# Dinner of Two | Entree Sized Story

Author: ChoiceCuts
Tags: Braise, Cooking, Cooking Vore, Demoness, Diablo, Drugging, FF, Human, Magic, OVEN, Pot Roast, Sex, Snuff, Succubus, Torture, Toys, Unconsciousness, Vaginal, Vibrator, pot, roast, turkey, wand

Having received some bad news in the form of an injured messenger from Ivgorod, Gwen and Cullen must make preparations for an all-out assault upon the city by the newly arisen twin succubi sisters, Lilith and Lucia. But a little intuitive guess about how they might attack the City of Westmarch turns their devious plans on their head.  
  
Warning, contains:  
- F/F Sex  
- Cooking  
- Drugging  
- Non-Con  
- Snuff  
  
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A long form commission for darkgodesslilith! I've been liking getting a look into the pair as they gain a name for themselves in this world. It's been fun to have them arc from illicit meat sellers into the high society of the world. At least they keep the Baroness well fed. Enjoy, and happy holidays too!

Written by Choice Cuts Deli  
 Commission for DarkGoddessLilith | December 2020 | 10359 Words

The sound of hoofbeats clattered across the dusty road, a flash of yellow and red flourishing through the forest as its rider clung to the reins for dear life. No time to even saddle the steed she rode upon, the lone rider harried her horse to gallop faster and faster yet. She could breathe a small sigh of relief as she rounded the bend in the forested roadway, heartened by the sight of the high stone walls and chimneying smoke of the city of Westmarch off in the far distance. Yet the horrifying singe of a fireball streaking over her shoulder, smattering in a gout of flame and heat against a tree ahead of her reminded her all too well of the danger she faced.

Behind her swarmed winged demons. A practical gaggle of demonic hellflayers flitted from tree to tree, their fragile limbs launching off one perch to glide to the next, occasionally taking another pot shot at the fleeing rider as they had for miles upon end. In the confines of the forest they could not swoop or strike without a likelihood of missing and hitting a branch. But the rider knew she needed to race for the city gates the moment she left the relative safety of the forest. Pounding down the path, she watched as the thicket of trees began to thin, first to smaller and younger pines, and then to scrubby shrubs and hedges, before the canopy disappeared at last under the beating sun above.

“Hee-yah!” Gritting her teeth, the rider kicked her legs hard upon the horse’s flanks, before channeling the last of her strength to pull herself up onto the bare back of the steed, waving her flowing scarlet and orange cloaked arms as she shouted with a voice that reverberated across the farmland surrounding Westmarch. “OPEN THE GATES! HELLFLAYERS! PLEASE!”

The cries were cut short as one of the beasts made a dive for the now easy target, clawed talons gripping hard into her shoulder and tearing her cloak and flesh. The rider nearly fell, managing to grip her horse around the neck and keep the charging beast on course. But peering over the side of her steed, she knew that her gamble paid off. Two loud bullhorns summoned the town garrison, led by the polished armored captain of the guard, his booming voice calling out as best he could so the rider could take comfort in the garrison’s presence.

“WEST GATE ARCHERS, MAKE READY!” There was nothing more she could do but hope as she watched row upon row of archers train their bows skyward. The hellflayers were close. Dangerously close, she could feel the last strike nip at the tail of her mount, claws just barely slipping through the silky hairs. “LOOSE!” In an instant the sky was alight with red feather-fletched projectiles, arrows filling the summer air, thicker than smoke as they hung in a lazy arc from the ramparts. Two more volleys followed from either side of the first group to fire, blue and green fletched-arrows of different companies who had assembled and made ready their weapons. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the rider closed her eyes and held on tight.

A cacophony of thuds, like hail on a thatch roof swelled all around her, punctuated by the sudden shriek of the hellflayers, membranous wings punctuated by broad tipped arrows, piercing through flesh and hollow bone alike and sending many tumbling. As the next volleys struck home, more of the beasts were taken down, laying crumpled in piles on the ground amidst the strewn and shattered shafts that peppered the earth. The remaining hellflayers screeched out, throwing a parting fireball or two before fluttering their broken bodies off into the forest once more.

The gate house slowly opened, the rising portcullis and wide-swinging doors greeting the slowing steed as it, and it’s rider approached. The lady, dressed in the fine robed armor of a warrior monk of Ivgorod, clung to her horse till she reached the inside of the gates, greeted by one of the guard sergeants who immediately ordered the gates closed upon her entry. Helping the young warrior steady herself on her feet, the sergeant called for a doctor and ushered her towards a bench aside a nearby tavern.

The street thronged with guards as she shook off the kindness, the Northerner quickly demanding, “No, no I must see your liege. It is urgent. I cannot rest.” The sergeant tried to calm her by offering to deliver a message in person, and implored that she tend to her rended shoulder, but the monk growled that she needed to deliver the message in person. And so, the plucky young monk of Ivgorod marched, guided in procession by the best soldiers of the City of Westmarch, up to the castle of Baroness Kuznetsov. The castle guard heralded her arrival, though not without some trouble as today was also a feast day for the Baroness, and her court and entourage had to make some hasty arrangements to deal with the sudden military procession pushing through the high society nobles and lavish banquet tables. At long last, the monk found herself face to face with the Baroness she had rode leagues upon miles to meet. With a soft smile gracing her face, she collapsed first to a knee and then to the floor, causing her escort to rush to her side.

“Goodness,” the round-faced Baroness gasped as she called for attendants to help, her lifeguard cradling the exhausted rider as water and strong spirits were brought to rouse her. “Please, Miss, you have traveled far… what news have you of Ivgorod?” Sighing softly, the monk leaned her head back for comfort upon the lap of the armored soldier cradling her, taking a sip of water to whet her mouth before declaring.

“My name is Oraza. I have traveled many miles, across the lands of the Western Kingdoms. I come with a grave warning.” The thick-accented young woman sighed, breathing heavy as another attendant offered her a slug of brandy to steel her resolve whilst the previously fetched doctors finally caught up to their patient in the great hall.

“I implore you, what news do you have? You may rest here all you need; the Patriarchs need not worry for their subjects in this Kingdom.”

“The Daughter of Hatred. She lives. And she comes for Westmarch.” Shuddering, the young monk gasped as she felt the hands of the doctors beginning to work, wincing at the blood flowing from her wound. The baroness blinked in a confused moment of worry, unsure of what this intrepid monk might mean. She couldn’t help but glance over at the banquet tables laid out for the noble guests of her realm, knowing that at least several dishes contained the last remnants of her favorite dish in all of Sanctuary. Her personal catering chef and procurer of demonic meat had used the last carcass bones and trimmings of meat from Lady Lilith’s now disposed corpse in order to make a perfect broth, the likes of which flavored everything from a beautiful spicy chili, all the way up to the pair of braised hellion roasts. Indeed, while she could not simply admit the Daughter of Hatred was dead and gone, there was also no way for her to refute it, lest she admit to breaking the laws of the kingdom by admitting she had eaten and served humanoid meat.

“T-that is grave news, good monk. You are sure of this?”

“She has ravaged the lands East of my home. Torched farm and field. Allowed but few souls to escape to spread the word. M-my Patriarchs entrusted me to get word to Westmarch. The city of Ivgorod was invested in siege to prevent word from getting out. Myself and four others made it through the horde’s lines, but I know not what came of the others.” Grabbing the attention of her Captain of the Guard, and several of his Sergeants, the Baroness lost herself in thought before making her decisions.

“Captain, I want increased patrols along the routes in and out of the city. If this is true, I want to know she is coming, and how far away she is. Make sure our supplies are ready and prepare riders to gather the citizens into the safety of the city walls.” There was a long pause before she added, “and send for my Demon Hunters, at once.”

“Ma’am? The proprietors of the Chop Shop?” The Captain asked, not unfamiliar with the request, but also unsure what they could do that the city’s military could not.

“At once.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And you, brave monk, please make yourself at home in our accommodations until you are healed, our finest doctors will be available to tend your wounds.” The Baroness had not noticed, but the monk’s eyes perked up at the mention of the Chop Shop, her face twisting into a half-smirk before returning to the same, pain-wracked wince.

“N-no, Baroness.” Pushing herself to her knees with the slow, deliberate effort of a determined warrior, the monk gave a faint smile and prostrated herself in a bow. “You will need every hand you can muster to defeat this evil. Please, allow me to take the place of a watchman more suited for the front line.” The request, though not exceptionally out of the ordinary, caught the baroness off guard. She turned to one of her Sergeants who, nodding his assent, offered to ensure she was outfitted and made ready for light duty until she had healed. Shaking her head softly at the mess her kingdom was in, the Baroness excused herself from the main hall, swiping a goblet of wine on her way out, awaiting her chief demon hunters’ arrival.

 

 

“I don’t understand? How could she come back to life?!” The baroness growled, looking down at her pudgy fingers as she stood before her close confidants, the Demon Hunters Gwen and Cullen. “At this point I’M more Lady Lilith per pound than she could be!”

“Perhaps, but she is the Daughter of Hatred for a reason…” Cullen said with a slight chuckle, his square jaw resting in his rune-studded gloved hand as he added, “Daughter of Mephisto, Creator of Sanctuary, you know?”

“I bloody well know the myths,” she growled, swinging her empty wine glass in the direction of her procurer.

“We shouldn’t be arguing if or if not she can come back to life. We have to assume she did until we have proof otherwise.” The matronly Gwen said with a sigh as she browsed the books in the Baroness’s personal library, occasionally selecting something that might be useful to supplement their research. “And that means we’re going to have to prepare for the worst.”

“It’s not going to be as easy as last time too,” Cullen added as he grabbed a few of the books balanced precariously on Gwen’s arms to lighten her load, “I doubt she’ll come walking in unannounced like she did last year.”

“You never know, though. Given how her Sister acted back in Wortham, she’s probably out for blood. For us in particular.”

“Sister?” The Baroness interjected, “Wortham?”

“Oh… uh…” Gwen smiled softly as she realized that she hadn’t been quite truthful to the Baroness about what had happened on the way back from their last adventure. “We, uh… we ran into a bit of a… Mephisto Family Reunion the other month on our way back from Tristram… I believe her name was Lucia.”

“Gods above, you two can’t keep your nose out of the demon’s domain for five minutes! You brought the wrath of Lilith’s twin sister too?! Are there any other family members you want to tell me about who might just pay us a visit?”

“In our defense,” Cullen added with a smart smile, “she started the fight.” A flash of blue magic erupted from Cullen’s wrist, a wave of force popping up from his rune-line gloves to protect his body as the Baroness whipped her wine glass at him for his insolence. “Hey! We’ll… we’ll take care of it, Ma’am…”

“You’re going to owe me another fillet or five if we get out of this alive… But you do make a good point. If you’ve riled up the Daughter of Hatred and Lady Lucia, they may come crashing down the gates of Westmarch solely to hunt you down. I’ll have the guards post watch outside your shop and increase patrols in the streets nearby. You also have my riders at your disposal, anything you need to ward off the threat.”

“We won’t let you down, Ma’am.” Gwen said with a smile as she gave a gentle bow.

“…or die trying,” Added Cullen as he offered his own bow to his noble lord, before the pair walked out of her quarters, down the castle stairwell and out through the grand hall into the streets of Westmarch. But as they walked down the cobblestone streets, they quickly became overwhelmed by the flurry of activity from the guards and city folk as word spread of the horror that could befall the town. The pair found themselves amidst a throng in the crowded lanes of the city. Gesturing with a nod to Gwen, Cullen led his associate down the old back-alley paths he had learned from as days as a rogue, sneaking through a few basements to cut corners as they made their way around the panic-stricken city’s congested streets. At long last, just a few blocks from their home and business, the pair re-emerged onto the main thoroughfare. It was almost pleasant to see Cullen remembering his days as a two-bit rake, adding colorful commentary about who he played dice with or how he had managed to evade the town guard. “…and you see that window up there? Third floor from the right? Georgios, Lefty and I made the leap out onto a cart parked right there!”

“No?” Gwen added with a chuckle.

“Made off into the night before the guard could catch us. Swear we gave old Mr. Matherson a heart attack watching us all leap from his bedroom window. I left him a basket of baked goods as an apolog-EEEK!”

“YOU…” A shrill voice caught Cullen off guard as a bony hand clapped hard and tight against his shoulder, causing the ex-rogue to jerk away from a raving street preacher who had taken a fancy to him. “You cannot escape HER grip!” Gwen stepped forward to put herself between the strange man and her companion, puffing out her chest just as she noticed something odd about the gaunt old man. He wore a simple, ratty tabard, the edges pinned with a length of twine at his hips to hold it closed around either side of his body. It looked more like an ineffective poncho than anything a man of the cloth would wear. But it was not the clothes that caught Gwen’s eye but the marking upon his chest.

Bright red ink was smeared across his tabard in two rectangular boxes from collar down to about chest height, simulating the look of two metal chain links hanging off a neck choker. But in addition, there were daubed circles from the center of his tabard collar, out to the fringe on either side, like a chain of pearls. It couldn’t be a coincidence; this ragged cultist wore a mark similar to that of Lucia’s necklace and pendant.

“Come on, Cullen. Let’s get out of here.” Gwen growled as she pushed her way past the creaky-boned old man, a frustrated snarl to his voice as she made way for her associate to follow.

“Your days are numbered!” The raving street preacher called out after them as they disappeared into the throngs of people. “The Prophet and the Lady shall rend your flesh for your transgressions!” Gwen swallowed hard as she heard those words, knowing full well that this was no simple mad man, but one who could be a danger to them if ever he knew where they lived. Grabbing Cullen by the shoulder, she hiked her thumb towards an alley way.

“One more walk down memory lane? Let’s take a different route back home.”

 

 

The old clock tower struck two chimes, ringing out mutedly over the sleeping city of Westmarch. But within the walls of the Chop Shop, candles burned bright as the pair puzzled out how the hell they were going to defend against the onslaught of the force of evil that was the Daughter of Hatred. Growling under his breath, Cullen sighed as he picked up the book he was reading, turning it to follow a diagram scrawled in the margins, first sideways, then upside down, occasionally pausing to write something down on a pad. His studies were interrupted by Gwen’s laughter, the matronly demon hunter chuckling to herself as she set the kettle to boil for tea.

“What’s so funny?” He growled with a bit of a roll to his eyes.

“You look like you can’t make heads or tails of that book.”

“Would you believe me if I said my time studying magic was mostly…” Gesturing over the table at the open books, he shook his head. “Mostly this?”

“I’d believe it, but I also understand why you’d prefer to knock someone over the head instead.” As the kettle began to simmer, Gwen sighed and poured herself and Cullen a cup of hot tea, the leaves floating in the simmering liquid. She paused and poured a third cup of tea, before taking the remainder of the kettle and draining the remnants out into the old cauldron over the smoldering evening fire, before handing him a cup.

“Well,” he began, peeking back at his list, “I think there’s a few things we can do that we know can neutralize Lilith and Lucia. I’m not sure how we’re going to pull it off, though.”

“We’ve got to try. After all, our other option is to wait till the siege begins.”

“Well, I’m hoping we can manage some skirmishes to bring her and her horde into choke points outside the city. Some well-placed runic circles could mean that we take her by surprise when she steps into one. Then it’s just a matter of falling on her with everything we’ve got.”

“Assassination. I like it.”

“Love, war, all fair after all. Besides, you and I both know that we’d be in a dire place if they invest the city. The harvest isn’t even close this year.”

“As for these other scribblings?” Asked Gwen sipping at her tea as she peered over his shoulder to get a better look.

“Twilight poison. Same stuff I used to bring her down the first time. Well, at least the most complete form of the recipe I could find. I’m going to have to write to the Horadrim Mages to see if there’s anything missing, but we can at least have the Baroness’s alchemists make some test batches in the meantime.” Setting down his pen, Cullen sighed as he finally took his tea and began to drink. “Between you and me, I usually buy mine off Shady Jack down in The Glitter Den, but if we want a chance to put Lilith out of commission, we’ll need a lot of it.”

“I’m assuming we’ll need a better delivery method than ‘hitting her over the head with it’ like last time too.”

“Uhh… Yeah, but that’s not something I think I can manage tonight.”

“That’s fair, it’s far too late. Besides, we need to plan our slaughter regimen tomorrow in case the city gets besieged. Figure out what the best time to start culling our stocks will be.”

“Yeah. Gods above, my head hurts.”

“The price we pay after all, we’re just bit players in this whole thing. …well, bit players who managed to kill the goddess who created the world and her sister, no big deal.”

“I’m gonna pack it in for tonight.” Cullen pushed his chair back at long last, before adding, “You need any help down here?”

“No, I’ve got one last thing to do tonight, I’ll be to my chambers soon.” With a smile, Gwen took the third cup of tea and walked over to the front door. Throwing the latch and key, she opened it and smiled upon the guard posted outside her door, slightly surprised when she noticed it was the same monk who had ridden the long night to warn Westmarch. She had traded her flowing orange robes for the dark iron and red of the Westmarch guard’s uniform. “Miss? I brought you a cup of tea, if you would like it?”

“Oh,” the monk said with a soft smile. Despite the fitted leather and iron armor, her face appeared rather supple and soft for a warrior. “Thank you, Ma’am. Your generosity is most appreciated.” Taking the cup, the gloved hand of the guard gently brushed against Gwen’s, almost caressing it as she did. In a flash, the strangest sensation overcame the demon hunter matron, almost like the feeling of déjà vu mixed with horrible dread as she watched a smile creep across the monk’s kindly face.

“Y-you are welcome, Miss.” Gwen took in a deep breath to steady herself, her bosom slowly swelling upwards as she held it for a moment before adding, “I am sure you’ve already been asked, but is there anything you might be able to tell us about our foe?”

“About the armies of darkness I fought to escape?” She asked, bluntly, sipping at her warm tea before adding, “Or about the Daughter of Hatred?”

“Er… both?” Was all Gwen could muster, wishing she had not asked the question. “I didn’t intend to offend you.”

“I wish I could give you more than I know. The demons harried me and my fellows the moment I left Ivgorod. I couldn’t even begin to tell you their composition or numbers. But… I dare say that I got a glimpse of Lady Lilith herself, before I reached the tree line.”

“O-oh?”

“It was like staring into a burning fire. It almost looked like rage.” Taking one more sip, the monk allowed the edges of her mouth to upturn into a soft smile. “This does not seem to be a conquest. This… this is revenge. She has targets far closer to home she could ravage. Why take her army across all of Sanctuary, unless there was a reason.” Gwen’s heart sunk. She knew the reason. And it made her all the more worried.

“I… I can only imagine what she wants with our city.”

“It would be best if she never reaches the gates. For all our sakes. For now, Ma’am, sleep. There will be more time to prepare.” Nodding, Gwen bid farewell to the monk, making sure to throw the lock on the door before giving the fire one last stoke and heading upstairs to her personal quarters.

 

 

Three chimes of the bell, and neither Gwen nor Cullen were around to hear it. But there was one who did hear the chimes. Mumbling to himself in a fervor, the bent and raving street preacher wandered aimlessly down the cobblestone roadways. His unhinged sermons during the day seemed to quell to a low brood as he ambled exhausted through the night. At the least, his presence was not unknown to the guards, and the early morning walk didn’t seem to be out of the ordinary, a few guards urging the filthy streetwalker to move on or leave the main squares as he yammered on about the end of times upon us. But as he stumbled down the path, the man found himself ducking through an alleyway before coming up against the broad stone-and-wood building that was The Chop Shop. Quietly, the man began to stack up boxes and barrels in the alleyway, careful to not be too loud about the process, until he reached the thin glass panes that let light into the building’s warehouse.

Pushing the frame in, the glass rocked for a moment before giving way, popping out and landing atop a tall cage, the formerly sleeping Goatman inside awakening with a start and bellowing out with a loud bray of surprise at the sudden noise. That is until the street preacher climbed through the window, stepping first atop the cage, and jumping down to the floor. Almost instantly, the Goatman calmed down, kneeling and bowing its head in reverence to the figure in the room as a swirling cold chill spread across the floor. The preacher gasped, head upturned and mouth agape in a mute scream as black tendrils began to exude from his mouth, eyes and nose, a dusky wisp clouding about his feet before the man collapsed upon the floor.

Emerging from the growing and amorphous cloud was a form that would strike fear into the heart of anyone who laid eyes upon her. Pale, scaly skin emerged amidst the flowing dusky, inky-black cloud. Lithe arms stretching after a long stint having possessed the poor street preacher, the emerging form of the Daughter of Hatred herself, Lady Lilith began to materialize over the comatose old man’s limp body. As the remnants of her natural form rematerialized, reptilian tail and cloven hooved legs taking a few tentative movements, she peered down at the vessel she had corrupted so many weeks prior in order to infiltrate the city. It was good to be back in her old body, the horned creator of Sanctuary sighing as she took in the sight of the Chop Shop’s demonic warehouse and larder for the second time in her life.

“My, my… Nice to get a look of the place from outside a cage… It’s an utter pig’s sty.” She said with a chuckle as she kicked over a footstool, skittering it across the blood-soaked straw lining the floor.  By now more of the beasts about her had awoken, each one kneeling in the presence of the dark Mistress herself, the more sentient of the procured demons darting their eyes about as they wondered if this was a chance to be released. Carefully running her soft hand upon the Goatman’s cage, Lilith leaned down and graced the infernal creature with a soft touch upon the cheek. “You may arise, my sweet. The time will soon come for your revenge upon the humans. You,” she turned to address the room, “All of you will have your turn. Patience and prepare. Your time is near.”

Following the same path she was marched upon her capture mere months ago, Lilith’s hooves clacked upon the wooden floor as she walked into the large kitchen. Almost wistfully, she lay her hands upon the countertops, gracing over each one as the creeping aura of darkness and cold chilled the smoldering coals in the fireplace. There too was the rotisserie, the same one which she had roasted to death upon mere months ago. It was perhaps a bittersweet memory. On one hand, she had suffered the worst torture one could ever imagine. On the other hand, Lady Lilith admired Gwen’s hunger, lust and sadism. Perhaps, were she not a human, they might get along. Friends? Lovers? More?

It was a purely academic thought. There was no other option for how tonight would end. Revenge would be taken for Gwen and Cullen’s transgressions upon the House of Mephisto. Besides, Lilith knew the desire for revenge burned even brighter within her sister’s mind. Walking to the door, Lilith threw the lock and opened it wide, startling the young monk guard outside. But, rather than alert of the intrusion, she simply walked inside, setting the iron helm aside before opening her arms wide to the Daughter of Hatred.

“Ahhh, I like your looks far better in this form,” the monk exclaimed, resting her head upon Lilith’s shoulder with a broad smile. “That decrepit preacher’s body did not suit you in the least, my dear Sister.”

“I had to do what I had to do, Lucia.” Lilith smiled a genuine grin of familial love as she hugged her sister close to her scaled body. “I must say I like your guise this time, though. You’ve always been the creative mind of the family. A Monk of Ivgorod, though?”

“It seemed appropriate. Your armies marching across the countryside would create such a storm, and all I needed to do was sacrifice a few Hellflayers to make the illusion complete.”

“Ever the illusionist, my dear. Ever the spell weaver.”

“It’s what I do best, Sis.” With a wink, the monk of Ivgorod allowed her illusory form to fall, the body of the strong monk dissipating to a slender, hourglass-waisted woman’s form, stark white and flowing hair flourishing behind her as the enchantment wore off. It was the perfect disguise for Lady Lucia Triteracle, the illusory succubus quickly shedding the human realm’s useless and mortal armor upon the floor, save for a modesty tabard and of course her easily recognizable black collar. “So…” She asked as she looked around the kitchen with a smirk. “…this is the place that managed to capture and roast the Daughter of Hatred?”

Furrowing her brow at the slight from her twin sister, Lilith snapped back, “As if your death in boiling oil was no less demeaning, my dear.”

“Don’t remind me.” Lucia growled as the memories of her own horrid torture came back to mind. “That smug bitch looked so proud when her drunk manservant managed to cast off his pitiful dispel.”

“Temper, dear. Remember, we’re here to end this tonight.”

“Oh, I’ve been dreaming of this for weeks. One does not simply cross the House of Mephisto and live to tell the tale.” Lucia chuckled as she walked past the Chop Shop’s oversized ovens and stovetops, pausing at the staircase up to the pair’s bedrooms and smirking as she turned back to her twin sister, adding, “Tell me, oh Daughter of Hatred… What have you planned for the pair?”

“Planned?” Lilith narrowed her eyes, knowing exactly what Lucia had in mind. “I planned the same thing we discussed at the Crypt upon reanimating. We would release their own catches, rush upstairs and rend them limb from limb.” Feigning a yawn, Lucia just chuckled at the comment.

“But, Dear Sister, now we are here… In the heart of the lion’s den. Would it not be more fun to turn their own equipment against them?”

“Perhaps, but I would prefer to leave this fetid hell hole in flames and make our escape into the night. Torturing them only invites the chance they could escape, or the guards could intervene.” Lucia wasn’t impressed, putting on her best pout for her twin sister.

“But Lilith, you promised we could get revenge!”

“But nothing. I need your help releasing the creatures in the other room. They should cause enough havoc on the streets once we’ve overwhelmed the two upstairs.” Lilith growled softly as she turned about, cloven hooves clacking ever so softly against the wooden floors as she headed towards the warehouse. But Lucia allowed a soft smirk roll across her face as she called out one word in response.

“Chicken.” Lilith turned back to see her twin sister leaning up against the counter, a broad grin on her face as she folded her arms against her bosom. “You know you want to torture the chef.”

“I fear nothing! I leave fear in my wake!” The Daughter of Hatred fumed as she strode hard along the kitchen, stopping only as her sister pointed towards the staircase upstairs.

“Careful, my dear… you don’t want to wake our targets… But I’m glad you’ve seen sense and decided to do them in together.” Clenching her teeth, Lilith finally relented to the pressure. And she had to admit, it was a challenge she could not leave well enough alone. While she could easily cause chaos and leave without the human kingdoms daring to doubt her power, Lucia would take every opportunity to spread doubt over Lilith’s resolve to solve her own problems. And one thing that she couldn’t afford was to lose favor amongst her equals in the demonic world. As the fire smoldered in the stove underneath the steaming hot cast iron cauldron, Lucia and Lilith began to carefully wander their way out of the kitchen and up the staircase, to take care of the thorn in their sides once and for all.

Creaky wooden steps straining under their feet, the succubi climbed closer and closer to their targets. A simple landing was visible at the top of the staircase. Despite the earlier outbursts, they only now seemed concerned about waking their sleeping hosts above, knowing full well that they were on the cusp of taking their much-needed revenge. As Lady Lilith reached most of the way up the staircase, there was a strange pause as she felt something brush against her ankle. She hardly had a moment to recollect before Lucia, eager as ever, took the fateful next step up, bumping against the scaly hips of her sister in a sudden miscalculation.

Lilith looked down in horror just in time to notice the tripwire she had tangled against her foot. Shoved forward by Lucia’s over-eager stumble, the two fell face forward against the staircase, a sudden TWANG as the tripwire snagged, popping out of the eyelet that held it in place before the rope slithered across the staircase and disappeared into a hole in the wall. For a moment there was quiet, the pair’s heartbeat palpable as they pressed against one another on hands and feet on the staircase in the darkness of the night. But the sound of something dropping into water broke the pause and caused the succubi to gasp aloud at the realization that something was happening downstairs.

The tripwire had been carefully laid within the Chop Shop walls. While it snaked through a few false panels and openings, the other end was attached to a weighted muslin cloth bag high up in the chimney of the kitchen. As gravity took over, the bolus of herbs hurtled down the stone flue, before dropping with a plunk into the fire-warmed cauldron. For a moment, nothing happened. But it quickly became apparent that some chemical reaction was taking place as a roiling mist of noxious gasses began to erupt from Gwen’s stew pot, flowing out and displacing the air in the kitchen. Almost simultaneously, the pair of demon hunters emerged from their rooms on either side of the staircase, mouths covered in damp cloth as they watched the billowing mist roil higher and higher up the staircase. Lilith locked eyes with Gwen for just a moment, the succubus practically pleading as she began to scramble up the staircase. But with the weight of her tripped sister upon her back, Lilith couldn’t manage to get two steps higher before the boiling cloud of mist overtook the pair, coming to a rest about Gwen and Cullen’s ankles.

They couldn’t see, but there was a distinct THUNK THUNK THUNK as the two limp and overwhelmed bodies slid back down the stairs, an unconscious pile at the entry to the kitchen.

 

 

It would be Lucia who awoke first, groaning in exhaustion as she felt her eyes flutter open in a muzzy-headed haze, gulping in clean air after having been knocked out for an unknown amount of time. The world seemed to spin all around her as her senses returned, confused by the strange sensation of something warm rubbing across her back and down over her meaty ass as she lay incapacitated. It would take her some time to collect her surroundings in the pale firelight of the Chop Shop kitchen. Some exploratory squirming told her that she lay bound tight, staring forward at the wall of cooking implements, and of course the large hearth roiling away underneath the steel-doored, woodfired oven. Lucia’s arms were tightly laced in a box tie behind her back, while her knees were tucked up to her stomach and bound, a proper suckling pig tie to ensure there wouldn’t be any squirming around or upsetting the process.

“I told you, there was no way they were coming with an army.” It was the voice of that contemptable matron, Gwen, her voice almost sickly sadistic the way it crooned out. No doubt an effect of Lady Lilith’s dark aura doing its work. “Not only would it be overkill, taking over a whole city just to exact revenge on two people, it’s not like we’ve had any other reports of an army on the march.”

“Heh, not to mention they’ve both proved they could enthrall and enchant their way in.” And there was the voice of Cullen. Despite his exhaustion from a long day of studying, he’d taken up a seat at the table across the room, watching the process unfold. “Of course they’d try it again. I just didn’t think they’d try it the same night.”

“I’m just glad we had a less obtrusive option than your usual circles of dispel. Easier to put them up after these two were knocked out cold. Lucky that we found those recipes for sleep fog in some of those books we had.” Lucia found herself looking down at her surroundings, and realized she’d been laid out on a large metal roasting pan, the bottom of the heavy iron cooking pan strewn about with oil-tossed vegetables of various sorts. As the haze of medically induced slumber began to fade from Lucia’s mind, she realized rather quickly that she was going to end up on the menu once again for her despised captor. There wasn’t much time to internalize the situation as she felt the warm and sticky fluid being brushed over her body, making its way down her rump. There was a little pause before she gasped aloud, feeling the bristles push past her supple and sensual lips as Gwen explored with her basting brush. “Ohhh, this one’s awake. Hmmmm, does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Lucia’s gasp melted away into a sudden moan, clenching her rump softly as she felt the bristles and brush head invade the outer lips of her pussy. Gwen had no problem teasing her future meal, the brush slowly working along the whole length of her bared and exposed ass, from clit all the way up to taint and back. For an agonizingly slow few minutes, her chef took sadistic pleasure in watching the way Lucia’s pussy dripped and squeezed, how her ass shook softly in a desperate struggle. But most important, she savored the way she began to beg.

“P-Please!” Lucia gasped at long last, managing to wrest control of her vocal cords as she struggled helplessly on the countertop. “Please, you- you can’t do this t-to me! N-not again!”

“Oh honey…” Gwen grinned as she gave one last teasing stroke with the basting brush before setting it down in the pot of herbed honey glaze. Stepping back around to the other side of the table, Gwen knelt down mere inches from Lucia’s face, a cruel smirk from ear to ear as she did. “I know you’re scared. I would be too if my life were on the line. And we both remember it was.” Lucia could practically feel the way Gwen savored torturing her, whipped on by the dark aura of chaos her sister exuded. “But now we know that you can come back from the dead, it’s important that I make it very clear. You are never to come back here again. Because if you do, the torture will get worse… and worse… and worse.”

“Y-you could… let me go? You don’t-” The suggestion only got a laugh out of Gwen and Cullen.

“No, no… there’s no letting you go. There’s only one place you’ll be going. But… At least you won’t be going alone, will you?” Lucia gulped as she watched Gwen step to the side, eyes following the wicked matron until she realized she was not alone on the kitchen countertop. Sitting next to her was the still sleeping body of her twin sister, Lilith, the horned goddess listless and quiet in her own roasting pan mere feet away. Her preparation had apparently happened a little different. Instead she was bound face-up in the pan, arms tight behind her back with her legs tucked up tight like two turkey drumsticks. It was clear that Gwen wanted a little diversity to the menu, as Lilith’s lily-white skin and scaly lower body was coated in a thick orange and brown sugar scented glaze, garnished with thin cut orange slices down either side of her belly.

“N-No please d-don’t…” Lucia watched in horror as Gwen gripped one of Lilith’s horns, wrenching her head upwards so her jaw slackened out, only to ram a juicy, red apple hard and deep in between her jaws. The kitchen rung with an audible POP as Lilith felt her tendons stretch and snap, the sudden pain awakening her from her medically induced slumber and right into thrashing against her bonds. “P-please! D-don’t hurt her…” Lucia gulped back her words the moment she said them, looking away as a confused and jaw-sore Lilith tried to make eye contact with her.

“Ohhh… Is that a pang of guilt I hear, dear? Sisterly love coming out?” Lucia couldn’t hide the growing blush upon her face as Gwen stepped closer, holding a bright green apple in her hand.

“I… I was only trying to get revenge for my Sister’s death…”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Hmmpfh.” Lucia growled softly as she turned up her nose. “This isn’t about me… She doesn’t deserve to suffer again.”

“Perhaps. But then, perhaps we should give her a chance.” Taking up a fresh, green apple, Gwen yanked back Lucia’s hair, shoving the apple hard into her mouth to silence the firey-tongued succubus. “I’m going to have a little fun with my meals before things get hot for the both of you.” Gwen carefully walked over to her kitchen drawer, rooting around amidst clanking cutlery before picking up two specific items and showing them to her dinners-to-be. At first, they seemed to be nothing more than two long, wooden pestles meant for grinding spices and herbs. Two nine-inch rods of smooth, rounded wood. But changing her grip upon each of the shafts, the rods began to gently vibrate, a glow of white magic emanating off the implements as they did.

“Mmm… you can’t tell me neither of you have seen these before. Lady-to-lady, they’re the best little tools to satisfy yourself after a long workday. And they come in so many carved varieties, to hit all the right spots.” Gwen caught herself drooling over her personal favorite sex toys, chuckling under her breath at how she let herself go, likely wholly unaware that it was Lilith’s presence causing the streak of lust and cruelty to come out. “So, we’re going to play a little game tonight. The first one of you to orgasm will roast.” Lucia’s eyes widened at the prospect of debasing herself before her own sister and these wretched humans. Stepping back around to the rear of each roasting pan, Gwen added one last parting suggestion for the two struggling entrees. “If you really do want to spare your sister the torture of roasting, I suggest, my dear Lady Lucia, you focus on your orgasm, and take the fall for this one.”

The world seemed to hang for a moment in the quiet of the kitchen. Just a low buzz, and the confused whimpers of the two lovely roasts awaiting their twisted little game. It struck with the weirdest sensation, almost simultaneously upon both their most private of spots, Gwen’s dexterous hands using the blunted ends of each sex toy to caress and tease against the soft outer folds of her victims. The vibrations mixed with the intrusive sensation of crackling electricity as the rounded head of each vibrating wand coaxed each of her victims to relax and slicken up for their little game, the two erupting into moans and gasps.

Gwen had never worked over two meals at once, and found herself fumbling a little to balance her focus, especially without having a free hand to knead sensitive pussy lips nor thumb over an engorged clit. But as she broke into her stride, the matron had her two toys sliding up and down the pair’s tender lips, a gorgeous cacophony of confused and frustrated gasps and squirms emanating from her gagged twin roasts. Despite their fight, Gwen could see each of their folds slickening up, juices beading against each of the wands as she worked to torment the pair. Carefully, the chef decided to probe into her meat a little deeper, choosing to put her focus first on Lilith. A little pressure welled up against the Daughter of Hatred’s most sensual passage, her clenching walls finally relaxing just in time to feel the thick wand penetrate between her folds.

“MNNNN! Mnnnnpfh!” Lilith gasped, closing her eyes tight as her nostrils flared with each deep breath, her body racked with waves of forced pleasure as the wand sunk in several inches deep. The matron allowed her turkey to get comfortable, the crackle of electricity roiling over her clit ever so gently, as she turned to give Lucia the same treatment. The illusionist moaned with a more genuine lust, her eyes closed as she tried to focus on her goal of hitting orgasm. It was her only chance to maybe save Lilith from the heat of the oven. Yet when she felt Gwen putting pressure on her soft lips, Lucia couldn’t help but groan out a deep moan of excitement as she felt herself penetrated by her captor, the wand sinking in nice and slow till her hand just barely graced the girl’s lips. Both of her captives clenched around the intruding sex toys, trying to react to the enchanted wands invading their most sensitive spots. But as Gwen began to manually pump the nine-inch rods in and out, the toys beginning to rumble with intensifying vibration and prickling electricity, the pair began to lose control of their bodies as lust finally took over.

Gwen paid rapt attention to the way they jerked and spasmed, and the minute details of how they clenched their legs or squeezed their hips, at least as far as the bonds would allow. It would not take long for their forced arousal to burn in their loins as the twin sisters became lost in a world of lust. That is not to say that Gwen was kind to the pair. She enjoyed the excitement of playing favorites with her toys, torturing Lucia while she tried her best to spare her sister the heat of the oven. The matron’s right hand worked hard to punish Lilith, the vibrations even audibly louder between her loins. Gwen was enjoying drawing out Lucia’s torment. Each squirm, each flex was earned, the matronly chef practically forcing Lucia to fuck herself onto the vibrator to get off. Groaning into their tight-fitting gags, the two suffered the pleasure forced upon them, hot juices dripping down their inner thighs, as the blossoming orgasm began to coil and tense within their loins.

All the while, Gwen stayed acutely attentive, listening to each moaning cry and pleading struggle as they edged closer and closer to letting the lust overwhelm them. She soaked up the sight of Lucia’s splaying and clenching toes, and of Lilith’s teary eyes going cross at the relentless assault on her tender folds, practically lapping up the uncontrollable torture she visited upon them both. Despite their separate attempts to influence the outcome, it was a foregone conclusion in Gwen’s mind, the matronly chef knowing exactly who she wanted to orgasm first. As Lilith struggled to hold herself in, the electrified vibe was forced harder and harder, grinding agonizingly against her engorged clit with each wet and sloppy thrust of Gwen’s hand. Lucia opened her eyes just in time to watch as fireworks struck in Lilith’s eyes, her twin sister letting out a sudden, sharp gasp that caused her ample tits to bounce on her chest. The coiled spring of orgasm suddenly snapped inside of her.

Throwing her horned head back, Lilith’s whole body rocked with orgasm, quivering from midriff to thighs as she debased herself for the human she despised most. Slick juices gushed around the vibrating wand and down her taint, Gwen’s already tired arms not stopping as she pumped and pounded the inserted toy through every ecstasy-laden shudder and moan.

“There we go, hun,” Gwen crooned with a little smirk as she milked Lilith for every drop of her precious nectar, watching it collect in the bottom of the roasting pan as it ran in rivulets down her rounded, scaly ass as well as the wand’s handle. “Plenty of pan drippings for tonight’s roast.” Hearing those words and realizing her desperate attempt to cum first was for naught, Lucia began to sniff back tears. “Ohhh, do you feel left out, sweetheart? Don’t worry.” The sensation of failure and loss trying to protect her sister was quickly overwhelmed as Lucia felt Gwen grip her wand tight, grinding it in and out of her tender folds with the same fury and lust she did for Lilith, eliciting a fresh round of squirms and moans from her trapped victim. It wouldn’t take long to push her over the edge, even now that she actively tried to resist being demeaned and humiliated in front of her exhausted sister. Her resistance only spurred on Gwen to break her second feast of the evening.

Lucia’s orgasm was far more pitiful than her sister’s. Still, she gushed, hot juices spurting out into the roasting pan below, drooling over her tucked up thighs. Her back arched softly with each heavy breath as the orgasm shattered into a million fireworks in her loins, rocking her body through the climax and leaving the succubus panting like a little slut as she felt the wand withdraw from inside her folds.

“Mmmm… god.” Gwen made a point of licking her fingers clean with loud slurps along each digit, sensually sampling the evening’s meals. “You both are quite the treat. I’m afraid, my dear Lady Lilith, that you lost tonight’s little game, and will be roasting to death for my discerning customers.” Lilith grunted softly in response, still huffing through her nose as she tried to catch her breath. “And you, Lucia?” Gwen chuckled as she gave the rounded rump before her a good smack, “I am a woman of honor, and it would be shame to abuse that honor by roasting you this evening.” Even exhausted as she was, Lucia still clenched her fists tight behind her back. It was clear that the moment she was released, Lucia would spring upon her captor. Even if the room was warded against magic, she would happily attempt to beat up Gwen with her bare fists. Considering she could come back to life through the demonic magics of her kin, there was nothing to lose. Either she’d triumph, or she’d be cut down and served as dead meat alongside her sister.

But instead of undoing her restraints, Lucia watched in rapt confusion as her chef walked about the counter and pulled a large cast-iron pan out from the cupboard below. This one differed greatly from the metal roasting pan she was in; the side walls were far larger, and it looked as if it was designed to have a lid overtop, even if the lid was left in the cupboard. Hefting the humanoid-sized pan up onto the countertop, Lucia grumbled some muffled and confused question to Gwen as she wondered what the hell was going on.

“You seem a touch confused, my dear.” Gwen said with a smirk, licking her lips softly as she watched Lucia’s brow furrow into a scowl, silently demanding an answer. “I said ‘The first one of you to orgasm will roast.’ ” Gripping Lucia around the midsection and neck, Gwen quickly hefted the helpless girl from her roasting pan, up and over the side of the high-walled dutch oven, dropping her inside rather unceremoniously after her squirms made it impossible to lay her in gently. “And you, my dear, are not going to roast. You’re going to braise to death. I suppose it’s a bit pedantic, but I’m a big believer in a varied diet.”

Lucia’s nostrils flared, her muffled protests screaming out with an edge of incensed anger as she struggled on the bottom of the cold cast iron. It didn’t take long for her to get a response, though not quite the response she was looking for. Upturning the old roasting pan over the edge, a tumble of chopped vegetables fell upon her back and about her sides, slickened not only by oil, but also by the puddle of pussy juices and cum she had so thoughtfully provided for the dish. Setting aside the pan, Gwen finished off the new pot roast by pouring five or six gallon jugs of fresh meat stock alongside her body, filling the dutch oven to about halfway up her body’s width.

“Don’t worry about flavor profile, dear. I made this stock from the bones and trimmings of a succubus we caught last month. She couldn’t hold a candle to the taste of THE Lucia Triteracle.” Fuming, Lucia went back to jerking at her bonds, trying to ignore the rather cheerful way Gwen talked about her meat. “Alright, I think we’re about ready to go with today’s course. Cullen, you got a little strength in you still?” Surprisingly, Cullen had nodded off in the midst of the show, his long stay awakes coupled with his reading and brushing up on his magics having sapped him of most of his energy. Snapping to, he shook off the sleep with a yawn and stood to help with the muscle.

Gwen smiled as she opened the large iron-doored hearth with a flourish, the interior of the oven roiling with heat, the heavy fire below casting eerie shadows upon the walls as flames licked and lapped up through the grate they would both soon be resting upon. Allowing Lucia a moment to stew in the room temperature stock, the pair first lifted Lilith up, careful not to drop the suddenly rather squirming turkey roast as she began to fight for her own survival. That is, until she passed the mouth of the oven, and realized that too much of a struggle would send her over and onto the hot grill grate underneath. As she was loaded in, Lilith moaned into the tight-fitting apple gag, shaking her head back and forth as the roiling heat forced her to close her eyes tight.

“Mnnnpfh! MNNN!!! NNNNGH!” The Daughter of Hatred moaned and shuddered in her death chamber, legs starting to twitch and squirm as she kicked out against the heat in a growingly desperate bid to escape the warmth, especially as she felt the first signs of her metal roasting pan start to warm. With all her strength, she kicked and jerked, the pain becoming all too much, even moreseo as she felt the gentlest waft of cold air from the open oven door upon the very tips of her cloven hooves. Her struggle didn’t cease as the large dutch oven containing Lucia scraped across the oven rack and settled in next to her. Lucia knew only that Lilith’s torture had already begun. And that she would soon join her in the suffering.

“There we go… You two have fun now.” It was a simple goodbye as the heavy iron doors swung shut behind the pair, leaving them in the twilight darkness of the oven, with only the rolling light emanating off the coals below to illuminate their surroundings. However, they may as well have been in separate death chambers for all it was worth. Bound tight in two separate pieces of cookware, divided by the outside of Lucia’s dutch oven, there was nothing either could do to comfort one another. There would be no hug amidst the seething heat. No comforting glance towards each other through cooked-cloudy eyes. All they had was their own torture to focus on. And the sounds of each other’s’ screams.

It was torture to Lucia most of all. While Lilith was exposed to the full fury of the oven, she was left with much of her body submerged in the room temperature liquid. Still, it didn’t take long for the seething heat to enter Lucia’s lungs and burn her eyes, causing the succubus to clench tight and hunker down as best she could, each breath a step closer to her demise. Mere inches away, on the other side of the oven, Lilith was faring far worse. Her body had already begun to turn from a bright pink to a darker, angry red, the succubus’s agonized movements beginning to split the skin in places as her melting fats began to intermix with the hissing and bubbling orange glaze that clung to her body like napalm. Screaming out into her gag, she jerked and shuddered in frantic abandon as her mind began to lose its focus. The longer she lay roasting in the oven, the harder it became to think and to act, her muffled cries and threats quickly turning to panicked one-word pleas that nobody would understand. As she jerked this way and that, body losing strength with each passing minute, the Daughter of Hatred began to lose her fight with the roiling oven.

Lucia’s position was no less tenuous. Despite the exposed parts of her body becoming blistered in the hot air, she was still aware of the sound of someone raking the coals below her and reloading the fire with fresh wood, eliciting a hot burst of heat up into the already torturous chamber. Whimpering, the illusionist found it harder and harder to sit still in her dutch oven, rocking back and forth to avoid touching the seething hot metal as the braising liquid all around her began to warm past the point of comfort. Unlike a stew, which would take hours to reach a boil, the relatively small amount of liquid across a larger surface area began to heat up rapidly. The result was that the poor girl found herself amidst a sea of steam wisping off the top of the liquid, the first little bubbles of simmering broth forming and clinging about her breasts and thighs, threatening to tickle her clit as she lay desperate to escape the heat up above.

But she would still have the longest to suffer, as, fortunately, Lilith began to tucker out from the roasting heat all about her body. Lucia couldn’t be sure of what was happening to her sister, but she could guess from the noises she made. Unsure if she still had her faculties about her, Lucia took comfort in the way Lilith let out short halting grunts and cries. The noises made the illusionist suspect that her dear sister had finally lost consciousness, her body twisting in uncoordinated struggle, her mind unaware of the pain it was in. It was a touch of comfort, even as her breasts began to drool hot, fatty juices and her pussy lips began to crisp and sear as they baked in her fresh cum. Just as Lilith’s torture began to wane in the bliss of unconsciousness, Lucia realized her struggles had just begun, her moans becoming more and more listless as the first hissing bubbles began to break the surface of the broth.

It was the first moment Lucia realized she wouldn’t pass on from the heat before it hit a critical point. The horror of simmering to death as she roasted finally causing her to break down in a deep and pained cry of suffering, her screams joining the cacophony of howls coming from Lilith’s ruined mind. She struggled and sloshed in the roasting pan, whimpering as the simmering liquid began to scald and torture her body, the outer layers of skin beginning to cook into the first, rubbery tense layers of boiled flesh. It would only be merciful that the outer nerves would die first, leaving Lucia with a creeping cold sensation as she thrashed and splashed about in her prison.

Nothing could withstand the oven’s embrace. It would be almost comforting, the way the heat took the two succubi and caressed them off to ‘sleep’ in the depths of heat. Almost, if it wasn’t for the agony it brought. Lucia was locked in her own horrid screams, barely aware that her sister had gone quiet, only an occasional rasping gurgle or groaning twitch as she finally let go, beginning to turn a beautiful golden brown like a proper turkey roast. As the bubbling broth roiled around her, the illusionist found herself whimpering, mind racing as the world slowly closed in, carrots and potatoes gently bumping against her body as she fought with the last, sluggish and feverish tosses and turns she could muster, until even that wasn’t enough. At long last, even Lady Lucia felt herself nod forward, gasping as she splashed face first into the boiling broth, an unconscious scream eliciting from her mouth as the stock scalded her cheeks and face. Yet even awakening to the pain, she quickly felt herself fall back into the tender embrace of unconsciousness.

Gwen opened the oven door just in time to watch her head drop below the liquid, ladling a little of the juices over her back and rump as the unconscious and drowning body shuddered and spasmed in its last throes of life, before settling in to braise like a good roast should. As Gwen set aside the ladle and instead picked up a basting brush and the reserved orange glaze for Lilith’s first basting, she couldn’t help but notice the sun was rising through The Chop Shop windows. It would be a long day tending to the meals, especially after having stayed up overnight to deal with the threat to her life and business. But the reward, a home cooked meal of the two most dangerous demonesses in Sanctuary, would be all the savorier.

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