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Chapter 1, Verse 1

The hooves of the nightmare beat slowly against the hard packed dirt of the dried basin. It's reins are held loosely, guided more so by thought then by restraint. My eyes are closed as I concentrate on the almost non present wind. The hot desert air is still, though it still carries the scent of a man somewhere off in the distance. I've been tracking him for most of the day, catching his scent that morning as I was riding out over a distant ridge. I've been steadily making ground on the man. I've been taking my time though as there isn't any way the human can out pace me, not on foot, and defiantly not in this oppressive heat. A sudden gust of hot wind in my face and I kick the nightmare onward, the scent strong in the east.

After another half an hour's ride I spot the man, about a mile off, laying naked on the dusty ground in the shade of a small spire of rock. The nightmare trots towards the unconscious man, leaving a trail of smoldering hoof prints in the dust behind him. The human is a pitiful sight. His flabby body ravaged by time, covered in dust and burnt by the sun and wind. I dismount and walk over to the man, grabbing him roughly by the hair and tilting his head to look down at his face.

"What a piece of shit..." I say out loud, knowing that it will take some serious work to get this one moving again. I am one of the best though, so despite some certain difficulties, it should only take a few hours. That would still put me past nightfall though, so I need to make camp. It takes a few minutes to unsaddle the nightmare, the horrific creature pawing at the ground and snorting in anticipation of it's freedom. I give it a firm slap against its flank and with a sudden lunge it runs off into the late afternoon sun. Normally I wouldn't worry about the time, but the nightmare is hungry and needs to feed, an activity best done at night. I set the two small leather satchels on the ground near the spire. I don't need much when I'm on the trail, just fire and some food, and what passes as food for a creature such as myself is questionable at best.

Soon a nearby fire is raging, and the old man is laid out on the ground. He's still unconscious, but stable enough at least. I press one of my clawed and scaled hands against the old man's sunken chest, close my eyes and take a look inside. Nothing surprising there at least, dehydrated, a mild case of shock, a failing heart, and sunburnt all to hell. All of which is easy to fix. The advanced age, and otherwise poor state of health though, that will take some time.

I learned the art of the Fleshcrafter so long ago that I've forgotten how it was that I first came to learn it. Of all the other artisans that I've met however, I'll say (somewhat immodestly) that my work is the finest. There are few skills more valuable to a slaver such as myself, which is perhaps how I got into my current line of work as well. Even this disgusting creature laid out before me could be quite valuable, or will be once I'm done with him. I trace my claws down his chest, envisioning what will need to be done.

In a short while the worst of the damage is repaired, allowing my new charge to finely regain consciousness. Their first reaction always amuses me to no end; the mixture of relief, surprise, and terror. Relief first of course at not being dead, the shock and terror coming as they focus on the beast hovering above them. And for good reason I suppose. Mammals naturally have a deep seeded fear of snakes, and that instinct hits them hard when they first see my wide reptilian face smiling down at them. I'm quite a bit larger then most humans as well, standing eight feet tall or so, with a very muscular build. The combination makes me look immense to most humans. I usually go completely nude as well, finding little reason for clothing, which affords them an excellent view of my hard, scale covered body. My most terrifying attributes however are kept hidden until they're needed of course.

The man lets out a whimper and scrambles backwards, sliding his ass against the ground until his back is against the rock pillar, mumbling "What the hell? What the hell? The fuck are you?"

Still smiling down at him, I raise up from my crouched position and say, "I'm a demon of course... who did you expect to come across in a hell such as this?" I laugh a bit as I slowly walk towards him. The man seems struck speechless for a moment, his slack jaw mouthing something unintelligible. He staggers to his feet as I take another step forward, but before he can run I've got his shoulder in one of my claws. A slight squeeze is all it takes to snap the collarbone as he's forced back down onto his knees. His scream sounds healthy at least as I hold him to the ground in front of me.

I wait a few moments, until he's catching his breath. Then with a low growl I say, "Allow me make a few things clear right from the beginning. I own you now, completely. And while I understand that you won't believe me, in time you'll come to accept this fact. How much pain and suffering you'll have to endure before you submit to me is entirely up to you." I give his shoulder another quick twist, causing him to cry out again. It was needed though to relocate the bone. My hand glows slightly as I knit the cracked bone together, healing him almost as quick as it took me to break him.

He looks up at me, stunned for a moment then stands back up as soon as I release him. Rather then looking cowed at all though, he glares up at me angrily, and begins shouting at me with renewed vigor, "Satan! In the name of Jesus Christ I command you! Be gone!" and other such rot until I suddenly backhand him, hard enough to lift him into the air.

He lands a few feet away and I grin down at him as he sputters teeth and blood onto the desert sand. His screams sound wet as I reach down and tilt his head up by his broken jaw. "If you enjoy being beaten we can do this for as long as you like. It's something I rather enjoy. However, let me remind you that it's in your best interest to be polite." He still glares up at me after I heal him again, though he's at least silent for the moment. I nod down at him and back away. "Now that it seems you understand your situation a little better, let us continue. Stand up."

Shaking slightly he does as he's told and slowly climbs to his feet. A little defiance is fine with me at this point. He'll soon learn the advantages of being in my favor. Despite his now relatively good health he's still a pitiful specimen, his age spotted skin hanging loosely from his overweight frame. I'm inspired to work standing up at the moment, so I pull a long length of thin rope from one of my saddlebags. I walk over to him and grab him by the wrists, and pull them up over his head. Then while holding them both in one of my claws I begin to tightly bind them. The man looks up at me stammering, "What? What are going to do?"

I just chuckle slightly as I back him up, pressing his back against the rock pillar. "You'll see soon enough." I loop the rope several times around the pillar, then tie it off tight enough to support his weight. I grin broadly at him, baring my fangs, and crack my knuckles. Despite the almost pleasant early evening temperature, he's sweating and visibly shaking. When I press my glowing claws into his side he begins chanting, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..."

Age is a curious thing, your own body destroying itself as it rots from within. Fixing it's a rather taxing activity as nearly every cell in the body needs to be repaired. The man screams and thrashes against the rock as one by one his internal organs are melted, then completely rebuilt from the soup of proteans that begin to collect in his body cavity. I work from the inside out, regrowing his bones, his guts, until at last his skin begins to peel away in wet sheets. Finely I step back a take a moment to admire the young girl strapped to the rock in front of me.

The panting girl tied to the rock is a full foot shorter then the man that was tied there just an hour ago, and perhaps a good hundred and fifty pounds lighter, a fact that the huge pool of what looks like rendered fat below her can attest to. I purposely made her as boyish looking as I thought was tasteful, with a nearly completely flat chest, though her dark brown nipples are large and jut prominently from the surface of her barely precipitable breasts. Her body is lithe and fit, nearly muscular, though still pleasantly proportioned. And while her age really would be impossible to guess, she's clearly a woman, though not much more than that.

Her face is filled with a strange mixture of wonder and horror when she looks down at herself. I detect just a slight hint of lust as well, perhaps a bit more then a hint actually though she hides it well. Her voice cracks like a teenager learning how to speak. "What have you done to me?"

I grin at her as I lean into the rock, pressing one hand against it as my other hand finds one of her thick nipples. "I won't even justify that with an answer, as it should be rather obvious." My smile widens as I feel her nipple stiffen between my fingers as I roll and pinch it between my claws. "Rejoice though, for through me you are reborn," I say mockingly as I pull the nipple away from her chest, until her otherwise flat chest is pulled out like a small cone.

The girl winces and yelps as I play roughly with her very sensitive flesh, "Awwo, ahh, stop it! You fucker, let go!" Her legs scramble against the rock below as she tries to move away, though there's little she can do while suspended from her wrists. Still after a few moments I release her nipple, allowing the now visibly swollen tit to snap back onto her flat chest. As she begins to beg and plead with me to let her go, I ignore her for the most part, inspecting my work. Her skin is flawless and smooth like child's, having only just recently been created after all. To her though it would seem incredibly oversensitive, the young nerves firing in a way that she hadn't felt in decades.

I kneel down and take her legs in my claws, pulling them wide open before me. Her sex is hairless and swollen with dark thick inner labia that press out slightly from between her thicker outer lips. Slowly I open my mouth wide and breathe deeply onto her cunt, making her squirm and wriggle in my grasp. Her yelping protests becoming more frantic as the tip of my tongue slowly snakes out towards her. I press my tongue firmly against the thick fold over her clit, mashing the hood against the her thick bud and pressing the flesh side to side. Her pussy grows hotter as my tongue presses down between her lips, it's rough surface grabbing at the sensitive folds as it slides down deeper, then with a quick flick I press the tip inside of her tight opening. The girl's panting and wiggling give her away, even though she's screaming down angrily at me. Her body itself is conditioned to respond strongly to any stimulation, that and her new found sensitivity has her snatch literally dripping with excitement. I flick my tongue around the outside of her sex, darting it in and out of the tight hole, then deep enough into her to feel her virginity. Her struggling becomes more desperate as I lead her closer to orgasm with my tongue, dragging my rough tongue around the outside of her swollen lips. I'm not about to let her cum yet though. So I pull back slightly, just lightly flicking my tongue up and down her lips, building her frustration until she's pressing her crotch forward, trying to rub herself against my outstretched tongue. Finely though I pull back completely, standing back up before her with a smug grin on my face.

Before she can say anything else though I reach out and grab the ropes binding her wrists, pulling the knots apart that hold her against the rock. I catch her waist in one of my claws before she's able to fall into the pile of muck below her, holding her firmly out before me. She kicks out wildly though, beating against me with her small legs yelling, "You son'ova bitch!"

Angrily I slap her across the face, then reach out to grab her neck with my other hand, tightening it until she stops breathing altogether. Bringing her face up to mine, I glare into her eyes and say, "You have a short memory, don't you? When the sun comes up tomorrow you and I are going to go to your new home. How pleasant that trip is for you is entirely up to you. If you're obedient and polite perhaps I'll find it within myself to be kind to you." Her face begins to turn a deep shade of red as she continues to struggle for breath, scraping her hands against my arm, though she can't even begin to match my strength. My smile widens as I look into her eyes and speak slowly, "However, if you continue to be this unpleasant, you'll find out how unpleasant I can be."

I toss her forcefully onto the ground where she rolls once against the hard rocky ground and begins to sputter and cough, desperately panting and drawing breath. I ignore her for the moment though and stretch out by the roaring fire, relaxing and warming myself. I watch her the entire time though. Her throat is bruised deeply from my claw marks, and her wrists from the ropes. Numerous cuts line her back from where she was tied to the rock and from being thrown against the ground. Still I sense defiance from her as she mutters softly to herself and rubs her sore wrists.

After she's had some time to recover I say, "Go to sleep. You'll need your rest for tomorrow." She says nothing, doesn't even acknowledge that she heard me, though after a while she does curl against the hard ground and at least pretends to sleep. From my place by the fire I pretend to sleep as well. My kind never sleeps, though she doesn't know that. I spend my time listening, thinking, waiting. After an hour or so she very quietly begins to stir. Getting to her feet, then as softly as she can begins to sneak away from me. By the time she's out of the fire light she's off and running, as hard as her legs will take her into the dark desert night, just as I knew she would.

Chapter 1, Verse 2

The sun is still low on the horizon as the nightmare carefully makes its way across the broken desert ground. Each jarring step on the uneven terrain causing the girl bound to the beast's rear to croak out painfully. She had been screaming for the last few hours, though it seems she's finely worn herself out.

I tracked her down early this morning when it was still dark, finding her hiding in a shallow ravine. She didn't attempt to run again. I don't think she could have, not far anyway. The rocky ground had not been kind to her bare uncalloused feet. She didn't even say anything. She knew she was fucked. To drive home the point, I broke both of her arms and legs right there, snapping them like dry twigs in my fists. Then, after dragging her out of the ravine, I tied her to the back of the nightmare, face up and sideways just behind its saddle. In that position her back arched around the nightmare, letting her broken arms dangle on one side and her legs on the other.

We're slowly making our way across one of the rougher patches in this wasteland, her limbs hanging limply on either side of the nightmare, swaying unnaturally as the creature picks its way across the rough ground. The unrelenting pain from the constant swaying motion driving out any other thoughts she might have been having otherwise. I drink in the sensations as I ride onward, letting them wash over me like waves. Her pain and fear are better then any drug to a demon like myself. A normal human would have passed out long ago. When I rebuilt her though I improved upon her in all the ways that I've learned over countless years. All of her senses have been heightened beyond what any normal human could possibly experience. And having just recently been transformed the constant riot of sound and color, even in this barren landscape, would have been a cacophony. In time she'll learn to adjust to her new body, though for the moment it's as strange and alien to her as this desert. Her senses will not dull like a human's either. There is no perspective of sense. Put her in a loud room for hours and it will seem just as loud as it did when she walked in. If she is hot she will feel hot. If she's cold she'll feel cold. She cannot, as they say, get used to it.

In addition to her senses I've also dramatically improved on her general state of health. She's stronger, faster, and healthier then she's ever been, in ways she hasn't even realized yet. For one thing it's nearly impossible for her to lose consciousness now, and can go far longer without the basic necessities then a normal human can. She can be deprived of food, water, even air, and though eventually she'll need them, she can suffer for quite a while without them. My smile widens as I feast on the sensations radiating off of the girl. Yes, a more gifted slave would be hard to come by.

Which of course brings up another important point. She will need a name I suppose. Having browsed through some of her memories I've learned a little about her previous life, enough of what matters at least. She was a minister once, evangelical baptist it seems, whatever that means. I chuckle to myself at the thought of this. Clergy, how delightful. Not that any of that will matter. This place has a curious effect on people, in time she won't be able to remember anything at all of her life before she got here, leaving me free to mold her as I will. I look over my shoulder at her, staring down into her face. Her eyes are squeezed shut and wince with every step the nightmare takes. Her mouth hangs open as she makes a sobbing sound halfway between a pant and a moan. Still, I can scene that she's a fighter. Not yet ready to accept her fate; small, but defiant. The name Wren would suit her, so for now I'll call her that.

She will also need to be classified. Her classification of course determines what her training will be and how she'll eventually be sold and used. This one though, her uses will be difficult to determine. I can already tell that she's far too valuable to be sold as a simple pain or pleasure slave. For one thing she has a very strong will. A strong will is one of the most important qualities that a new slave can possess. It's what will keep them interesting in the long run. Physically, I can change anything at all about them that I wish, and even some mental conditioning, while difficult, is certainly within my reach. If a slave lacks will though there really isn't anything that can be done and they will be relegated to a more menial role. Yes, it's something which I will have to give some careful observation. A prospect that's not altogether unpleasant.

The terrain grows steadily rougher as we make our way up into this hilly expanse of the wasteland. The large uneven stones that we have been traveling on grow larger as we make our way onward; tall enough now to cast shadows over us as we thread our way through them. I rarely travel this way. It's out of the way and difficult to navigate, adding several hours of riding to an already long day. Today however the croaking screams make it all worth it as the nightmare occasionally brushes his flank against one of the towering rock walls, bending and dragging Wren's broken legs against the stone.

The sun is directly overhead, obliterating any shadows, by the time we finally emerge from the labyrinth of cracked and jagged stone. Bane Dregus can be seen off in the distance, a dark blot on the otherwise flat and featureless Dregus Expanse laid out open below us. For the first time in hours I bring the nightmare to a halt. The slave tied to the saddle behind me is just staring, open mouthed and unseeing; still alive, though no longer aware of anything. She's entered into a kind of trance like state I've seen many times before, brought on by her extended suffering. Her legs have been reduced to bloody stumps, slowly worn away by the jagged rocks, and her arms have both turned black from the fractures and bruising. Her skin has already turned a bright red with sunburn, which will only get worse as we make our way across the expanse in the brutal midday heat. I breathe deeply, tasting the hot dry air and the pungent stench of Bane Dregus far off in the distance. Then, with a half smile, I give the nightmare a swift kick and we continue onward.

Chapter 1, Verse 3

It's late in the evening by the time we finally reach the outpost, or whatever it is you would call this place. If anything it resembles a small shanty town, though not as pretty. There are perhaps fifty or so structures, depending on your definition. They're hastily constructed with bits of scrap metal and whatever else happened to be available, giving the place a very temporary feel though it's been here for as long as any of us remember. The buildings have been repaired, rebuilt, knocked down, and scavenged so many times that it's impossible to say what this place might have once been, or what it will someday be. The only constant is the name, though honestly none of us remember where that came from either.

Bane Dregus is little more then a camp for slaves and slavers. A place to hold and train new slaves until they can be sold. I can tell that I've been out in the wasteland too long. This place seems crowded. A few imps scurry about on various tasks. An asmodai leads a group of chained slaves to a holding pen while another can be seen forcefully whipping another slave, bound upside down on a metal frame.

Starling is waiting on the edge of town to meet me as I ride in. The small succubus's reddish skin is nearly glowing in anticipation, perhaps hunger. Her eyes turn onto Wren, still bound to the back of the nightmare. "Welcome back master, it seems you've started early on this one."

I nod and smile, turning to the catatonic Wren, stroking a clawed hand over her badly sunburned chest. My claws dragging over the blistered flesh isn't even enough to coax a response. "She gave me a bit of trouble this morning, though I must say that it made the ride back for more pleasant then usual. Have you prepared a place for her in camp?"

My asmodai nods, "Yes lord. The private cell."

I nod again, as I begin to untie her. "Good take her there and repair her, then watch over her. Let me know when she's awake. I've only done what was necessary to keep her from bleeding to death, though you will have your work cut out for you." As I cut the rope from her waist she slides off the nightmare and lands in a crumpled heap on the dusty ground below.

She frowns down on the near corpse, understanding that this will probably take her the rest of the night and well into the next day. She bows quickly, then taking one of Wren's shattered arms, begins to drag her towards our camp. I watch her for a few moments, reaching down to pat the nightmare's course fur, waiting for the imps I had summoned to arrive.

I do miss having imps at my disposal when traveling. The diminutive demons are pleasantly single minded, extremely disposable, will do anything at all asked of them, and as such are frequently crushed underfoot or tossed through walls on a whim. By the time I dismount three of the two foot tall creatures are grinning fiercely up at me, waiting for my order. "Take care of this beast for me, feed it and clean it."

Immediately the imps latch onto the nightmare, fighting briefly for the reigns, though the first one is promptly bit in half by the hungry mount. With it's mouth full though it's more agreeable to being led back towards the stables. Then, with that taken care of, I set out towards the commons. The energetic flogging however does catch my eye, and as it's on my way, perhaps I should give it a closer look.

I've seen the asmodai before, one of Talondred's, a tall muscular creature named Reever. I remember because he asked me to do some work on hir. Hir body is nearly entirely encased in a tight rubber sleeve that squeaks as shi whips the slave bound before hir. The suit only leaves hir massive breasts and equally massive cock exposed. Even her head, shaped like a bird of prey, is wrapped completely in tight black rubber. I smile slightly as I admire my work, as well as the additions Talondred had made himself. Her breasts, each easily larger then hir head, have both been pierced hundreds of times, glittering with steel rings. Hir breasts, pressed forward proudly by the tight rubber garment sway dramatically as shi beats down repeatedly on the slave, making a light jingling sound that, along with the squeaking of the suit, gives the flogging a very musical aspect. Hir cock too has been given a slimier treatment, with rows of studs that line hir entire length. The hundred or so cock studs are round, but are much larger near the base then they are around the head. The flogger shi uses is fairly standard, dozens of wide leather straps bound to a phallic handle. The leather straps glisten wetly, heavily oiled, and from the smell it's been oiled with something spicy, likely to burn like hell.

I don't recognize the girl being beaten however, though that's not unusual. Perhaps a new arrival. Like Reever the girl is encased entirely in a rubber sleeve, though her suit keeps her arms held tightly against her side and only leaves a wide open patch centered around her crotch open. Both of her ankles are tied to the frame behind her, leaving her hanging upside down with her legs spread wide. As Reever beats her it seems every one of hir blows is directed at the bound girl's cunt, which in a word is immense. The girl's clit is at least as large as my thumb and twitches in the cold night air, and although that's unusual, it's her labia that are really noticeable. Her dark outer lips are each as thick as her wrist and bulge open from swelling. The inner labia are just as swollen and bright red, jutting out a couple inches beyond the outer lips, and even those are pushed apart by a third set of bloated lips that extend at least another inch beyond the middle pair. I have to say, I'm impressed.

It's mesmerizing to watch. Reever swinging down with the flogger so quickly the leather straps are a nearly invisible blur in the dark alley. The girl's hairless oiled pussy erupting with every strike, fat lips flattened then shaking. Her back arching in pain, but completely silent, the tight rubber hood preventing her from even breathing. I stand there watching for perhaps another ten minutes until Reever finely stops. Shi turns to me and bows slightly before swapping the oiled flogger for a different one that had been hanging from her hip. One with familiar metal studs embedded in the leather straps. I'd like to stay and watch, though I have other matters to attend to.

Chapter 1, Verse 4

The commons is the largest structure in the camp, though perhaps built just a bit worse then anything else. It's also the central gathering point for all of the inhabitants of the small camp. The round building is perhaps fifty feet across or so, built like a tent, with a high domed roof. The roof is patchy at best, leather scraps bound to a cagelike frame overhead. The coverage, while sufficient to block out the sun around the perimeter of the building, grows thin and ragged as the roof gets higher, leaving the framing in the center of the dome completely bare. The walls are built in a similar manner. A chaotic and tangled scaffolding made from savaged pipes and twisted metal, most of which looks as though it had come from an earlier building that had collapsed dramatically. Other bits of wreckage have been lashed to the walls to make them generally solid except for the several openings around the building that serve as doors. The ground inside is a few feet lower but still the same hard packed dirt you would find outside.

I see Destemper sitting nearby, surrounded as usual by a few of his pleasure slaves, seemingly engrossed by them and the near perpetual orgy underway in the center of the commons, although with him nothing is really ever as it seems. He acts surprised to see me and welcomes me over, his slaves parting as I approach and sit next to him. We sit together in silence for a few moments, both absently watching as a dozen different creatures of various shapes and sizes copulate nearby. Destemper himself has a pair of vaguely canine girls between his legs, lapping enthusiastically at his cock and furry ballsack. A third girl, indistinguishable from the other two noses her way between my legs as well and soon I feel her cold nose rubbing against the fold of my cock slit. Finely he says, "Have a successful journey Mal?"

I grin at the wolf, "You ask that as if you didn't already know, or are you saying that you're losing your edge?"

"Nothing of the sort," he chuckles. "It's not polite to act as if you know everything, even if it's true." He smiles down at his servant between my legs. "And as you know I'm nothing if not hospitable."

"Yes yes, you're an absolute gentleman. So what's your assessment?"

The demon shrugs, "She has potential. She's a fighter. You could sell her to Cacopherya as is for a fair amount."

I nod, leaning back as my cock begins to slip free of it's sheath, pressing into the dog girl's waiting mouth. "That was my first inclination as well, take the small profit now rather then make an investment. I feel she might be worth the risk though."

"It's up to you, though I would at least see what she and Samtoil would offer before investing too much time into her."

"Samtoil?"

"Yes, I think she would meet its needs if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, and what exactly to you know of Samtoil's needs?"

The wolf grins broadly and shrugs. "Call it a hunch, I'm just saying it might be worth talking to it."

We spend the next quarter hour in silence as Destemper's servants administer to our needs. He's trained them well, I'll give him that. However, I'm too distracted with plans and contingencies to truly enjoy myself at the moment. So I decide it's time to take my leave. As I stand I slowly drag my cock free from the bulging throat of the slave at my feet, leaving her whimpering and pawing at my feet. I nod my head to Demandred, who at the moment is holding one of his slaves by her tail and slowly popping the fist sized knot at the base of his shaft in and out of her asshole. "Thanks for the advice. I trust I can count on you should any of your skills be required?"

Destemper nods and stands as well, letting the slave fall to a kneeling position down on the ground in front of him, a copious amount of cum bubbling from the stretched maw of her ass. His other two slaves dive for her, and begin to sloppily lick the cum from her ass like they were drinking from a bowl. The demon smiles and claps me on the shoulder. "Of course friend, I'm still in your dept as you no doubt recall."

"Yes. Though perhaps a little less so after tonight. I'll inform you of the outcome regardless." And with that I step back out into the cold desert night.