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Infernal Rapture

by Declan Xavier

Warning: The following contains minor spoilers for 5e D&D adventure Descent to Avernus. It also contains hypersensitivity, cum inflation, homosexuality, and some abusive language. Enjoy, or don't, I'm not your father.

Sidril was awake. Not that he had any trouble sleeping - the fight the day before had taxed him both physically and mentally. As an elf, he could enter a trance-like state that would allow him to recuperate at twice the speed of his companions. He usually tried to book-end his own rest with those of his friends, so that he was never more than two hours without their company. The night before, however, he had slipped into his trance before the protective spells were even solidified, and so, coming back to consciousness, he realized that he was at least four hours away from his compatriots being awake.

Just as he was beginning to wonder how he was going to occupy his time, the ground beneath him began to tremble. He quickly spotted a growing dust cloud, and moved toward that end of the magical hut to get a better view. He knew the wards would protect him and his fellows, and he knew that they needed their rest to recover their health and spellcasting abilities. The cleric was loathe to wake them unless absolutely necessary, but his hand fell to the handle of his club anyway.

As the cloud approached, a familiar music came to his ears. He had only heard it the day before, but it was unlike anything he had heard in the depths of Avernus since his arrival. And, unlike most of the things he had encountered here in this upper layer of the Nine Hells, it was a welcome arrival as the sight of the Wandering Emporium came into view.

The place was wonderful, and dangerous. Sidril didn't know much about demons, devils, the difference between them, and their methods. Fortunately, Phommea had known enough to warn him against touching anything within the Emporium, that nothing came for free. She then drew the crucial connection between the types of deals that devils made and the types of snares that Fey could employ, and Sidril learned enough not to get into trouble.

Giving a quick glance back at the others, he stood up and left the warded area of the Tiny Hut, heading across the dusty landscape of Avernus to the Wandering Emporium. He still didn't understand the nature of the place, though he had been told by its proprietor, Mahadi, that it would come to those who wanted to find it. By that logic, Sidril must have wanted to enter the Wandering Emporium again. In the wood elf's mind, it was just that easy.

Upon entering the marketplace, Sidril quickly spotted the Infernal Rapture, the restaurant where they had first met Mahadi. The man was tempting, both in form and in offers. Before he left, he had offered to show Sidril his 'Rod of Lordly Might.' At first, Sidril thought this was just how he referred to his penis, and even after Muireen had explained that it was a magical item, Sidril couldn't stop thinking about the man...well...devil thing, naked.

Sidril was a cleric of nature, and his religion espoused the value in maximizing happiness. No tomorrow was ever guaranteed, so drink the best wine, eat the best food, enjoy the best company available. This last tenet almost always ended up in sex for the cleric. Not that he was adverse to it, sex was pleasurable, and an evening or weekend spent in the company of someone else was better than that time spent alone. It was almost always the other people, people who were bound by society to frown upon casual sex and took an invitation of 'a night together' to mean erotic playtime. Despite it never really being Sidril's goal at the outset of any encounter, the frequency with which he found himself in bed with one or several strangers had built up into a habit.

Since arriving in Avernus, that habit had been broken, and it had left Sidril a little bit more amorous than usual. Certainly less sensical, and it was to this end that he sought out Mahadi, the man that Phommea explained was something called a Rakshasa.

Inside the Infernal Rapture, it was easy to spot Mahadi among the throng of other creatures. He was seated at the nicest table, dining alone. He didn't even look up as Sidril approached, dabbing his lips with a blue silk napkin to wipe away the remnants of whatever he was eating. Despite his intent, Sidril retained some of his manners, not taking a seat at the Rakshasa's table since he wasn't yet offered one. For a good amount of time, the wood elf stood in silence, waiting to be addressed by Mahadi.

The man looked up, finally, smiling at the cleric as he set his cutlery down and put his napkin on the table. "Welcome to the Infernal Rapture, friend, I am Mahadi, what can I do for you?"

"We met yesterday," Sidril said. "I am Sidril."

"Ah yes, forgive me, but so many pass through here that I can hardly remember them all. It is a pleasure to see you again, friend Sidril. To what do I owe the pleasure of a repeat visit?"

"Your 'Rod of Lordly Might,'" Sidril started, but the Rakshasa cut him off.

"Oh, you found some money, did you? Or perhaps see a deal that is too good to pass up?"

Despite being interrupted, Sidril held his tongue. Mahadi was the master of the Emporium, and mouthing off to him wouldn't accomplish much besides getting kicked out, or perhaps even attacked. "Well, more like the second part, but I'm not interested in the magical item."

Mahadi's brow furrowed, and he gestured for Sidril to take the seat opposite him. "So you want my Rod of Lordly Might but not the artifact? I don't quite understand."

"When you spoke it, I thought that you were using the phrase Rod of Lordly Might to describe your penis," Sidril said in that blunt way of someone who never knew sex to be a taboo subject. "And so I don't want the artifact, but I can't stop thinking about your..well, your 'Rod of Lordly Might.'"

The Rakshasa's head smoothed out, his lips turning upwards in a smile as he started to laugh. "My friend, that is a good joke." The laughter stopped abruptly. "But Mahadi is no prostitute. There are many things for sale here in the Wandering Emporium, but Mahadi is not one of them."

"I don't visit prostitutes," Sidril said. "I don't pay people for sex, and that wasn't what I was talking about anyway. I figured you aren't for sale, and you don't really 'buy' prostitutes anyway. I was just...well, you were on my mind, and the Emporium showed up outside our campsite, so I thought...you know what, never mind."

As Sidril started to stand, Mahadi put his hand out, stopping just short of touching the elf's forearm. "Wait, Sidril. Forgive me. Let us start anew." Taking a deep breath, the bearded man smiled. "I did not know that your desire for me was so powerful that it summoned the Emporium to you. I obviously thought ill of your intentions, mostly through ignorance, and that is why I ask for your apology. I have not met anyone who may love me as much as you do."

It was Sidril's turn to laugh. "No, Mahadi. It isn't love. Just desire."

The Rakshasa's smile faded a bit, turning into a smirk. "I see. Well, then, what is your proposal? What deal can we make?"

Sidril returned to his seat, fingers drumming idly on the tabletop. "I can only say what I want and have from my side of things. I have about four hours before my companions wake up. They know where I am, and I would like to get back to them after that time so we can continue our journey. I would like to spend that time with you, and I prefer that time to be sexual so that I can stop thinking about your dick. That's what I want, you; and what I have, four hours."

Mahadi sat in silence as he listened to the elf's proposal, only after Sidril was finished speaking did he reach over and grasp the glass of wine by the stem, lifting it to his lips and draining the cup. "Very well, simple enough. As for what I get out of the deal, I am used to being listened to, both in business and in the boudoir. If I can get your agreement that you will obey me as best you are able, then I think we can have a deal."

He extended his hand across the table, but Sidril's didn't move yet. Even though his body was warming at the thought, the anticipation of what was quickly becoming a reality, his friend's warning to be careful still rang in his head. "As long as I can return to my friends, as I am now, in four hours' time, then it's a deal. I can't stay here for any longer than that."

Mahadi nodded his agreement, and Sidril reached out, took the Rakshasa's hand and shook it firmly. A strong wind kicked up, pushing the wood elf's red hair around as the pair were whisked from the restaurant. No longer in the Infernal Rapture, Sidril looked around to see a very opulent bedroom.

The air was heavy with the smell of incense. The interior was lit by a set of small lanterns, candles flickering behind red tinted glass to give everything a rosy sheen. Three walls of the room were covered in murals depicting...well, Sidril wasn't sure what. He saw many creatures that looked like devils, but whether they were engaged in war or sex he couldn't tell in the low light. Possibly both. The fourth wall had all manner of implements that the cleric probably didn't want to inspect too closely.

Pillows littered the floor. They were the only furniture in the room aside from a large, four-poster bed that was wrapped with gossamer silks. Anyone sitting on the pillows could definitely see what was occurring on the bed. Not that there were any spectators, for except for Sidril, Mahadi was the only other person in the room.

The man offered no words of greeting or instruction, and slowly, his features started to shift. At first Sidril thought it was a trick of the light, but after a few seconds, it was clear that there was some kind of magic at work. Backing up a step, Sidril took comfort in the idea that they had made a deal which would allow him to return, whole, to his companions.

Mahadi's tan skin began to lighten, and fur began to grow from his face. His warm, brown eyes turned yellow and cat-like, and his smile only grew as his face literally expanded into a muzzle. The thick salt-and-pepper beard that the man had been sporting shortened and turned more white than black. In a matter of moments, the man who Sidril knew as Mahadi had transformed into a bipedal tiger.

His height, still taller than Sidril, hadn't changed, and it was hard to tell if his body had filled out underneath the baggy clothing and thick white- and black-striped fur. What had changed was his demeanor, having gone from jovial host to predator, the grin being not one of a merchant, but that of a stalker. Sidril, as a cleric of nature, had seen that face on many of the forest predators, but never in so intimate a setting. It gave him goosebumps, but whether out of fear or something else wasn't entirely clear.

"It is rare that I buy something before inspecting the goods," Mahadi said, his voice now definitively deeper, huskier, and darker. "But as you said, I am not 'buying' you, so this will do. But now, I want to inspect you. Strip out of those rags, and do so in a way that is pleasing to me."

Sidril was always happier out of his clothes than in them, although he did see the value in armor and, depending on the climate, some coverage. He had heard stories of people who took their clothes off for money, and the adoration of a crowd, and this was yet another thing that Sidril just didn't get about so-called civilized life. He had never done this, so he had to rely on elf grace as Mahadi moved past him to lounge in one of the many pillows that faced the bed.

Stripping out of his armor, and unlatching the belt that kept his club at his side could only be so seductive. He tried to do it more slowly than he would have liked, hoping that was enough to make the move 'pleasing.' His eyes drifted over to Mahadi, who sprawled across a few of the pillows, legs splayed and arms out across the back of the furniture. He didn't seem_displeased_ by the first step, so Sidril continued.

The clothing that he wore underneath his armor were garments that he could do something with. A white vest was the only thing that was covering his torso once the mail was gone, already giving the tiger devil a glimpse of his muscles. Sidril was not some doughy cleric like he found in the cities, growing fat off a life of tributes and finery. As a nature cleric, the elf was out, running, jumping, climbing trees. His active lifestyle had given his normally willowy elf body a type of sculpted musculature. As Sidril stripped off the vest, he thrust his chest forward as much as he put his arms back, pushing his bare torso to his audience.

One of Mahadi's arms moved from its position, hand-paw starting to brush against the front of his trousers. Trousers that were, in style, similar to Sidril's own, but of much finer quality. The elf's were made of simple white linen, and were also in the process of being removed from his body. As he slid the white fabric off his thighs, he turned slightly, shaking his hips so that his breech cloth didn't_quite_ move quickly enough to prevent flashing the Rakshasa a bit of what he had in the equipment department.

Finally, tugging free the knot that held the loincloth to his hips, Sidril attempted a move that he had heard some of the dancers do, and tossed the garment towards Mahadi. The feline was quick, however, snatching the fabric from the air before the loincloth could hit him in the face. He sniffed it once before tossing it aside. His eyes looked over Sidril's form with all of the care of a hunter sizing up prey, with all of the impassiveness of a merchant.

The elf was tanned from his time outdoors, a single shade of brown all over his body. The lack of paler lines were sure signs of his love of being au naturel. Being of elf blood, the mop of fiery red hair on his head, along with his eyebrows, were the only bits of him that had any hair to speak of. From the neck down, he was smooth, his skin glistening slightly with sweat from the heat and the exertion, an uninterrupted view for Mahadi to enjoy.

And the tiger seemed to be enjoying it plenty. His rubbing had not ceased throughout the performance, his nostrils starting to flare a bit as he licked his lips and rose. Only then did his paw move away from his crotch, rubbing over the elf's shoulders and down his arms. With an unashamed certainty that Sidril was unused to in these casual encounters, the tiger's paws roamed over his chest and stomach, quickly finding the half-hard member that had been hinted at.

While one of the tiger's paws rolled over the soft, but quickly hardening, flesh, the other paw moved around the elf's hips, cupping one of the bronze mounds of his buttocks. Thick, furry fingers pressed between the cheeks, but no further, only separating them slightly as the paw that was manhandling his crotch slid under to cup Sidril's balls.

Sidril couldn't help but shift his hips forward at the feeling of the tiger's fingers moving between his buttcheeks, thrusting inadvertently against the other paw. Mahadi leaned in, taking in a larger sniff of the elf's scent. It was something he was unaccustomed to in Avernus, the smell of nature, of mortal flesh. The Rakshasa dealt with souls and devils, to deal with a living thing was a rare treat, and one he seemed intent on savoring.

"On the bed, hands and knees, facing away from me. I desire to see more, and time is running out."

The command was punctuated by a slight squeeze on Sidril's balls, causing the elf to gasp as he slid out of the tiger's grasp and onto the bed. The mattress was, despite its initial appearances, hard and unyielding. It was almost like it was a rock over which a thin cloth and maybe a layer of feathers beneath. Sidril positioned himself as instructed, spreading his knees out a little bit. This hadn't been the first time he had bottomed, and he knew what this position usually signified.

Watching as the elf moved, his member and slightly reddened sac dangling between his legs, the Rakshasa let out a purr that almost turned into a growl. There was no audience to please, and Mahadi wasn't over a temperament to perform anyway, as he quickly peeled the clothing from his body. There were many layers of garments that he wore in his guise as humble merchant and jovial proprietor, so it was a few seconds before he, like his elf companion, was naked.

Another bit of magic was employed as the tiger's paw went from empty to being filled. Not with the sculpted ass of the elf in front of him, but with a jug. Stepping just slightly around the bed, so that Sidril could see him if the cleric craned his neck, the tiger showed off the jug.

Though that was not where Sidril's eyes were first drawn. Now naked, the tiger demon seemed much larger than he had been while buried under all those clothes. His build still hidden underneath plush fur, it was impossible for Sidril to tell immediately how strong the Rakshasa might be. What he could see, though, even in the dim, rosy light, was the result of his strip show and Mahadi pawing himself off.

Standing nearly a foot from his body quivered the tip of a barbed penis, bouncing ever so slightly from the tiger's movements and its heartbeat. Like Sidril, it too glistened in the low light, and the smell radiating off of it hit him shortly after. He had smelled other males before, but this was so much more raw, more potent, more intoxicating. Sidril felt his tongue roll over his lips before he could catch himself, drawing a chuckle from Mahadi.

"Patience," the tiger chastised, overturning the jug and pouring a clear syrup onto the foot-long pillar of flesh between his legs. Sidril wasn't sure if he could wrap his hand around its circumference. It was going to be on the larger side of the things that the elf had taken in his career of bringing hedonistic, natural pleasure to the masses.

Sidril watched as the clear fluid poured over the length, dripping down the underside and rolling down the tiger's sheath and sac. The elf hadn't even noticed the orbs, the pair of white furry balls that caused Mahadi to stand a little bit askew due to their size. They matched the sight of the member above them, thick and round and swollen. Sidril wasn't sure if he had ever seen a pair of balls that size on any animal, let alone a person.

"Wha---what's that?" Sidril asked, his voice finally coming back to him.

"Since we have so little time together, I have this. It is a special oil, to enhance the pleasure for me. That way I can finish in a few hours rather than a day or two."

As he spoke, the tiger wrapped a paw around the base of his cock, starting to massage the oil into his member's skin and spread it along the foot-long flesh. Moving back to his original position, Mahadi's now oily hands parted the pair of supple cheeks in front of him, exposing the brown-skinned elf's brown star.

"It will also have the added benefit of making _you_extra-sensitive back here."

Sidril was about to protest that, given Mahadi's size, extra sensation might not be a benefit, strictly speaking. Any protest though, died as his mind went into panic mode. A heat slid between his cheeks, pressing against his pucker. Wherever the oil touched, be it the ring of muscle leading to his anal cavity, or the skin of his ass cheek, tingled.

There was no warning, no sound made by Mahadi as the pressure suddenly increased. The barbs scratched the inside of his cheeks as they ground, and the elf let out a cry as he felt the pressure suddenly give, his asshole spread around the barbed tip. He was penetrated roughly, and the oil made him feel almost like a virgin again. His body clamped down against the intruding member, trying to keep it from going deeper.

The tiger responded, pushing harder with his hips while giving a little growl. Despite the resistance of the muscles within, the member slid another inch deeper, squelching as it went. Sidril swore that he could feel every barb as it pushed against the tissue inside of his body, forcing his tunnel to expand around it. The Rakshasa gave another thrust, and Sidril's body gave another inch of itself.

The heat was intense, either owed to Mahadi's devilish nature or the sensitizing lube, and the pressure was making the cleric's body protest. It moved on its own, pushing back against the tool, squeezing and massaging along the flesh. This only allowed the tiger cock to sink in another inch or two, and make the owner growl lustfully above him.

"He---wai---" Sidril started, but a paw clamped over his mouth.

"Shut it, fucksock. You wanted this. All I want is to hear praise for my Rod of Lordly Mighty, got it?"

Sidril nodded, grunting into the tiger's pawpad as the barbs scratched at his prostate. His own cock grew to full stiffness, neglected between his legs. Some of the magical oil began to seep from his hole and down the back of his scrotum, making everything tingle as it went. Stars began to dance in the corner of the elf's vision as he felt more of the stiff, masculine flesh inside of him.

Then Mahadi started to pull out, and Sidril's eyes rolled into the back of his head. The barbs scrapping as they went was a sensation that he had truly never felt before, heightened by the lube, to the point where his thighs started to tremble. They had only been going for a handful of seconds, and Sidril had four hours of this kind of treatment to look forward to.

The void left behind by the tiger cock's retreat was colder than anything he had ever felt back there, and some part of his brain signaled that he should whimper at the feeling. He mewled softly into Mahadi's paw as the outward stroke began, and the tiger above him laughed softly. Then the void was gone, replaced by searing heat and more pressure as Mahadi reversed direction and thrust inwards again. Another sawing against his prostate, and the elf felt himself cum. His climax hit the sheets beneath him, soaking into the cloth, and adding a new scent to the growing fragrance of the room.

Mahadi, however, was not even close to climaxing. Hells, he wasn't even fully inside the elf's body when Sidril's first climax hit. There was a brief moment during the orgasm where the cleric's tunnel tightened around his cocktip, but he continued thrusting anyway, determined to get as much of his cock into the sleeve as would fit. After that, however, the elf's body beneath him relaxed, and he was able to start working up a pace and a rhythm that he desired.

The elf's ass was still tight, deliciously so. Mahadi's growls and pants of lust only grew louder as he started to really fuck the patron. Underneath it all, the soft plaps and squeaks of his lubricated piston entering and exiting the hole that was becoming more pliable, more compliant, provided the drumline to their rutting.

Every advantage that he gained from Sidril's body, he took, his fucking only becoming harder the looser the elf became. With just a handful of thrusts more, most of the tiger's sizable cock was wrapped by soft, supple elf flesh, and the devil kept his thrusting relegated to that portion of his shaft. The barbs scratched deeply, deeper than Sidril had ever felt, deeper than he thought he was ever able to feel.

Hot, slick precum shot from Mahadi's cock, joining the tingling oil inside the cavern and greasing the passage further. This was only an invitation for the fucking to grow in intensity. Sidril's knees and elbows started to ache from keeping himself upright in the position he was ordered to take. The mattress' firmness made sense now, none of the tiger's energy was being transferred to the cushion beneath. All of it was focused on the elf's body, specifically on a foot-long section of his guts that was quickly getting hollowed out.

Mahadi's paw finally moved away from Sidril's mouth, allowing him to get a good and proper breath. As soon as his lips parted, the elf cried out in ecstasy at the rutting, his knees and elbows shaking. Wordlessly, he sang the praises of the cock that was making a toy of him, scratching and stretching him, making him tingling, making him cum.

His elbows finally gave out, and he collapsed face-first onto the bed. His knees probably would have done the same if Mahadi, his paws now free, hadn't grabbed the elf by the hips to hold him up. Now in a new position, the rutting grew even harder, the angle causing the tip to slam against his prostate as the tiger thrust inwards. Mahadi pulled back with as much force on Sidril's hips as he pushed inwards, finally connecting his hips with the pillowy ass of the willowy elf.

The tiger's large balls swung, tapping the back of the elf's own pitiful-by-comparison scrotum,causing the cleric to cry out. Now, only an inch or two of cock was leaving him every time that the Rakshasa withdrew, intent, it seemed, on fucking him into and through the mattress. Sidril's eyes glazed over as he lost himself to the bliss of getting railed by the tiger demon.

Some time passed in this state, but like his trance, he was snapped back to consciousness abruptly when he felt something new, something shift. A loud snarl came from behind and above him, and a quick, sharp thrust slapped his ass against the tiger's thighs. Then Mahadi came. The elf's tunnel flooded with unbelievably hot, fiery seed that slowly seeped deeper into his stomach thanks to the angle. The slow seeping turned into a flow soon, as the tiger's climax lasted longer than Sidril had been anticipating. Cum filled him, flowing backwards as well as inwards, leaking out of him but also into him.

Then Mahadi started to withdraw, and thrusting again, caused the elf to cry out in overwhelmed pleasure. Still cumming, the tiger's cock spurted and sputtered, hammering in and out of the now painted, squelching hole. Seed was drawn out, dripping down the brown-skinned elf's sac and between his thighs. Seed was pushed in, deep into the confines of his bowels. And still the tiger thrust. Still, the Rakshasa slammed that cock into his trembling body, into his quivering, cum-filled hole.

The second orgasm was just as intense for the both of them. Sidril's cock twitched as it fired another salvo of cum onto the sheets, and Mahadi's only seemed to enlarge as more seed was pumped into the breeding hole that the devil had made of the cleric's ass. Hours passed, and the orgasms continued. Sidril had run out of spunk, his own climaxes now weak, dry things that ached more than felt pleasurable.

Mahadi, it seemed, had a seemingly endless reserve of both cum and stamina. The cleric's stomach had lost definition by the fourth or fifth orgasm, the little divots between his abs now gone as his belly bloated with demonic seed. And still more came, and more. The cleric's body was flipped around, twisting on the barbed cock. The Rakshasa to growl with lust as the hammering continued in the new position.

The cleric's cock, soft and spent, bounced against his cum-filled stomach as the tiger's breeding continued, forcing him to stare into the face of the devil that pistoned into him. In his lust-broken brain, Sidril longed to see the cock enter and leave his hole, but couldn't over his rounded belly. All the while, the oil never let him feel numbness or satiety. Each thrust felt like the first, each orgasm that was pumped into his body felt like the first.

After hours, the tiger's lust finally seemed spent, and with a grunt, he pulled out of the ass that he had rubbed red and raw and spackled white. The smell of his semen had long since tainted the air and taken over the incense, but now that his masculine pillar was freed, the smell only grew stronger. Sidril's head lolled from side to side in post-fucking bliss and exhaustion, until he felt clawed fingers weave into his hair and yank his face towards the side of the bed.

Sidril's lips contacted the underside of the breeding rod before his eyes could even focus, before his mind could catch up with what was being asked of him. It smelled of sex and musk, it tasted of salt and sweat. The cock that had just been plumbing his ass for hours was now being run across his lips, thick threads of tiger spunk smearing across his cheeks.

"Clean it, all of it." The order came.

Sidril rolled over, belly sloshing as he did, hands wrapping around the base to steady the cock. He started to clean the musky flesh with his tongue. Thick goblets of white gel rolled off his tongue and onto the pillows at his head, some of it went into his mouth and flooded his senses with the taste of bitter salty cum. Sidril's tongue danced through the forest of barbs near the tip, wanting to leave no trace of their lovemaking behind.

As soon as his lips got to the tip, the slit that had pumped him so full still winking and leaking, he felt the grip on the top of his head tighten. Just like the first penetration, there was no warning as the tiger-demon's hips rocked forward. Suddenly, barbs and shaft were forcing the cleric's lips apart, pushing the leftover cum into his mouth and down his throat. The cock kept advancing though, the elf's cheeks ballooning to match his bloated stomach as the Rakshasa started to face-fuck the mortal cocksleeve.

With lips unable to anything but form a tight seal around the girthy member in his mouth, the cleric's tongue bristled as the remnants of the tingling oil made the oral portion of their evening as intense as the anal. Sidril swore that he could feel every individual droplet of cum as it left the tiger's cock and slid down his throat to join the rest that had been pumped into him.

The cleric's throat opened up as the tiger's tip prodded the ring, quickly and fiercely claiming the cleric's other hole. Cheeks burning, tongue on fire, Sidril looked up pleadingly into Mahadi's face, but the tiger was not looking at his face. The tiger was watching his handiwork of the elf's almost pregnant looking stomach as the body next to him jiggled from the force of the fellatio.

Finally, mercifully, Sidril felt those thick orbs resting against his chin, nose buried in a mound of musky fur that exuded masculinity. Finally, with all of his cock buried in the cleric's mouth and throat, the tiger-demon came one final time. Just as powerful a climax made the elf's throat bulge as more cum was pumped directly into his already swollen stomach. After another longer-than-necessary orgasm, the Rakshasa pulled his cock free with a wet pop, clean except for the traces of elf spit along the still-somehow-hard length.

Gasping for air and panting with exertion and exhaustion, Sidril whimpered weakly as he felt his cheeks grabbed in the Rakshasa's paw. His chin was forced up to look at the yellow cat eyes of his dominator. "How was it? Everything you dreamed of?"

Sidril nodded, a smile creeping weakly onto his lips, and the devil's own eyes widened in surprise at the response. A smile, not quite as predatory, but almost congratulatory, broke the white muzzle of Mahadi.

"You are something else, Sidril. After your belly goes down, you will be returned to your friends. I hope that you are not a stranger to the Wandering Emporium. Or to my bedroom. I think that some of my customers could make use of a fellow like you."

"I---I'm not a prostitute," Sidril said weakly, his mind drifting back, threatening to fall back into another trance. "But as long as you don't charge..."