Chapter Text
You had suspected much from the very beginning something was amiss when a royal guard showed up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. You were needed to pull off some errands, the guard conveyed.
At that time, you could only stare blankly at the mysterious face behind the helmet, for you didn't expect at all a man in a full heavy plate armor would explain some paltry matters that he or his peers themselves should be able to conduct.
But, no. It must be you, apparently, according to Queen Cristina Warren's order. Or, more precisely, according to Her Majesty's only one shaman pet, Richard Perkins.
You were requested special tasks. With your own hands, you needed to hunt down a fairly rare silver deer; kill it; gather the blood; collect its cut bones.
Well, now, as you stand quietly in the middle of a room feet away from the peculiar wide circle of the white sigil on the floor, you are enlightened why they had had you did all of those things.
They have run out of regular strategy, it seems. As a result, they were obliged to go back into the old way. In this case, strictly speaking, it is more of an 'ancient' way.
And you comprehended fully the conclusion, for there is a major reason behind them...
Months ago, armies of demons breached the wall that separated the underworld and the mortal world where humankind resides. They are led by duo god and goddess, Markus and North (as named by mortals).
They both were initially occupants of the sky. Evidently, for some unknown reason, they were casted down by the council of gods and goddesses unto the underworld. And now they demanded ration of souls from any voluntary human. Or the duo would have their soldiers torture every human there is in front of their loved ones.
At first, you were astonished by the spreading news of how it turned out that there really were people who obeyed the demons' ultimatum. Quite a plenty, even. But then, you recalled you yourselves have been doing it (despite it was a mere small scale compared to what Markus and North demanded) since the first lash of your father's belt landed on Kara's skin. You took the hit in lieu of your sisters, Kara and Alice.
Certainly, in order to maintain your sisters' wellbeing, you will hand over your soul if should the time comes.
“Are you feeling cold, Miss Williams?” the queen's voice, as soft as silk, pulled you out from the deepest of your mind. She looked graceful so in that lavish gown. The gemstones on her diadem glimmered under the dim of gold light lanterns.
You were just met directly with the queen moments ago. Before, you only ever saw her from the various copy of paintings and sculptures at sale in the market. From this close of range, her charisma emits as though scorching sun pushes you to take the cover out of irrational shamefulness.
“Ah. No, Your Majesty.” You shifted nervously beneath layers of your attire. In the opposite to your answer, though, you tighten your clothes around your frame.
Queen Cristina chuckles at your reaction. “No need to be frightened, Miss Williams. My shaman, Richard, has been studying and practicing a lot these past weeks.” She hadn't been aware completely that half of your uneasiness was due to your own insecurity.
From under the hood shadowing your face, once again you observe the short man currently lighting the candles atop the outer line of the sigil. Behind the white line, within the large circle, are bowls of offerings from your hunt.
This is peculiar so. After years and years of hunting, you feel like you could puke for the first time again out of disgustingness.
You sense a gentle yet firm palm stroking at your backside.
“I deeply understand,” the queen spoken in a heartfelt manner as she drew herself closer to you. Her distinctive fragrance piercing your nose as she did so. “You never witness an event such as this. But... you still need to take off your cloak,” her voice was gentle, but you can sense the hidden pressure behind her words. She gestures to one of her guards. “Allen.”
Sir Allen. The captain of the guards. He was the one sent to do all the explaining as he visited your home that night.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” you stated, attempted to sound as polite as possible, while you let the guard peeled you off your cloak, revealing a well-seamed gown of high-quality velvet. Despite you feel like it had been made overly revealing. It was sleeveless, and the collar is too low, exposing too much of your cleavage under the gleam of a thick gold necklace. Fortunately, you managed to resist the urge to cover your overt skin with your arms. “It seems like I'm the one still in fail to understand why my presence is required here.”
You had been forced out of the small of your village and been on a trip for ten days in a carriage, only to run some bizarre chores in a foreign forest and in the castle. And then, for this very occasion, you were dolled up with the finest clothes and jewelries you and your sisters could ever only dreamt of in the past.
You should be in your ramshackle hut, making sure the safety of Kara and Alice from your father's tormentful belt. Alas, your own father was the one that signed the letter requesting permission to bring you into the capital. Since then, Allen has been keeping tabs on you; followed you everywhere, put guards around your bedroom, so on and so forth.
“You deserve it, Miss Williams.” You can see fine wrinkles on Queen Cristina's solemn face as she cups her palms over your cheeks. “You will witness one of the significant events in the effort to rescue our world from the grip of that cursed god and goddess.”
Except, your hunter's nose has been sniffing another ulterior motive since the beginning of time.
“It's ready, Your Majesty,” the shaman announced before you get to went deep into your own thought.
Queen Cristina withdraws her hands off you as she swivels toward the sigil. “Summon him,” she commanded in her most authoritative tone.
Sitting cross-legged outside the circle, Richard nods dutifully before he begins the long chain of stifling incantations soon infilling the air. All the flame in the room waving and flickering, creating dances of shadows on every surface there is. Queen's guards, which supposed to be ever so watchful to the surroundings all the time, couldn't help themselves but get hypnotized by the shaman's performances.
Then, at some point, of a sudden, the chants stopped completely. Lighting, and everything else, return to the previous state. As though nothing out of ordinary ever occurred inside the chamber. Except for an addition of the most captivating creature sitting right in the middle of the sigil.
You rub your eyes with your knuckles.
It was supposed to be a demon. But the thing inside the circle doesn't look like one. With the fairest skin and that fragile of appearance clad in the grey-silver robe, he is more akin to a sky dweller of the sort in your eyes. His dark brown hair, slightly disheveled, was of contrast to his immaculate face.
Where are his horns?
Could be that the shaman had misspelled the verses, so a minnow god showed up instead?
“Oh,” slightly tilting his head to the side, the creature opened his mouth, broke the eternal silence suffocating the chamber, “here we are again.”
Even with that satirical way of speaking, his voice has successfully enchanted you in an instant.
“Let me check on them first.” With a shifty expression, he rises agilely to his feet and tangles his hands on his back. The unearthly fabric of his robe shimmered under the illumine of lanterns as he motes. An illusive solemn gesture replaces his cunning face as he leans forward to inspect the accuracy of his sigil patterns as well as the content of the offering bowls.
“I did everything right. Just like our previous meeting,” Richard notified in a sour intonation, clearly displeased by the demon's attitude.
“Shush,” the demon replied without diverting his focus down on the floor. “I just need to make sure,” he continued as he spun around slowly where he stood. “Maybe this would be my lucky day...” His amber eyes turned red for a breathy interval.
Momentarily, something weighty congested the room, and it contaminates you so.
The shaman exhales in relief when the demon finally returns to his seating position. “I told you I did all correctly,” Richard attempted to sound neutral, but there was a quiver in his voice—the remnant of his fear.
The enchanting creature shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, then pretends to be disappointed. “Extra eight humans wouldn't be so bad for one of my pets.”
You squinted to his sentence. Including you, there are nine people in the room...
The demon's face is as of a feral animal when he switches his attention to his surrounding; eyes glinted sharp and full of curiosity, both corners of lips twitched up slightly as if plotting of grandiose deceit in the quietude.
And then, his gaze lands on you. All the trickery mien disappears from his face. But before his eyes linger further, the shaman voiced out a specific word you had frequently heard between incantation verses throughout the ritual.
“—Or, should I call you Connor, as our ancestors named you?” Richards spoken in a stretched of way, sounded annoying so to your ears. Obviously, he managed to regain back his confidence.
And, so. Connor...
You have heard the demon's given name in the human tongue. Along with his triplets, he is amongst the oldest (albeit physically he doesn't look a day over thirty). He works directly under Amanda—one of the goddesses in the underworld. Connor controls all the flaming wolves and hounds in hell.
And you have heard also of common requirements in addition to those 'regular' offerings if one must tie a deal to an old demon.
A heart directly taken from a living female human.
Well, you are convinced now what exactly will befall you in the incoming moments right after they—the queen and the shaman—got what they have demanded. But you know better than to create any sudden movement. You brood, if shall you die in the near future, better be in your own term.
You glance at Allen, on whose arm your cloak hung. Together with Queen Cristina, he stood at your other side—left side, flanking you in between both. Spread in every corner and side of the chamber, are other guards observing peripheral in silence from behind their full helmet.
You decided quickly, that Allen is to be your way out. Being tailed by him up to this moment, you had been memorized where he put his other smaller weapons aside from his main sword. Currently, his weak spot would be his right arm where your cloak is, under which elbow a sheathed dagger was dangled from his belt.
It should be your advantage point when the time comes. But not before they got what they wanted.
Even in your current misery, you still wish for humankind's salvation in this world, considering your family is one amongst the living beings. It was the major reason you went along with all these suspicious arrangements from the very beginning.
The beautiful demon put his chin over his palm, leering at the shaman in a contemplated fashion, tapping lightly his lips with his forefinger. And then, a wide toothy grin flourished across his face. “Nah. I bet you would just address me as any summoner did toward our kind in the past.”
“Well, 'demon',” in a lazy way of speaking, the shaman heeded Connor's conjecture, which resulting in a broader of the demon's smile. “As you saw it yourself, we have provided what you asked for,” the small man waved his hands toward the offering bowls.
You shuddered greatly when instead the demon took a glance in your direction. Subconsciously you wrap yourself with your hands when he sweeps his eyes to your whole frame.
“Yes. Yes,” Connor hid a mischievous smile as his focus back toward the shaman.
Once more a palm on your back. This time you could pretty much tell it wasn't meant for your appeasement, it was so you didn't try to move whence you stood.
From the corner of your eyes, you see the side of Queen's face. She has been slightly raised her chin while she watched the ongoing interaction between her shaman and the demon across the room. Her expression is coolly so, as if having no more the need to hide her bogus warmness in front of you.
“Well, then,” Richard shifted slightly within his seating position, seemingly growing impatient, “give us already the exact location of this 'nest'.”
“I heard it was an abandoned old harbor of some sort,” Queen Cristina spliced in, took a step forward elegantly, deflecting Connor's attention onto her. “However, considering saltwater is one of underworld dwellers' weaknesses, I presumed, the harbor would have been in a vast lake or river.”
“Oh. What a quick-witted human queen!”
To that exaggerated exclamation, Queen Cristina went silent. From the limited range of vision, you catch her red face, a blend of embarrassment and indignant.
“But,” in a haste, Richard snatched the vacantness before the atmosphere thickened with inconvenience, “there are many of such place scattered about. It could be anywhere in this extensive world.”
People in the market and the tavern have been talking about the 'nest', where Markus and North rumored to hide the 'crack' they had used for the breach. And now they utilize it for easy access between two worlds. To maintain their force number—since there was also resistance attempt from several raided areas—they need to supply their demon soldiers directly from the underworld.
“Have you prepared the parchment I had requested?” Connor asked as he cocked his head a bit and arched his brows high to the shaman.
To that, Richard draws out an unsealed scroll from under his robe. He rolls the scroll into the white sigil on the floor.
Connor catches it with a gentle push of his forefinger. He looks up at the shaman and beckons to a bowl filled with the silver deer's blood. “May I?”
“Just that one,” Richard responded warily after a pause.
The demon chuckles tauntingly as he dipped two of his fingers into the bowl. “Don't worry. It is meant for an ink substitute.” A moment later he pulls out and pressed his fingers onto the middle of the unopened scroll. He rolls the scroll back out of the sigil without the least of a red mark on its outer surface, as though he never had touched the parchment with his bloody fingers.
Richard rushingly unfolds the scroll, then he displays the content to the queen. Whence you stood, you can see red contours of map manifested gradually over the inner surface.
Now!
Deftly you reach for the dagger's grip under Allen's waist, bring it with you as you draw distance to the empty scope in the room. You lift the blade inches away from your neck when the guards take several steps toward you.
All people in the chamber went frozen to your shaky figure. Except for the demon that leisurely rises back to his feet.
“Now, now,” he said soothingly. “You don't want to do that, sweetheart.”
Abhorrenceness emerged upon your face. “Don't call me that,” you retorted in a disgusted tone. Your grip tightened around the dagger's handle, pulling the blade closer to your skin. “And why don't I want to do it?”
“Because the map to the 'nest' I just gave was of magic. It will disappear if I were not to receive all of my offerings.”
“You can copy it while we are all waiting,” you talked to the shaman expectantly.
“I believe it will disappear also if one attempts to do so,” the small man shakes his head cautiously. “Besides,” he showed the stretched scroll directly toward you, “it isn't finished yet.”
You see the red contours occupied only some small scope at the bottom parts of parchment.
“In the same manner as the first time the map appeared on this parchment awhile ago,” Richard continued, “I believe the next area will only grow and progressively each time one arrived at a certain post as the map pointed.”
“He was right,” Connor's smirk was thin across his face as he folded his arms over his chest.
“No...” You breathe shakily and your limbs droop slightly, but your grip on the dagger remains firm.
“Think of the more severe issue, Miss Williams,” the queen coaxed, sounded polished so. “The world we are in is in grave danger. Where your family is. Its fate is in your hands now.”
Despite you being aware of much of her persisted inclement intention to you, you acknowledge the truth behind her words. You feel the heat of your tears as your cry broke. “This is—This isn't right,” you hushed in a cracked voice. Your now sweaty fingers trembling around the handle.
“And nothing will,” Richard cut in as he stood up as all people in the room is, “until you fulfill your role in this ritual.”
Lamentfully, you shake your head. “Wh-why me...? I'm sure I wasn't much of value compared to others...” immediately you dispelled any remorse following that statement of yours.
“I was informed you barely had the interest for the temple and the library,” said Connor in his composure. “But, certainly you've heard of our god-seer in the underworld?”
Briefly, your weep was replaced by a flush of doubtfulness. That particular god was not the most favored amongst other gods, but once in a while, you overheard people brought him into a conversation. “U-uh... Tamski?”
“Kamski,” almost everyone—even some of the guards—in the room rectified your incorrectness.
“He was the one who has chosen you,” the demon stated. “Only you are worth the price for the map to the nest.”
The room is filled with your nearly soundless cry, while they only stood there and watch you in silence, allowing you to digest completely the inevitable fate you shall face...
They were right. There is no other way out. And this is for the benefit of people you care about as well.
For Kara, and her sincere nature...
For Alice, and her cheerful manner...
For your drunkard father, without whom there would never be joy from your sisters' laughter...
And, of course, for all souls in the world...
“Come to me, dear,” Connor extended his arm as if comprehended so at your in-hush acceptance of your fate.
How does one feel to be slit open in the chest? you wondered as you cross the room toward the demon.
“Be at ease, Miss Williams,” Queen Cristina asserted. “As what was written in the contract your father had signed, I will compensate your family with an abundant amount of fortunate.”
Ah. So the letter was of a contract. You never had the intention to go through its content, but you trust the queen's every word just now. Even so, all you heard was of a snake's voice in your ears.
You didn't stop and slowly tread forward.
“Drop the dagger first, sweetheart,” Connor warned as you were gotten closer.
This time you take a pause, raising your brows. “Why? You could use it to rip open my chest if you want. Or, do you have a weapon of your choice?”
For the first time ever, Connor's savory laugh cracks the tranquil night. Amusedly he looks at Richard and the queen alternately after he finished. “Of course. No one would bothered to tell her.”
“I wasn't to be parted from my own heart?” you asked alertly, predated any other response either from the queen or the shaman. You wonder, what could be worse than death by the demon's hands?
“Just,” Connor disregarded your question, suddenly appeared impatient, “drop the dagger and come here.”
Sharp clinking sounds reverberate through the air as the dagger met the floor.
You carry on your steps to finally enter the circle, welcome his opened hand in waiting. To your surprise, his skin felt normal in every way, despite it still is far smoother than your own. But beneath all the delicateness, you can feel his sturdy bones and muscles.
You squeaked shortly when suddenly he pulls you into his arm. You feel your heart hammered aloud behind your chest.
Should you experience these improper emotions right before the calamity?
“Send me to the other sigil you had been prepared, shaman,” Connor ordered in a placid gesture.
Richard grunted in annoyance, yet unable to refuse the demon's words. The short man goes back down the floor and starts a whole different chain of incantation verses.
There were no conspicuous signs in the air amid Richard's recital, except for the remarkable dizziness as the environment around you spiraling. And then, suddenly, you are in another room. The structure and dimension are similar so to the previous one, only now there is a luxuriously large bed, and the white paint of sigil reached to where the floors and walls meet. You surmised you still are in the same tower, just different floor.
You fall to your knees to empty your stomach from the last meal you feasted. Right away you feel a gentle touch on your back. Cryptic warm temperature flows within you. And just like that, all the uncomfortableness vanished from your body, even the ache from days of your hunting.
“Stay away from me!” you snarled as you rose, in a rush creating a wide gap between you and him.
The demon scowls. “A deal has been made. You belong to me now,” unhurriedly he walked onto you. The back of his robe gently fluttered as he did so. “I get to do what I want with you.”
Alternately you glance at the bed and the creature in his way toward you. You had figured it out completely since the bed entered your vision moments ago. This rather provocative beautiful dress they had put on you; all the gold jewelries on your limbs; and accessories to your neatly styled hair.
“I-I thought I was needed for my soul...” You back away slowly, re-creating the distance that is currently being cut more and more.
“Oh. I am indeed craving for your 'soul', alright,” the emphasis he put on that particular word clearly bears an entirely different meaning from what you previously thought. “But... I also have to claim something else from you...”
Without any prior response, you sprint toward the closed door across the room. Barely in your halfway, you fall to the floor as you felt a large amount of your strength suddenly drained out off you. You wail silently as you hear footsteps approaching beyond your field of vision.
“My sweet human,” you feel his hand on your head, gently carding your hair with his fingers. “Why should you make things harder than they really are?”
“P-please...” you begged pathetically. “I don't—I don't want any of this...”
“You should really think over those words. Don't you want them finally to find the nest? I knew your kind have been through more difficult times just for that.”
Your cry broke aloud. But now due to being reminded of your own determination right before you saw the bed.
Your sisters' images flash in your head...
“Good.” As though the demon is aware of your second mark of submission, he hauls you into his arms and brings you to the bed. He climbs up the mattress before he lays your head down atop the fluffy pillow. Your loose skirt slipped down, revealing your bare skin as he spreads your legs around his waist. As he adjusting his position between your thighs, you continue to cry soundlessly.
Then he unbuckled his belt, wiggles himself slightly to allow his robe to fall down from his shoulders.
Your eyes shot open due to his nakedness beneath the to-be-turned-out the only layer of his apparel. And of his member stood proudly already on his lower belly.
You remember the first (and the last until now) time you saw a male nude form. In your early twenties as you went deep into the forest in your hunting time, accidentally you came across Gavin Reed in the river as he took a bath. He saw you and spread unfavorable rumors to the whole village regarding you as a peeper. You were quite shunned since. Hadn't for the need of your hunting skill, no one would deign involved in interaction with you.
“That brash man,” out of the blue Connor chimed in, sounded sardonic; it had you stopped wailing completely. He ran his palms down your neck, through the shiny necklace, to the exposure of your upper breasts area, and slid his fingers underneath the low-cut of your neckline. “He didn't know what he missed.”
You gasped sharply following the ripped sound of your clothing layers (even the undergarment) broke in the air. Your breasts gently jiggled into the coldness. Once again you sob quietly as the demon took your breasts in his palms and kneads them tightly.
It reminds you of one time months after the aspersions about you widespread. On your way home from the tavern after handed over the boar from your hunting, a man pulled you into the trees. In the dark, he grabbed your tits and squeezed them rough. As he uttered inappropriate words into your ears you recognized his voice and smelled the mead between his stinky breath. He was your father's friend, Ben Collins. But still, you didn't hesitate. You stabbed his arm with your hunting knife, welled aware of whips you would receive from your father's belt the next day.
In a heartbeat, you squeak when Connor pinches your nipples, pulls you out into reality. With the blurry sight due to your tears, you find his observant gaze at you while he eases down the force on your breasts. Then he dragged his eyes lower between his hands.
“Oh,” he chirped while he tilted his head slightly to the side, staring attentively at a specific area in the mid of your chest. “Kamski was right. You are untouched... and a 'shield', obviously...” He buries his face between your breasts to plant two kisses up and below in the same line. From there he spread more kisses over your skin, meanwhile, his hands massaging your breasts keenly.
'Untouched'... It must have had a deeper meaning rather than merely about skin-to-skin contact. Even though, you never also had done it to that point due to multiple reasons...
You couldn't ponder further his other remarks due to the inconvenience over his deed. But for some mysterious reason, you are urged to touch his messy hair. It was so close right under your chin... if only you regain back the control over your limbs.
All of a sudden Connor moves to one of your breasts to wrap your perked-up nipple in his mouth. Along the way, he guides your hands onto his head.
You blink at the feeling of your twitching fingers between the strands of his hair. It was remarkably soft, more than what you have imagined. But then it was all matter no more, for next delightful sensation course down between your legs from how the demon slyly waltzing his tender and warm tongue over your pointy, while at the same time tweaking his fingers on your other nipple.
You are urged to squirm, but unable to, except to jerk or spasm a little. “Ah—Hnn...” you were conflicted on how to address him.
The demon releases your nipple only to look up at you and notifies, “I own you. I'm your master. You shall call me accordingly.” Then he shifts to your other breast to takes claim the unspoiled nipple.
“Master...” you muttered softly, in the intention to practice the pronunciation. Before you manage to convey what you wished for (which is to let you have back the control over your own body), in an abrupt way Connor withdraws from your exposed front and straightens his back.
His dark brown hair was now completely messed up, framing his remained flawless face.
You yelped by how suddenly you are turned at your side. Another ripped sound echoed in the air as he tears down the back of your bodice. “No! Don't!” No one should ever see your backside. But it already was belated.
His palm snaking over your bare skin, reaching every scope there is. “Were these where Todd last hit you with his belt?” he rubdown certain spaces at your back.
“Did the god-seer tell you that? Or because you can read minds?” you retorted instead with other inquiries.
“Both. But the 'read mind' thing only applies to you, though. Because you were the one who did the hunting for the offerings.”
From the corner of your eyes, you can see his wide grin and the red glint in his eyes. Following soon, you are flipped onto your stomach. Then, this time, the longest tearing up to the hemline of your posh gown. As if to express his bizarre adoration of some sort, he ran his palms once more on your backside, and down to squeezes your bum devoutly. He breaks the straps of your gown the last.
Your breath stuttering when you have turned again on your back. Hot flush concentrated in your face, feeling much more vulnerable now that you were left with nothing but the sheeny of your gold jewelries over your complete bare skin.
Connor removes the accessories off your head and adjusts your hair in the way he seemingly favors around your head. Next, he sorts your necklace above your breasts, teasing your nipples in the process as he drags his hands down to your thighs. He slides his fingers in your warm moistened fold to examine, then smirks deviously.
“You might have been hearing it a lot from the female of your kind...” he said as he aligning the tip of his member right at your entrance. In concurrent he pinches and twisting your nipple with his free hand.
You moan incessantly by the sensations. But at the same time, you envisage yourself shaking your head frantically to the inescapable fate he will beset you.
“...The first time...” Connor went on as he began to push, inflicting right away your heavy weeping as you felt his tip nudging your tight entrance, “...always...” he advanced forward, didn't have the slightest intention to stop, and so did you with your louder wail, “...hurt.”
“Please!” you entreated.
But the demon didn't have much care to give. Without regard, he snapped his hips ahead at the last attempt, and fruitfully obtains your maidenhead.
A foreign sharp burning pain arises only to vanished as fast. Your grimace of ache is replaced by uncomfortableness for how his unbearable girth filling you still. Yet clearly he aims to go further to reach your narrow depth, along the way stimulating your nipples and clit cunningly. Only when you took his whole member he ceases.
Not for long, though. He starts in and out after moments passed, force-stretching your tight quim to adapt with his size.
“You know,” he babbled in between his endeavorment at some point, right after your first moan of pleasure, “there is another agenda behind all these efforts put forth by that queen of yours.”
“Hnn...” was your only response, floated by the promise of incoming more and more elation. Half vacant you stare above his fuzzy hair.
Could it really be this easy? You heard from Kara, as said by her friends, it wasn't always delightful during the copulation. Or, maybe, Connor as a demon plays a major part in it, regardless of his size in your narrow hole...
The demon's grin flourished to that quiet thought of yours; amber eyes glistening in intrigue. Wheeling his hips without a break, Connor arranges your useless arms at either side of your head over the pillow. His eyes blazed with desire to your display combined with the golden sheen of all the jewelries. The thick necklace is jerked in rhyme with your bouncing breasts, along with, jingling also multiple loosen bracelets at your wrists.
“It's about an unruled land between this kingdom of yours, and—”
“Ah. Hnn—I heard of—that—story,” you managed to cut in amidst the foggy of your mind. You mewl by the sudden unison tweak at your nipple and clit, feeling getting drencher and drencher all the more down there.
The natives of that ample promising land are of powerful druids, and certainly feared so. According to the legend, the pureblood therein couldn't pass through a certain border due to some ancient oath between their ancestors with a goddess of nature. Near conversely, no outsider entered with the least ill intention to the land (and everything in it) managed to come out therefrom at all. Yet still, for decades two kingdoms have been fighting over that land as they see it as worth the effort.
Now that there is an ongoing mass scale of a problematic situation, the natives themselves vowed to pledge allegiance to those who manage to remove the threat off this world. The reason was of certainty no magic nor curse by the druids would be profitable, shall it were the turn for their land to be raided by the deities.
“Oh,” Connor tipped his head a bit, knead your breast in earnest, “did you not know, whoever won the druids' pledge will gain their aid to destroy the other kingdom?” He crooks down to claim your nipple.
It was not easy to clear the mist in your head by how the demon ploy his warm tongue over your sensitive dot, while at the same time provokes you greatly from the inside. “Wh... wh-what...?” you eventually managed to speak.
He retreats up, circling his thumb over your now-soaked nipple. “You heard me.”
No. That would mean...
“That's right,” the demon disrupted your thought. “There will be a chance...” he rused you with his other thumb on your clit; you couldn't help but moan and moan and moan. “No. Actually,” he abruptly neglected your delicate spots and shifted to stroke your jewelries, resulting a bit to your frustration whimper, “based on Kamski's foresight, your queen will meet with defeat.”
Instantly you inhale sharply, trying to ignore the return of build-up rapture as he back again to your spots. “B-but—you said—if I—”
“I said, you were worth the map to the nest.”
As he gathers speed thrusting inside you, you see something—two things—begin to grow atop his head between his messy strands of hair. His horns. In addition to those, crackling sounds—akin to bones or the like—on his back where you can't see.
“I didn't say your queen will win the battle against Markus and North's armies,” he went on, followed again by his eerie toothy smile.
Amongst his teeth now two pairs of short fangs by the upper and lower of row. His horns, dark grey, rising more and more, curved slightly to the back. And wings akin to a bat, as dark as the night, surfacing from behind his shoulders.
Humping fast, toying with your clit, he bends down again to gently nibbling your other nipple. For a split moment, you fear for his fangs, but proven as sheer futility by his crafty mouth as much as his previous deed.
Assorted emotions and sensations stirring in you. Your vision is blurred by the warmth of your tears as your body rebounds harsher by his rough pounding.
Beyond the walls, afar on the ground, you hear the indistinct clinking of steels and chattering of soldiers. They must have been preparing for the departure off the castle. Queen Cristina disfavors dawdle, you presumed.
But, all of these efforts and immolation... For what? There will be no more of your sisters' merriment smile if the neighbor kingdom invading this land.
The fully-formed demon uplifts his back only to enjoy your breasts with his hands. Bright crimson is his eyes now.
“Sometimes,” he said as he slipped one of his arms under your back, “to fight hell,” he hauled you slightly onto his lap accompanied by the clattering sound of your gold bracelets, thumping inside you callously along the process, “one need to bring hell as well.”
Your upper body skewed toward the headboard, head hung hopelessly to the back. Your breasts under the necklace bouncing as your body leaped back and forth. You aren't sure anymore whether you actually crying between moaning, or the other way around.
“I will give you 'hell',” his words sounded much like a vow for a swindler creature that he is. “My brothers have had the gate opened to deploy the armies.”
He leans forward, once again gnawing your breast and licking your nipple carnally. Snapping his hips unmercifully as he rubdown your clit at speed.
Your orgasm burst out fierce and deep. Your whole limbs shaking for the demon continuously humping you. Your moans thicken the room, beating the bustle noises outside. Your mind as though being liquefied, disenable you to orchestrate any opinion.
“Stop...” at the end, you whispered weakly by the storm of sensation that overflood you.
Connor releases your breast, but didn't stop assailing your quim. He whispers back silky under your chin, “You will bear my child. Ah. Pardon. Children.”
“No...” you wept languidly, shutting your eyes tight. Tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Tomorrow is your fertile day, according to our god-seer. We shall do it all day and night just to be sure.”
You feel him growing bigger and bigger inside you, stretching your hole all the more, and he was hard as a rock.
He crashes into you in full force to the hilt. His mischievous face under the pair fully-grown horns. His lifted-up wings expanded.
Your breath scattered, knowing well the fate that had been set upon you.
“Oh. I can't wait for our children to reign this mortal world.”
Following his last word, he pushes cruelly to your depth and unleashes all his seed in store.
But you know he was just starting...