Bloodmoon Resort Satan’s trip 3
Maybe Satan will reach an epiphany during a break
Bloodmoon Resort Satan’s trip 3
Maybe Satan will reach an epiphany during a break
“Hrmph! Deeper! Fuck me deeper! Make me cum! Yes! Yes! HERE! PUSH MORE! MORE!”
The cries filled the bedroom, same as the sound of flapping wings, of a tail smacking the floor and bedding. The whole bungalow could be shaking under the thunderous desire while the Helmeted Human was doing his best to punch what was a gaping, dripping, and lubricated asshole. Satan’s asshole.
The Deadly Sin clearly enjoyed his ‘massage’, on all fours if not for his arms that had given out a few minutes ago. At that moment, the dragon-looking Deadly Sin had his face pressed against the pillows while his cock spewed on the bed. The magma-like cum came free and about, his nuts lifted by the abdominal muscles again. And again.
He kept cumming from being fisted. And though it was something he’d only tried recently, it was already the third time in four days Satan had requested a ‘masseur’ to be sent to his bungalow.
By then, the repair and cleaning crew had reinforced the bungalow to accommodate his ‘needs’ and replaced his bed sheets with fireproof ones. Even then… It always left a mess, more so after the last ten ejaculations that had been milked from the Deadly Sin.
Ten ejaculations. And that was enough for the Helmeted Human, who wiped his helmet with his lube-covered arms and huffed.
“And that’s the hour, sir. If you want more, you need to request it from the desk office.”
“One hour?” shouted Satan, straightening his head and lifting his torso with his arms. “It was not enough! I need more!”
He even closed his fists and hit the bedding.
“It is not my concern,” answered the helmeted staff sternly. “If you need to complain, please contact the desk office.”
“I will do that, dammit!”
It was not enough to get the Helmeted Human to return to please Satan. Instead, the guy, naked, strutted away. He left the bedroom, and less than a minute later, there was the click of the bungalow’s lock.
Remained then the Deadly Sin, still on all fours with his tail raised, his legs spread, and his asshole gaping enough you could see the guts in.
“Fuck… It. Fuck, dammit,” grumbled Satan, dropping flat with his eyes closing. “I was so… Darn close to getting done. Maybe one more ejaculation. One or two,” he huffed, resting in a puddle of his own making.
His semen was everywhere, and it would incur another increased charge. But the Deadly Sin did not care. He focused on stepping forward, his feet hitting the soft surface even as he wobbled.
One step forward, another. He left the bedroom with a trail of cum behind him and went to the bathroom. The hot shower eased him and his worries; it even melted his thoughts for a moment, leaving him in an instant of pure relaxation, something Yogirt would be proud of. And then… He grumbled, shaking his head.
“It’s not enough,” he mumbled, catching the nearest towel and wiping himself angrily.
An anger that remained even when he stepped out of his bungalow, wearing Bermuda shorts and an open-flower shirt. He even had tinted glasses he used as he strolled, hands in his pockets. What could he do?
His frustration was flaring, much like the exacerbated soreness from his posterior.
But he couldn’t take it out on anyone like that, so he strolled.
The beach was full of people lying around, most naked… And a sizeable chunk currently letting humans have a turn on their asses. Sometimes, it was other demons. And in one case, Satan even noticed Doom getting fucked in the ass by Balanar. The couple was even talking to someone else… Raum? A newcomer, whose body was partially made of steel.
Nevertheless, Satan shook his head and continued inland. Besides the bungalows, there were the ruins to explore, though he’d already done so. Even then, a gaggle of minor demons were taking photos and talking to themselves while following a guide. And they were not even five steps from a community center.
He wasn’t about to follow those, so he walked again.
The mall, further, was bustling as usual, with demons stepping in and out while accompanied by Human servants. Some demons couldn’t use portals to store stuff, so it had to be on the Humans to carry the massive bags while following those fat-assed sluts that were prattling about their latest progress in their personal Hells.
Again, Satan shook his head and went away.
There were many things to do, but each time, Satan was uninterested. Pottery classes were relaxing, but he wasn’t looking for that. The same applied to gardening, flower arrangements, and many other small projects, which helped the Demons channel their energy into something positive during their stay.
Swimming classes were open regularly, hiking trips through different homeworlds were a regular occurrence, spas offered massage and relaxation. Everything was pushed so the Demons would be relaxed.
But Satan?
Oh, he wasn’t feeling it. Not at all, as he grumbled and sighed, his shoulders dropping.
“Oh, hey Satan! Finally out and about?”
The voice was familiar, joyful, no… Even maniac as Satan turned his head and faced another Demon.
Rakdos.
The four-horned and flaming Demon was one of the raw who had the same appetite for violence. In a way, Rakdos was also bound to many rules like him. And that kinship was enough for Satan to roll his shoulders, lifting the weight of frustration and dropping it before he had a thin smile.
“Rakdos. Yeah. I took a stroll,” said the Deadly Sin, though he glanced at his counterpart, who had… A loincloth, a harness, and a scythe. A far cry from the typical vacationer attire. “What are you doing?”
“Me? Nothing,” said Rakdos, his fingers strumming the haft. “I was about to fight the golems. But if you’re here, it’s better not to bother. We could catch up at the bar.”
“Fighting?” asked Satan, tilting his head while watching Rakdos drop his scythe, which dematerialized. “No. You know what? I need to hit something. What’s with the golems?”
Rakdos’s left eyebrow raised. His jaw clenched, though it moved as if he munched. And then, he opened his hand to summon his scythe again, smacking it on his shoulder.
“Good. It’s even better with a partner!” laughed Rakdos, landing a hand right on Satan’s back and pushing him to follow. “Even one that reeked of cum and cheap Human lube!”
“Hey!” shouted Satan, his wings flapping and his nostrils blowing smoke.
“I can smell that,” answered Rakdos, rolling his eyes. “I’m the master of debauchery. If there are no performances involving cum in my festival, it’s wrong. But tell me. People thought you were sick? Were you avoiding me, Saty?”
“Satan,” huffed the Deadly Sin. “And no. I had more issues. Be’lakor wouldn’t leave me since-“
“Since?”
“Since nothing. We were catching up. What’s this with the harness and scythe? The staff will jump on you.”
“No,” shrugged Rakdos. “So long as it’s for the golems. But I can’t use it on mortals,” announced Rakdos, smacking his scythe’s haft on his hand in an unequivocal movement. “I wish I could. Slaughtering is fun, and I miss it.”
Silence for a moment. Satan could have agreed, slaughtering is fun. But he wasn’t there for slaughtering, and-
“But smacking and getting smacked by the Golems is just as fun. They’re not made of flesh, but they pack a punch. You’ve never fought one, haven’t you?” said Rakdos, clenching his fist and putting the scythe back on his shoulder while guiding Satan.
“No. I didn’t even know they offered that activity.”
“I forgot you weren’t there for a while. Look. Satan, you ought to stay around more. You even missed Doom and Balanar’s marriage.”
“I know. I’ve heard. And Doom talked my ear off about it.”
“He always talks everyone’s ear off,” laughed Rakdos in return. “But he’s right. It was great! We had a blood fountain, sacrifices to torture! We even returned home with a personalized Human Knight, captured by Balanar.”
“Great. I surely would have loved a Knight,” huffed Satan, though he doubted there was any spot he could put that Mortal without it being tacky or excessive.
“Okay, sourpuss. What’s happening?” asked Rakdos, his hand leaving Satan’s back, but the two continued to walk deeper inland, the traces of a former civilization appearing with the ruins.
“Nothing. I have been working on controlling my anger.”
“More like crushing it,” laughed Rakdos, shaking his head. “The Golems will help you more than me. Here.”
Satan looked to Rakdos, only for the Demon to drop the scythe onto the Deadly Sin’s hand. The weapon was heavy, but nothing Satan wasn’t used to lifting, so he hefted it… And tested it.
“Your scythe?” asked Satan, raising an eyebrow while he watched Rakdos summon reinforced fingerless gloves, which he put on.
“My scythe. I will punch them; it’s funnier. Now. Watch ahead.”
Satan did, following the instructions. Three of the Helmeted servants were on the side of a massive sand field, sitting at a table under an awning. But as soon as one of them noticed the two Demons, they stood up and waved at Rakdos and Satan.
“Watch what?” asked Satan, observing what looked like an empty sand field. Even then, it was a surprise to see such a large empty place in the middle of the jungle.
He looked at it while Rakdos was waving back, pointing at himself and Satan, mimicking something.
Then, a Human pointed his thumb up and… The place shifted.
The sand remained there, but it shifted as stone emerged from the sand. And then, massive Golems appeared. Their heads round, their bodies stubby with four legs attached to them. They were stone-like spiders except for the many glittering gems embedded in their bodies.
Their legs all ended in pincers, and yet, they did not seem to be affected when balancing on them. In fact, they could be compared to ballerinas, moving with talent through the field.
“That’s the golems?”
“Not so impressive?” asked Rakdos, patting Satan’s shoulders. “They were weapons to protect the island. But they’re using it now for entertainment.”
“Psh. Golems. As if it’s fun to hit punching bags,” said Satan, eyeing the eight Golems that were forming a line.
“Hey, joking is my role,” said Rakdos, giving a little jab while smiling. His gloves were indeed reinforced and heavy. “They resist everything coming from the Hells or Demonic magic. You could spew fire for hours, and you wouldn’t even make one melt. No. Come on. Point out how many you want to fight.”
Satan glanced at the group… Then back at Rakdos, at the human. Then at the scythe he held.
Then, he pointed at all of them.
“All of them? Are you sure?” asked Rakdos with a mischievous smile. He was still adjusting his gloves while Satan hefted the scythe, then began to flourish with it.
Behind him, above him, then right ahead as he wielded it.
“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve used a scythe, but I can do it well.”
“Suit yourself,” said Rakdos, grinning, whistling, and pointing to Satan, then the eight.
There was some gesticulation from the mortals, but Rakdos shrugged visibly and then pointed to Satan before the Golems finally moved.
Rakdos himself stepped back while Satan advanced, wielding the scythe and getting ready.
“You’ll be my punching bags, today!” shouted Satan, grinning while the eight golems formed a circle around him. Ready for battle.
-
“Ouch! Ouch! OUCH! Didn’t you hear it the first time?! It hurts!”
“Last I’ve heard, I’m not the Demon Lord of healing,” scoffed a voice.
“Hah! It was fun to watch him get wrecked! Thanks for helping, Orcus!”
Sitting on a stone bench, his back turned away from the goat-skull-faced Demon, Satan was trying not to shout. But even when applying pink bandages, Orcus was not a gentle nurse. His fingers were scraping, and if Satan didn’t know better, he’d swear Orcus was doing everything to worsen the scraps and slashes Satan had earned.
Meanwhile, Rakdos was happily scrapping with one Golem that was keeping him on the defensive.
The fight was almost impressive, with each punch sending shockwaves through the stone-like golem, which didn’t even show any signs of fracture. Rakdos had to roll, dodge, jump, and plunge. And it was only to avoid before delivering a few jabs that would make many a demon recoil.
Satan observed as Rakdos was even limiting the use of his wings while he laughed, finding the fair fight the Golem offered hilarious and enjoyable.
And Orcus? Oh, he applied another bandage, making Satan wince.
“Fuck yes! That’s what I missed! A good fight! You sure you cannot join me?” asked Rakdos.
“No. Thanks,” said Satan, raising one hand. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
And what a lesson.
In the little time it took for the mortals to deactivate the Golems’ systems, Satan had been slammed, punched, crushed, and smacked. He would recover fast, but he was feeling like someone had used a truck to roll over his spine.
“Suit yourself. That’s fun!” shouted Rakdos, returning to his fight that seemed lost.
In return, the Deadly Sin’s eyes closed. And he breathed out, trying to endure the care he was forced to take from Orcus’ fingers. The touch was still brutal, but it was almost done. And Satan looked like he was a red-spotted-pink lowly fiend. A mix of colors that would remain even with his shirt back on.
“Thanks, Orcus.”
“Your beating was entertaining enough, you don’t need to thank me.”
The huffing answer was not surprising for Satan as he turned, and found the engorged and chubby Demon sitting while putting his stuff back in his fanny pack.
“What were you doing here?”
“What?” answered Orcus, surprised.
“It’s far from the restaurant and the tombs. What were you doing here?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. But I’d like to know.”
No. It didn’t matter for Satan as he tried to shake his wings; one was pulled, and he hissed. But soon, he returned to watching Rakdos beating the same spot on the Golem… And finally, leaving a dent in the stone.
Then, there was the sound of the first crack when Rakdos dove under the creature's legs and hit where one articulation was, snapping that leg clean off the golem.
And he didn’t even have his scythe.
It was as impressive as it was gnarly to see how Rakdos was eagerly jumping on the Golem to brutalize it since it had to balance itself on three legs instead of four. The movements were more raw, and Satan had to tilt his head to see, and hiss from the pain.
“I was waiting for Rakdos.”
“You were waiting for him?” laughed Satan, chuckling… And stopping when he saw Orcus’ expression. “Really? You? Orcus? You would fight with him?”
“Fight? No,” said Orcus, rolling his eyes. “He is entertaining. Plus, we fuck before we go to the buffet.”
“You… Rakdos? You…” said Satan, looking from one to the other.
“Yes?”
Satan scrounged his face, raised his two hands, and pointed in either direction.
“You? You?”
“Hey, Satan? Is there a problem?” asked Rakdos, jumping off the slain Golem. The sands were already swallowing it back like it was trash. At the same time, Rakdos caught the towel Orcus threw him before bending forward to have everyone at the same eye level.
“You. Both. Couple. Together,” mouthed Satan, pointing at either of them again.
“Oh yes. We’re an item, is that right, Orcus?”
“As long as you entertain and feed me,” answered Orcus, plainly.
“Hah! See, we’re an item!” laughed Rakdos, leaning forward. “Because I’ll always feed my Lord and amuse him.”
Before it could go all mushy, Satan turned his eyes away. But he heard the two kiss, the sound of the tongues dancing and tangling, the sharp breaths, the whispered sweet words.
Satan even retched silently, gagging onto nothing and grimacing.
“Get a room.”
“We already share one,” said Rakdos, finally cutting short and wiping his face. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“When will you come here with a partner? It’s not like many would refuse a Deadly Sin like you,” said Rakdos, hands on his hips or on Orcus’s shoulder.
“No thanks. I prefer to stay alone. All that love and shit, it’s for Asmodeus.”
“No shit. He and his imp are cute,” commented Rakdos.
“They are certainly more fun to be with than you, Satan.”
The prod was a mere remark. But Satan’s anger flared up.
“I am way funnier than Asmodeus! I am better than he is! Get it?!”
“Whoa. Calm down, Satan,” said Rakdos, going in and pushing against the Deadly Sin’s shoulder. “He’s only telling the truth.”
“The truth?” said Satan, his nostrils fuming. “Lies! Asmodeus is beneath me.”
“It is not my fault if you are touchy.”
“I AM NOT TOUCHY! But I certainly will be if you keep saying that.”
“Hey, hey!”
It was Rakdos again, intervening and pushing the two apart.
Not that it was different from usual, but Satan certainly felt his anger flare… While Orcus acted indolently. As always.
“We’re on vacation. If you throw a punch, the staff will kick you out. That’s what you want? No. Good,” said Rakdos, his hand tense on Satan’s shoulder.
“I…” Satan began. But then, he huffed, hiding his fist away. “I won’t fight him.”
“Good. Because if you did, I wouldn’t raise a finger. That place is my getaway from the guilds. I won’t abandon that spot.”
Satan huffed, but he was right.
The place was the sole escape for many. Including Satan himself as he frowned, straightened… And breathed, his hands on either side of his muzzle.
“I need a damn break.”
“Damn yes, you need one,” answered Rakdos, though he was away.
“You should talk about your anger issues. They are not getting better.”
“Orcus…”
Satan still kept his muzzle shut, though his breathing tensed up at the last remark. But the two were then whispering to themselves, acting like he wasn’t there, which made him all the more furious as his fingers tensed on his face.
He could hear something about “Letting go” or “Eating” or something.
All the much that led Satan to growl when he heard Rakdos move and his wings flap.
“We’ll get to the restaurant. They’ve got an all-you-can-eat buffet. You should try it, Satan.”
“Yes, yes. Go. Have your fun.”
The Demon even handwaved the two, glancing in their direction. There was a tense moment of observation, but then they were sent off, and Satan could breathe.
He stood up… Watched around as the Humans kept an eye on him and the field. There were no Golems left after Rakdos beat the last one. And yet, Satan turned to see…. The Demon had left him his scythe.
Well, that was almost a sign because Rakdos would rarely leave his Scythe without a purpose.
His muscles ached, but it was all the better as Satan grabbed the Scythe, swirled it… And then, he approached the field.
He made only one sign. One finger raised.
One Golem appeared, ascending from the sand like it was nothing. And it was Satan’s turn to have fun.
His muscles ached. His back was in pain. His wings wouldn’t move if he ordered them so… But he had anger.
Anger to give when he used the Scythe. He did not use it like a refined weapon, with flourish, while jumping from leg to leg, attempting to show off, as when Rakdos was feeling excited. No. Instead, Satan went for a blundering assault. If the Scythe was a weapon, he used it like a hammer.
And he hit. He smacked, he pummeled against the Golem’s arm, hitting it again and again. Without surprise, the Golem was ready to hit back. But Satan was giving his all.
All the time spent training his muscles, working out, and fending off some Goethias wasn’t for nothing. And with a smile, he was beating the Golem.
“You’re not so good alone!” shouted Satan, his four eyes alight with fury.
He was feeling better. Though his body was a wreck and in pain, he was feeling much better as he could exercise all that pent-up ire in hitting, smacking, and turning the Golem into scraps.
Contrary to Rakdos’s punches that were leaving no dents, Satan’s hits were leaving large cleaves in the stone that slowly healed as if the stone could grow. But not enough to compensate for Satan turning the Scythe from a somewhat “refined” weapon in Rakdos's hand to a pickaxe.
Oh, he hit the Golem. The arms, the legs, the embedded gems that were, somehow, harder than the main body. It didn’t matter if each hit left Satan’s hands throbbing with pain and soreness. He would only use the bounce to return the movement with the same, if not increased, intensity.
The Scythe’s tip would bounce and bounce and rebounce. The abounding Deadly Sin was feeling much better, his arms throbbing and pulsating with energy while wielding a weapon that no mortal could even lift.
His steps were not even thoughtful. Oftentimes, Satan would almost stumble on a rock he had himself chipped off. But it was not a matter as he was even… Laughing. Laughing as he had carved a massive chunk out of the Golem’s blocky chest, enough to reveal the large sphere inside that acted as its core. And pierced it.
The second after, the Golem was down.
And Satan?
He signaled for another Golem.
He was still sore. He was getting hit back. Sometimes, the pincers sent him flying. But he would return, bounce back, jump. He was like an Imp, relentlessly attacking back without a care for the wounds or scrapes. If he bled, he was still alive. If he hurt, he was still cognizant. If he failed, he was still capable.
He laughed, too, even though his lungs were hurting.
Each hit to a Golem’s chest made him burst out laughing. And he would remain so, almost manic, when he exploded one core. Again. And again.
In the end, as the eighth Golem was down and burst, destroyed, Satan wiped his face and spat a mix of blood and saliva on the ground.
The bandages remained, though some had been peeled off. But new little wounds were there while he looked almost naked on the battlefield. His blood was all over the sandy field. And yet, he was triumphant, one foot on the last golem.
“That’s why you don’t gang up on me,” spat Satan, before he frowned, gripped one of his teeth that had been dislodged, and snapped it out. He hissed in pain, but he was already feeling the new tooth growing.
Then he threw it, spat again, more blood for good measure. And turned towards where the Humans usually sat.
This time, there were two new faces plus the sole Human that remained.
“You can leave! I’m done!” shouted Satan, throwing the Scythe away before he returned to the two faces. Be’lakor and… Well. The new face, Raum.
Satan approached, his steps heavy while he checked the new tooth piercing his gum. It would grow in the right direction; that was what mattered.
“That was impressive,” commented Be’lakor, clapping. He wore too a floral shirt-bermuda ensemble. Though his hadn’t been wrecked in the battle.
“Impressive? More like brutal. Good job… Satan?” asked Raum. The Demon had a straw hat, tinted glasses, and nothing more than a thong on.
“Yeah. Yeah. I needed that out. Towel.”
Satan would have snapped, too. But Be’lakor must have foreseen the order since he handed him a towel. With it, Satan wiped the dust, sweat, and blood sticking to his scales.
“That out? It felt like you had a personal vendetta against them,” laughed Be’lakor.
“I had one. What’s with you two watching me?”
“Raum rented the field to show me his technique. But when we arrived, you were there.”
“Ah.”
Satan glanced at the field. And indeed, he’d been a while at it. Enough for the Deadly Sin to grimace and return to Raum.
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“We tried,” said Raum. “But you were too focused.”
“Try harder next time,” said Satan, throwing the towel. “Fuck, that was good.”
“A good sweat? I haven’t seen you smile that much, even when fucking Doom.”
“What?” asked Raum, surprised.
Satan eyed him up and down. Red skin, brutish features, glabrous body. Muscular with long legs ending in hooves. One arm is missing and has been replaced with steel, with magma flowing inside it.
“What’s your problem?” asked Satan.
“No. Nothing. I learned you fucked Doom.”
“Who hasn’t?”
“He hasn’t,” intervened Be’lakor. “Balanar watches his Husband like a hawk.”
“No surprise,” commented Satan, eyeing the bright green thong the bull-like Demon whore. And then, he returned to Be’lakor.
“Is he a bottom?”
“What?!” shouted Raum, huffing. “I’m a top! I don’t take dicks like the others who let humans use them!”
For a moment… Satan shared a side glance with Be’lakor, watching how the ashen-skinned Demon Lord smiled and chuckled.
“I know someone who thinks like you. I’m sure you’ll like one another,” commented Be’lakor.
“Who?”
“Be’lakor,” shushed the Deadly Sin before he approached Raum…
No, more than that, Satan took one step on the bench.
In this angle, it was obvious Satan had low-hangers and a relatively long cock. His body was sweaty and reeked of Draconic musk mixed with sulfur and other unpleasant scents for mortals.
But more than that was to see that large Raum gulp and act not as cocky while Satan leaned forward.
“You paid the field for me.”
“I didn’t plan. It was my turn,” frowned Raum, reminded of what he paid. “Will you repay me?”
“I will. You two are an item?”
Raum’s fluster was enough to say, same as the cough from Belakor.
And so… With a simple shot of fire, Satan targeted the straps of Raum’s thong. He burnt it and, with a natural surprise, Raum stood up… Leading to his underwear falling. And so were his large balls.
Practically the same as Satan, except the equine shaft was even more marked, and the stench had a hint of mortality.
“The Abyss?”
Satan whistled and had one hand digging into Raum’s shoulder, keeping him close and steady while Satan used his other hand to stroke Raum’s chiseled abs.
“Hey, Satan. What are you doing?”
“I’m feeling like… Eager for new trials,” laughed Satan, patting Raum's belly before he glanced over to Be’lakor. “You don’t mind if I’m wedging myself between you two?”
Wedging himself between the two, it was a real understatement from Satan.
Though Raum raged and growled and got frustrated by Satan’s sudden control over the situation, his attitude changed when he understood the promise of being ridden. The instant after, the cock slipped out of Raum’s sheath, engorged, and finally the flared tip pointed upward and forward with a slight arc.
“You know. I like the idea. But are you sure you’ve not lost too much blood?” asked Be’lakor, eyebrows raised.
Satan snorted.
“No. I spent all afternoon beating those cunts who ganged up on me. I’m feeling good. I want it.”
And by wanting it, it meant Raum’s cock.
The hulking and red Demon was on the bench with his legs spread. With one hand, he squeezed and stroked his shaft. With the other, he held onto the bench while watching Satan’s massive ass lower itself.
“Yeah, let him have his fun,” commented Raum.
But his attitude, cocky and needy, stopped when six eyes focused on him with a blatant frown.
And so, Raum shut up.
“I’m feeling like it, Be’lakor. You can join or refuse,” said Satan, pushing down until the flared tip slipped between his spread buttcheeks and played with his orifice that had gained a nice swell. Quite a nice look, and a natural tendency to gaping that made Raum’s entrance practically a breeze. Practically the same as the breeze that stroked Satan’s burning scales as he sighed from the sheer pleasure.
“Oh yes. That’s the spot. That’s it. More,” he mumbled, impaling himself on Raum’s shaft. That cock was thick, oh so thick. But it throbbed deliciously, and that corona, swollen and flared, was perfect to squeeze against Satan’s abused prostate.
For a blissful moment, Satan even closed his eyes. He even smiled. He even showed that softer side as his tail wagged behind Raum, against Raum’s. And his wings flapped weakly before he kept them tight against his back.
Below? Below that massive and muscular ass?
Raum was already moaning. The massive ‘top’ was already rolling his eyes and melting like butter while Satan’s glutes descended, squeezing the long mast on its way inside the sultry insides.
“What a top, look at him,” laughed Satan, smacking his thigh. Oh, that top wouldn’t last long in that place without turning into a mortal-dick-addict.
That cock? Heavy and thick? Well, you wouldn’t find it on every demon. Lesser demons were not so well endowed. And bigger Demons often ended up as sluts eager to get their pricklets caged before they reached their true size.
Raum might have been the exception in that ordeal. But an exception Satan savored earnestly while impaling himself… And stroking that bulge through his guts.
“Oh, yeah… That’s… That’s here. Inside. So…. Be’lakor? Wanna join?”
The ashen-skinned Demon had been awfully quiet. His arms crossed, and yet naked, there was a sort of surprise on those gaunt traits.
“You are sure? It’s something with humans, but-“
“I don’t care. Even if I could end up like Doom, it wouldn’t happen like that. I’m not in heat or something, and that guy wouldn’t even know how to breed me.”
“Sh-Shut up,” moaned Raum, though he was clearly losing his wits.
“See. Total failure. So get on. Unless you’re in heat, too? Don’t want hellspawns?”
Be’lakor finally shrugged, and his arms dropped, no longer resolute. Hence, the ashen Demon neared the stack, turned, and presented his posterior to Satan like Satan had done for Raum.
And so, the Deadly Sin was eager to grip those cheeks, to stroke that glabrous skin, to feel the muscles tensing up while the Demon took the position and bent forward.
Already, Satan felt his cocktip teased by Be’lakor’s gaping entrance.
One moment later, Satan sighed. His eyes didn’t roll, but he had to control himself not to grab Be’lakor by the waist to yank him down. His fingers hovered above those hips, even over those thighs… But in the end, Satan remained still… And waited, and enjoyed while Be’lakor’s slow progress guided the Demon down on the Deadly Sin’s cock…
Down. Down further. Down until more than half of Satan’s cock was inside.
Even his median ring was lodged firmly inside Be’lakor, and Satan had to keep his jaw tense not to let go. But it was difficult. He wanted so hard to thrust inside that asshole, to feel it squeezing and sucking on his shaft like crazy.
Satan… Was hungry for that ass. He wanted it all for himself. He wanted that almost vertically-split entrance to be his cocksleeve. At the same time, he felt the throb of Raum’s needy cock deeply entrenched within him. Two sensations at once. Bottom and top.
Both roles at once while he was sandwiched and felt the weight of Be’lakor on his lap, the weight on his chest, the heat against his jaw while he had his chin pressed on the ashen shoulder.
“Fuck…. Your hole is delicious,” whispered Satan, through his teeth.
“What a top. Look at him, not lasting long,” laughed Be’lakor.
“Fucker.”
But the jab was right where Satan’s ego was. The Deadly Sin felt indeed he wasn’t much better than the drooling and bubbling fool below him. The same fool that was starting to hump and bounce with his hooved legs in an attempt to get more from Satan’s tense and yet abused hole.
A hole that released a loud schlorp whenever Raum tried to push against Satan’s thighs to lift him. And… Well, Satan’s eyes widened when he noticed how… Strong Raum was. Enough to lift him off his lap as if it were nothing.
“Shit… he… Might be stronger than me,” almost commented Satan, his eyes widening.
“Yeah. That’s… Why he wanted to show off.”
Oh, Satan certainly got why.
Not everyone could lift him, even in his shrunken form. But Raum did it without breaking a sweat. It was like that idiot Demon was packing so much muscle he’d forgotten to work on anything else. He was a beefcake and nothing more.
At least, that’s what Satan told himself as he was lifted, forced to hold on to Be’lakor, and then smacked down with the raw equine cock plowing into his guts and smacking them.
It resumed. It resumed as Raum’s arms bulged and he employed his strength, his entire strength, to lift the two Demons altogether and to hump weakly. The result was a rather chaotic vision.
One of the two demons was forced to bounce up and down, Satan, since he was in the middle. He found himself both thrust in and thrusting in.
He was taken and took someone on the same occasion. And each movement, even the smallest, was enough to send him moaning and sighing from the delightful pressure applied inside and outside.
Be’lakor’s hole massaged his cock. And whenever they were lifted, the Demon’s reflex was to tense his legs, making his grip on Satan’s cock even stronger.
And whenever Raum dropped them, Satan’s asshole was swallowing the red shaft, finding that massive ram-like organ hitting every little spot Satan had discovered through the workers’ attentive touch.
It was almost like a curse. One Satan had unleashed upon himself in wanting more pleasure: beyond the prostate, there were many little spots he’d discovered. The seminal vesicles were pleasing, as well as a series of glands lining up his inside.
A series of swollen glands, the flared end rubbed, squeezed, and crushed with its brutal touch. A series of swollen glands that made Satan huff, grunt, and yearn for more.
“Hells. That… Cunt knows where to hit,” moaned Satan by Be’lakor’s ear.
“Ag-reed,” commented Be’lakor, though Satan wasn’t sure of whom he was talking.
The question of identity wasn’t raised when Raum’s movements were growing erratic, and so were the thrusts inside and from Satan.
The juicy, scaly posterior bounced up and down, smacked against the thighs, and left redder marks on the redder skin. The ashen-skinned one was no different, bruising thighs and balls the same.
The smackings of those posteriors, the clapping of flesh against scales, started to echo around and fill the empty field. So did their moans that were growing, their ragged breaths with Raum’s first.
The air was thick with Demonic, Draconic, and Bovine musk. The three scents were mingling together, filling their every aching breath as the trio was reaching an orgasm. Reaching a climax that seemed to elude them whenever they were reaching the limit.
Maybe it stemmed from Raum’s eagerness to thrust. From Satan’s movements. From Be’lakor self-control.
But they were so far. And yet so close. So damn close, they needed only a spark.
A spark that ended up being a tail, prehensile and dexterous, lifting and poking at Raum’s entrance. Oh, it certainly stole a growl and a huff from the hulking Demon. But as soon as that tail-tip prodded the buttcheeks, forced through, and slithered underneath Raum’s own tail, it was there… The puckered entrance, the tense rim, the untouched orifice. And Satan’s tail, prehensile as it was, easily penetrated it.
The result was as clear as Raum’s cry in pain and pleasure. The sudden, unexpected penetration was brutal. Followed by the tail unleashing its strength on the inner walls, yet with impeccable control. It wasn’t the first time Satan had used his tail for something of such a nature.
He was a top; he’d been asked to handle many partners at a time, and using his tail was just as easy as it was to use his fingers or even tongue.
An action rewarded by Raum’s thrusts changing, the Demon going berserk. The grip tightened, bruising the Deadly Sin. But then, Satan and Be’lakor, both impaled, felt the rabid movements. Up, down, up, down.
The movements were even faster and stronger than before. Satan, hit by the surprise and the pleasure, could not refuse the delightful hits on his prostate. His jaw dropped, his tongue dropped, his saliva dripped from his open lips.
The hits were resonating through him, like hammer hits that sent him shaking and quivering. Be’lakor, above, wasn’t much better, though his gaunt features made him look more in control despite his cock dripping all over his lower belly.
But the more Raum’s rampage went on, prodded and egged on by Satan’s tail, the more their expressions showed cracks.
And then, with Raum’s huffing breath practically becoming a hollering cry, came the shots, the ejaculations. First came Satan’s, feeling both the grip on his cock and the assault on his asshole. He was the first to cum. His cock, long and wide, throbbed deep within the ashen-skinned Demon, who roared in return.
Be’lakor, too, came. And his cry was followed by his asshole tensing and clenching, practically crushing Satan’s dick with that sphincter’s hellish hold.
But by the time Be’lakor cock shot through the air, sending ropes of cum upward only to land in the sandy ground ahead, it was Raum’s turn.
The bullish Demon wasn’t a gentle lover. But once he reached his orgasm, he left the battered and bruised thighs free. His humping even stopped, bringing their movements to a complete halt, except for their breaths.
Raum threw his head back, his horns pointed away, while steam exited his mask. His torso tensed for moments, especially his abdominal muscles, as those muscles pulled on his low-hanging nuts with each ejaculation.
Powerful ejaculation that ended by making Satan’s belly bulge, even with a hand pressing against the taut skin and the growing volume. There was no way to fight it, not when Satan’s own asshole was so firmly gripping Raum’s cock, it was practically vacuum sealed.
A situation similar to his own cock as it pumped and pumped, within a tight and tense orifice that wouldn’t even leave any room to escape. That cum could only flow in and upward… And nothing could force it out unless Satan pulled out… Something that seemed impossible with all three impaled by gravity and weight, by their sheer exhaustion as Satan sighed, his voice raucous.
“F-Fuuck!” Be’lakor whispered, his voice croaky.
The answer wasn’t in words but in similar sighs. From Raum, spent mentally and physically, from cumming and holding onto the two. From Be’lakor, whose mouth was contorted in a grin; his anal addiction would get the best of him.
Nevertheless, the Deadly Sin was then in the middle, enjoying the warmth of the two bodies as he closed his eyes… And bit his tongue, enjoying the cum sloshing within.
“It ain’t so bad.”