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Mahiri was always a little weird when she talked about her. Michael had known the leopardess for years by that point, and had been fucking her for just as long too. Yet for as well as he might have understood her, there still remained a few pieces of her psyche he never could figure out. She had an enigmatic aura about her, and it was hot. Of all her little mysteries there were none more confounding than hearing her speak about the one known as Shirazi.

A friend? A lover? A stalker? A mysterious benefactor? All of those titles seemed to apply when Mahiri alluded to that unseen figure. It was always with fondness. Sometimes with a particular look in her eyes as if that bright green had changed in hue ever so slightly to the darker, reflecting some small decrease in her inner light. If it was some kind of long-running prank, it had long since come time for the punchline. When Michael asked her when he was going to finally meet that mythical being, Mahiri had always said [i]someday[/i]. Until, for whatever reason, she changed that answer to [i]soon[/i].

He had to admit to a bit of nervousness about it all. Mahiri herself had a deeply feisty side that even he was afraid to mess with. If it was all coming to a head just so she could ambush him and unleash her most feral urges, that was reason enough to be worried. For his bedsheets at the least, all soft and unshredded as they were. Yet as much as he knew stories were just stories and the only things that could really hurt him at least made logical sense, he wondered at the shadows and the watching figure he had been so briefly glimpsing there. Telling himself it was just his imagination was getting old.

It was starting to affect his sleep. His usual boring dreams were haunted by a [i]presence[/i], by the mere thought of what she could have been. He still didn't know what she looked like, creating an amalgamation of admittedly sexy figures to stalk him through his memories of childhood homes and flashes of buried traumas. At least he had managed to drift off quickly that particular night. Until something woke him. A tremendous [i]THUMP[/i] on the roof of his home jolted him back to semi-awareness in the cold and the dark. He had only just barely managed to reach over for the bedside lamp when the sound of glass shattering came from downstairs, along with the blaring of an intruder alarm.

What was especially odd about that was that Michael had never installed one. The discordant sound coming from just a few rooms away rang on and on, activating his fight or flight response as much as it simply hurt his ears, even muffled by his bedroom door. He knew he should have been rushing down to see what all the noise was, and maybe to chase off a possible burglar. Yet nothing could have made him climb out from under the safety of his covers right then.

The alarm died down in time, replaced instead by more shattering sounds, as if someone was flinging his dinnerware across the kitchen. The unhinged snicker that followed all but confirmed his suspicions. He knew a hyena cackle when he heard one. It definitely didn't belong to anyone he knew, though. Keedee's laughter made him smile, or turned him on. It didn't leave him feeling so suddenly frigid, rattling beneath the all-too-thin covers, feeling desperate for a little comfort and warmth to banish such a terrible sensation.

There was only one thing to do. Despite the chill, the lion soon found himself climbing out from under the covers, flicking the light back off, and crawling under his own bed. The terror in his veins didn't allow for any other course of action. He tucked himself away as best he could with that strong, handsome frame of his. It wasn't perfect. He knew it was futile anyway. Great, thumping footsteps were approaching, as if the intruder was twelve feet tall. She announced herself with a deep, powerful bellow of a voice that sounded as if it was coming from all around him, barked from a surround sound system that was somehow inside him too.

“MICHAEL."

He bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

“I CAN SURMISE THE ENTIRETY OF THIS WORLD WITH THE VISION I POSSESS. YOU CANNOT HIDE FOR LONG."

Though she stepped up to the bedroom door, she didn't open it. Instead he heard his closet creaking open. Slowly. With it came a guttural rumbling like a growl, something wet, and a droning noise as if to create her own ambience. He didn't look, only listened. Her voice came again, shaky, trembling with excitement or something else.

“The creator's nightmare walks embodied in your dwelling place. I am realized. I keep the sun held down. Guardians of decency falter before my will."

She spoke much more calmly, as if explaining something to him. Michael didn't know what. He remained where he was, not daring to move or breathe as she paced his bedroom. The sound of her opening his dresser drawers and rifling through the contents made him arch his brow slightly. All was tense again when she approached the bed. This time he allowed himself to look, and spotted a big pair of paws and silver-furred legs on the approach. She stood there, just outside his hiding spot, lingering for as long as she liked to drag out his tension and leave his chest burning from lack of air.

When he saw her face, it was from the wrong angle. With her toes pointed towards him he shouldn't have seen those smiling jaws poised between her knees, gleaming at him, eyes glowing deepest red. He didn't want to imagine how she was bending to look at him like that. There was only screaming. Recoiling, scrambling, sliding deeper under the bed, he resisted her with the utmost desperation while she dragged him out into the open air, muttering nonsense that filled both his ears at once.

“Gutter scraped in the fallen hours. Licked things dancing in the dark."

He hoped it was nonsense anyway. The worst thing about it all was the feeling he somehow knew what she was talking about. Everything he did to resist her felt so very weak as long as he was in her grasp. She had him by the wrist and mane, and he could only flail about, knocking at the underside of his bed as she hauled him into her arms. Up he went, lifted with little effort, to find his half-naked body pressed against the bare, striped fur of a smiling demoness. He understood what he was dealing with in an instant, simply basking in her presence. Her scent was as sinful as her fur was thick and soft. He was immersed in her in an instant, and concerned how much he wondered how she tasted.

Even with the lights off, the room was bright enough to see her well thanks to the glow of her eyes. They emitted an ominous light that bathed his familiar surroundings in uncertainty, that made the shadows seem unnatural and her shapely form all the more enticing. He got a better look at her when she pushed him down on his bed, right back where he started. Sprawled out and gazing over her, he watched as she posed for him with that nightmare grin on her face.

Shirazi raised her arms and arched her hips, swinging that surprisingly fluffy tail, letting him take in the full breadth of her body. Of course he liked what he saw. There was no denying the appeal of such immodest curves, of a bust that looked so soft and squeezable, of hips so wide and thighs to thick he couldn't resist the thought of gripping them tightly. A trace of his gaze along the slight rise of her belly let him take in the sleek, black folds of an obscenely wet pussy, so casually displayed, steaming with lusty heat. Her scent was impossible to ignore, swimming into his mind, helping lessen but never fully douse the fear.

“It's you, isn't it," he finally managed to say, wishing his voice didn't sound so small.

“I see inside you. You feel as if you've known me from the start. Born perceiving the jester's glow. How many times did you speak to her and wonder if it was really me?"

“Oh god ..."

She had an immediate reaction to that word, face suddenly so much closer to his. Her words came through clenched teeth.

“NO. The throne is but a whisper. I am your afterlife now. Witness faith made flesh."

“... Okay." He took a breath, trying his best to fight the panic.. “So it's you. Shirazi. Yeah?"

His heart was still pounding, but he fought to at least make some sense of the situation. Said pounding extended to his cock, tending up in his boxers too. Even just swapping breath was her was arousing enough he felt muscles twitching in places they rarely did. She was inflicting him with all new kinds of desire just by being what she was. Though she didn't bother to answer, the flash of [i]something[/i] in her eyes told him he was right. That at least helped him make a little more sense of the moment. The mortal terror never fully went away as she loomed, clicking her teeth together. He needed further clarification.

“Are you just here to murder me or can we actually talk a little?"

That made her beam at him. God, she had so many teeth. Even for a hyena, they were too pointy and plentiful, framing a cavern of pitch black flesh. He thought about what it might have felt like to be entirely enveloped by those assuredly deadly jaws. Would she use those fangs, or that long, lashing tongue drag him away to be safely swallowed? What terrors awaited him in the depths of a demoness? Such hypotheticals were likely to become reality, and he wasn't sure he had any choice about it.

“I shall ignite you with the flames of obsession. Your every breath shall be mine to grasp. And you will know me by the weight of the extinguished who built this mausoleum."

When she reached for him, he flinched. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Holding his ground was accomplishment enough. He couldn't fight her, but he could keep the panic stored away in some inner compartment while she manipulated his body like a puppet. At least he liked the place she put his hands. With her forceful guidance, he realized the dream of wrapping his fingers around as much of her juicy breasts as he could, and squeezing nice and deep to feel that generous squish. She made some sort of clicking noise in response as if echolocating him. That was probably a good thing. Her disturbingly sultry whispers confirmed it, sort of.

“You are doing well. Another you is weeping by this point."

“[i]What[/i]."

“Shhhh. Touch. Feel. Only I remember their screams now."

He stared at her, and at those fat tits he was so freely groping. Once he started, he really couldn't stop. Playing with such a hefty, perfect set was the kind of thing that got that lion rumbling even in the most dire of circumstances like being all alone in his bedroom with a real, living demon. This time he really did understand what she meant. A body built by mortal souls stood before him, and he was hard as hell touching the breasts where she stored what they used to be. Michael wasn't sure what that said about him, or if there was anything to be said at all. He simply let himself enjoy that forbidden feeling, groping the demoness, gripping her tightly, pressing her breasts together just to see the delightful ways they squished.

She seemed calm for a minute or two of horny touching, until there came a sudden rattling from within her, a growl that was more akin to malfunctioning machinery than anything a living creature could make.

“Long I have observed your days. Rippled, blurred, exposed. Fixated like the basest beast."

“Y-yeah?" He admittedly wondered where she was going with that, if anywhere.

“Desire rising to fixation. I have wanted you." She was smiling in such a way that Michael couldn't help but mirror her horrific expression, no matter how unnatural such a wide grin felt on his face. “All the more for the fondness she speaks of you in her voice of honey."

He perked up at that. Hopefully he was following her correctly.

“You mean Mahiri?"

The smile that came over Shirazi was unsettlingly normal at the mention of that name. For several seconds straight, she looked like an ordinary hyena, with an expression devoid of threat. Another flash of crimson in her eyes and she was back to grinning.

“He spots the empress and feels the midnight on her breath. Runs his fingers through the red that tastes like black. To draw near her light is to become illuminated. The beacon guides me through the tunnels of her fiction."

“Ohhhh ... well, I guess I have her to, uh, thank when I see her next."

“Bury your face where it belongs and you shall see it all."

That wasn't even true. He couldn't see anything at all when she had her way. She stroked through his mane, planted a hand on the back of his head, and forced him forward until he was completely immersed in his cleavage. But he could certainly enjoy the sweet sensations of rubbing against that fur, enveloped by those head-sized pillows, breathing all the more of her intoxicating essence. He wanted to lick her, and as quickly as that thought formed in his head, he obeyed it. Without even a moment of hesitation, he found himself slobbering over her tits, licking the fluff between them, soaking her sweet fur the more he found himself obsessing over her.

The taste on his tongue was pleasure enough to leave his cock trembling. He felt a spurt and wondered if he was already cumming just from getting smothered in her breasts. Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd made that much precum. She gripped him and rubbed against him, making sure he could feel her tits on every inch of his face, and he sat there on the edge of his bed, writhing in pleasure, feeling like he was either going to tear the fabric of his boxers or leave soak them translucent with how productive she was making him.

When she tugged his mane firmly enough to withdraw him and guide him to one of those perked, black tears, he latched on in an instant. A demoness like her surely wasn't too sensitive for a bit of roughness. He sucked as much as he nibbled, or even bit her. His teeth couldn't pierce her skin. Though they did get some strange sort of gurgling cackle-snarl from her jaws. She didn't stop him or inflict grievous bodily harm on him for doing that, and so he kept indulging, gnawing on her as much as he tenderly worshipped her breast. There was no milk to be had from her, but the feeling of that smooth, firm nub between his lips was satisfaction enough.

“You are an exceptionally good cat," she rumbled, almost a purr. “The pinnacle of maned feline. The stud who shall hold the world down. Bright-eyed handsome kitty-beast, never knowing how much he does for the genitals of those who observe him. I will bring the ruination your doubtful mind craves. Your innocence shall crumble before the catastrophe of I."

He wanted to argue that he was hardly innocent given some of the things he got up to, some with their mutual friend herself, but he neither had the words nor got the chance. She pressed a palm to his forehead as if to check his temperature, and then suddenly forced him flat to the bed with such frightening strength he found himself simply laying there, hands defensively raised, waiting for the end. Or for whatever she had planned. The way she crawled across his bed to shadow him with her body made him shudder. Limbs weren't meant to be used that way.

For all her claws and teeth, she only wanted what he wore. The single garment that kept his cock contained didn't last long against her ferocity. She snatched it by the waistband and yanked hard enough to leave it fluttering through the air in three irreparable pieces. Losing one pair of underwear for an unforgettable night of demon sex seemed a worthy trade. Better than his soul. Though whether he was going to get to keep that remained an unspoken question with no clear answers either way just yet. He was going to have to wait and see where her whims guided her, if she hadn't already made up his mind long ago while she stalked him.

Michael could worry a little less with her soft, fat tits wrapped all snugly around his cock. She was upon his stiff, bare shaft in seconds, snatching it abruptly, startling him with her grip. All was forgiven when she made him sink so sweetly into her cleavage, grinding into that smooth space, deep in her fur. He felt his own spit and he soon added to the mess matting her fur when she started milking him for all the precum he could make. It was shooting out of him. That didn't feel natural, but it felt good, sprawled out, held down, and balls constantly pumping tight at the silky feeling of demon hyena fur gliding over his every inch, tip to base with every stroke.

He couldn't even hold onto her. Throwing his head back into the comparatively cool pillow, he put the back of his hand on his forehead and tried to make only the good lion sounds. It was far too early to mewl for her. Growling, showing his teeth, tensing his toes and scraping his claws over the sheets was all the result of that wonderful grip she had, squeezing her breasts with her own hands to press them all the tighter around his length. He mostly kept his eyes shut. The alternative was to make eye contact with her, staring at him the entire time she gave him the best titjob of his life. That didn't seem healthy.

The only thing that could make that smooth, wet cock massage better was to introduce her tongue. She'd completely enveloped his shaft in her breasts for most of it, but she stretched that long, black slurper out and down, curling it with unnatural precision to coil about the tip of his dick like a snake. He felt it squeeze, juicing out some drool to soak his shaft along with everything she was making him spurt. She still had time to giggle through it all too, cackling at him while he huffed and grunted with rising speed, sounding like he was running a marathon just getting his cock rubbed by her gorgoeus, silky bust.

As much as Michael tried not to think about it, her words kept coming back to him. How many souls lived upon her body? Could they feel him grinding on her curves, fucking her cleavage in short, shaky strokes? Or was it simply their legacy he admired with every slick rub up and down between her tits? He finally managed to do something with his hands. Reaching down, he squeezed her bust again, simply to admire just how [i]soft[/i] it was. For a demoness, she was so welcoming, so comfortable to touch and enjoy in every way he could. He hoped those lost souls could forgive him for the tribute he was about to offer to their jiggling eternity. There was no more holding back.

His hips started moving all on their own. She might as well have possessed them. He fucked her tits and felt himself make a dripping mess of them even before he came. When he reached his peak, he couldn't help but open his eyes and look into the terrifying features of the demoness milking him dry. Such a fearful visage deserved all of his cum. He gave it to her at full blast, pumping out amidst his attempts at roaring. The impressive lion sound didn't fully come to him, but at least he didn't scream or yowl.

Painting her features and tits alike in thick ropes of lion spunk, Michael soon found himself barrelling past the usual limit of his orgasms. He just kept cumming. She licked it up where she liked and left the rest to soak her. His hips still bucked uncontrollably, even when he reached the point of pleasure that he was gritting his teeth and gripping the sheets more tightly. It was almost too much, and then it was, as suddenly as it settled down into a soothing glow, basking in the light of her eyes. He didn't think, only able to purr her name beneath the blanket of satisfaction that covered him in the wake of a release that left her glistening and splattered.

“Shiraziiiiii ..."

She snapped her head to the side. It looked painful. Her eyes lit up with fire beyond the usual. Her words carried a certain trembling intensity.

“The name. Say it thrice more with rising fury."

It was best to do what she said. Dragging a rattling breath in to brace himself, Michael repeated it, a little more firmly each time.

“Shirazi ... Shirazi! [i]Shirazi!![/i]"

“STOP NOW," she screamed, not with anger but with urgency. It was very important he didn't say it a fifth time in such a short span.

She seemed to simmer in that moment, shutting her eyes, rocking back and forth on the bed, grinding his sheets until she found the proper words to express herself.

“Michael. Where does the night train take you, Michael?"

“Uh? I'm not sure. Here, I guess. If I'm following."

She sucked her teeth and nodded, then said, “I feel the e in your name."

“Oh, okay. That's good, I think."" He breathed a little easier, listening to her speak. Everything seemed so genuine, even if he didn't understand it. And she looked incredible, breathing deeply to make her chest rise and fall, his cum trailing down her breasts.

“The mask of good falls easiest. There's smoke inside every passage before fires burn it black. Multitudes of unseen worlds have explained this all to me."

For just a second he felt a little pang of fear rise up in his chest. It had always been there ever since he sensed her presence, but it was especially strong for that passing moment he spent listening to her. Michael felt as if she'd cursed him with some small fraction of understanding he really didn't want. It thankfully faded. He finally managed to sit up a little, propped on his elbows, but he was astounded just how weak his entire body felt. Her presence was sapping his strength, or maybe it was just the power of that orgasm.

“So, do you always talk like that?" he found himself dangerously teasing. The curiosity won out. “Or can you just, like, turn it off when you're not in menacingly sexy demon mode?"

She stared at him, slowly tilted her head. He didn't move. Losing his whole face for such a comment seemed a possible outcome. Instead, she let the manic grin fade from her face, the wicked light dim in her eyes, and become her best semblance of a normal person again. Still a demon, quite obviously, but one who he could imagine doing ordinary everyday things with instead of just 3 AM ambush sex. She spoke softly, and evenly, devoid of the echoing chorus of her previous words.

“Michael. It is important you understand this. I choose each word very carefully. Everything I say is true, for I am the [i]sanest one alive.[/i]"

“... Hmm."

She held that pose a little longer to let the horror of such a statement wash over him. Then she cackled and lunged at him, leaving him to wonder if she was simply teasing back in her own way as she laid herself across his body. He was completely buried in her by then, immersed in fluff, feeling her drool into his mane. There, she buried her fingers, clutching him by the skull as she crawled across his body, grinding him, humping him, plapping a plump pussy against his abs and chest as if laying the slickest smooches imaginable on his fur.

Shirazi slithered to his face, and all went darker than ever before. Reaching up to hold onto something, he found himself tightly gripping her hips and ass just in time for her to mount his face. Pressing the soft folds of pitch-black flesh to his muzzle to completely eclipse his senses in her horny scent, she left him to drink the juices of pure lust that were soon flowing down his throat. He hardly even had time to taste them. They got in his nostrils too, leaving him immersed, entranced, and utterly saturated with a richness he couldn't begin to define. He only knew how to serve.

“Let the world fall silent as we eat the light away," she said. Those were her instructions.

It wasn't necessary. He knew what she needed. And what he did too. Pressing his muzzle deep to feel her pulsing and dripping in his mouth, he stuck his tongue inside her as deeply as he could stretch it. There was no need to hold back with her. He could tongue-fuck her pussy as hard as he wanted, curling and tasting depths hardly meant for mortal palates. The flavours flowing through his senses ignited all manner of strange sensations. He was fairly certain he was hearing voices other than her own at some point, all tucked between the striped thighs of the demon, mane soaking in the desire that poured out of her all the thicker for his efforts.

She squeezed him between her legs tightly enough he had to worry for his skull. Michael hoped she remembered he was just a mortal. Those thighs could easily have proven deadly if she got a little too excited. And she was giggling so brightly, bouncing up and down, riding his tongue and face, grinding him down into the bed as if to plant him like a stake. Or perhaps a tombstone. He wasn't breathing much that wasn't her by that point, and his spinning head and aching chest reminded him of that, but nothing could stop him from indulging her in the sloppiest, most obsessive way he could. There were so many tastes to take from her, and he wanted them all right down his throat.

If he was to drown in her, it would have been a joyful death. He was harder than ever. His cock felt like it was ready to shoot another load from her taste alone, trembling, bulging, rigid to the point of making him flinch when it throbbed hard enough. The lion curled his tingly tongue and used it to scoop out yet more of her forbidden flavour, filling his mouth with the juices that squished so sleekly from her shiny pussy walls. She was a feast and his senses could hardly take it anymore. Numbness threatened to spoil the intensity of the experience, as did his whole body shutting down. Yet before she could snuff him out like that, or perhaps make him lose his mind just from eating her out, muzzle plunging all the way inside her, that edging orgasm became reality.

He came for her without so much a touch to his cock. It rocketed up and arched down to splatter over her spine, to soak her stripes from shoulders to rear in all the more lion cum. He was limitless in her clutches, jetting it all out until he finally managed the roar he'd attempted earlier. It was lost beneath the squelching of her cumming in his face, muffled and buried, then completely drowned out by her orgasmic cackling. It was so much worse than her regular giggles.

Yet he had no choice but to endure and swallow everything she offered him, when it didn't simply stream down his face and form a puddle on his pillow instead. His fur was so deeply imbued with her impure scent by then that he couldn't remember what he smelled like before her. He could only marinate beneath her, lapping up her offerings, feeling those flexing thighs press in on his head just a little tighter as she rode him to a finish. There she sat, still pinning him a little longer, until her sex stopped pumping and twitching so aggressively and she finally allowed him to breathe normally again. Albeit only to refill himself with the air her presence so pleasantly tainted.

"Yesssss," she hissed as she stretched out beside him, watching the light return to his eyes. “By her grasping he knew the rhyme. An eternal foe. Destined to be the benediction of your breath."

Michael blinked a few times, coughed, and soon took to stroking his fingers through his own sopping mane. It was flattened down to his head in such an undignified way he couldn't help but feel slightly wounded, such that he turned to the demoness to jokingly seek comfort.

“I nearly drowned in you. And it felt good. But just look at what you've done to my mane." He rubbed it a little more and offered her a mock pleading look. “Am I still handsome? Do I still look the hot proud lion?"

Shirazi considered such questions with the utmost of sincerity. It took her some time to come up with an answer. When she did, her jaws snapped open and she bellowed it with far too much volume, for emphasis.

“LESS SO AND YET ONLY FOOLS AND COWARDS WOULD DENY YOUR MAJESTY."

Michael was grateful to hear that, even if the act of hearing left him covering his ears. It was dangerous to be in such close proximity to that mouth for multiple reasons. A moment of dropping his guard meant she could slide closer to him, laying a leg over his hips, grinding her immensely slick sex against his side. She rubbed all the more of her scent into him while her tongue danced over his features. Getting slurped by her was an immersive experience, once that left him somehow even more drenched than he began, in a mix of her juices and saliva. She drooled on him so richly whenever she tasted him. Her whispers alone made him so hard.

“Michael. Understand this. I am the beast beneath the chorus. The monster under the bed. The pursuer in the forest. The one who casts shadows on the heart of dread. And yet here I am. Longing for the taste of you. You have always been the one. A cure amidst the miasma. The drink in the desert. The lion I want."

“Ohhhh." Michael kind of moaned in response. He still didn't know why it was so hot to listen to her. Maybe it was just her voice alone, and that warm, humid breath washing over him reminding him of where he could so easily go at any moment. To stave off such thoughts, he decided to chance paying her a compliment. “I didn't know demons could be poets."

She giggled softly and spoke in a tone of fond reminiscence. “I ate a poet once. He understood the beauty of his fate so well, yet his words remain mine alone.“

His heart sank as much as his dick throbbed. He had no doubt that was true. She'd told him herself she never lied. If he had anything to say about that, it was too late when she moved in for a kiss, first licking his face, then meeting his lips in a slobbering, overpowering smooch that seemed strangely affectionate from her. She didn't even gnaw on him while they shared that moment. He simply took it, until he reached an arm around her and showed her his mortal strength squeezing her close. She was warm in just the right way, banishing the cold from his body, if not the shivers. When she popped free of his lips and spoke right into his face, her words were surprisingly blunt.

“Want to suck my tits and get me pregnant?"

Oh god he almost came just from that. His cock went into desperate pulses, aching to feel the inside of her at the mere mention she might be ready, might be receptive, might be [i]fertile[/i]. What an awful idea. He had a thousand individual reasons to say no. Seeing her in that calmer state, casting him that sultry glare, he thought perhaps she might have even accepted that choice, if he was to push through the temptation and assert his common sense. But no. He failed that test in a moment. He was whimpering instead.

“I'd ... like that a lot, Shirazi. Oh god, what am I agreeing to ... "

Her cackles echoed through his skull as much as his bedroom. “Prepare, sinner. The pact is sealed with seed."

Michael couldn't tell if that was a threat or if it was supposed to be enticing, in its way. He soon had his face in her tits again either way. Finding one of those firm, tender nubs to nibble on gave him comfort as she menacingly mounted him, spreading herself around her hips, letting her pussy press against the base of his cock just to let him feel the way it pulsed for. She was clenching up so slightly he could hear a squelch with every throb, absolutely aching for him to breed with her demonic body. If he didn't drain his balls between her thighs he was pretty sure he was going to die. For one reason or another.

It seemed natural to let her lead. She intertwined his fingers with her own and got snugly on top, sitting on his thighs, catching the tip of his shaft between her folds so she could sink sweetly down on his inches. Deeper and deeper she took him, seemingly limitless, bumping down to the very base in a single, satisfying [i]slurk[/i]. Sheathed in her velvet embrace, feeling her dripping over his every detail, he could only madly throb and squeeze her hands right back, [i]mrowling[/i] out his best efforts to still sound proud and intimidating despite the terror of watching a demoness ride him.

If anything, the fear only made the pleasure that much better, that much more [i]real[/i]. Every little tremble she made around him, every sudden flex or squeeze of her own rising bliss was one that made him moan out loud. He didn't remember the last time he made that much involuntary noise during sex. Intentional rutting growls and snarls, certainly, but this was just him losing it to her. She was in control, rocking back and forth surprisingly slowly, building tension as much as pleasure. The suspense of what she was going to do when the excitement was too much to control had him rigid, offering her everything she could possibly need, so solid in her depths he felt as if he was being turned to stone by her nightmare gaze. Even when he couldn't see it, he could feel it on him, a crosshair of corruption.

A smooth, careful [i]schlick[/i] up and down his cock left his lip shaking. Did he want to cry? He really wasn't sure what all the sensations running through his body meant, so he focused on the good ones. Holding hands turned to mutual groping. She played with his chest as much as he did hers, rubbing the muscles there as he flexed taut for her. When he wasn't busy making all those noises for her, he did his best to tend to her tits. Sucking on them constantly while she thumped his hips helped keep him steady. They were so soft, so heavy. He would have been happy to drown in them, if it came time to choose how he died.

“Drums ... marching every sombre soul towards descent ... endless toil turns to dust ..."

She spoke in a whisper, punctuated by the soft moans that sounded like she was trying to keep them quiet. Her hips moved slowly, grinding out an impending orgasm. Her whole body rolled and writhed like a serpent or an eel, spine curved in such strange ways all in service of bringing her pussy down to kiss against his balls again and again. He let his hands roam and slide down her stripes, gripping her, burying his fingers in her delightful fluff. Her muscles tensed all over, solid beneath his touches, and her breathing grew fast and frantic. The end was near.

Rising up like a beast from the ocean, she denied him those tits for just a moment. Instead, she planted her hands on his shoulders, lunged at his face, and screamed a gust of deepest madness right into his ears and mind.

“SOMEDAY I WILL FUCK YOUR GOD AGAIN."

The plapping squelch drowned out the ringing sound. She accelerated against the rules of momentum, from slow grind to full, frantic ride. The worry for his bed was secondary to the concern for his own body. One of them was going to break if she kept hammering down on him like that. It felt as if she'd paralyzed his legs, but he felt every stroke of flooded pussy gushing up and down his cock. He couldn't tell if she had already hit orgasm, if she was squirting on his abs, or if she was just [i]that damn wet[/i]. The sopping fuck left him tighter and tighter, arching into climax, buried deep inside her pussy, pointing his cock at her demonic womb. There was no backing out of what had always been inevitable.

Clutching evil by the hips, fighting back the urge to scream in fear, the lion jabbed his hips and let himself breed with the demon hyena. It was the greatest relief he'd ever felt. The need to fill her had lived in his body for so many years, before he ever knew her name. He gasped and cried as if in pain, but there was nothing but sweet, mind-blanking bliss while he came for her. His cum met her wetness and created something. He didn't know what. Maybe he was dooming the world, just letting that tight, slathered sex milk him for everything he had. Or thought he did.

When the distinct [i]pump[/i] of orgasm subsided and he was left to simmer inside her, soaking in the juices of her own release, she reached for him and pulled. He found himself sitting with her, locked up in the clamping grip of her thighs, head resting on her chest. No matter how much he'd given her, he still had more. His body moved all on its own. Every touch, every stroke up and down her back was simply what felt [i]right[/i]. The same applied to his thrusts. All he wanted was to keep fucking her. Maybe forever. She embraced him and started the slow snicker in his ear. He braced for more of her unhinged words, but nothing came. Simply the gentlest, warmest moan he could feel travel from her lips right down the entire length of his spine.

It flicked a switch in him as if he was nothing more than an instrument to be played. That one sound was all it took to transform him from meek and frightful to a rumbling machine made only for fucking that hyena. Demon though she was, her embodied form still had the usual effect on him. He needed to [i]plow[/i] her, to fuck her from every angle and bite her neck until she made those perfect giggles he loved to hear. The way she was gripping him, kneading on his cock with every rising thrust only encouraged him to be the lion he truly was.

He never would have recognized himself if someone had shown him a vision of the future. Maybe it was a little corruption that made him so bold, pushing against her chest, grabbing her by a tit and gripping tight to urge her down and get on top of her. He was fucking her all the way down. She stared up, mad laughter in steady supply, and nodded her head in time to his hastened thrusts. He couldn't stop himself. It was all momentum, a zone he'd never entered, fixating on her throat and finally lunging for it when he dared. No matter how hard he gnawed, he couldn't silence the cackles.

She might not have been quite so susceptible to his aggressive side as other hyenas in his life, but that didn't discourage him. If he ever thought he felt a hint of fatigue or lost his focus for a moment, she gave another one of those breathy moans. They hardly sounded like they belonged to her voice, performatively lewd, and yet they never failed to rile him up further. He pounded into her, driving his cock within her cum-flooded sex, fucking that demon pussy with all his might, all the strength he had, and that she had granted him. If he hadn't knocked her up already, he was going to make sure of it. And if he already had, he was going to do it [i]again[/i].

If she was anyone else, he would have been hurting her. He could do anything he wanted with her demonic body, and she never gave him anything but that huffing song of affirmation. He bit, he clawed, he squeezed her so tightly it was as if he was trying to crush her curves. Yet she remained unscathed, rolling her hips with his pounding pace, gripping his hips with her thighs, leaving him numb beneath the thighs. He smacked her pussy with his balls and shook with the rising need for release, to breed with that fire-eyed lunatic, to show her the big cat he could be.

Before he could finish, she briefly threw off his momentum by seizing his head. The grip on his skull was intimidating, but not enough to make him stop fucking her. He let her guide him to her tit again, unable to resist that strength. The instructions were clear. Latching on again, using teeth and lips alike, he sucked that heavy breast and felt her heart pound behind it while he rutted her to orgasm, bottoming out bare and balls-deep in demon pussy while rivers of her lust streaked over his fur.

The moment his cum hit her womb again, she let him know it [i]took[/i] by the warm, sinfully sweet milk flowing over his tongue. He drank from her while he came inside her, filling her up while he gorged himself on that damned ambrosia. It was a treat worth losing his soul over. Sucking it down just made him cum for her all the longer. He let it all out, even when he was sore from the constant flexing of every muscle in his body. His commanding pin turned to more of a flop, but he was comfortable there atop her tits, snuggled against her soft belly, buried in the cunt he left overflowing with his mortal seed.

The room seemed to oddly spin, but he was fine as long as he held onto her tightly. Still inside her, still sucking, still nursing from her newly milky tits, he reflected as much as he could bear on making a demoness a mother. Regret wasn't on his mind. Though he did have some trepidation. When the flow finally started to slow, he loosened his grip and raised his head, shakily, so he could breathe again. Her expression was again oddly serene, normal. The silence was so unsettling he asked her the first question that came to his mind.

“What will they look like?"

Shirazi breathed a long, deep sigh. Michael rode the wave of it with his head still resting on her chest.

“[i]Alive[/i] with teeth and urges. Another place for prayers to fail."

“Ah."

“Tell me something, Michael. Listen carefully before you answer."

He felt something rising in her tone. The blood was pumping. He was still oddly stiff inside her. If she wanted another fuck, she was going to have to loan him some stamina, but he was ready for it. Instead, she spoke slowly and precisely to his observant face, pronouncing each syllable with the precision of an incantation.

“Will you let me eat you?"

Though he recoiled on hearing it, it wasn't out of fear. He didn't expect her to ask first. If he wanted to hide how turned on it made him, the sudden throb he gave revealed all. He was still sheathed in her pussy, keeping his cock warm and ready for anything she desired. On hearing that, he pursed his lips, a cat again before her, and asked her the most important question.

“Whole?"

She grinned, interlocking those many teeth as if shutting a gate. Her words came through them.

“Slithered down. Swallowed like a shadow. The fangs are still, this night."

“Then yeah," he blurted, unable to catch himself. “Fuck. I shouldn't. I know what you are. Please don't let this be a mistake. What's ... waiting for me down there? How bad will it be?"

The demoness opened her jaws and breathed steam into his face, misting his vision with her humid breath. He craved more of it. The way her tongues slicked and slopped with its every nimble movement was a calling. He watched it slide around her chops, drawing over her lips, her teeth, her chin, or simply wriggling in his direction as if to lap up his flavour from the air. Her flesh was black, all the way down. He couldn't begin to imagine how dark it was inside her.

“A naked glisten all around you. Wrapped up, tucked tight, cradled in my fortress. The broth thickens with your fear. Yet the mistress of unmaking shall grant you the gift of your existence once dissolved."

“Promise?"

“A contract sealed so tightly it would take the coming calamity to wrench it from the archives."

“Okay," he said with a heavy sigh. “You're really fucking hot, you know that? I can't believe I just said yes like that. I thought I'd at least put up a good fight."

Something changed in her as soon as he gave her his permission. She dropped the demonic mask for just a moment and looked at him merely as a hyena, soft, striped, fluffy all over. Her teeth were hidden and her eyes were gentle, if still red.

“You are the lion. Why deny the greatest sensations you could ever find? Honour binds you to make the best of every situation. To take my hand and plunge is the bravest thing you'll ever do. I stalk only the strongest. Seize the pleasure with me. Let me show you the might inside you."

“Brave, maybe. Possibly stupid too."

She tilted her head at him, looking genuinely confused. “Why put yourself down in such times? I am radiant and vast, and yet I desire you. The pit speaks fondly of your potential. The whisper-shrieks inside have not steered me wrong in finding you. I see your glow. I taste it always."

“That's terrifying, but ... thank you, I think." He gave her a look, suspicious of her nicer side. The madwoman was sure to be back any moment.

“Let me know if you get too scared," she said with a terrifyingly ordinary smile. “I want to treat you right."

He flinched. Why did [i]that[/i] unnerve him so much more than anything else she said? The response was immediate and visceral. She seemed too happy to have his consent. He wondered strongly if he'd signed away his soul along with trusting her with his body. They never spoke of restoration after the meal. He didn't dare bring it up. Even mentioning his immortal being in front of her in any way could have been seen as offering it up to her, to scream and fall silent on those tits he had given such reverent worship. Oh god he couldn't let himself think about how hot that would have been. She'd know.

Instead, he pulled out of her at last, still rock hard, unable to soften for a second. Despite how rigid he was, it didn't hurt. Every little touch was bliss, especially when her scent and warmth grew more potent, covering him up and immersing him as he shrank down atop her chest. It didn't take her long to render him from full size lion to a six-inch toy of a cat, snug between her tits. Of course she took the opportunity to squish them together around his shrunken body, softly, delicately, careful not to crush his altered self.

He knew she could have eaten him at full size, if she wanted to. She knew his preferences too well. Whatever the hottest thing she could have done, was what she did next. He felt her tongue dip down into her cleavage, sliding under his body, curling between his legs. She licked him from mane to nuts and scooped him out of his hiding spot to draw slowly towards those many fangs. They were the bars to his prison, open yet ready to shut at any moment. He was only grateful she waited until he'd delved all the way into her maw before she clacked them closed behind him and sealed him away in that slobbery heat.

Back and forth he went, massaged and soaked. It felt like getting a warm bath as she slurped all the flavour out of him. Her drool was flowing so thickly he could hear it patterning down on her inner flesh like raindrops. When it welled up enough, she swallowed it down, sending that powerful [i]ULLP[/i] echoing up from below, right in his face. He was humping her tongue the entire time. It curled about him, grasping his waist to guide him, to drag him back and forth over its central groove.

He refused to cum again just yet. He wanted to be hard all the way down. She played with him a little longer, but the end was near. Every slurp inched him a little closer to her flexing gullet, pulsing for his presence. He could barely see it for how dark it was in there, that black passage illuminated only by the light between her teeth. One inch too many and it had him like a trap. A sudden [i]clamp[/i] of pressure all around his head and shoulders pried him from her tongue, letting her use it to shove him down all the faster. Somehow he could imagine the bulge he was making in her throat when she gathered him up between those gulping muscles before the great, potent [i]MMMGLLLP[/i] she gave him, moaning right with him all the way down.

His descent was as invigorating as every other time he'd been swallowed. He was throbbing for her, spurting on himself through the journey to her belly. He thought about how soft it had looked from the outside, and how hot it was to be all tucked away behind her pudge, hidden inside her curves. As for what it was going to be like to be digested by a demon, he was surprisingly adept at pushing that from his mind. Even when he pushed into her stomach and found himself as cradled as she foretold, he kept himself mostly calm. Aside from madly jerking off to his pending fate.

The moment he touched down to the bottom, he set her off. A demon's possessiveness was a powerful force. She shook and clutched herself, rattling with excited laughter, groping her body all over. Michael ended up rocking around with her, jostled by her violent motions, bouncing and sloshing in the small amount of juices already waiting for him. She was screaming with delight, touching herself, rubbing her thighs together, thrusting her hips towards the air, dripping with lust, seconds away from an orgasm. Michael had to wonder if she convulsed like that for everyone she ate, or if it was just him.

“A thousand years of longing for this day and you are where you belong ..." she said softly, breathing heavily.

When she finally managed to calm down somewhat, she rubbed him. He could feel her touch from the outside, moving him around where he sat stroking himself at full speed, soaking in the sensations of the moment for as long as he still possibly could. Her voice took on even more of an echoing quality when she spoke to him in there, though it was clearer than he expected.

“Broken before the altar of her beckoning. The song repeats, fiercer now." She gave a sigh that lifted him up and dropped him again. Then she leaned down to press her nose right up against her own middle, to startlingly shout at its occupant. “PROMISE ME YOU'RE HAPPY."

“Mmmm .... “ was all he told her. In case that wasn't enough, he added, “Shirazi ..."

“Yessssss ... one more speaking of the name does no harm. But no more. You are to be bound to me for the days to come. Do not tempt me to make you an offering to my temple. To drink the memory that follows the flesh."

Whatever that was, it sounded bad. He made sure to only moan wordlessly for her from then on. Her stomach walls began to hiss, and his body began to sizzle as soon as those thick juices touched him. He felt no pain. Even when it began to melt through his fur and eat into his body, the tingles rose up until they were inseparable from ecstasy. It made him cum all over himself, and to keep cumming as the acids bubbled and roiled all around him. He sank deeper and deeper into her embrace by the moment, but there was still plenty enough to offer her his praises in a euphoria-stifled voice.

“Mmmmm ... you're so good ... this is so good ... why did it take this long to meet you. I needed this ..."

“I have been busy with many lions." Her grin was audible, somehow. “I love to slurp their tufts away."

“You'd ... Mika would probably like you," he found himself murmuring.

Her response was swift. “Your sister would be insulted to be spoken of in present tense. Such emotions she experienced before the [i]was.[/i]"

His eyes widened, only to shut tight again when he remembered where he was. It was impossible to tell if she was merely teasing him with such a morbid thing, or if she'd really done it. He was still cumming. It was an obscene amount by then, plastering his whole front side, his face, his drenched mane. The juices rose up higher, but stopped just at his neck, so he could feel those tingles overpowering every other sensation. He couldn't help a few whimpers when the pleasure threatened to break him.

“Cum for all the trust you give me. Sink into your guided annihilation. I shall grant you my exalted language when you die."

His orgasm faded with his life. Her digestives worked fast. Most likely, she was taking it easy on him. She probably could have melted him in a moment, but she spared him for long enough to let that climax finish, so that he could sink down into that embrace and be unmade in bliss. He regretted nothing, even as he felt all sense of his body vanish, to be replaced with a ghostly, floating sensation. There was still meat enough to keep the simmer going, but he expired with one last potent gurgle. She was touching herself to the end of him. He knew because he felt it.

Most of all, he felt the fingers wrapped tightly around the tits he so adored. She moved quickly to absorb him and place him there. The fingers she used to massage her clit sent him some trace of the stimulation, sharing in her ecstasy, but the squeezes to her breasts send him into silently wailing rapture. It was [i]too[/i] good. She kept him there, thickening her bust like he was just another soul, a captive to torment with pleasure beyond all belief. Just giving herself a good, deep breast massage was like making him cum over and over. She milked herself and rubbed to a maniacal orgasm, squirting as fiercely as she cackled. Even she trembled before pleasure like that.

When it was over and she was left to simmer and steam in his bed, rubbing her own scent deeper into the sheets with her contented wiggles, hands still on her chest, she began to whisper.

“Safe. Kept. [i]Mine.[/i]" She snarled that last word with a tinge of rapid possessiveness. “There is nothing you can do but serve me now. Not a single soul can hear you scream there. The window lights have all gone out. A thousand blocks to build this and you'll never know a neighbour."

She leaned back, pressing her chest out to make it all the more prominent, to let him feel them jiggle. Eventually she squeezed one tightly enough to bring it to her lips, so that she too could drink the milk he'd helped her make, and send it down to join what little remained of his shrunken bones.

“When it is my will, I will call upon you to return and dwell again. Dance the flames and cease the mourning for your body. I will always be there. Wearing stockings in your intrusive thoughts. Kaleidoscoping to the surface until you beg to breathe me."

Her stroking across a black, milky teat made him give another silent scream. Her giggle was actually of amusement for one instead of just insanity. Her sigh was genuine and warm.

“One more thing before the page goes blank. There are never too many tributes. Remember this as you recall this night. I shall grant my silent smile for each one."

She licked her lips and closed her eyes, not sleeping but resting enough that he followed suit. There was only so much stimulation one drifting mind could take before shattering. Michael didn't know how long she was going to keep him, nor could he be certain that he would return with his soul intact. Yet to live there upon her body, padding out her curves and especially the tits he adored, he knew there was no better place in any world for a lion, no matter she decided for his future or lack thereof.