheer strength of the hellhound had been beyond his capability to fight, and he doubted that the imps would be much better.

His body ached. His hole burned. He had every bit of fatigue that someone that had worked all day long would have suffered in a slave camp. He should have been angry or broken, and he was certainly the former…

And yet, his body burned to try again. Whether he won or lost, some part of him was desperate to get back in the arena and make another go at it. Maybe he would win, maybe he’d get his ass knot-fucked into next week, but he wanted to get back on his feet and fight back, to try and take hold of his fate once more.

Maybe it showed on his face, because he heard a soft chuff from Bor.

“Mortals. They will never fail to amuse me.”

Click. As the Archfiend snapped his fingers, a series of smaller hands lifted the badger from the ground.

“Take him to a cot. Give him a massage to relax him enough to sleep, and make sure that he’s ready for the next fight tomorrow. It’s going to be a long seven years for you, badger, so you best get used to it.”

“Mmmph…”

“I hope you’ll surprise me, one day.”

Eoghann hoped the same, and it surprised him to care as much as he did. In both preceding Circles, he had been more passive, more content to let things happen as they did. Not that he’d had much choice, but he hadn’t tried to fight back.

Here…here, he [i]wanted[/i] to fight…

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Eoghann reaches the Circle of Punishment, and he finds out that things are going to get quite rough here. But maybe…maybe he likes it rough.

Tags: M/M, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Arena, Fighting, Fight, Anal, Knot Fucking, Knot-Fucking, Orgasm, Cum, Size Difference, Badger, Hellhound, Hell, Series,