Zycra's Contest

By PrinnyDood & Krisexy

I. Edrig (By Prinny)

Being dead was a hell of a thing. Literally, in Edrig's case.

He was fairly certain he was dead, too. In large part due to the vivid memory of being stabbed repeatedly by some sort of 'chosen one' kid. And then hurled into a river of molten lava.

Working as an enforcer for an aspiring, world-conquering tyrant apparently had some severe downsides.

And yet there he was, standing awkwardly with thirteen strangers, on some strange expanse of artificial flooring. It was divided into large, defined square segments of alternating color, almost like a game board.

“Greetings, contestants!” a loud, cheerful female voice spoke from . . . somewhere uncertain. “I'm Zycra, and you've been selected to participate in my game! A game of skill. A game of strength and cunning! Only the best will triumph, while the rest . . .” The female voice faded out teasingly, offering no further explanation.

A few of the fourteen gathered people spoke in hushed voices. No one had much in the way of clothing, though thin metal bands seemed to be affixed to everyone's wrists, including his. Edrig noted with some discomfort that there were almost no other nekos besides him – just humans of various descriptions, and an elf woman. Humans were racist bastards where he came from, by and large, and he didn't like the odds of being outnumbered roughly ten-to-one.

Keeping to the fringes, his keen ears picked up snippets of conversation here and there, but it sounded like everyone was as confused as him. Or more so.

Prowling around, trying to find an angle to leverage some advantage, Edrig noticed a second neko was present after all. A tall, well-built fellow who looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He did not seem to be coping with the situation well, though, narrow eyes darting about, teeth bared, body tensed for fight or flight.

Edging over, Edrig gave a subtle gesture of greeting, hoping this stranger would understand they needed to stick together for the moment.

“Hail there,” Edrig began, but didn't get much further.

“Where the hell is this?!” the jittery neko demanded through clenched teeth. “I don't fucking belong here, you hear me?!”

“Hey, calm down there friend,” Edrig said in his smoothest tone. “It doesn't seem like anyone knows what's up, so we're all in this together.” Until the first moment Edrig saw a way out.

“This is some kinda nightmare, man!!” Edrig's prospective ally said, loud enough he drew some glances from the others. “This can't be real!!” He seemed to be sliding into outright panic. Time to defuse the situation.

Edrig opened his mouth to speak, but never got further, as one of those colored floor-segments was suddenly, violently shoved up and aside by . . . something huge and horrible.

Some kind of red, glistening wet tendril emerged from below, whipping out fast and prehensile to snare the other neko right before Edrig's eyes. In a fraction of a second he was constricted almost head-to-toe, even his mouth covered by the moist appendage. Despite his formidable build, Edrig had never seen anyone look so completely helpless, eyes wide in desperate, disbelieving horror.

Someone nearby let out a girlish scream, and then the tongue-thing withdrew, dragging the neko through the newly-made hole and out of sight. From down below, Edrig heard a feminine murmur of pleasure, followed by a very audible gulp.

“Shit,” Edrig managed to mutter, as his brain tried to catch up with what the hell he was seeing.

Before he could come close to processing the insane horror-show, another floor-panel was loudly smashed aside. That same tongue lunged forth, everyone scattering to keep away. It was quick and had a terribly long reach, allowing it to easily snare someone by the legs, wrapping around his body like some massive slimy snake, before he too was pulled below with a wail of horror.

Now true panic broke out, everyone running around and trying to stay away from the two square holes it had emerged from already. Edrig knew this was stupid, because it had proven it could come up anywhere, so he stayed in one place, and kept his attention fixed to the area nearest to himself, poised to dodge away.

Another panel was smashed up, this time one with a woman standing on it. She shrieked and kicked her legs as she was launched up into the air. The tongue snaked up, snatching her mid-flight, wrapping her bodily before drawing her back down to whatever horrors waited below. Another loud gulp, followed by a little female giggle.

It was difficult to suppress the instinct to panic and run around, but so far it hadn't done anyone else much good.

Again the strange tongue-monster burst forth from below, knocking another of the floor-tiles skyward. The sinister appendage whipped out towards that elven woman, but in a display of fluid nimbleness she hopped, ducked and twisted away, leaving the tongue groping uselessly at the air. A frustrated feminine noise sounded from below.

Once the elf retreated out of range, a few people let out uneasy cheers at the first 'victory' thus far. Then the launched floor-tile came tumbling down, landing dead-center upon another woman who had been watching the elf from well away.

At first Edrig expected the impact to be lethal, but the tiles seemed to be made from some type of heavy foam-like substance, leaving the unlucky woman pinned but seemingly unharmed. She screamed for help, and then Edrig noticed she was another Neko he had overlooked.

It was stupid to risk himself for another, even a neko, but Edrig couldn't quite resist the irrational impulse. He edged over, took hold of the offending tile, and lifted it off with some effort.

“Thank you! I-” the neko woman stopped as several screams issued from around them. Before she could stand, Edrig saw the tongue emerge again, this time heading right for them. Before either could react, it slithered around her legs and waist like some demonic snake, her cry of panic desperate and frantic.

For a moment Edrig froze, caught between the impulse to run vs. help.

“Help! Help me!!” she wailed, reaching out, as the tongue worked its way up over her chest and shoulders, muffling her cries as it wrapped across her face.

Edrig reached out to grab her hand, but the tongue yanked at the last moment. Their fingers barely brushed as the unnamed neko was drawn back, eyes wide with horror and panic before she finally disappeared with that seeking tongue. A few moments passed, and then another foreboding gulp sounded from below.

The remaining 'contestants' resumed their aimless movements as they tried to find some way clear of this death-field, or just avoided the sinister holes left behind by the previous attacks. A few besides Edrig seemed to have caught on though, now, keeping still and tense, watching the floor in anticipation of the next assault.

Despite the inevitability, everyone screamed once more as the tongue reemerged, this time thankfully on the opposite side of the arena from Edrig. It swept up a smaller, youngish man, yanking him down and out of sight in a stunningly quick flash. Edrig held his breath, awaiting the swallow, but instead the tongue returned at once, breaking through almost right under his feet.

Stunned at this unexpected behavior, Edrig tried to scramble back, screamed as he felt the unnatural slimy heat of the appendage coiling up his legs and torso, dragging him bodily down with horrifying ease.

He cried out and flailed in blind panic and disbelief as he was pulled into the air below the 'arena', and finally got a glimpse of the creature the tongue belonged to.

Among the last things Edrig expected to see was a gigantic, naked woman. Yet that was exactly what awaited him.

She was astoundingly beautiful, the curves of her voluptuous, deeply tan flesh filling his gaze like some salacious landscape. And her eyes, yellow and striking. She also had large, demonic bat-wings, pointed ears and a tail, marking her supernatural nature even if one discounted the fact she appeared over 100 feet tall.

The impossible female smirked, and Edrig's briefly-distracted panic resumed at full-force as he was drawn inexorably down towards her yawning mouth. He tried to scream, yet her slithery tongue found its way up across his face, effectively silencing him as he descended gradually towards the yawning, glistening maw.

The nightmarish scenario continued without pause or diversion, and soon he felt the wash of warm, humid air envelop him as he was drawn into the shadowy mouth completely.

The change of scenery was no upgrade, as total darkness consumed him, and the binding tongue grew suddenly, wildly more active. He yelped, sputtered and flailed, but there was no escape or resistance against the enthusiastic organ, as it slavered with wet, horrible heat across his body.

There was no way to maneuver or retaliate against the squishy, frictionless, enveloping flesh, while the predatory demoness seemed in no rush, tongue working to taste him thoroughly.

Without warning, light returned to Edrig's eyes, as the coiling tongue pushed him partway back out, so just his head protruded between the giantesses lips.

“Alright boys and girls!” the succubus spoke, her words somehow barely slurred, despite how occupied her mouth was. “I think that does it for round one!”

She gestured flippantly, and the edifice just above, where the remaining survivors were, collapsed and changed shape, most of the panels falling away, to leave only four narrow planks, each with one person on either side.

“For round two, the objective is simple: knock your opponent off!” the giantess said, speaking over Edrig's protests of rising terror. “Winners will proceed to the last game, while the losers . . . well, see for yourselves!”

Edrig let out a despairing cry as the giant tongue slurped him in, blanketing everything in darkness. Minutes of breathless, sweltering horror passed, as the agile tongue worked him over with horribly sensual patience, his desperate sputtering cries overshadowed by smooth, feminine hums of appreciation from the throat of the giantess.

Inevitably, the situation turned sharply for the worse, as the lascivious tongue shoved him promptly back, such that his head and shoulders where suddenly wrapped tight in slick, hot tissue. Then, she swallowed.

There was no resisting, as the rippling, slimy pull of the giant esophagus took hold, sucking him down, down, down the malevolent passage towards digestion.

Being dead was a hell of a thing.

II. Vliss (By Prinny)

Vliss Bellona was not accustomed to being made someone else's entertainment. She had lived a life of considerable power and luxury, and even unraveled a ritual that would allow her to remain eternally young, so long as she could acquire enough virgin blood to bathe in. The last thing she recalled, prior to this hellscape, was slipping in the bathtub and hitting her head.

Whatever the sequence of events that lead her to this situation, she would use any means necessary to make it through alive. Or, as alive as one could be, once one had already died and gone to Hell.

Vliss was relived to not be among the first pair of 'contestants', her heart nonetheless racing as she observed the two who would be fighting for their lives.

It seemed the insufferable elven woman, and a tall, rugged, wiry young man faced off first. Below the narrow beam of their battleground, the giant, demonic female stood in plain sight, her mouth already opened hungrily to admit the looser.

“I hate to do this, babydoll,” the wiry man spoke, grinning, “but when it's between you and me, I always pick me. Nothin' personal.” He was easily a foot taller, and probably outweighed the elf woman by fifty pounds . . . and all of it muscle, by the looks of him. Vliss was very aware of what an edge size and strength gave. Nearly insurmountable, in a bare-handed contest like this.

“You are my lesser in every conceivable way, human,” she spoke the last word like a curse.

“Hurry up and fight!!” Zycra said with cheery impatience, wagging her tongue at them.

“Sure thing ma’am, one elf-girl entree comin' right up,” the cocky man said. And then lunged forward at his far smaller opponent.

He reached out to grab her by the hair, but she slipped away low. He brought a knee up to strike her crouching figure, and she flowed gracefully to the side, dancing around behind him.

The elf-woman threw her whole body into a shove, striking the man square in the back . . . but she just didn't weigh enough. He lurched, but lowered his stance, steadying himself before she did. He whipped around, pushing her like she weighed nothing . . . and over the edge she went.

Vliss saw it before the assumed victor did. The elf caught the edge of the plank, and launched herself back up like she weighed nothing. Her opponent was caught completely off-balance, as she delivered a precise kick to his shoulder. He spun, stumbled, teetered . . . and then she planted a second kick square in his back, sending him over the edge.

It seemed he was not quite acrobatic enough to catch himself as the elf had, and so he plummeted with a disbelieving scream towards Zycra's waiting maw.

She snatched him out of the air with an effortless flick of her tongue, wrapping him head-to-toe in slimy, coiling tissue. He screamed again, more desperate, as the demoness reeled him in, his flailing form enveloped between her smirking, merciless lips.

She swallowed after a few moments, and grinned. “Okay! Elf-girl is the winner for this round. Next!”

Vliss watched again as two others were paired up, this time a hulking tower of a man, over six feet of pure muscle against . . . a petite, slender woman.

Vaguely discomfited by the sheer lopsidedness of it, Vliss watched as the man walked over to the cringing girl, who had clearly never been in a physical conflict in her life.

“We . . . we don't have to fight!” she squeaked, backpedaling.

“Yes you do!” Zycra corrected cheerfully from below.

There was nowhere to run or hide, so in only a matter of moments, he had seized her by the arm, and flung her over the side dispassionately.

There was no shocking last-second reversal like the previous contest. Just the hapless woman’s shriek as she fell down into the waiting mouth of the giantess. Zycra's tongue snatched her up eagerly, winding wet and visibly gooey up and down her slim figure, her thin, breathless cries gratingly ceaseless.

“Next!” Zycra said, still holding the hapless, shrieking woman coiled up in her tongue, for all to see and hear.

Vliss found herself severely distracted by the mewling, whimpering girl ensnared by the tongue of the demoness just below them, as she was compelled to finally take take her turn. Yet Zycra seemed in no rush, lavishing the poor loser in slimy, unwelcome attention, as Vliss and her foe took their places.

Vliss was not an especially practiced fighter, but she had fenced and learned the basics of martial arts in her youth. More promising yet, her opponent was a skinny, youngish-looking man, uncertain and soft in the face.

As they squared off, Vliss took a deliberately submissive stance, putting on her best fearful expression. “Please, don't do this!” she said in a whimpery tone, and was rewarded by an uneasy, fidgety expression from her foe.

“I . . . I don't think we have a choice.”

“That's correct! If somebody doesn't get knocked off there, I'll just eat you both!” Zycra said with discordant cheeriness, as her tongue continued to coil and squeeze the hapless woman languishing in her open mouth.

“We can run away together,” Vliss insisted in a hissing whisper. “She won't catch us, and I'll be in your debt forever!”

The young man hesitated, his eyes dropping to roam over Vliss's voluptuous figure. No better time.

“Idiot!” Vliss spat, lunging forward and shoving her adversary hard in the chest. Unbalanced, he toppled back with a yelp, clutching at her arms. She tried to pull away, but lost her balance, and stumbled forward.

The direction of her shove had been poorly thought-out, Vliss realized suddenly, as the young man fell backwards but simply landed prone upon the plank. Waving her arms with a breathless gasp, Vliss reflexively put her foot down . . . right onto her foe's stomach.

He made a pained 'oof', but Vliss suffered far worse, as her foot twisted, and she lurched helplessly off the side of the platform into open air.

“Ahhhhh!” She screamed in sudden, heart-stopping horror as wind whistled over her, and Zycra's open mouth swelled to fill her vision.

Before she could plummet headfirst into the recesses of the predator's throat, Zycra's already-occupied tongue snaked out, seizing her mid-air and wrapping her in thick, hot, gooey coils.

“Nnnngh! Ahhh!” Vliss cried out, her protests shaky and breathless, as the terrible, rippling tongue constricted and slithered wantonly over her body.

Zycra made a pleased, satisfied murmur, as her tongue rolled and twined across Vliss and the other women both, squishing them about until they were soon pressed together face-to-face in the sweltering, squishy confines.

“Mmmph! Nhaaa, haaah!” Vliss's squirming 'companion' mewled and simpered, as the dizzying, heady moments passed with them squashed together in that slimy, unwanted embrace.

At last the tongue rippled into motion, somehow pulling the other woman down while Vliss remained tangled in slimy place, drawing her further in until her legs and hips suddenly wedged firmly into the shadowy depths of the throat.

“Noo! Nonononoo!” the nameless woman tipped her head back and wailed in despair, wide eyes locking briefly with Vliss's. Then the esophagus clamped down, enveloping her utterly in a wet, rolling gulp. Gone.

The reality of her position bearing down, Vliss squirmed against the coiling tongue with a surge of desperation, her breaths rapid and shallow as she tried to get a grip on the giant organ. Tried to push it away or wriggle free. Nothing helped.

“Mmmmm, so good,” Zycra intoned, the words reverberating around Vliss's body, even as the tongue squished and slavered across her in slow, patient licks.

She could barely breath from the suffocating heat and saliva, panting out plaintive denials as she was slowly, thoroughly coiled and tasted and savored by the impossible succubus.

Only after a small eternity of that dizzying treatment did Vliss at last feel herself being drawn back and down, towards the eager depths of the throat. She let out a breathless whimper as her legs and hips were suddenly gripped by the sucking compression of the esophagus. With a single rolling swallow she was pulled 'free' of the tongue . . . and into a far worse situation. Wrapped tight on all sides by the hot, slick tissue, Vliss could only sputter and moan as she was ushered deeper and deeper towards her ultimate fate in the belly of the succubus.

Perhaps, in hindsight, the cost of eternal youth was a bit too high.

III. Eshrimelle (By Prinny)

Of the fourteen souls who had begun, only four remained uneaten now.

Eshrimelle, being an elven woman of high standing, had a terribly low opinion of the other three, all humans and inherently inferior to her by nature.

Yet the fate of those who lost was enough to send chills down her spine. Eshrimelle's last memories, prior to her arrival in this twisted afterlife, were that of being devoured and digested by a giant, vapid mermaid-creature. She had little desire to repeat the experience.

“Okay you skillful and/or lucky treats. Final round.” Zycra said with somewhat sedated enthusiasm. Eshrimelle could clearly see the predator's stomach was now very visibly rounded and full from the volume of unfortunate souls she had already consumed.

“Let's see . . . what would make a good final game . . . something fun . . . with only one winner of course . . . hmmm. Coming up with these is harder than you'd think.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Eshrimelle spoke, voice respectfully subdued.

“Huh? Okay,” Zycra shrugged casually.

“I think an obstacle course would be best. A contest of poise and balance to determine the final winner.”

Zycra pursed her lips. “Hmm, that sounds okay I guess.”

“No way!” one of the human males cried. “Did you see that bitch flippin' 'round?! She's just choosin' a game she'll win!”

The succubus tilted her head and grinned impishly. “Hmm, good point! Do you have a counter-proposal?”

“A contest of strength,” the large, placid man rumbled. “We hang from a platform. The last to fall wins.”

“But that would be so dull!” Eshrimelle broke in uneasily, uncertain of her chances in such a contest. “Something dynamic, with-”

“Alright, I've decided!” Zycra spoke over them suddenly, and waved her hands to begin rearranging the arena one final time.

The floor panels came together in a sudden rush of motion, closing in on the trapped souls, forming a large square 'room' around them, with just one opening, in the ceiling.

“The rules are simple,” Zycra said cheerily from outside. “When only one is left outside my belly, they're the winner! And whatever you do to make that happen is fair play!”

The four 'contestants' stared at each other uneasily, and soon the nature of the game became clear, as Zycra's long, wet tongue squelched it through the single opening. It moved like a huge, bizarre animal, taking up a great deal of the room's center, shifting and undulating hungrily.

For a handful of seconds, no one moved or spoke. Then, the huge human man stepped suddenly to one side, grabbing the one closest to him – the skinny, boyish blond man – and tossing him at the tongue.

The unhappy victim yelped as he stumbled into the tongue with a wet 'splat'. Like a slimy snake, it coiled around him with frightful purpose, proceeding to yank him out of the room in a quick jerk. His screams were cut off presently, followed by a loud gulp to signify his fate.

“You caught on quick this round! Not to influence anyone, but I really want a taste of that elf!” The giant tongue returned as before, ready for the next 'looser'.

Eshrimelle looked between the remaining humans and gauged her odds. The big, muscular one was unreadable, while the other – a wiry, tan-skinned man with tattooed forearms and shifty eyes – appeared more pliable.

She turned to her best bet, and make her appeal. “Neither of us have a chance against that hulk alone! Help me, and we can works something out after!” Which would most likely involve her hip-throwing him directly into the tongue's clutches . . . but she kept that part to herself.

The tattooed man just nodded, and turned his eyes to the larger man.

“I was reigning champion of the Solvian Arena for twenty years!” the big man called, for the first time raising his voice. “And I will be victorious here too!”

There was little room to maneuver, but Eshrimelle did her best, slipping to one side as the two human men squared off.

The big one moved aggressively, immediately dominating the confrontation, while Eshrimelle's ally seemed fully occupied just staying out of his grip. Eshrimelle waited for a moment of opening, and when it arrived, she darted in.

She danced in close, striking at his kidney with an elbow. It was like hitting a slab of cow-meat. He noticed though, and turned, reaching for her with his huge hand. She slipped away again, and brought her knee up, hitting the same spot with all her might. He grunted, throwing the other man away with a great sweep of his arms, and then turned his full focus onto Eshrimelle.

He barreled at her like an enraged animal, trying to bowl her over. She bent her body down almost to the floor, rolling away as he stomped the ground, denying her room to counter attack.

He was powerful, and possessed some skill. But his apparent pride seemed a chink in his facade of strength. “This 'Solvia' must be a terribly tiny backwater,” Eshrimelle said, striking a haughty pose. “if this is all it took to be champion.”

“Action speaks louder than empty words,” he returned, outwardly unaffected, but she hoped he would be a little more careless now.

The three of them paced back and forth, attention fixed on each other. Zycra's huge, wet, coiling tongue remained in the center. Waiting.

In a blur of motion, Eshrimelle's 'ally' rushed in aggressively. It seemed he had been holding back before, his movements suddenly all swaying feints and unpredictable, almost drunken-looking motions.

Eshrimelle circled, biding her time, as the larger man struggled to keep up, his moves all going in the wrong places at the wrong times against the artful misdirection, each of his missteps punished by a flurry of swift strikes to his most vulnerable points.

The hulking warrior seemed to wear down rapidly, his attacks ever further behind his adversary with each second. Eshrimelle saw it for the ruse it was . . . and almost called out a warning. She bit down on the words instead, realizing she would be far better off if both warriors were as battered as possible, by the time it was down to two.

As expected, the smaller, quicker man grew more confident, taking greater risks as he pushed to finish the bout. His muscular foe seemed to suddenly shrug off his 'exhaustion', grabbing him lightning-quick by the hair and arm, and hurling him at the waiting tongue.

Eshrimelle didn't hesitate, driving forward in a flurry of graceful, swirling kicks and pirouettes, taking the big man off-balance. He staggered as she landed several solid strikes, stumbling towards the tongue as it lashed around randomly.

Yet he still managed to avoid the deadly pink organ, and regain his footing. Cursing her plight, Eshrimelle put all her focus upon her final adversary, staying in constant motion. Her odds in a straight-up fight seemed marginal.

Stony-faced, the muscled man kept edging closer. Slowly. Carefully. Never leaving an opening. Eshrimelle continued to withdraw in reply, but there was only so much space. Only so long before she was cornered. Eventually she stopped with her back to Zycra's tongue, ready to make her stand.

He didn't rush in recklessly. Just approached her steadily. She waited, heart racing, until he was almost within arm's reach. Then, she took a small step back, and kicked the tongue behind her.

The moment her foot contacted the hot, slimy organ, it sprung to life, coiling and shifting blindly to seize her. But she was ready, and slipped artfully to one side. The muscular man kept his focus on her as she moved . . . for just a split-second too long. He yelled and tried to throw himself aside, too late, as the tongue barreled into him, wrapping securely around his figure in an instant, all his size and strength utterly dwarfed by the tongue of the succubus.

With a roar of denial, he was carried up any away, out of the box and into the waiting maw of the giant predator. Eshrimelle waited, and felt some considerable satisfaction when she heard the especially loud gulp that signified his consignment to the belly of the succubus.

She waited, heart thundering. Would she be declared the winner and set free, or would the succubus dismiss her own rules and simply eat her in the end? Such creatures were typically true to the letter of their word . . . but still. She had little real experience.

As she feared, the tongue returned, sliding wet and sinister into the closed room, undulating in an almost lewd fashion.

“You said the winner would be set free, demon! Keep your word!”

“Don't try to fool me!” Zycra's voice issued from above. “You think I can't count?”

“What?” Eshrimelle blurted, her mind racing to catch up in an ugly second. She whirled, but before she could get halfway there, a fierce shove caught her in the shoulder, throwing her straight into the tongue's horrible embrace.

Wet, hot saliva met bare flesh, as the tongue coiled with terrible eagerness around her waist and torso.

“Aahh! Nngahh!!” Eshrimelle shrieked, writhing, all her grace and dexterity suddenly worthless, useless against the tongue binding her.

Down below, Eshrimelle's former ally stared up at her from safety, wordless and stony-faced. Somehow, he had escaped the tongue's grasp, and stayed in her blindspot.

“Nnoo! You cheating filth!” Eshrimelle gasped out, but she could do nothing as the tongue pulled her up and away towards her unspeakable fate.

The world shifted, suddenly replaced by Zycra's pleased face, mouth wide open. The tongue holding Eshrimelle lead straight into those dark red, shadowy depths.

“Mmmmph!!” The coiling tongue curled and slavered across her body as she drew gradually closer to the yawning maw. Zycra's eyes closed halfway in naked pleasure, whilst the tip of the hideous tongue squelched hot and slimy up across Eshrimelle's delicate face.

There was no escape, no rescue and no mercy, as the warm darkness of the succubus's mouth enveloped her squirming form. Smiling lips sealed, bathing her in perfect black, a heavy wash of saliva rolling over her, soaking every inch of her smooth, perfect flesh.

It seemed Zycra was in no rush, as the tongue squished and coiled and groped her in endless, rolling motions. Her breaths came shallow and gasping, every surreal moment of nightmarish impossibility seeming an eternity. And yet when the 'tasting phase' reached its end, she was quite the opposite of relieved.

Zycra's throat gripped her by the legs and hips, the powerful, irresistible swallow squeezing and drawing her ever on and ever down towards the crowded, churning belly of the succubus.

Her prior experience in the stomach of a giant mermaid did little to allay her horror, as she was consigned to digestion a second time.

IV. Markus (By Krisexy26)

“I’m way too – burp – too full to reinterpret the rules and eat you anyway. Congrats, I guess. You get to bluster around claiming you’re a champion and blah blah. Go on, shoo.” Zycra waved her hand dismissively at the uncontested winner of her depraved games. “I’m gonna have a lil’ lay down. Enjoy your freedom, while it lasts.”

Just like that, Markus had won his freedom. He would live, at least longer than the other thirteen people the amber-eyed succubus mercilessly devoured, sending them down into her gurgling, acid-filled stomach. A dreadful resting place for the whole pack of them. Them, and the countless hundreds of thousands of others before them. Every last one, gone in the perfect mocha-skinned body of the seductive fire succubus. Probably disintegrated, or worse: still conscious yet forever trapped with her, within her, legions and legions of aimless, floating consciousnesses completely and utterly subsumed by Zycra’s stronger, chaotic will. In other words: a Sarlacc-esque permanent state of torture, cast into the darkest, most abyssal of pits – forever.

As he navigated his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Zhordfhor’s Palace, gruesome images of the crazy experience he just lived through haunted him, particularly the elderly man he was forced to throw down for Zycra to enjoy. The succubus hadn’t even toyed with the poor man: she had opened her mouth wide, guiding him in his fall with her long, tentacle-like tongue directly towards her quivering throat and swallowed him alive, her mouth still open. A lump had protruded for a brief time along her slender neck and then disappeared within her ribcage. The old man had shared a heartbreaking stare with Markus, making him realize that he was the last thing he was ever seeing in his life, ever. Horrified by this dramatic event, this rapid and casual extinction of an individual, he had felt true fear as Zycra shut her smirking lips and shared a gaze with him as well. A content, satisfied, yet teasing expression he would never forget. She had given him a quick wink, and then they were all transported into the finale stage, which, Markus sighed, he had won quite by chance. It was strange to him how much he felt nothing for the elf, and all he could think of was good riddance. Was it Hell already messing with his sanity? Has he ever been sane since the end of his mortal life? Has he ever been sane, at all?

Lost in his troubled thoughts as he avoided torchlight and followed the roughness of the stone walls, he was a little surprised when he finally arrived at the main hall of the palace. Everything was calm and quiet. He would get out the same way he foolishly arrived in the first place: a little crack showed up when the doors would open, just under the hinge, which any human could easily pass through – as it was intended. He would only have to descend the giant-sized staircase and make a run for it. The clearance between the staircase and the doors would be tricky, as it would leave him fully exposed, but he had no choice if he ever wanted to escape this dreadful place. Outside, he had concluded, was way better than inside. Markus waited, patiently. A dozen minutes passed, and nothing happened, only the occasional faraway scream of a damned soul, a common tune in Hell. This was the moment.

Everything was going well. He managed to get a good rhythm while going down the immense staircase, but when he reached the very last stair, luck abandoned him – as if any damned soul ever had a chance anyway. The two immense doors slammed open, and four demons hastily made their way in. They were led by a female figure, a succubus with blueish skin as pale as the moon and a pair of dragon-like wings emerging from her back. She was speaking authoritatively:

“-and I want my daughter to be ready tonight, is that clear, Ferdinand?”

“Yes, your frightfulness,” answered a demon, strangely dressed as a butler.

“I’ll be in the war room if anything comes up. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, your smugness.”

The butler bowed absurdly low and quickly went on his way. The succubus was pensive for a fraction of a second and then, as fast as lightning, she focused her attention directly onto Markus, who, in the meantime, was attempting to run as fast as he could down the last stair and possibly towards a safe spot. Instead, she looked intently at him, in a really imposing manner, a faint smile slowly forming on her lips. Strangely, fear gripped him so hard at that moment that his muscles instantly paralyzed, leaving him stuck there, an immobile little lamb facing a one hundred foot tall wolf. His mouth opened in shock, at first because he truly couldn’t move a limb, like he was petrified the instant this silver succubus set her eyes on him, and then because he could do nothing but follow with his own eyes the approaching, looming figure of this extremely dangerous being of the Underworld.

Two dazzling, intense, piercing yellow eyes. Markus had seen that before. This was indeed none other than Zycra’s mother, Laleissimithia, the Number Two of the Zhordfhor clan and one of the most dangerous demons of the infernal realms. Light smoothly reflected on her silvery skin and shoulder length platinum hair, making her slightly radiant. Six horns crowned her head, each adorned by a golden ring, while the pair of demonic wings, immobile for now, were colored in shades of pale violet. Overtly erotically dressed, like all succubi, small pieces of clothing barely covered her intimate parts, and she didn’t seem incommoded in the slightest, quite the contrary. Her long tail, with a triangular-shaped tip, casually swayed from left to right. Behind Laleiss, two heavily armed dark spirits were floating in the air, waiting for instructions. Inside their helmets, no eyes nor any facial features were discernible – only abyssal darkness.

Laleiss’ eyes narrowed slightly when she got no reaction from this damned soul. She was of course responsible for his paralysis, as she was used to spark fear in any soul with a simple gaze. However, this mortal had been quite easy to ensnare as he just froze there, scared stiff, experiencing for the first time true fear-motivated tonic immobility. As she reached him, he was just looking at her, his mouth wide in awe, distressed by her towering stature. Souls that reacted that way were often softhearted, but because of certain irreparable misdeeds, still found their way to Hell. Easy preys for ravenous demons that craved on swallowing alive a frightened, small and pitiful human soul. Just like Markus.

“Trying to get trampled, is that it?” Her voice was uncommonly melodious, yet it was also strikingly unique, like two pieces of steel clinging into one another. Unlike Zycra’s, whose expressive speech was tainted with sarcasm and tease, Laleiss’ spoke much more confidently, weighing each words carefully and delivering them with the maturity you’d expect from an infernal archdemon. “Bad way to go – and such a waste of a rare commodity,” she obviously lied. “How long have you been dead?” she falsely pondered, making conversation.

“N-not very long, b-but I eh...” Markus’ muscle memory was slowly coming back to him. What to tell this gigantic demoness? He was doomed for sure, unless he could talk his way out of it. Odds were greatly in his disfavor. Still shaken by everything that had just happened, Markus almost forgot his achievement. He did have a strong argument, at least from his perspective: “I won the contest! I’ve earned my freedom!”

“Did you?” the succubus said with a soothing voice, displaying a faint yet amused smile. Damned souls that thought they were somehow free: how much cuter could they get? This one was definitely new arrival. “And what were you doing, just now?”

“Going h-” The word died in his throat, hurting him. For a short moment, he truly wished he could go back home, but that would obviously never be the case. He recovered from the dreadful sentiment that coursed through his heart, painfully swallowed it down, and answered instead: “Away. I’m going away. I’m not a slave anymore.”

“Is that what you believe?” asked the carnivorous demoness with a growing smirk on her face. “And those shackles around your wrists? Decorative, I presume?”

Markus did look at his wrists and he couldn’t contradict this viper’s tongue. Indeed, he didn’t look free at all. Worst, he looked like an escaped convict or a runaway slave. “I can explain.”

“I didn’t quite catch that. Would you come closer?”

Markus was about to propose the opposite, but then something strange happened: he felt his arms rise up against his will. He tried to force them back down, and gasped when he couldn’t. He entered a deep state of panic when his arms continued to rise skywards, so much that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He squirmed helplessly, like a devil in holy water. Markus was literally floating in the air, and he was getting higher and higher by the second. Facing Laleiss’ midsection, he noticed that her left thumb and index fingers were adorned by a golden, dangerously sharp claw. Her index finger was making subtle upwards motions, quietly lifting him up through magical means. In less time than it takes to say, the ‘winner of the contest’ was now face to face with the alarmingly alluring succubus. His eyes met hers once more, like two confident, irradiating suns that penetrated his whole being, melting him from the inside. “You were saying?” she said in a steely tone. “Something about ‘explaining yourself’.”

To his own surprise, Markus managed to rally what he had left of composure. The situation quickly went from happily victorious to seriously precarious, but he was ready to defend his case. “I swear on my life, I won a contest and I was set free.”

“The life you no longer have. And more than likely set loose,” corrected the magnanimous succubus as she resumed on her walk, easily climbing up the immense staircase that had taken Markus an eternity to descend, maintaining his floating body in front of her face. All the while behind her, the two dark spirits were silently following, undisturbed. “Do you know what you smell like, mortal?” she said, as if telling an absolute, fundamental truth. “You reek of a life driven by lies, deceit, manipulation and – oh! What is that? I recognize that smell. Mmh, yes. I can feel it. Cowardice,” she insisted on the word, hissing the last syllable like a snake. She then paused for a few seconds, reminiscing, all the while licking and moistening her lips. “So much bittersweetness for such an insignificant soul,” she observed, coldly objective. The succubus’ words were deeply disturbing Markus. Not only because it was true, but because of the way her voice was violently penetrating his head, psychologically mauling him and the way those eyes, those fire-filled eyes, stared at him, pierced through his soul, making his heart bump faster and louder. “So tell me,” Laleiss continued, making a circular motion with her armored finger, which ensnared Markus, making him spin on himself, dizzying him, “why should I trust any word that comes out of your mouth?”

“B-bargain! A bargain! I eh...– Bargain!” The words were quite tainted in a desperate tone, but they did get an impact. Not enough to make her stop walking as she was bringing him deeper into the palace, but quite enough to make Laleiss slightly raise an eyebrow. He felt like being sentenced to death just now, so this was a situation, another, where he would either partially win or lose everything. His primal instincts were getting the better of him, and they had a little difficulty adjusting to the new reality. He was so incredibly close to her overwhelmingly beautiful face, her warm breath was gently caressing his face. The fact that his height equaled a finger of hers greatly diminished him while indubitably empowering her. The succubus facing him was just too imposing, too dominant and, that ever present thought, too devastatingly gorgeous and strikingly elegant for any human standards. He had to manage something, anything. “I propose a bargain! Ain’t that in your demon code or something?”

Markus felt something was very wrong as his hands were dragged towards her dangerously alluring face. “Humans,” Laleiss said, lightly shaking her head in disapproval. “Look at you. So eager to live when death is all over you.” Markus did try to swim away, flailing his legs around, but the silver succubus’ magnetic powers were just too powerful, as he was inexorably dragged towards her lusciously inviting lips. “There exists of course a demon code that concerns humans, but I’m afraid it only applies to living beings, not dead ones. And you...” She raised her golden, armored claw way too close to him, immobilizing him mid-air. She put the extremely sharp tip right under his chin, and began descending downwards. She could easily have sliced him open, which he feared for a moment. Instead, she tore off the fabric of his simple clothes and, in a matter of seconds, he found himself completely naked and still being slowly dragged closer to her against his will, dangling in the air like a toy. Laleiss continued: “You’re just a pathetic… silly… tiny… little… bodiless… lifeless… human soul. And quite powerless. And completely at my mercy. And looking so, so... deliciously delectable...”

During her speech, Markus could’ve swore that he saw something underneath her tongue. It happened in a flash as she spoke fast, and he couldn’t quite make sense of what he glimpsed. It couldn’t be… But then she kept on verbally diminishing him, and each word resonated deep in his mind and were received like ice-cold knives that pierced right through his heart. Laleiss knew how her words were sinking in deep in his now very fragile psyche.

“And quite frankly, between you and me, my freshly arrived and ignorant honey morsel,” she added in a soft murmur, mesmerizing Markus with the gracious movements of her terribly heavenly attracting, soul-giving lips, “what do you really have to bargain with?”

The coldheartedness of Laleiss is what affected him the most. She was definitely going to eat him, now, and she would do so coldly, dispassionately, disinterestedly, the way an executioner swings their sword. His thoughts drove to all the others that were eaten without further consideration by Zycra. It was probably sadistic to think this way, but he kind of hoped he would get an ending like the one Zycra offered to some of the contestants: deliberate, sensual toying. Most souls, in the perpetual damnation that is their life in Hell, could at least hope to get a satisfying exit, one where a horny succubus would use them to satisfy her deviant, decadent, lust-driven life. Markus had heard so many stories from eye-witnesses, he came to believe the stories were true. He did believe that Zycra would “reward” him by enslaving him, making him do dirty deeds, or whatever. Something. Maybe. Possibly. But it didn’t happen, he was just set loose. He remembered once more the old man he had sent to his death, how quickly Zycra had disposed of him. Seeing how Laleiss seemed like the kind of demon to not mess around very long and the way she was treating him and looking at him so intensely, he was certain she would simply toss him down her throat, swallow him whole and be done with him.

If only Markus had known how wrong he was.

Laleiss immobilized her prey at a human arm’s length of her mouth. At this point, the succubus’ hot breath was already making him sweaty. Slowly, she opened her mouth wide, revealing the glistening, saliva-stranded, rosy interior to him. Markus was unwillingly turned on by this spectacle, but what happened next truly… disturbed him. Laleiss twisted her pinkish red tongue around and scooped out from underneath it a massively drenched and heavily exhausted human soul. Markus knew there was something under Laleiss’ tongue, but to find there a poor, miserable soul, a regular looking man, just like him, that shocked him. Light seemed to hurt the prisoner’s eyes, as he had been stuck in Laleiss’ mouth for countless solar days, but the poor fella did notice Markus, floating right outside his damp, fleshy cage. His eyes widened and he was about to tell him the most important thing of his life when, instead, the tongue squeezed him hard against the roof of the mouth. The silver succubus let the damned soul rest half a second, a precious moment where he once again attempted to communicate with Markus, to no avail, as she squeezed him another time against her palate, harder, ruthlessly extracting what he had left of savor. It was so brutal, droplets of saliva had flown on Markus’ naked body. Then, Laleiss rolled the soul all around her mouth, slapped his face with her fleshy muscle and sent him down to his doom with one small gulp. The poor soul tried to get a grip on something, an invisible escape rope, the helping hand of an absent angel, anything to hold on to dear life. All in vain. He slid so smoothly down her throat, she barely needed to swallow him as gravity easily pushed him down her esophagus. Markus heard all too well his yells of distress as this unnamed, unknown man disappeared from the surface of the world. What had been a loud, acute and distressful scream gradually transformed into a faraway noise, then a muffled echo, then nothing.

“Now you take his place with me,” the demonic giantess whispered to him, followed by a metallic chortle. Laleiss slightly opened her mouth, and Markus’ shackles once again dragged him against his will towards the light blueish lips of what will be his new hostess for a long, long time. His hands passed by her lips and he was forced to stop his desperate wriggling and put his feet on both her soft, plushy lips and pull in the opposite direction. Markus felt at this moment the true strength of the magnetic field that she naturally emitted, an invisible yet seemingly invincible force. He would not last long.

“L-let me go, demon! Please!” he heartbrokenly shouted out while desperately fighting for his life.

“Mmmhh… How about you let go,” she whispered tenderly, engulfing his whole body in hot, humid air.

To add up to his misery, Laleiss increased the distance between her lips, not enough to make him fall, but just enough to let her tongue out. She ran the tip of it on his feet and legs, which tickled him and sent a shiver of arousal through his body. “What is she-,” he thought rapidly. “Oh no. Oh nonono!” In his total dismay, she deliberately ran her tongue over his exposed manhood, filling his whole being with unwelcome lust. “Why is she- humpfff! Nngnh! No no- aah-aahaah-hhaaaaah! S-stop! Stop! No! No! N-nnngnhhaah-huff… huff...” He panted hard as she applied more pressure over his most intimate yet now uncontrollable private area, and then the succubus completed her motion by lasciviously licking his whole body up, gently tickling his face with the very tip of her tongue. Things were getting really hot now, and he was already half-blinded by the sticky saliva she spread all over his face. So hot in fact, it was getting hard to breath, plus the relentless effort he was putting in trying to pull back his wrists from drawing him into Laleiss’ open maw. She kept licking and tonguing every inch of his skin with vigorous insistence, all the while lathering his body in thick, gluey liquid.

“P-please,” Markus whimpered, his whole body rippling of saliva. “Please. Oh my god! I-I can’t- hhaaaaahhh… can’t hold… I don’t wanna-aahhaah… don’t wanna b-be… be devour-… hmmmpphhff. I don’t… I don’t- aaaaAAAaaagggnnhh!” Her licking motion accelerated as he was trying to speak out, depriving Markus of his speech and any clear line of thought. Laleiss made sure his entire mindset was solely focused on surviving and the foreplay she was putting him in – and how agitated he would wriggle inside her beautiful, tortureful mouth. She raised her chin up, drastically increasing the improbability of an escape.

Hard to think straight when straining like you’ve never strained before in the most precarious situation you’ve ever faced. Hard to notice the fact that the demoness had stopped walking and was fully concentrated on you. Hard to see, hard to make sense of it all. So hard to breathe. And so, so hard to wave off the idea that you are, indeed, about to let go, that she is giving your body immeasurable pleasure, that every time she breathes all over you, it sends you the strongest shivers you’ve ever felt before, that when her soft, spongy, hotly wet tongue rolls all over your naked body, licking off your sweat, making you grunt heavily, you are, indeed, fully aroused.

“It’s okay,” Laleiss smoothly, tenderly, ever so slowly whispered to him. “You don’t have to fight.” And then she added, in the most profoundly personal way, a mellifluous murmur: “Just… enter… meeeee...” On this last word, she stretched her mouth wide open, exhaling a wet, deliberate and discomposing “Mlllaaaaaaahh.”

“Gaah! No, no, no, please!” Markus was barely holding himself up from being engulfed in the succubus’ oral cavity: only the tip of his toes were preventing him from falling in there, in that glistening cavern inhabited by a tireless springy, rubbery organ. The latter continually explored his body, and was particularly adamant in returning down to his waist, giving this part of his body a more special and thorough attention. “Oh god, oh god, oh gh-… gh-… gh-gh-ooooAAAAHhh! Hah-haaah!” he moaned loudly, trapped in a frantic roller coaster of feelings, veins popping from his forehead, temples, neck and arms. The demoness was pushing Markus beyond the limits of what his tiny body could endure. Lustfulness filled his being and his body wanted nothing more than to let himself be thoroughly enjoyed by this incredibly alluring being of the infernal realms.

Markus, extenuated and morally vanquished, was losing his mind as his entire field of view was filled by Laleiss’ gaping, terrifyingly fascinating maw and all its specific details: the bottomless dark hole that was her throat, her dangling uvula, the saliva that softly reflected light, the inviting rose and red interior of her mouth, her pulsating tongue that was all over him, her ivory white teeth, the sleek interior of her cheek, her striated palate. Markus did hold his grip for another fair number of seconds, but when her tongue went under his groin and suddenly pushed him way up, he knew he was done. He shared an ultimate gaze with Laleiss’ burning yellow eyes, dominantly, voraciously overlooking him with her eyelids half-closed in anticipation of all the cavalry she was about to put him in, of which she would enjoy every second. She used her magnetic powers to lay him flat on her stretched out tongue, and then Markus felt at this moment she had just released him from her spell. Gravity took hold over Markus’ body and precipitated his whole body down inside the long awaiting and wide open mouth of Laleiss. The latter immediately shut her lips behind her prey, plunging Markus in total darkness.

The succubus didn’t give him time to adjust to his new condition – he would soon learn everything about that matter. Laleiss started by squishing him against her palate, flattening his whole body over her gigantic tongue and extracted a first round of his delicious, sin-coated taste by fervently sucking on him. All Markus could hear was the watery sounds produced by her ever-rubbing tongue and the dripping noise that resulted from the heavy absorption process she was putting him through. A wet sshhfllt ensued when she temporarily released him from the strong suction. Markus extended his hands, trying to find his bearings. He was rewarded with another round of squishing as he was quickly sent up to the roof of her mouth, and then was sucked on even more. “Ughgh ssshhhhhhllllrrrrr ugh ugh- kof kof k- sshhshllrlrlrllllllrr- gnyaaah!” He managed to push down her mighty tongue with all his force and blurted out a barely comprehensible plea: “Wait! W-wait, wait! Please, h-hear me out! M-m-mercy! Mercy, please! Have mercy! Uh-uh-uh-enslave me! Enslave me, yes! Anything, but please, not this! I-I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die! Not again! Let me go, please! PLEASE!”

Laleiss giggled softly, followed by an appreciative moan, savoring his terror. She then replied to him, making him bounce on her tongue as she spoke all over him: “Oh, you’re definitely my slave, now, and you’re most certainly not going anywhere but down... deep...” There was a brief pause, and then the silver-tongued demonic entity pronounced the dreariest of sentences: “You’re all mine. For eternity.”

She swiftly turned his body face up and squished him against her palate again, this time working up his back with her myriads of taste buds. He felt it, her taste buds exploring his body, the pulsating sensation, his bare skin being extremely sensitive to a mere flick of her tongue. She casually flipped him once more, his face strongly impregnated in the spongy flesh of her tongue. While his mind still kept the struggle alive, his body could no longer resist. His muscles abandoned him and he was condemned to suffer the throes of Laleiss. An appalling wave of splashing saliva and tongue swaying enveloped his whole body and not one region of his body was spared of this macabre embrace. On his hands, on his legs, on his face: an army of taste buds tirelessly extracting everything there was to savor about his unique flavor. This game of tongue play lasted for a while, but then Laleiss entered the war room, and she had to temporarily pause his calvary.

Markus, now soaked in sticky saliva, was forcibly pushed under her tongue. This was an unusual place to be, and yet there he was, an immense tongue pushing down on his naked body, slowly drowning him in saliva. He was still vigorous, as his special treatment had just begun, so he would sometimes find a way to barely stick out one arm from his situation, but was always pushed back down with a mere flick of her tongue. She spoke a lot to whoever was in the war room. This didn’t concern him though, as every syllable of her long speeches each ended with a snap of her malleable tongue on him, knocking him and confusing him, rendering all resistance futile. The terribly long meeting an uncertain amount of time, and at that point, Markus was too exhausted to even move. Through unspoken communication, he had eventually reached an agreement with Laleiss’ endlessly shifting tongue: when she was not speaking, he would slightly peak out his head from underneath there to breathe fresher air all the while gently massaging the surface of her tongue with his hands, a gesture she seemed to appreciate as she allowed this little arrangement for the countless hours her meeting lasted. In exchange, he accepted the licking motion that sent him back under her tongue, allowing his hostess to speak without him being in the way. It was a good bargain, for now. As long as she didn’t swallow him, which he feared greatly, and he knew somehow Laleiss was feeding on this perpetual mental state that was slowly driving him mad.

At some point, another soul rolled into the succubus’ mouth, already vastly disoriented. It was all so sudden, Markus’ only reflex had been to crawl back under the tongue and tuck himself there, hiding. He heard all too well a female voice desperately crying for mercy, just like him a while ago. When she passed the lips and was sealed shut in darkness, she began screaming like a banshee. Laleiss hadn’t been gentle to her either: as soon as she had penetrated the confined space of her mouth, the succubus violently squashed the poor soul on her hard palate, and repeated the process in successive slaps, tiring her out to better enjoy her. Meanwhile, Markus didn’t dare move a muscle. So many thoughts rushed to his mind, but only one remained dominant: he did not want to lose his spot, so he stayed put and hoped Laleiss would quickly swallow this unwelcomed guest. Which she surprisingly did. What Markus didn’t know is that the female soul was so dizzied, so lost in the darkness and so agitated, she rapidly rushed to what she thought was the lips of the succubus when she had the chance, attempting an escape. Instead, she slipped on saliva, yelped, knocked her head on a molar, fell face first onto the edge of the squishy soft tongue in a wet shplit and slid head first right into the succubus’ unsuspecting throat. Laleiss, surprised yet amused by this turn of events, was forced to swallow by reflex, muffling a terrorized scream with a sigh of true delight followed by a light, blissful chuckle.

From his point of view, Markus received this event as a warning: he’d better behave, or she will mercilessly send him down for digestion. The wet glurk that echoed in the succubus mouth, as well as another heart-wrenching scream that came from the confines of Laleiss’ body, traumatized him: this was the sound of death, comparable to the falling blade of a guillotine. An irreversible swallowing sound that made it irremediably final. Images of the old man he had literally sent to his death haunted him once more, the horror-filled stare he had shared with him before being swallowed alive, and then the mischievous amber eyes of Zycra, and then the intensely burning, savagely erotic eyes of Laleiss, her gigantic perfectly mature face examining his tiny, tiny human body, measuring his worth, calculating the joy he could give her. He hugged the tip of her tongue tight, thanking the succubus for sparing his miserably profane life. A satisfied, feminine chuckle answered his gesture. Laleiss pressed him hard against her teeth, sensually playing with his small body and stimulating beyond imagination the most receptive areas of his exposed, sin-coated bare skin with her slick, thick tongue. Markus panted and moaned hard as all Hell was breaking loose in Laleiss’ mouth. He was the sole toy of a perpetually horny and torture-driven archdemon, and she wanted to play with him.

After a terribly long session of incredible oral pleasures, of wet and sticky wrestling, silence filled Laleiss’ mouth again, as she went on reading complex military reports, and Markus was allowed back up on her tongue, large and soft like a mattress, and yet all sticky and wet and humid like a swamp. His body was so excited by what he was experiencing and his mind, in a sick yet very human way, had never been so sexually stimulated before. He was hers, her slave, her personal object, a tool - she would use him as long as he would bring her enjoyment, and so Markus ceased to resist and began to accommodate himself with the twisting, lively organ and the particular inclinations of its possessor. He would caress it, spread his arms and legs all over its surface, snug himself comfortably in the middle of his fleshy prison and dance with the vivid tip of her tongue. In Markus’ now corrupted perspective, Laleiss went from hostess to mistress, from gauler to goddess. He had to please her in every way possible, make her feel like he was a worthy slave, a unique slave, one she would rather keep than eat, one she would at least not swallow by accident. If he wanted to last, Markus would have to be submissive and disciplined, accept his fate and become docile and servile like the weak, inferior man he was. Whatever the cost, whatever the time. Indefinitely.

Time, in Hell, is a well-known relative concept.