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Left Handed

(It may be illegal for you to read this sexually explicit story, depending on your age and jurisdiction--it's your responsibility to find out what the situation is where you are. If you chose to continue to read after this, then I can't accept any responsibility for your actions. Furthermore, adult themes, foul language, violence, and other inappropriate material may be present throughout, so read at your own discretion. I will not be held responsible for a lack of responsibility on the reader's part.

No one is allowed to take credit for this work apart from me. If you want to use it somehow, I would appreciate it if you were to get in touch with me first.)

(This is a oneshot, and will basically be all sex. There are Satanic themes involved, so if those sorts of things are incompatible with your philosophy, you may not want to read on. The sex will also get kind of rough, so if that's not your thing, check another of my works out.

I don't want to give too much more away, but I will say that this story is _not_particularly dark or disturbing. It's just a devilishly sexual piece. So--let's rock and roll.

2016 Update: I am not sure why I took this one down from the internet. Read and enjoy and favorite and review.)

Suggested Music: Behemoth: At the Left Hand ov God, Ov Fire and the Void, Lucifer; Gorgoroth: Unchain My Heart, Carving a Giant, Exit, Will to Power, A World to Win, Building a Man; Burzum: Jesus' Tod, En Ring Til Herske, My Journey to the Stars

Suggested Drinks: Seasonal beer, water, coffee, vodka, scotch

Suggested Snacks: Sushi, fried fish, grilled vegetables, jerky, tortilla chips, very hot and smooth salsa

Suggested Smokes: Don't smoke! It's bad for you!

There were four of them.

They differed in gender and species, and in a thousand other ways. And yet they were together, moving with such synchronous unison that they may have been controlled by the same force--and, in a fashion, they were.

It was cold out. Cold, and dark, and the two or so feet of fog that clung to the ground all around them further sapped at heat and energy but they didn't care. This was it--their time, their place, and no inclement weather would stop them.

They were all wearing the same outer garments: long, flowing black cloaks with hoods large enough to conceal half their faces. The material was only marginally heavier than air, but deceptively protective--none of them yet had to ignore the cold, they simply didn't feel it. And underneath their cloaks, three of them wore practical clothing, as well as several hundred dollars' worth of illegal weapons. The other wore nothing else at all...

Walking forward, noiselessly, slowly, mist swirled around their feet, and the only sign that any of them were alive was the moisture that condensed in the air in front of their muzzles. But for that, they might all have been the wraiths that they appeared.

Their paths were not parallel with respect to one another. Rather, ever since emerging from the treeline some fifty yards back, they had slowly but surely converged toward one spot. Now, as they closed to within twenty yards of that place, and then fifteen, they all felt a strange, bizarre sort of shudder run through them--as if some massive beast had raised its head and snarled down at them with breath fiery and intense.

They got to within ten yards of their destination. Then, one of them raised a fisted paw, vascular, strong, precise, and roughened by violence--and they all stopped.

For a moment, they simply stood still, as if to let the beast get acclimated to their presence. It approved of them of course--no one living followed the Prince with their dedication.

After a brief second of simply standing there and drinking in the glory of their accomplishments and the accomplishments they were about to make, their leader drew a sword, long and thin and razor sharp, and held it into the air.

He spoke, then, in a tongue that was lost and forgotten to the world at large. His voice was harsh and his words even more so, and for a time, it seemed that they had no effect whatsoever. This invocation went on for roughly ten minutes--then, they began to chant.

It was by chance that their voices occupied the major vocal ranges: soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. The heavy concentration toward the lower end of the vocal spectrum made the sole female voice stand out, loud and shrill and perfect in tone. It lent a strange, almost chilling effect to the phrase they repeated over, and over, and over again.

Time went on, but they kept chanting. By now they had repeated their prayer six hundred times--roughly a minute later, it was six hundred sixty three, six hundred sixty four, six hundred sixty five...

One more repetition--and then they stopped in perfect unison.

Their leader pulled the hood of his cloak back, baring his face for the first time. He was a tiger, six feet in height, with straw-colored hair but eyes as dark and cold as the expression on his face. He had not lowered his sword; his arm had remained static and steady in the air--until, at the outset of their prayers, he began to lower it, inch by slow, malicious inch.

At the same time, his fellows pulled their hoods back. The other two males were wolves, gray furred and blue eyed, and heavily built and heavily armed at over two hundred fifty pounds apiece of overlapping muscle, fat, and projectile weaponry. The female was a vixen, and especially among such a group, she was petite--standing at just an inch or so under five and a half feet, she had scarlet hair, long and curly and luxurious, and brilliantly green eyes. Her fur was picture perfect down to each square millimeter; it was flat and sleek and brightly colored: red on most of her body but white on her underbelly and parts of her face.

She lowered her head, then, and dropped to her knees. At the same time, the tiger and wolves did as well, setting down their weapons and their eyes. It would seem, for a brief period of time, that they were resting--but before long, the tiger looked up.

Relief washed over him, and for a moment, he simply murmured a brief phrase of gratitude to the Prince. Then, quietly, he grinned.

"It worked," the feline murmured. He licked his lips, to taste the pleasure he felt burning inside of him. "He's here."

The rest of them took that as a sign to look up, and so they did--and they were not disappointed by what they saw.

At over seven and a half feet in height, he towered head and shoulders over them all. His skin was as red as fresh blood and the fur on his legs and forearms and beard was thick and black and bushy. His mouth, though immobile, was equipped with fangs at least three inches in length--and the horns protruding from his forehead were at least a foot long apiece and wickedly curved.

He was a Demon--not just a minor condemned soul; no, this one had lived a life so evil that the Prince did not allow the normal destination for the damned accept him. For a brief time after his death, the Demon had all too literally raised Hell on Earth before, sadly, he was stopped.

The records that they'd stolen suggested that he had been executed for the second time some five hundred years ago, but a few crucial details had been purposefully left out. Only a great deal of guesswork, investigation, meditation, and sheer luck had brought them their prize.

Still some work remained, though. The Demon had not been hung or shot or had his head cut off--no, he had been crucified. And even then, he remained in that unhappy position before them. Heavy iron stakes through his hands and digipedal canine feet and neck held him to the massive, wooden Cross behind him. His face was angled to the side and the expression on it was one of complete, abject pain--and that wouldn't change until they succeeded in releasing him. Only then would he again feel full consciousness and regain the ability to move. Only then would the Prince's work be allowed to continue.

That was where the vixen came in.

At the tiger's order, she took a few steps forward. Despite everything, she felt the slightest amount of trepidation when she got closer to the Demon--but she didn't let it show. She continued to pad silently through the mist until she was within five yards of him, close enough that the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. Then, she undid an unseen catch with her paw--and let her cloak fall.

She was truly beautiful. Apart from the obvious aesthetic appeal to her fur and hair, her facial features were the picture of Caucasian beauty: dainty and angular. She had a sharp button nose and large, full pink lips, and the minimal amount of makeup she'd applied to her face made her flawless, almost too stunning to be real. The long locks of hair that spilled down from her head, past her shoulders and indeed all the way down to the middle of her back were like a cascade of liquid fire. And in the darkness her eyes, like her hair, sparkled with a life that was all their own.

Her body was beautiful, too. The vixen's wide, feminine hips swayed from side to side as she walked, and the tightness of her coat against her flesh showed that there was not an excess ounce of fat on her frame. Yet her breasts were pleasingly large--D cups, easily, yet perky and supple, as if she wasn't a day older than fifteen. Not many had seen the sight that her fellows would have received if they looked to her, but not one of them took their eyes off their Prince's most powerful servant.

Although small clouds of condensed moisture continued to repeatedly appeared and disappeared in front of her snout, she still seemed more like a walking wraith than anything that actually lived. The precise malice to her actions was impossible to fake; each step was a calculated maneuver, so careful and exact that her movements were a work of art themselves--every component of her body worked together, perfectly, to allow her to drift forward in such an ethereal fashion.

Now, she was within one yard of the Demon. The heat radiating from his body penetrated the frigid air around them and washed over the vixen's fur with reckless abandon. That admittedly expected sensation sent tingles of feeling up and down her spine, and she almost shivered with anticipation--but she maintained her pose and perfection, even as she dropped down to her knees.

"Go on." The tiger said that, in a tone as curt and biting and cold as solid ice. He had placed his sword on the ground in front of him and crossed his arms, and now faced the vixen with an expression of intense attention on his face--his eyes were wide and his jaw set, but his interest in her was only coincidental. His true interest was her actions, or, rather, what they all hoped would become of them.

She had turned her head to the side to hear the feline better. She was neither meek nor uncertain, but she was the only one close to the Demon. There was a natural fear in her, a dull terror that rose from the core of her being and showed on her face. Her fur seemed bright red, even in the darkness and the night, as if it glowed with a force all its own--and then she faced forward again. All her fellows could see now was her bare, lithe back, the sea of flaming tresses that began at her head, and the gentle, pleasing curves of her rump, rested daintily atop the heels of her feet.

The Demon was not nude. It was true that his chest was bare, but he wore a pair of gauntlets on his forearms. They were bound together with leather string of a similar nature as the thick, tough belt that held his only article of clothing in place: a loincloth made of a material that felt velvet soft and smooth in the vixen's paws, yet was sturdy enough to resist gunshots repeatedly. As the female before him prepared to do her work, he breathed in once--once, no more--an action enough to cause her breath to catch in the back of her throat.

The males kept their distance, although their anticipation was blatant. Their eyes were locked onto the vixen--her muzzle specifically, and her paws, as she finally disengaged a catch that held the Demon's clothing up. In a moment, the creature was fully nude from the waist down before them, and the sight the vixen was greeted with was as impressive as she had expected.

The Demon's endowment was great. His member was roughly as thick as a wine bottle soft, concealed by heavy flaps of blood red skin. His balls--the size of oranges--hung several inches below his pelvis, churning with energy and lust alike. The sheer warmth off the rest of his body was noticeable, even to the males. And so when the vixen removed his clothing entirely they stepped back in shock, a little, and suppressed bloody noses. The wave of dry heat that struck them were powerful, and it was a wonder that the vixen, only inches from the Demon's genitals, wasn't roasted alive.

In seconds, though, the shimmering waves of infrared radiation subsided. The males dared step forward again, to watch, closely, as the vixen looked up at their Prince's left hand man--and then wrapped her fingers around the midsection of his shaft.

She attempted to stroke him, gently, but one paw was simply not enough to do much more than adjust the protective folds of foreskin around his cock. The vulpine therefore raised her other appendage, as dainty and petite as the rest of her body, and placed it on the other side of the Demon's flaccid member. The huge, static shaft dwarfed both of her hands, easily, and deep in her throat, the vixen swallowed--out of hunger, however, more than fear.

The darkness of her paws began to travel back and forth along the length of his cock. She would have adjusted the tempo of her ministrations, or added in pressure at a few key points if she had any way of knowing how her partner was responding to them--but the Demon was completely unconscious, and his face was still wrenched painfully to the side. She had no way of telling how the creature liked his pawjobs, so she simply continued her rather generic activity--in time, she hoped, she would get a usable response.

Within seconds, the Demon's member began to harden. As it did, it slowly rose into the air, getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and bigger still, until it dwarfed not just her paws but her forearms easily, and indeed her face as well. It was hard to put an exact length on it, but the massive, heated rod almost on top of the vixen's head had to be closer to twenty inches than fifteen, and was as big around as one of the wolves' flexed biceps.

She could feel the heat off of it prickling at her body with almost frightening ease. Even several inches from the Demon's fat cock, the vixen was warmed--her face, her head, her neck, and her upper chest and breasts were all heated by the giant member in front of her. Touching the foreskin with her paws wasn't too bad, provided that she took a break every few seconds and let her hands cool down in the surrounding air.

But she did not know how she'd deal with the Demon's cock directly--the head of the beast, roughly similar to a ripe, fat plum in size and color radiated heat almost furiously. It had to be scalding to the touch, or much, much worse.

And yet, there was no other way to free him. And unleashing the Demon was a goal that the vixen was willing to die to achieve.

She licked around the inside of her maw, briefly, preparing to fellate the monstrous appendage in front of her. When she'd been with mortal partners, she'd done that to lubricate her muzzle and make things slick and moist and more pleasurable for them, and more comfortable for her. Now, however, she was taking advantage of the fact that her saliva was mostly water, and therefore had a high heat capacity--it would take time for her mouth to become too hot for her to bear.

The vixen shut her eyes, then, and took in a deep, calming breath. Her shoulders rose, then fell--and then she leaned forward and began her work.

She had to open her mouth very wide indeed to admit the head of the Demon's member. That act alone almost tested her limits--she had to stretch her jaws as far apart as they would go to avoid running her teeth over the presumably sensitive flesh. And even then, she could only take the fist-sized tip in her mouth for a moment before hastily, painfully pulling away.

"Go on." The tiger said that, in a deep, almost malicious growl--and, really, his anger was deserved. She'd sucked the head of the Demon's cock into her mouth for all of a second before pulling away; that was it? If she wanted him to be free, she'd have to do better than that for sure.

And so she eyed his member again. It still frightened her, but now she took hold of his legs in her paws and set her face. She would do this--she might die in the process, but damn it, she was going to do this.

She opened her mouth and allowed the head of his cock enter again. There wasn't as much saliva this time, and so the temperature in her muzzle rose a lot faster than it had before, but she held, and held, and held, closing her eyes to will away the pain--and then, yes, she did remove her head from his member, but in a slow, controlled manner.

Her maw closed slowly, but not completely. The tendons connecting her jaw to her skull had been almost overstretched, for the moment, and several drops of lava-hot spit dribbled from the sides of her mouth down onto her breasts. She let that process be, though, knowing that it might come in handy later--then, she used her paws to peel some of the Demon's foreskin back a bit more, and again descended down on his cock.

This time, she did not simply stop at his head. Although she had to shut her eyes in concentration, she managed to force her head a bit farther down, so that the tip of her muzzle was a few inches past the pulsating, sweet fruit at the tip of his cock. Unfortunately, as a result of the process, the Demon's cock powerfully throbbed--and caused the vixen to gag, pretty badly. She bit down on his member, just for a heartbeat, but that was long enough to severely hurt any mortal if not amputate them outright.

And yet when the vixen pulled her head back again, the Demon's member was in pristine condition--no, it was better than pristine; it had grown another centimeter in length, rising up from a thick base amid a forest of hair to greet her. After catching her breath for a second, she smirked, looking up at his stony face--and then forced her head down on his member again.

She went deeper, that time, and the next time, she went deeper still. In seconds, the upper third of the Demon's member was coated in saliva, but the vixen did not stop. Her mouth was hot, yes--in fact, it felt like it was on fire, but she found that she wasn't actually hurt by the sensation. At first, it had been unpleasant and painful, to be sure, but now, she found it strangely... intoxicating.

Her fellows watched the Demon, and now not her actions on him. Rather, they scoured his body for any signs of live, of movement--and some time later, they all jumped. His chest--it had moved, not much but perceptibly, expanding outward in an indication that he had drawn breath. It was just once, as the motion was not repeated--but it was a good sign. She was having an effect on him.

And she was starting to get into it, too, judging from the rapidity and vigor with which she attended to her task. By now, the vixen rarely took his member out of her maw in its entirety--the head, at least, always stayed enveloped in her dedicated, warm, moist cavity. She used her nose to breathe as she thrust her face and her entire head forward, forcing his member into her throat, partially. It was an odd situation for her--no one she'd been with until then was remotely large enough to make her feel her throat gape when she backed off--but, all in all, it was quite enjoyable.

Her paws were not static, either. She cupped both of them around the Demon's fat cock, around the hairy base, and slid them back and forth while she learned how to give such a large member a blowjob. Her motions were out of sync, roughly, so that there were two distinct sensations on the Demon's member, both of which were pleasurable and erotic. The burning heat his cock supplied to her were largely forgotten--at least, until the Demon breathed again.

The vixen did not notice this, because that action was coupled with a reaction. A shot of precum, at least an eighth of a cup in volume, sprayed from the tip of his cock directly into her gullet. On the way, the thick, almost jelly-like liquid struck her throat, and when it did, it burned her--literally.

She drew off his cock with a pained gasp, and for a moment, awkwardly attempted to bite at the stinging sensation in her mouth out of feral instinct. Quickly, she stopped that and reached back with a paw, as if to pull an angry insect out of her mouth, but her digits simply came into contact with a patch of sensitive flesh, already hardening and healing itself into a scar. She pulled her paw out of her mouth, and looked up at the cock that had injured her, shocked.

She then looked up at its owner with a renewed sense of respect--and fear. She swallowed, but that did not end the pain emanating from deep in her throat... still, it looked like she had no choice but to continue.

It didn't take the vixen long to work her way to getting as far as she had been going before. Her lips repeatedly reached the middle part of the Demon's member, or a bit more. Taking that much of such a huge cock into her mouth forced her to deepthroat him repeatedly, but after twenty long, wet strokes, she realized--she could not get any farther. She simply could not get any farther, physically. Her throat could only stretch to accommodate so much, and when she tried to force herself down on his cock, she placed a paw on her own throat and realized that the fat plum of his head was at the base of her neck.

She had had an effect on the Demon, and yet much still had to be done. His chest was pulsating, yes, and not just now and then--he was breathing almost steadily. The defined muscles that lined his torso rhythmically clenched and released, and the vixen thought, at least for a moment, that she saw a slight wave of heat rise from his mouth. Despite all this, he remained more or less locked into position--he was a long way from moving, much less speaking, much less being free.

The vixen considered, but not for more than a moment. With one paw still on the girthy midsection of his cock, pumping it up and down, she looked down, opened her maw, and let a long strand of mixed, sexual fluid slide from her tongue to her breasts.

She wasn't shy at all, and she didn't blush, although "dirty" activity like that had earned her praise--verbal and otherwise--from mortal partners that she'd displayed it to. Now, however, her desires were simply practical. With the paw that was not on the Demon's cock, she gently massaged the saliva and lubricating fluid that had seeped out of the Demon's member into her breasts, up, down, and all around. The fur on her chest soon lay perfectly flat against her flesh. That made it clear that her coat added little volume to her breasts. She was big but perky all on her own.

Her head tilted up to face his, so far indeed off the ground. True, he was unconscious--or more than that--but he was still a male. There were still some things that he undoubtedly enjoyed.

And so she did not immediately return to stroking him or sucking on him, or go on to pleasing him with her breasts. Rather, the vixen simply cupped his heavy sack in her paws--both of them--and massaged him, gently, looking at his eyes the whole while. She could actually feel activity in his sack--a sort of churning, swishing, pulsating sensation that caused them to shiver and sway slightly in her paws with a life and timing all their own. They were alive, it seemed--and soon, he would be too.

Instead of applying any directly pleasurable activity to the Demon, the vixen switched things up a little bit, and attempted to give him psychological pleasure. He'd been alone for so long, after all, and tortured in the worst ways--his ego could use some soothing.

And so she moved her head past his member, letting it rest against the side of his cock. The sleek masses of red hair followed her, and in the process, his cock smeared heat and precum and saliva against her obviously. Gently, tenderly--lovingly, even--she pressed the tip of her snout against his lower groin and began to kiss him, repeatedly, murring deep in her throat continuously.

The tiger behind her said several sharp words at that, but she ignored him. What would he know about what she was doing--he had never been with a woman; he couldn't understand the intimacy of what she was doing. The vixen simply closed her eyes and allowed his member to brush over her head, and face, as she maneuvered to the other side of his groin to kiss him there as well.

She used her tongue, a little bit, mostly since the fur at the Demon's genitals was unpleasantly thick and rough. It wasn't enough to irritate her muzzle or lips, however, so she kissed all around his member until she felt that it was time to continue what she'd been planning to do initially. And indeed, when she moved up so that her thighs were perpendicular to the ground, not roughly parallel to it, she could see that the Demon was breathing a bit more regularly, a bit faster--and that his member was dribbling precum freely, as hot and hard and ready as it had ever been.

Yet, she had never made love to a male with her breasts in such a position before. It was a little awkward for her, at first--she started by simply caressing the Demon's fat meatstick to her chest, in a sort of hug, before sliding it into her cleavage.

The interesting thing about titfucking a cock so large was that the vixen simply could not wrap her breasts around it in its entirety. She could only press the soft, furred globules against the girthy underside and veined, rigid sides as she moved her entire torso up and down in a repetitive, pleasing manner owing to its sheer width. And owing to its length, she could only move herself in a very limited manner, or end up with her breasts pathetically pressed against the base of his cock with the head towering over her face...

Then again--he'd like that. If he could, he would have told her to do that--and so, she did. She started with her breasts wrapped around the head of his member, almost entirely, so that she could see the fist-sized red flesh resting in her cleavage--and ended with her breasts pressing up against his balls. It was difficult to perform that in a rapid manner, as if she went too quickly she'd smack herself in the face with his cock.

But soon, the vixen found a happy pattern... and soon, the heat in her bosom and on her fur wasn't simply due to the heat of his cock. His precum had smeared all over her chest, by then, and her face as well. It was hot--burning hot, but in small amounts, she could take it without injury. Besides, she felt oddly interested, even aroused, by the amount and quality of ejaculate the Demon was producing, just for her. It was psychologically flattering.

By now, the Demon wasn't breathing at a rate that could be called normal--no, rather, it seemed that he was running a marathon, judging from the frequency at which his chest rose and feel, rose and fell, rose and fell. By now, veins--some was thick as a pencil--had popped up all over the Demon's body, pumping something analogous to blood all over his body.

The vixen felt her breasts grow too hot, and decided to give them a rest for a moment. She placed her paws on her own thighs so that her mouth was the only thing pleasuring the Demon, and looked up into his eyes as she moved her muzzle vigorously up and down over the upper third of his member. She could feel her breasts bounce a bit against her chest, and knew that if he could see her he'd enjoy the eye candy. Perhaps he did somehow see her--his breath caught in his throat, for the briefest moment, before releasing in a throaty, hot growl.

Now, he was starting to move. Not much, but a little bit. His paws--or hands, rather; big, veined, humanoid appendages that they were--twitched, sporadically. He did not yet have control of his own limbs, but soon, the vixen could tell, he would. For now, the feeling was simply spreading back into them, slowly, inch by gradual inch, and she'd have to keep upping her ante to release the Demon completely--in any sense of the word.

Shutting her eyes, the red-haired femme placed her paws on the Demon's thighs. She felt his quadriceps almost crawl under his tight, leathery skin as if with a life of their own, although they were as hard and sculpted as steel. She gripped his flesh the smallest bit, though even if she tried, she could not hurt him--she was simply too small, too feminine, to offer even the slightest threat to the Demon in any manner.

And so she simply stroked him, intimately, passionately, as if he was a lover rather than a loathsome, Hellish thing she sought to unleash upon the world. The soft, furred surface of her paws and digits traced over his sleek, thick skin even as she continued to bob her head up and down on his member. As her paws continued their paths along his flesh, the vixen took in a deep breath--then forced her head as far forward as it would possibly go. And then she pushed herself farther still.

The head of his cock was like a molten ball of metal in her throat. She could feel it growing hotter and hotter and hotter with each passing second, yet she did not back off--she gagged, yes, but she forced herself to deepthroat him longer, and longer, and longer still, until she felt herself really struggle.

She gagged as she pulled her mouth from around his cock with some force. Some of the mixed sexual fluid that had been collecting in her mouth spilled out, then, on the head of the Demon's cock, and, indeed, her chest as well. She was truly a mess already, coated from snout to bust in saliva in pre-cum--but that was not enough. No mortal male would have been able to resist the show she put on next--indeed, she hadn't even tried to be so dirty around any living partner that she'd ever had.

It would take several seconds for the somewhat salty fluid on the Demon's cock to drip off, due to its gel-like nature. The vixen took advantage of that, and didn't let it fall uselessly to the ground. Instead, she shut her eyes and ignored what slight objections she held against what she was about to do. She gripped the monstrous appendage before her by the base, leaned forward--and rubbed her face against his member.

This was again an act that offered more psychological than physical pleasure. It was an act of utmost submission; symbolically, the vixen was nuzzling against the Demon's most dirty, private, vulnerable area. This placed her well below her partner, in a way that she'd never allowed to happen before and that she would never allow to happen again. What she was doing, then and there, was a one-time-only thing.

And its effects were undeniable. As the vixen shut her eyes and allowed her facial fur, and indeed her hair as well, to be soaked and stained with her saliva as well as several tablespoons of boiling hot precum, the Demon's hands began to flex--not twitch, but actually flex, as if he had conscious control of them. Still his face was strained to the side, but that, too, was starting to change. She swore she saw his pupils vibrate in his eyes--and there was no mistaking it, his jaw was moving, a little bit. He was starting to gain control of his breathing, as well... and maybe he was starting to consciously feel some of the affections that she was laying on him.

She took his cock into both paws, and drew her face out from underneath it, allowing it's fat head to drag across her face and snout as she did. Previously, it had draped over her head as if she was being knighted with his sword--but now, she shut her eyes and held his member to the side, for some reason.

And then she hit herself with his member, not at all gently. It did not hurt him, but it did hurt her, a little bit... or perhaps more than a little bit. Smacking her face with his member was a bit difficult for her, and a bit awkward, and so there was a relatively long interval of time during which his member had contact with her face.

Its sheer weight was enough to knock her face side to side with each of the repeated smacks she laid upon herself--though, she believed, if the Demon had control of his own body, and his own member, he'd beat her about the cheekbones or the forehead. Those parts of her face were more toughened, so he could whack her with his cock, sharply, and perhaps actually injure her...

But for now--and, hopefully, not much longer--the Demon was still stuck to the Cross and inert. And the vixen had done more or less all she could, by then, with her paws, her breasts, and her mouth, all of which were still hot from the all the cum and contact. It seemed that there was no escaping it--she'd have to give herself to him, fully.

With a bated breath, she gave her long, wavy red hair a toss, so that it again flowed down the center of her back. At least, she thought, her fellows weren't bothering her anymore, now that they realized that she knew what she was doing.

As she stood, she bent over and gave the Demon's member a kiss, faring it well for the moment. In doing so, the perfect curves of her rump lay on display for the males behind her--as well as the treasure that lay somewhat below them--but they didn't react to it in the slightest. They'd all seen her in her entirety before, several times, and were disciplined enough to serve more interesting desires than those of their bodies.

The vixen turned around, then, facing away from the Demon. There was no other way she could do this, after all--he was still more or less static, and there was no hope of coaxing any motion out of his hips, or the strong, lean muscles lining his core--not for some time yet.

She felt the heavy, thick weight of his member press against her rump as she began to walk herself backward a little bit. She moved it out of the way with a single motion of her paw, keeping control of it with her appendage until she was standing roughly a foot in front of her partner. Blushing the slightest amount under the white part of her cheeks, she glanced over her shoulder to look up at the Demon--but he was still noiselessly howling with pain and his gaze was still directed away from her.

For a moment, she honestly considered stopping where she was, and finding some other way to please the Demon... or simply just leaving. But that would get her killed, by her fellows. If she quit on them, they'd tear her apart--there was no doubt of that whatsoever. They'd all killed before, and they were all careful not to become friendly toward one another in any way.

And yet, she considered the member gently held and massaged in her paw. It was thicker than her arm, easily. It was big and strong enough to literally split her in half...

She tried to relax her lower body in preparation for what was coming. The largest stallion she'd mated could not compare to this one, not by a long shot--and yet, she was glad to have a rough idea of what it would be like to mate such a massive cock. She'd have to be extremely careful, particularly at the beginning... assuming she could even get the fist-size head of the Demon's member into her.

The vixen's free paw slipped between her legs and rubbed, tenderly, at the entrance to her body. She was somewhat slick with arousal simply from giving sexual pleasure to the Demon, and so, in seconds, her fingers had her as wet as she'd ever be. She shut her eyes, then, and guided the Demon's member to where the sculpted tip of the head made contact with her slit... and then, gingerly, she pressed herself backward.

The pain was immediate and intense, and it wasn't simply from being parted by an object as thick as her lower thigh. In time, her mouth, paws, and chest had gotten accustomed to how hot the Demon's cock was--her nether regions had not. Worse, his cock was now hotter than ever--the vixen actually bit her lower lip and whined in pain, for a brief second, as she heard the soft hiss of moisture rapidly evaporating. It seemed that there was no point in arousing herself--the huge, foreign body only about half an inch into her would simply burn away her natural lubrication.

With tear-stained eyes, she looked at the wolves, then the tiger. Did she expect sympathy? If so then she was sorely disappointed. All of them simply glared at her, harshly, as if daring her to stop even for a second. The tiger even meaningfully glanced away from her, for a moment, and down at the vicious weapon on the ground in front of him--would she like to be its next victim?

Without any other options, he pushed herself farther back, but the pain did not stop or even lessen. Rather, it simply intruded more and more into her, toward the core of her being. Jolts of heat and agony continued to race from her sex to her heart, and that truly frightened her. She could feel the organic pump in her chest shudder, a few times, as clutches forged from flame and worse constrained it a little too much--but still, she forced the massive, hot meatstick deeper and deeper and deeper into her.

To support herself, the vixen placed her paws on her knees. Otherwise, she'd have surely lost balance and simply fell forward long before then. Still, the pain was so great, and the fear was even worse--it was all she could do to stop herself from screaming out loud, or openly sobbing. As it was, she simply could not prevent two or three or four tears from rolling down her angular, furred cheeks. It was a natural reaction to pain of that magnitude, after all. And even though she was a Satanist, a killer, and a thousand other things, she was still a woman.

Now, she was vibrating in pain. A cold sweat began to roll down her forehead, as she dared to glance back to see how much more of the giant member still remained outside of her--she let out a low, weak moan when she saw roughly two thirds of the veined, throbbing shaft outside of her, still pulsating in time with the Demon's heartbeat. She was sure--if she tried any more than she already was, she would break...

She moved herself a centimeter forward, but that made the pain even worse--a spike of terror and agony and nausea rose within her, and only barely did she manage to keep herself still. She was still shaking from the fire racing up and down her body from her entrance; soon, she would simply fall unconscious from the agony.

That was when she heard brisk, soft footsteps approaching. She looked up, the slightest amount--her vision was blurring already--and saw boots, practical pants, and behind them, a cuffed, striped tail.

So. He saw that she could not finish her task alone, and intended to "help" her--even if doing so caused her an early, tortuous death. Then again, maybe he'd simply cut her head off where she was, and then manipulate her body with his own paws to help the Demon reach his climax and his freedom. Compared to what she was going through, that wouldn't be so bad...

And yet, there were so many more things she'd wanted to do with her life. She was young, and so, vitally alive--she'd never really come to terms with her own mortality, but now, all at once, she was forced to. Would she be missed? The answer to that question was a resounding no. Her parents had disowned her years ago, the ones with whom she satisfied her body's needs never saw her twice, and she had no friends anymore--just the cold, cruel men that would be her executioners.

Her passing would not be an enviable one, and yet, there it was, right in front of her. She'd have to deal with it soon enough.

She shut her eyes, preparing for death or worse. She doubted she'd even be able to spend an eternity with the Prince, like she'd wanted to--she'd either fade away or burn, forever, until she more of a shell than a soul.

And then she felt the tiger's paw--big, cold, and rippling with power--take hold of her chin. Almost crushing her diminutive mandible, he forced her to look up, into his eyes--and then he slapped her sharply across the face.

"You're not going to fail me now," he murmured. "Do you understand? Not now. Not after all the work I've done. When the Vatican caught up to us in Nevada, do you think I pulled you out of that building because I like you? No, damn it, it's because you're the only one who can do this. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He seethed those final few words with such violent force behind them that she could not disobey. Somehow, she forced herself to turn her head up, again, so that her vibrant emeralds met the tiger's endless black tunnels.

She had never really gotten used to his eye color. It was unnerving from a distance, and she'd always tried to avoid looking directly at him from up close. His hair was blond, flaxen in color, and yet she had never, ever seen eyes so perfectly black. They were neither mesmerizing nor attractive--they were off-putting in a sinister, ominous manner. It was almost as if simply looking at him for too long would cause her death, or perhaps a more subtle, yet more brutal end to her existence.

Now, the vixen was almost sucked into the darkness. She almost lost herself, then, to the sheer magnitude of his personality--but, somehow, even in her weakened, pained state, she managed to pull herself out. And in doing so, she showed herself that she was not just a stunningly beautiful vixen, not just a woman, not just a device for their cause. She was a person too, just as alive and powerful and engaging and worthy to serve the Prince as the tiger--and she would live to see her efforts through.

For a moment, her shoulders heaved. Then, the expression on her face changed, and she bared her teeth at the tiger. She gave her muzzle a shake--and then snapped at his fingers.

"Don't you ever touch me again. Ever," she snarled. "I don't need your guidance anymore. I'm my own person."

She did not say those final sentences out loud, but the tiger apparently understood it regardless. And that mentality, that rugged, vicious individualism--that was what they were fighting for. That was what they were willing to harm and even kill themselves over, if their immortal selves would be bettered because of it.

He didn't smile, of course. Or show any sign of appreciation or congratulation. She was her own person--she didn't need his validation to be secure about that, or anything else. He simply nodded, once, before turning on the ball of his foot and promptly walking away. He did not turn back until he was a safe distance from the Demon again--and by then, the vixen had gritted her teeth and forced herself several more inches backward.

The pain was significant and terrible, but it was not overwhelming. Nothing could overwhelm her, not anymore, not as long as she remembered that the flame that marked her existence was eternal and impossible to extinguish. No force from the Heavens, the Earth, or Hell itself could force her to forget her existence as an immortal, infinitely powerful soul.

Her body had its limits, that was true. But she did not, especially when she was in service of the Prince. She would test her body to beyond what it was normally capable of, force it to failure, and then pick it back up and force it a little more. Such was her dedication to the realization of her true omnipotence.

She was continuing to force herself backward, but she did not feel the hot sear that would signal when her rump finally met the Demon's thighs. That meant that she was going too slow. The vixen took her paws off her knees and put them on the ground, and then, with a final, brutal shove--she felt his member hilt itself inside of her.

For a moment, she simply stayed where she was, attempting to grow acclimated to the feeling of such an impossibly large body deep inside of her. And yet, the more she tried to, and the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that her body could take the abuse she was putting it through for long. Where his member reached into her, she neither knew nor wanted to consider--but it was clear that her time was limited. She would have to make him finish soon, or she would simply be too injured to complete her task.

And so she began to move. At first, it wasn't much, but the less experienced men she'd been with had reached the climaxes of their own pleasures at that much or less. The vixen still wasn't aware exactly how, but apparently the gyrations she executed while getting used to the size of a better endowed partner made the soft folds of fat on her ass shake in a manner that was absolutely intoxicating. Indeed, she did feel sort of sexy, despite everything, as she felt her ass repeatedly come into contact with, and then leave, her partner's flesh.

And he was enjoying it too. If she concentrated, she could feel the several pulsating veins that raced up and down his cock quiver with increasing excitement as she continued to mate him. They pulsed with blood, deep inside of her, so hot and active and alive that his sexual energy transferred to her and encouraged her to do more--and so she did, feeling her initial discomfort and pain slowly start to subside.

She was even starting to like this.

Still, much of her lower body felt numb. Her paws stayed on the ground to support herself, and most of her motion came from her core. Even as the vixen began to breathe marginally harder, with both excitement and exertion, she felt herself grip the Demon's member, holding onto it tightly when she pulled forward, and almost swallowing it deeper into her when she pressed back. She'd never experienced such primal, sexual need before, ever--she doubted that any mortal could make her feel the way she did then.

Slowly, feeling began to re-enter her legs, from her feet upward. Inch by cubic inch, the muscle under her fur, fell under her control again. In a minute, she had control of her legs up to her knees--and that was enough for her to be a little... risqué.

In her life, she had worked a number of occupations. Of course, for a few months in her early teens, she'd flipped burgers, but that job had quickly fallen by the wayside as she'd discovered more profitable ventures. Indeed, the longest single position she'd held was that of an erotic dancer--she'd stripped for a full three years of her life, full time, and in that time she'd learned what drove the male population of the world mad with lust.

It was a move she'd learned from pornos and rap videos alike, and it had taken her the longest time to get right. It was hard to practice without setting up multiple mirrors in the same room, and it was harder again for her again due to her heritage. She was not as well rounded, around the hips, as some other females she'd worked with--she was tight, rather than thick--but even then, in the end, she'd managed it. And learning to do it was like learning to ride a bicycle, because although it had been years since she'd hit the pole, she had never, ever forgotten.

The vixen forced her rump to go completely limp. Then, she used her lower legs and core to do the work, moving herself back and forth again with a sort of sinusoidal influence. Her motion would come and go in waves, and this caused her rump to jiggle, rhythmically, as she mated him. This was an act that was far more erotic even than the treatment she'd laid on him before, and it showed. Even as she looked back at her partner, over her shoulder, she saw his head shift--and then deftly turn, so that his eyes could rest on her gyrating, shaking form.

The red of her cheeks hid most of her blush. The Demon's approval was not required to make the vixen aware of who she was or what she was capable--she needed no one's validation for that--but there was no denying that it was flattering. He appreciated what she was doing, so much so that he had sacrificed moving his limbs in order to watch her. Perhaps she would bring him to climax, after all--perhaps she would live to see him in his full, free, glory.

Her legs were reluctant to regain feeling in their entirety, and so the vixen was forced to cease her act sooner than she would have preferred. Breathing slowly and deeply, with a lust as potent as the forearm-sized member inside of her, she licked her lips and looked up at the Demon again. A vein the size of her finger throbbed in his neck, and his Adam's apple very nearly bobbed, as if he was gulping to regain his breath--that made her smile, still panting, and reach back with a paw to give her own butt a sharp smack. That made it shake again, just a little, before she gritted her teeth and began to pull herself forward, off of his member.

His cock had been quite humanoid in appearance, but now, it felt barbed, like a feline's. Or maybe it was just her perception. Either way, his member simply did not want to leave the wet, welcoming heat of her body, as it resisted her every inch of the way. Once, when she was approaching the girthy, rigid midsection of his cock, the vixen lost her balance, just for a second--and that was enough to pull her two inches backward.

At last, though, she approached the fat head of his member. And that was the hardest part of all to remove from her body--the Demon's cockhead seemed to have swelled up to the size of a grapefruit or more, because again the vixen couldn't help but feel a great deal of pain as she felt her tight entrance envelope him. But in the end, she pulled herself off, with enough force to very nearly fall over.

She worried, for a moment, that she might have been permanently injured, but even as she lay there, on all fours, she reached back to examine herself with a finger... and, to her surprise, and pleasure, she found that her slit was every bit as tight as ever, almost as if she was a virgin again--or better.

Panting, for a moment, she simply lay there. She felt the disapproval of her fellows, but ignored it--they didn't understand what it was like for the Demon, to eye the female that he'd almost injured with his cock as she lay there, before him panting and softly murring with arousal like a bitch in heat. But she understood it, though--and that's why she simply lay there, moaning in an odd mix of pain and pleasure, as she toyed with herself right in front of him.

In time, though, that ended. The vixen turned around but did not stand up. Instead, she took a few steps forward, on her knees, and again wrapped her lips around his swollen, lubricated member.

Transitioning from sex to oral loving was a rare treat, especially for her. After just moments of mating with the vixen, almost every male she'd ever been with simply couldn't do anything to last any longer. And even those that had managed to last out found themselves finishing in her maw--she'd never had a partner that she could do it all with, punctuating different positions and styles with oral to cool down.

But the Demon would be able to take it. The moment she'd set a finger on his massive, virile cock, the vixen had felt the power in it and behind it. And she had decided, then and there, that it would take a multi-course meal of sex with him to bring him freedom, and a climax, she was increasingly sure, that would cover her in--bliss.

She began to fellate him immediately, and this time, she didn't need to grow acclimated to the size of his cock. Shutting her eyes to concentrate on her task, she stroked the behemoth sword penetrating her lips with both paws, even as she massaged the head and first several inches of the Demon's cock with her lips, tongue, and hot, loving throat.

She tasted herself on him, but she didn't care. The flavor wasn't off-putting in the slightest, and it was so subtle that she barely noticed it. Indeed, the several partners she'd been with that had been willing to return the favor of oral had commented on how clean and fresh she was, right to the very core.

The vixen found herself being increasingly intimate with her partner. She made eye contact with him--blushed--and held it. Her paws massaged his member in a manner that was difficult to describe: she squeezed him, gently, rhythmically, as her paws glided over his monstrous appendage. The entire time through, she suckled at his massive, swollen head--her jaw was stretched and starting to get a little sore, but she sort of enjoyed that. It truly was a treat to have a partner that was able to physically dominate her in such a manner, even when he was crucified.

"I bet you like this, don't you?" She wasn't aware of what she'd said until several second later--then she blinked, blushed, but continued to speak, her lips rubbing against the hot, slick head of his member as she repeatedly stroked him with her paws.

"I bet you like watching me suck your big, fat, giant cock... watching me hurt myself for you." She let out a low, needy moan, and moved his member in a circular manner so that its head rubbed against her face, her chin, and her eyes.

"You're so beautiful--you're so evil," she murmured lustily. "I can't wait until you're free. I can't wait for it--I'm willing to kill this slutty, horny body to see you free. Would you like that?" she asked. "Would you like to split me apart? Or maybe choke me?... it's up to you, big boy. I'll take it however you want it..."

To demonstrate how serious she was, the vixen suddenly sunk her head deep down on his cock. She did not take in a deep breath before doing so, which meant that her lungs were only half-full at best--she had enough air to deepthroat him, safely, for just a few seconds and no more. And yet she stayed where she was, gagging and swallowing pathetically against his cock, as if it was simply an obstruction in her throat.

She looked up into the Demon's eyes as long as she could, but soon, she simply had to close her eyes to concentrate on what she was doing. The vixen's pale green orbs vanished, but her determination did not. All of her face was red, by then, even the significant parts that were white-furred--her arms shook, involuntarily, as her body struggled to overcome her mind and force her back, away from the massive stick of meat threatening to suffocate her.

But she persevered.

For just a second, she opened her eyes again--slowly, shakily, lids shivering and quaking with reluctance in the process. The Demon had not moved still, but his member was as alive and active as ever. It seemed to have grown again, while in the hot embrace of her throat. Hopefully, she would be able to pull away when it was finally time to do so.

She stayed on him, though, until her eyes began to roll to the back of her head. Only when she saw darkness and oddly colored pulsating shapes did she pull off his cock with an almighty gag.

Coughing, for a few seconds, the vixen regardless stroked at his member with both paws. She tried to catch her breath but couldn't for a frighteningly long time--and that amused her, somehow, so much so that she looked up at her partner with a smirk on her face that could only be described as devilish in nature.

"You're gonna hurt me," she murmured. She managed to force herself to stop gagging and swallowing against the palatable pain his member left in her throat long enough to collect some of the mixed sexual fluid in her mouth, and then spit it, wetly, all over the Demon's cock. "And if I'm not careful," she continued, lasciviously looking up into his eyes with her own sly, half-lidded orbs, "you might just kill me with this giant thing."

She considered mating him again, but for now it seemed that doggystyle was the only thing that they were capable of. Perhaps a brief break from vaginal would be appreciated--and it would give the Demon a chance to calm down, perhaps, and search around within his mind and the marvelously powerful body he was trapped in. There might have been a weak point, although, in their experience, this was usually not so. Over the centuries, churches had lost thousands of their finest fighting the Prince's followers, and they were always respectful of their fallen brothers' sacrifices.

Still--it would do no harm to take a brief break.

The vixen thought, briefly, considering whether to use her mouth or her breasts, primarily, to please the Demon. The cup or so of cum and spit she'd slathered onto his cock began to fall off, though, and she wouldn't have that--moving quickly, the vixen swiveled around on her legs so that she had her mouth hungrily open, facing upward as her head dived below his cock--

She caught most of the creamy fluid in her maw, then, although a fair amount did spill out onto her chin and snout and face. She didn't know what she planned to do from there, until a moment later, when an idea occurred to her.

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, the vixen shut her eyes--and then, deftly, swallowed the unclean liquid collected in her mouth. It required two gulps--no, three, to get it all down, and once it had vanished down her hot, welcoming throat, she made eye contact with the Demon again and licked out the inside of her mouth, as if to get all of the taste of his cum and her spit she could.

And then he made a major breakthrough. He moved--and not just a little. His fingers were no longer flexing, or dancing, or reaching to her with the lust associated with centuries of celibacy. He wasn't just breathing any more, and he hadn't simply changed the bearing of his head.

He actually moved his arm forward. Although it twitched and spasmed, and he only had enough control over it to weakly manipulate his hand and fingers, he managed to set his right appendage on the vixen's chest. More than that--he received tactile information from it, so, within seconds, he'd broken past the tremors and resistance crufixion had damned him with and gently, weakly, caressed her breast in his hand.

The wolves grinned at that, maliciously, while the tiger simply nodded his head, shortly, and continued to watch. The vixen made eye contact with him, then, and nodded, before looking back up at the massive meatstick dangling over her head. She had as much time as she wanted to release the Demon--she'd been there for more than a few minutes, already, prostrating herself to his monstrous cock, but if it took her hours to free him, they'd be there, every second... just in case someone, or some_thing_, came along to ruin their plans.

The vixen had planned to welcome his cock into her maw (and more) again, but the view she got from her angle made the Demon's heavy, dangling sack irresistible. From experience, she knew that males did not enjoy having their balls sucked in the physical sense, but there were few things that were more flattering than what she did next.

Rather than preceding a series of sloppy, gentle ministrations involving her tongue and lips with teasing kisses or licks, the vixen went for the gusto. She buried her face in his sack--it was easily large enough for her to do that--and nuzzled his balls in a manner that mortal men would have called rough. But the Demon was not hurt by it, of course. Rather, it could be presumed that he enjoyed it, and greatly.

Shortly, the vixen became aware that her entire face would smell of his cock, but she didn't care by that point. So what if waves of scent radiated off of her face along with heat? If the Demon was released, then any temporary inconveniences were well worth it... and besides, she was surprised to find that she was less than objectionable to the idea of being marked with her partner's musk.

The female's next move was to attempt to suck both of his balls into her moist, hot mouth. She opened her jaws as wide as she could and tilted her head to the side--one got in without much trouble, but the other... she strained, and stretched, but she couldn't get it to slide in on its own. Even when she reached up with a paw to attempt to welcome his other orb into her maw, she couldn't manage it. He was simply much, much too big for her.

And so she sucked on his balls one at a time, guiding them into her maw with her tongue to initiate things. Once they were in, she wriggled her face side to side the slightest bit as she hungrily licked all over them with her tongue. Manipulating her mouth to produce as much saliva as possible, the vixen caressed each orb alternatively with her most skilled orifice, swapping back and forth between both of them.

In seconds, his sack was dripping with her spit, and when she pulled away she let her face remain under his heavy sack just long enough for several drops of the now musky, mixed fluid to drip onto her forehead. By then, her curly, flaming hair was messed up just a little bit from sweat and sexual fluid and having it trapped between her head and the Demon's thighs, but she still somehow managed to look beautiful.

And that was even before she kissed at the underside of the Demon's cockhead and then welcomed it into her mouth with her tongue.

Throatfucking, in fact, was something she had never, ever done before. Initially, it felt quite odd and she couldn't figure out how to suck on him, exactly. Furthermore, the tendency of his cock to stand up straight in the air meant that the vixen was working against a great deal of tensile force indeed--his cock wanted very much to spring back up, but, of course, she couldn't have him deflower her throat in such a manner if that happened.

It took a few seconds for the red-furred vulpine to get him into her throat. He worked with her, it seemed--the potency of his cock didn't change in the slightest, as it remained as hard as a metal bat, but it applied somewhat less painful pressure to the bottom of her maw. No longer did the vixen feel that at any second, she would be launched into the air by the sheer might of his member.

She reached up with both paws and stroked the massive meatstick, gently, even as she walked herself back, further and further, until her feet contacted the Cross. His cock was pointed almost straight down, by then, angling directly into her throat. This entire time, she had pawed at him, or, more accurately, massaged at his cock with her soft, feminine appendages.

Now, however, she sought to bring him closer to completion with more action from her mouth. She couldn't exactly bob her head up and down on him, though--but after a little bit of experimentation, the vixen could that she could lift and lower her entire body to make her maw glide up and down around his cock. And so she did those motions repetitively, harder and faster with each stroke, firmly keeping the seal her lips had attained around his cock.

Her breasts bounced in the air openly, but her nipples were no longer erect because of the cold--the air had heated up around them, after all, due to the Demon's own body heat and the sheer sexual energy released by what they were doing. No, now the lascivious female was aroused, and greatly so. There was a deep, needy hunger in her, now, that she had to satisfy, as she continued to actively throatfuck her static partner.

For a moment, she paused with just the head of his member in her sweet, hot little muzzle. Then, after taking a deep breath in through her nose, she forced herself upward--all the way, until the tip of her snout was pressed into his sack. She breathed in hard, so that he could feel her essentially basking in the smell of his body, and tried to wriggle her body a bit in order to choke down those final few inches--

She gagged violently and involuntarily let out a large portion of his cock, but she wasn't having any of that. Without giving herself a chance to breathe, much less recover, the vixen forced herself upward, hard, and got her lower lip to bury itself in the Demon's pubic hair. That made her grin, a bit, with a sense of accomplishment--but she didn't release his cock from the loving embrace of her mouth and throat. She wouldn't, either, until she was physically incapable of taking it any longer.

She would choke, she imagined, and fall unconscious--but that was alright. She'd simply faint and slump into a wet, sexual mess at the Demon's feet... and soon, his energy and his need and the irresistible scent of his cock would yank her back to her senses. Now, the vixen wasn't holding back, even though she was likely to be permanently injured by what was happening. In fact, the idea of bearing a physical mark on her body that showed her dedication to the Prince sort of pleased her.

And so she shut her eyes and simply focused on remaining stubbornly in the same position. She was gagging, repeatedly, but she wouldn't let that force her away--soon, her entire upper body was shaking with fear and desperation, but she paid no heed to that, either. Her goal, after all, was to cross the line.

She wasn't sure, of course, precisely when she reached her body's limit. She believed it had taken a respectably long time, though, and that her own involuntary twitches, spasms, and struggles around his cock had been arousing in a manner that she could not consciously replicate. When she came to, after all, she was still panting--and although the tiger seemed to have taken a few concerned steps forward, he stopped short, seeing that she would recover, and in a speedy fashion.

She'd achieved her goal completely. Although it continued to aim downward, directly at her, the Demon's member was visibly throbbing, and readily drooling precum. The thick, sexual fluid landed mostly on her neck and chest, but a few long, viscous strands made their way onto her lips. She let it happen, though, and simply smiled blearily at the monster above her. After basking in the glory of the moment for just another few seconds, though, the vixen slithered forward and got back to her knees.

Both of the Demon's hands were free now. More than free--they could move through a respectable range, and seemed to be able to do so in a relatively precise manner. There was less trembling and shaking now, and he was able to feel around in the air before his member until he located her face. Then, immediately, both hands planted themselves on her head--and stayed there. He did not need to push her down to egg her on to starting her task--she was already two steps ahead of him.

Now, the vixen's fellatio was simply wild. There was less intimacy to her motions, less slow, gentle lovemaking. Rather, she immediately wrapped her lips around the head of his member and then rapidly bobbed her head. Her hair could no longer stay smoothly in place, behind her back; it formed a crazed, gyrating mass in the air around her head. The harmonic motion of her maw and throat around his cock was crazed and rapid and wet and messy and hot--although the vixen had to shut her eyes to concentrate and grip on the Demon's hips, hard, she successfully coaxed enough precum out of him to equal the ejaculate produced by normal men... over the course of a week.

It no longer burned her, she noticed with a smile, as she finally pulled off his cock. Nuzzling against the Demon's hands in an affectionate manner, she stood, sashaying her hips the slightest amount as she pressed her body against his. For a few seconds, she simply wrapped her arms around his midsection and hugged him. That was not pleasing in a strictly sexual manner, but it was intimate, and he liked it. She knew this not just through her senses and her intuition, but because his arms, as thick and strong as tree trunks, wrapped around her and hugged her back.

His legs began to quiver, then. His flesh strained against the stakes in his feet--no, for the moment, those would remain, as would the vicious piercing through his neck. But soon, he would be free. Even a Demon, after all, could take the ministrations of the vixen for so long.

"Eager..." she murmured. She would have liked to whisper that into his ear, but he was far too tall for that. Instead, the vixen was forced to nuzzle against his mammoth pectoral, before nonverbally communicating to the Demon what she planned next.

And he liked it.

Using his arms as much as her own two feet for support, the vixen snuggled against her partner as she wrapped her legs around him--barely. He helped her out, though, by lifting her up, and despite everything, that more than intimidated her--it frightened her. He was so strong--when he approached climax, would he lose control and crush her in his overpowerful grasp?... if that happened, she would fail in her purpose.

She resolved to be strong--as strong as he was--until he was free. Then she could collapse, then she could die, as long as the Prince's best servant was released.

Placing her face so close to the Demon's was truly an experience. His breath heated her, making her turn aside for a moment to simply try to get used to things. Several blood vessels in her snout ruptured, but she paid that no need. Blood trickled down her face and chin, dying what few parts of her coat that were white red--and, really, that fit in with what was going on.

Her body burned, but so did her arousal, and so did her invincible will to succeed. She locked her arms around the Demon's, in a manner that she had a fair range of motion--and for a moment released her left arm, so that she could reach down and guide his cock into her.

That had not been necessary. His member was angled directly to her slit by the time she'd prepared to take him standing up. All she'd need to do, really, was to let go, just a little bit, and relish the feeling of that dangerously huge thing entering her again.

As the vixen's slit was again parted by an object as thick as her thigh, she let out a sharp, hungry gasp. Its response was a noticeable tick in the Demon's face--his eyes were not moving, yet, but they did flicker. And he did seem to move his jaw, as well, as the pain he'd been screaming about for the past hundreds of years began to die down.

Wriggling herself, just a little, so as to make his entry into her that much more erotic, the vixen felt herself get farther, and farther, and farther down. As she did, his arms seemed to gain strength; more blood flowed through them than ever before and now they were positively rippling with power. Yet, their grip on her remained gentle, at least for the moment. At least until she felt him hilt himself in her, her sweet, tight rump pressing against his balls.

She would have liked to enjoy that feeling for a little bit longer. But now was the Demon's time to take control.

His control of his core and legs was still tenuous, at best, but he could move his arms more or less how he wanted to. His legs were starting to get some power as well, and that meant that he could lift the vixen up, a few inches, and then press her down on him again.

It was as if he'd never been with a woman before, and, now that she thought of it, that was entirely possible. His motions were so firm, so masculine, and yet so experimental--he wasn't sure if he was doing it properly, it seemed. But what he was doing felt good... so, he did it a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper.

For her part, the vixen was moaning out loud. It was true that she'd been mated both harder and faster in her life, many times, but she'd never taken in nearly as deep before. He lifted her almost two feet up off his thighs, and then pressed her down again with ever increasing frequency and power. He seemed cautious, as if smashing her down balls deep with each thrust would break her in half--but she was okay. She was more than okay--she wanted it. She wanted it badly.

"Come on, big boy. Give it to me," she panted. She looked up at his face--his eyes were still glazed over and static, but soon, that phase too would end. She looked forward to the fast approaching time when he could look back into her eyes--she longed to see the lust burning within him while she felt its effects.

The vixen gave her hair a long, luxurious toss, so that the brilliantly red cascade shone through the air for just a few seconds. She wasn't sure why, but men seemed to like it when she did that, even if it was during the heat of sex--and the Demon certainly did. When she allowed her hair to shimmer in his full view, he pressed her down against his groin, hard, and rewarded her efforts and affections with a full half-cup of precum.

It seemed that they were taking a break for a moment, and although the vixen wanted nothing more than for her partner to fuck her senseless--or perhaps into oblivion--she welcomed his desires. Her breasts rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, and soon, she was just grinning and murring and grinding herself down against him with desire. She'd been brought to orgasm already, she noted--and the Demon's true power was still far to come.

"Mm, yeah, you are a stud, aren't you?" she murmured. She pulled herself up a bit from the reclining position she'd assumed, so that her torso was perpendicular to the ground again. She was, of course, far smaller than the Demon, but now she really felt dwarfed by his might. She could barely nuzzle against his upper chest, and she had to really strain to plant a kiss on his prominent jawline. After that, however, she felt satisfied enough to just stroke her partner's massive arms, shut her eyes, and wait for him to mate her again.

His sword was still deep inside of her, and now, it no longer felt foreign and unwanted. It was true that it had displaced a great deal of flesh in her, but she was still alive somehow--and she wasn't bleeding, or in any undue pain. He felt absolutely natural in her, as if she was born and bred to fuck him into consciousness... and that thought comforted her, and galvanized her resolve to see her task through to the end, and live to continue to serve the Prince afterwards. She was not going to die there, or be permanently injured by her partner's fantastic member. She was going to go on...

She had just had that thought when the Demon began to move again. His legs were struggling against the stake in his feet, now, and his core rippled with pure, raw energy. Even as he began to mate her again--slowly, and shallowly, for the moment--the vixen couldn't help but gasp and watch his sleek, defined belly pulsate with blood and heat and power. True, she was being burned by him, somewhat--but that was the last thing on her mind with a cock the size of a baseball bat fully inside of her.

Now that he had greater control of his body, she really began to feel him. He was still going extremely slowly, for the moment, but each of his upward thrusts were powerful enough to make her entire body shake, and send a dull thud of impact across the nighttime meadow. The ground was moved as well with each impulse--the wolves and the tiger felt the power of the Demon as well thanks to the vibrations transmitted through their bodies.

His face began to twitch, then, in a manner that was painful simply to look at. With great apparent effort, he managed to get his jaw to close, and move his head around just a little--but that was as far as he could get. It seemed that he would not be able to mate the vixen fully conscious and able--he would have to finish in order to become fully free.

And how he wanted freedom. In seconds, there was no experimentation, no concern for the vixen's well-being or pleasure left. The Demon simply pounded at her with the mad desperation of a being that had been trapped in the worst pain and solitude for half a millennium and terribly, vitally wanted out, out, out!

Now, she was no longer moaning. She simply cried out loud, a long, high-pitched call that would have been monotonous if it was not altered every time the Demon's hips came crashing forward. She was in pain now, but she wanted more--she needed his cock and cum more than she could express in words.

And yet now things were starting to get truly dangerous. As fascinating and awesome as the activities going on in front of them were, the vixen's male comrades started to move away. Dark energy was rippling through the air with such concentration that it was stifling--they couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but heart-wrenching, primal fear.

The tiger picked his sword up and walked backward with a defensive snarl on his face. He did not sheathe the weapon--it wasn't just any blade, he held it in both paws with the quiet precision of a master of its true power. The Demon could not be killed or severely injured by a normal sword--but if worst came to worst and he did not realize that the vixen's fellows were also servants of the Prince, the tiger would not hesitate to send him back to Hell, and this time, keep him there.

The wolves were appropriately armed as well, with firearms loaded with ammunition they'd stolen from a Catholic arsenal in northern Italy--together with the feline male, they could take the Demon down, hopefully. But from here on out, the vixen was on her own. Whatever happened to her; whether she was killed, consumed, or eternally damned... was all on her.

Now, the vixen's fur was starting to get singed as the heat off the Demon's body grew, proportionally with his power. She felt nothing but pain from the many burns starting to cover her body, from his arms, now almost crushing her to death, and from his massive, forearm-sized cock, plunging in and out of her to turn her insides into mush.

And yet she wanted more. More, more, more, and more, until she burned alive or was broken by his arms or his cock alike--she no longer cared at all about the safety of her body. In fact, she felt that her own pleasure would be greatest if she was killed--then she'd be a martyr for the Prince's sake and would surely enjoy all the rewards that came along with that.

And so when she felt caution rise in her partner, she raised her hand--and slapped him across the face.

"Fuck me, you stud," she snarled. "Don't stop--don't slow down--I want to feel it in my chest," she hissed seductively and threateningly all at once. Although her paw throbbed painfully from when she'd struck the Demon--his bones were made of heavy iron, it seemed, and his face still could not move--she slapped him again, this time digging into his flesh with her blunt claws.

"Come on, you fucking beast," she challenged him. "Fuck me to death."

For a moment, the frenzied yet sane pace at which he mated her stayed the same, or even slowed down. Then, for the first time, light entered the Demon's eyes, as hot and red and vicious as Hell itself.

"Your wish is my command..."

Her eyes widened. Did he say that--

And then she was all but literally torn apart.

His arms held her down with such force that it was a wonder that her spine did not telescope. At the same time, his member moved in and out of her with full strokes. With each outward pull, the invisible barbs on his cock tore at her hot, wet slit and with each inward thrust his cockhead reached new, untested depths inside of her. Perhaps her request would be granted--maybe she really would feel his cock in her chest.

But the vixen was brave. She wasn't crying out in pain or for mercy or for a quicker death--she was egging him on, constantly, encouraging him to mate her harder, deeper, faster. And so he did, with the full strength of his core, and his arms, and his upper legs. He still tested the stakes driven through his feet, and his head was still mostly immobile--but she could see his strength growing, and gathering, with ever increasing speed and vehemence.

For a few seconds, the red-haired female buried her muzzle against her partner's massive pectoral. She could feel tears streaming from her eyes, down her cum and saliva stained cheeks onto his rippling, red skin--she knew that she was in severe pain indeed, but the endless feelings of lust and pleasure he was giving her more than canceled them out.

Already, she had orgasmed several times. But her partner's ever-increasing power was driving her pleasure to levels she could not have previously conceived. Every time he plunged his sword into her, she was struck with such force that if it wasn't for his mammoth arms holding her still, she would have been launched several feet into the air.

She would have been bleeding profusely if his cock wasn't hot enough to immediately cauterize any wounds it created--as much as he harmed her, he healed her, but the pain and the energy and the sheer lust of what was going on was enough to make the vixen wrap all four of her limbs around him as tightly as she could and beg him to make her his bitch.

Her tail, roughly as long as her legs and as thick as her petite waist, swayed beneath her in ecstasy. Now and then, it would go down to fondle his balls of its own accord--she was too "distracted" to consciously please him in return, but her body had bonded to him in a way that it never had to another partner, and that it never would again.

Now the Demon could look around. He could move his head, above the inch-thick nail in his neck, and see the sky and the forest and the grass of a living, breathing Earth for the first time in centuries. Or, rather, he could have done all those things--but he only had eyes for the moaning, sweating, gyrating female in his grasp.

With a burst of exertion, he shut his maw. Tested his mandibles. And then, before the vixen could prepare herself for it, he smothered her with kisses so raw and hot and alive that they branded the shape of his lips onto her flesh. Now, she did scream in pain, but only for a little while--she needed whatever he had to offer her.

His feet kicked forward, finally breaking free of their painful confines. The stakes that had pinned them to the Cross flew out with such speed that when one of them struck the slower of the two wolves, he would have been killed instantly--impaled--if it hadn't turned in midair so that the side, rather than the smaller cross section, came in contact with his chest. As it was, he went down with a terrible bruise and perhaps a fractured rib.

He was so close. So close. So close to his climax, and freedom. His strength was growing by the second but he would not be released until he found his release in the vixen, and it remained to be seen if she'd die before, or after he came into her. There was a possibility that he'd kill her too quickly, before cumming, and completely destroy her body with his vicious cock... but somehow it seemed that this was not to be.

By all rights, the vixen ought to have been burned, crushed, and impaled long ago. But she was still there, in the Demon's arms, begging for him to mate her into oblivion. Somehow she was there, and not bleeding, or dying, or screaming in agony. Rather, her ever increasing pleasure was what threatened to tear her apart--she knew that she'd never, ever have sex so good again in her life, so she wanted it to end, soon, before she became addicted to the Demon's cock. No mortal partner would ever excite her and overdominate her like the Demon did... and once he was free, the Demon would have better things to do than to satisfy her sexual desires. Or even his.

She squeezed her legs together, as if in an effort to push the oversized member plunging into her body out and away. In fact, she was trying to make herself even tighter for him--how desperately she wanted to feel however many rivers of cum his balls held in store pumped deep into her. True, she was being split apart by his cock, but she didn't care. She just wanted to feel his seed rush into her slit.

The Demon's power did not increase, but his speed did. From their positions, perhaps two dozen yards away, the vixen's male fellows looked with squinted eyes through displayed dirt and rapidly moving air and a massive quantity of black, evil energy and saw only a blur--

And then the Demon paused, just for a moment. Tilted his neck to the side until an explosive, sharp crack was heard. Light had fully entered his eyes, and, at last, he had full control of his body. So he looked down at the small female, quivering and murring and moaning in her arms.

"How nice it is to be back."

He grinned, leaned forward, and planted an almost tender kiss on the vixen's forehead. Then, with a harsh, maniacal howl, his hips came crashing forward one last time.

The force of his climax was nearly enough to make the vixen slip through his vice-like grasp. How she took it all was a miracle in itself, but she did--and she did so without letting a drop of his magna-hot cum slip out from where it belonged. His balls quivered--no, pulsated, visibly, in his loose sack, overloading themselves to fill the vixen up as much as they possibly, possibly could.

Such was the discharge of sheer, raw energy that it was almost like a large incendiary device had gone off. The meadow was instantly fried; the grass became nothing more than ash and dust, and trees for some yards in all directions were burning, pouring dozens of cubic yards of thick, black smoke into the sky above. The scene was visible from miles away, or more, and by all rights, the vixen, and her fellows, ought to disintegrated with the meadow.

And yet the tiger and wolves stood, not twenty yards from the Demon. The canines' expressions were still shocked, and frightened--whereas the tiger was stoic, calm, his eyes as cold and dark and emotionless as ever.

His sword was in his paw, held high in the air. The posture he assumed--and, shortly, the posture the wolves assumed as well--was neither passive nor submissive. Rather, he was showing himself off as an ally, a comrade-in-arms, a fellow warrior dedicated to seeing the Prince restored to power. The identical cloaks he and the wolves wore protected them. Even the pile of cloth on the ground that the vixen had once worn had escaped the destruction unscathed, just moved.

For a few moments, it was impossible to see anything more than a silhouette where the Demon had been crucified. Fires still burned in his apparent immediate vicinity, and elsewhere as well as the final bits of flammable mass in the area consumed themselves. He seemed to have taken a few steps away from the Cross--fallen to his knee--and then, slowly, carefully, maliciously stood up.

The vixen was nowhere to be seen.

"Serpent and Lion, I Invoke Thee," the tiger said loudly. It was a password, of sorts--a phrase used down the centuries so that true servants of the Prince could identify one another. No member of any sort of church could say it, after all.

And yet there seemed to be no reaction. Not for a moment, until the Demon shrugged his shoulders--and then extended a pair of massive, pure black wings. Only after he had a chance to stretch them, a bit, and give himself a shake did he really begin to move.

He grabbed the Cross in his paws. Lifted it up, turned it upside down, and then dug it back into the ground, billowing flames.

The tiger did not shift an inch, did not blink. The wolves were tempted to--but they too stood strong and stoic, albeit with their weapons half-leveled at the Demon. And in time, he emerged from the smoke and the flames, calm, proud, malicious, cruel, and massively, terribly powerful.

He was a thousand times as impressive "alive" and breathing and walking as he had been pinned to the Cross. He had grown in size, somewhat, and although he was not armed in the normal sense of the word, his hands now sported claws, roughly as long as his fingers and viciously sharp. His fangs too had grown, overhanging his chin now by several inches. As he moved, he seemed to shimmer with the same resonance that waves of heat did--and so there was an implicitly ethereal feel about him, even when he got to within ten yards of the males.

"I am Invoked."

The Demon looked back and forth over the three men, several times. He was apparently satisfied by what he saw.

He raised his hand, then, and held it out to each of the males in turn. The massive appendage merely drifted past the wolves--but it lingered on the tiger for a long, dangerous, trying moment. In fact, the Demon stepped closer to the feline, and then closer still, until one of his extended claws nearly tapped the tiger's nose.

"You have done well," the Demon murmured. "You have led the Prince's only servants in these difficult times... your rewards will be great." His lips, parched and black and glistening with heat and a liquid that was not water, split into a deep, dark smile.

The tiger nodded. There was neither satisfaction in him nor happiness of any sort--just cold, calculating acceptance. But a second later, his eyes moved away from the Demon, past him, to that smoldering point in the field where the vixen had once stood. Then, irreverent of the giant standing a foot away from him, he stepped to the side and picked the female's cloak up.

He held it in his hands, then, and simply waited for what seemed like a foolishly long time. There was nothing--there was no chance that the vixen had survived the Demon's climax. She was just a mortal, after all, and what the Demon had done to her could have killed angels.

And yet there she was, alive, uninjured, walking forward through the smoke and ash and fire. She seemed to float across the ground on her feet, as she commonly did, and as she got closer it quickly became apparent that she was as beautiful and voluptuous and alive as she had been before. Maybe even more so.

She walked past the Demon without a second of hesitation and bowed her head in nonverbal acknowledgement as the tiger held the cloak up so that she could slip her arms into its sleeves with ease. A moment later, she was dressed modestly, practically again, as if she was just another servant of the Prince, not a female with needs and emotions and the sexual prowess to set Demons free.

For some moments, the Prince's greatest servants simply looked at one another. Looked into one another. Theirs was a difficult mission, but they would never neglect their duties. No extreme was beyond them--they would burn churches; bomb orphanages; rape, pillage, plunder, loot; they would kill; they would die; and they would use--and stand against--the most cruel forms of torture never to enter history books.

Many adventures lie ahead of them. As did much work. And so they moved out, in a rough phalanx formation. Again the tiger led them; he was not the most powerful among them anymore but he was the one with the greatest mind, as sharp and cruel and cold as a polished piece of ice.

The possibilities, now, were without end. The hardships they'd experienced in the past lay there in the meadow behind them, forgotten and burning--they walked with an emotion too black and malicious to be called hope into a future of their creation.

But the vixen, at least, would never be able to truly put behind her what she had done that night, and the pleasure she had received...

Soon, the world itself burned.

Soon, the Prince would return.

(And that's it. I guess the ending basically sucks, but eh, this is a mindless sex piece. There will be no sequel, but that's no excuse to fail to review, rate, and fave as necessary! Let me know what you think, lads. I kind of like this one. Anyway, see you around soon.)