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Part XIV
Final Release
If
you missed the previous chapter, dealing with the seduction of Conine by
Sadiste as Satyra is made to watch while being tortured, stop now! It is
available to read – unfortunately, it was posted some time ago but not
announced in the story index updates. If
you have read part 13 – read on and enjoy…
In the Cavern of the Throne Zaraeth bent over the scrying pool and breathed upon the bubbling waters, smiling as an image shimmered into a view. In it, Sadiste was standing before the manacled and slowly awakening form of the marble-white skinned Chevaan prisoner.
Zaraeth licked her lips in anticipation. The mystical tremor she had felt a short time earlier could only mean her plan was now in affect. Sadiste was in her grasp – the red demon-bitch just didn’t know it yet.
A low rumble sounded behind her and Zaraeth made a show of presenting her bare ass to the inspection of Vulgus on his throne. ‘Sadiste is preparing for the Chevaan whore’s final breaking now, milord,’ she said, casting a look back over one shoulder. ‘Perhaps she will succeed.’
‘You should hope not,’ came the demon-lord’s rumbling baritone. ‘Else the suffering you will endure as Sadiste’s slave will be the talk of our realm for millennia.’
Zaraeth came up to a kneeling position and looked around at her master. ‘Every scream from my broken body I shall offer up to your pleasure, my Lord Vulgus.’
Vulgus gave a laugh like a small earthquake and reached over to grasp one of Zaraeth’s breasts with his talon like nail. ‘Indeed,’ he said, beginning to use the nails of his fingers to draw blood from the plump blue tit as he dragged her toward him, ‘you shall!’
***
Satyra and Sadiste faced each other across a cavern filled with fire and stone columns. Stalactites and stalagmites dotted the space like stone fangs in a monsters mouth, and the rumble of the fiery pools made the walls and floor quiver.
The white skinned Chevaan stood calmly erect, shackles on her wrists attached to chains that drew her arms straight out from her body. More metal bands around her ankles kept her legs spread more than shoulder width apart.
Satyra did not even blink at her bondage. She knew the positioning of her arms and legs was designed to highlight the swell of her round breasts, the smoothness of her thighs and belly and the fire tufted slit between her long legs. She knew but she did not care. The Underworld had been one long exercise in humiliation, and the priestess no longer trembled at the thought of her naked body displayed so wantonly for her enemies. It was simply the nature of these creatures.
Sadiste moved over, hips swaying insolently, her every sensuous move an insult. She had been waiting there when the half-satyr had awoken, watching her struggle back to consciousness so she could see the fire of hatred flicker in Satyra’s eyes as she opened them to see the woman who had stolen her lovers kisses right in front of her.
Satyra stood in her chains and let the hate bubble in her. She remembered the feathery kiss of the demoness’ lips and the flutter of hope it brought, but she stamped on that light, grinding it beneath the heel of her contempt lest Sadiste sense it. She focused on the memory of Conine moaning in ecstasy in the arms of the red-skinned whore sauntering over to her, the desire to get that smooth neck between fingers and grind it to red pulp, to have her revenge!
Sadiste let her eyes rove over that spectacular gleaming white body, feeling the same thrill at seeing the priestess in chains that she had the first time she had seen her bound in the Roman wagon. She looked at the beautiful face and smiled. There was fire in those eyes now, a savagery to the curl of those red lips. She wondered what Satyra would do to her if she were to get free at this moment. The demoness felt the waves of power roiling off the Chevaan and honestly didn’t know if she could still best the ram horned Amazon.
The thought tickled her, and she smiled wider.
‘You are so close Satyra,’ she purred, stepping so close that their breasts were only inches apart. Sadiste raised a flat hand and moved the palm over Satyra’s form, almost touching the smooth marble skin. ‘I can feel your passion.’ Her half closed her eyes, studying the prisoner from beneath her curling lashes. ‘And your hatred,’ she whispered. ‘It makes you strong.’
Satyra trembled, mouth curling in contempt.
Sadiste’s hand moved to touch her between her breasts. The demoness sighed softly. ‘Mmmmmmm,’ she husked, ‘so much power.’ She let the hand run down over Satyra’s belly, then up again over one ripe tit. ‘It crackles under you skin.’ The demon-girl squeezed the plump tit softly, making Satyra twitch. ‘Yearning for you to unleash it.’
Satyra did indeed unleash something, as a large gob of spittle hit the demoness in the eye.
Sadiste blinked at the saliva ran down her face, her tongue snaking out to lick it from her full black lips. She smiled, never letting go of Satrya’s melon breast. Without warning, she dug in her inch long nails and squeezed.
Satyra stifled a groan and looked at the demoness, her face a little pinched. Sadiste squeezed harder, her talons digging into the yielding flesh so that drops of crimson began to ooze down over the while roundness. The priestess narrowed her eyes in concentration, but made no sound.
Nodding in approval Sadiste stepped around behind the prisoner, her hand never breaking contact with the Chevaan’s now deeply gouged tit mound. Once behind her she stepped up until Satyra could feel her breath on the back of her neck and the soft pressure of her large red tits pillowing against her back. A gentle bump that could only have been the demon woman’s sex mound rubbed against her ass as Sadiste’s hand again began to cruelly manipulate Satyra’s abused boob. The demoness this time forwent any warm up and plunged her razor sharp claws straight into the vulnerable mammary, twisting with awful delight.
‘You know, if I thought you were liking this, I might stop,’ Sadiste murmured into the captive Amazon’s ear, as despite herself Satyra whimpered softly. The claws were cutting her deeply, the bloodied breast being wrenched into altogether painful shapes and positions. Sadiste wiggled her fingers and the talons inside slashed and cut, ripping Satyra’s tender tit-globe from within. The prisoner gasped and staggered forward as thick red warmth spilled down onto her belly and ran down between her legs.
Sadiste lapped up the feel of Satyra’s body nestled against her own; the bloodied breast a soft globe of meat in her palm as she mauled it. As she felt the half satyr wiggling, Sadiste let her other hand move around the white skinned girl’s waist, her nails brushing over the smoothness of her flat belly with just enough pressure to leave marks without drawing blood. The gorgeous priestess stiffened in recognition of the demon girls hand as it moved lower, questing down between the splayed thighs of the captive so that the flat of Sadiste’s palm cupped to the tender swell of womanliness nestling there.
Satyra endured the touch with revulsion, every fibre of her screaming with outrage at the perversion of this creature who had taken Conine in front of her. Feeling the hand pressing gently against her cleft she grimaced, unwanted images of Sadiste’s hands roaming over Conine’s full lovely body floating before her minds eye. The pain in her tit was excruciating, yet perversely she found herself imagining the passionate coupling she had seen between the two women; but instead of Conine, it was she herself moaning in pleasure under Sadiste’s expert fingers as she used her lips to suck and kiss her hot red skin. She fought to push the image from her mind as she felt betrayal of familiar stirrings in her mons, shaking her head and muttering curses that she hoped hid her body’s betrayal.
Sadiste’s hand tickled her quim with its wicked nails, and then the demoness slid one long finger between the seal of flesh and began exploring the vestibule of the Chevaan’s pussy, the flat of her finger rubbing up and down against the inner folds. Satyra stiffened in anticipation of those curving talons slashing at her more vulnerable flesh.
The demon slut dug her nails deep into the Chevaan’s large tit again, bringing a fresh sob of pain. Satyra trembled, the motion rubbing her sex against Sadiste’s skilful digit and adding pleasure to pain.
‘I just love hurting you, Satyra,’ the red-skinned harlot moaned into her ear as she tore at the lacerated breast. The ram horned heroine ground her teeth in pain. ‘And I know that you would love to hurt me too, wouldn’t you?’
Satyra made no response, breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth. Sadiste smirked and with the speed of a viper thrust two of her hellish claws into the meat of the Chevaan’s thighs, eliciting a sudden gasping cry. Sadiste gave a tinkling laugh of pure evil and felt the blood running down her fingers. ‘I said you’d like to hurt me, wouldn’t you?’
Satyra let her head fall to her chest, trying to ignore the pain in her upper legs. Sadiste’s nails burned as if they had poison on them. She could feel the blood running down from her wounded thighs, dripping onto the stone floor between her legs.
Sadiste pulled the satyr-woman’s foaming hair back, running her finger along one curling horn and leaving a smear of blood from the deep gouges in the priestess firm breast. ‘You would like to hurt me, I know,’ she whispered. ‘Like…this!’
Sadiste pulled her talons free of Satyra’s legs and drove her fingers deep into the folds of her pink centre. The claws ripped as they went in, Satyra convulsing and shrieking in pain as her sex was violated by the tearing nails. The hot sluice of blood filled her pussy and dripped down from her torn womanhood as she hauled at her chains, making them rattle loudly as the action only added to the damage being done inside her.
Sadiste laughed in pure pleasure and pushed her two fingers up into Satyra’s love channel, wiggling them in a despicable parody of affection as the curving hooks on her fingers sliced and lacerated the insides of Satyra’s vagina. Satyra threw her head from side of side as she tried to endure the pain without screaming, forcing herself to emit only choked agonised sobs. Sadiste’s hand strayed back to her chest, grasping her unwounded mound this time and tearing at it as she squeezed horribly, crushing and shredding the firmly pliant meat at the same time.
‘Your goddess has abandoned you,’ Sadiste chuckled, twisting her hand and almost severing the nipple of Satyra’s tit as blood and sweat ran down her gorgeous chest.
‘Your people are being fucked like whores
in the brothels or
‘Your lover has forgotten you,’ the demoness purred. Her fingers spread themselves, the hellion’s vile strength forcing the sides of Satyra’s moist tunnel painfully wide and scratching her inside, wounding the yielding meat of her holy place. ‘She longs to lie with others, and feel their tongues and cocks pushing into her wanton cunt while she laughs and cums over and over.’
‘Oh Goddess!’ Satyra screamed. Her head was pulled back to face the ceiling and Sadiste could see the tears and horror in the white face, read lips stretched in pain. Her body shook against the demoness and Sadiste’s gasped as she felt her first orgasm from Satyra’s sculpted ass grinding her sex as the hellion gyrated against her captive. ‘Oh Goddess, have mercy on me!’
The Chevaan’s head was wrenched around by her man of flaming hair, and Satyra found herself staring into those glowing yellow eyes. The excitement of her climax burned in her face as Sadiste held the prisoner’s inches from her.
‘Your goddess has abandoned you, sweet one,’ Sadiste crooned. Fingers slick with Satyra’s own blood caressed her white cheek. ‘You have no hope left now. It is time.’
Sadiste hand, still bloodied from the raking of her mammary, released Satyra’s hair and made a strange and alien gesture. An object came into focus, shimmering as it took on solid form. The young Chevaan looked at it with wide green eyes, feeling the horror wash over her like a storm tide.
It was formed of two parts, each over eight inches in length and as wide as the satyr-girls wrist. These two shafts curved up slightly in a shape like a Roman letter V, their nether ends tipped with a bulbous knob and the surface of each curving shaft studded with metal bumps. Its black weight shone in the torchlight as Sadiste let her slender fingers play over one phallic extremity. ‘This,’ she murmured, ‘is the Teacher of Submission. It has been rarely used in earnest, for the skills of we Underworlders in the ways of surrender are honed by millennia of practice. In our whole history it has only be employed four times to fulfil its true purpose.’
Sadiste let the double phallus touch Satyra’s poor wounded teat, and the Chevaan braced herself for more agony. Instead, subtle ripples of pleasure flooded her breast, making her forget the pain of her wounds as she let out a small gasp of pleasure. She trembled as a warm glow filled her spectacular chest, like the feel of some exotic oil of the east being rubbed into her battered flesh by soft and willing hands.
‘This object,’ Sadiste said in purring tones, ‘was forged from the passion of a thousand young men sacrificed on the dark altars, their desire imbedded in its very essence. It speaks to the soul of the woman it touches, the thing in her that responds to the most primal,’ she paused, wetting her lips, ‘sexual urges.’ Satyra tried half heartedly to pull away, but Sadiste’s hand was still lodged inside her crotch and pulled her forward, keeping her in contact with the Teacher. Stepping round in front of the Chevaan she moved the phallus so one of its heads rested between Satrya’s ample tits, her own pressing up against the snow white hemispheres to create a nest of yielding softness around the dildo, the shafts being cupped in each beauties cleavage. ‘It calls forth the females own hunger, letting her know the true joy of surrendering herself to the throws of carnal bliss.’
Satyra could barely make out the words Sadiste was uttering as she fought not to yield to the luxurious tingling playing over her breasts like a hundred soft loving kisses. The cuts on her breasts were now almost healed by the Underworld sorcery. She took a panting breath and bit her lip, her head light and her heart beating faster within her trembling bosom.
‘Of course,’ Sadiste whispered, ‘for those who prove intractable, the Teacher has other lessons.’
Without warning, the pleasure washing through Satrya’s ample mammaries transformed to sharp stinging pain. The Chevaan gasped and twisted as loving kisses turned into the bites of venomous insects. Again she tried to pull away, but Sadiste held her with a devils strength as the torment ran over the flesh of her womanly chest, making her close her eyes and hiss between her teeth.
Then the pain was gone. Satyra opened her eyes and saw Sadiste holding the Teacher before her once more, smiling her wicked smile and caressing the bulbous end of one metal shaft. ‘Now,’ she said playfully, ‘where do you supposes this little thing is going?’
Her eyes flicked down but Satyra did not need to follow her gaze to know the answer to the red-skinned hellion’s question. She said nothing, but if Sadiste’s smile was anything to go by, then the look on her lovely face must have spoken of both her anger, and her fear.
The devil woman stepped closer until their breasts were almost touching, then moved the double headed tool down out to site. Satyra kept her green eyes fixed on the demoness’ yellow ones, grunting slightly when she felt one metal cock- head brushing up against her labia.
‘Me first,’ the Underworlder said, and her arms and shoulders moved as she manipulated the sex-artefact, a look on concentration on her face that quickly turned into blissful pleasure as she pulled the metal Teacher into herself. Satyra looked away for the few moments it took Sadiste to have the implement fully inserted into her red pussy, the evil slut lingering with the process and showing no embarrassment at revelling in the sweet sensations she was experiencing in front of her helpless captive.
‘Ah, the pleasure,’ the Underworlder sighed. ‘But pleasure should be shared, don’t you agree, Satyra?’ She moved closer, so that the women’s full firm tits brushed sensuously together. ‘Share this with me.’
Satyra felt the nub of the metal artefact push softly against her helpless labia, acting as a surrogate cock for the female monster before her. She pulled back, but the manacles stopped her. She struggled to close her legs, but she was helpless. She panted as the metal obscenity eased forward, directed by Sadiste’s wiggling hips and her depraved will.
The demoness put one hand on Satrya’s slender waist and the other behind her head amid her rippling red hair, forcing her head down, making her gaze down to where the teacher seemed to sprout like a vile appendage from within the devil-woman’s bald red pussy lips. Sadiste moved her own pelvis up and down and Satyra felt the head slip past her outer folds with a wet pop.
‘I’m going inside you now,’ the red-skinned hellion whispered, voice thick with passion. Satyra closed her eyes against the truth of it but could not escape the feel of her sex being violated or the unimaginable horror of knowing she was going to be raped again, but this time by another woman.
Sadiste’ lovely, evil face was glowing with excitement, the waggling of her hips moving her towards Satyra’s holy of holies but also rubbing the teacher inside her own wicked loins. She shifted both hands to grasp the ram-horned beauty’s hips and gave a quick thrust, hitting the barrier of the inner pinkness as Satyra clenched desperately, trying to keep her out. Sadiste laughed nastily and pushed harder, keeping the pressure up and watching Satyra’s own gorgeous features scrunch up as the priestess felt the metal shaft make headway, fighting past her resistance bit by bit, pushing her womanly petals inwards. The Chevaan shook her had and kept resisting, but it was hopeless, the demoness to strong and she too weak from torture and despair. She struggled furiously, weeping in anger, and then cried out as her defences crumbled before the irresistible onslaught.
‘AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!’
With a sudden rush, Sadiste’s metal cock surged deep into the prisoner, impaling her sex with eight inches of smooth, cold iron. Satyra’s wail mixed with Sadiste’s gasp of utter delight as she rammed into the prisoner, the cock coming to a sudden halt as the women’s sexual organs slamming together with a sticky, wet slapping of female flesh.
For a moment, the two women stood there,
red and white bodies nestled against each other, curling red waves of hair
mingling with the straight
Feeling her flat belly pushed up against Satyra’s Sadiste tensed her abdominal muscles, massaging her victim lewdly as the pressure of their bodies against each other made the body of each woman start to perspire. Satyra felt the metal phallus inside her twitching, stimulating her sexual centre without her consent and knowing that the other half of the repulsive device must be doing the same inside Sadiste’s love-canal. A warm, moist glow began to build in her nethers, tingling outwards through the rest of her.
Sadiste languished in the feel of being imbedded in the white-skinned Chevaan, savouring the touch of Satyra’s incredible physique in contact with her own but also the sense of power, the experience to taking her against her will. It was hardly the first time she had raped a woman, not even the first time she had violated them in such a way, but the excitement of doing it to this woman made her black heart pound in her breast. A look of pleasure mixed with loathing was painted across the priestess strong, lovely features as she still fought to resist the unstoppable course of events, to deny the pure ecstasy being channelled into her young red-haired cunny.
Sadiste purred with happiness, moving her hips back and pulling out of the Chevaan a little, sex-juice gleaming on the metal as it slid out of the silken folds. Satyra gave a little whimper at the feel of the shaft leaving her, then moaned loudly as Sadiste pushed with her hips, sliding back into her. She repeated the move, using the mystical phallus to fuck Satyra slowly and with relish. Grabbing her prisoner’s firm white ass with her taloned hands the demoness began to move into a steady rhythm, slicing her pussy with seven inches of thrusting steel cock.
Hanging helpless Satyra wept with shame, trying desperately to ignore the tumultuous yearning building inside her as her womanly cleft was filled with a bubbling lustful sweetness. The enchantments on the Teacher ate away at her already battered defences like a tide against a sandcastle. Her toes curled as rich dark pleasure washed over her, making her want to surrender utterly to the yearnings of her body. Her orgasm began to coil and wriggle inside her belly, and nothing she could do seemed able to stop the powerful forces within.
‘Give in to it,’ a voice whispered to her, and with a start her eyes snapped open to find Sadiste staring at her, yellow eyes full of passion. Satyra had been so overwhelmed by the forces tugging at her womanhood she had almost forgotten the demoness responsible for her violation. Sadiste was leaning back with her hands on Satyra’s backside and pumping steadily, using the sorcerous dildo as skilfully as Satyra had ever known a man to do with a real cock. The Underworlder smiled in delight and her figure undulated as she fucked her prisoner, full blood red breasts twitching as her breathing quickened with her arousal. Satyra stared at those twin orbs of flesh, perfect as her own, and wondering what it would be like to have one of those delightful spheres pressed against her lips as she suckled on the dark hard nipple and lapped at it with her tongue.
At once, she pulled back, shaking her head so that her red hair billowed around her curving horns. ‘Never,’ she gasped. ‘I’ll never join yeeeeAAAAAHHH!’
The pain came out of nowhere, filling her womanhood as if the liquid pleasure that had been bubbling within were a passing daydream. She shook in her chains and her body quivered while it felt as though she were again in the pool of fire.
And then it was gone, and the pleasure was building again. She sucked in air and blinked, feeling the steel sliding effortlessly into her as she tried to comprehend what had happened.
‘If you reject it, you will suffer, Satyra,’ Sadiste said without stopping her pumping rhythm. ‘Fighting will only bring you pain, my sweet Chevaan, but surrender,’ she pushed deep, and Satyra felt a glow of ecstasy flare briefly between her legs, ‘will bring you such joy as you have never known.’
Satyra moaned with desire and with despair. It felt too good, Sadiste’s warm red body felt so good, and she felt her climax buzzing inside her, building towards release. Without thinking, she wiggled her shapely hips, helping the movements of the arcane dildo as it hummed in her sex, while the demoness dipped her head to nuzzle her neck, kissing it. Their breasts met again and the twin mounds of each woman pillowed erotically.
‘Stop,’ Satyra whispered. ‘I won’t be yours. I won’t.’ Sadiste pushed in and out of her and she mustered her strength, trying to pull away. ‘No,’ she said again, more forcefully, struggling to retain her sense of self. ‘NO!’
Pain again, and this time it made her shriek, head cast back. Small insects were stinging inside her poor cunny, filling it with acid venom. She thrashed helplessly, hearing from a great distance Sadiste’s own cry of pleasure as Satyra’s writhing form twisted the Teacher in her demon cleft and she came. The cries mingled in the cavern as each spasmed, twitching and gasping. Then the pain stopped, and Satyra slumped in her bonds, feeling the demonic phallus again begin to slice upwards between her pouting nether lips.
‘You have no choice now, my little priestess,’ Sadiste said, rubbing herself against the Chevaan and delighting in that body’s glorious curves. ‘You will suffer endlessly, until you surrender to what your cunt cries out for. You pussy is telling you what you really want, Satyra. You cannot deny me any longer.’
The demoness watched the Chevaan sob pitifully, still trying to fight the inevitable. Sadiste thought she had never seen a woman look so sexy in her brokenness, so utterly desirable.
Satyra shook her head, still resisting, and another wave of pain made her heave up and howl in agony. Sadiste felt the Teacher filling her own pussy with another powerful surge of pleasure, rewarding her decadence, and didn’t know how the Chevaan could still be fighting, still be choosing suffering over sweet release. Tears ran down the white cheeks as she twisted in pain, but she refused to yield. Yet she must, she must!
Satyra felt her soul being shredded to bloody rags by the anguish pumping into her pussy. The pleasure came briefly now, the pain hot and fast. Her womanhood throbbed and screamed with it, like white-hot razors slicing into her sex-meat, destroying her over and over and leaving her alive to suffer again. She knew that she had only to surrender and the pain would stop, had only to say the words and she would be in rapture, but she kept fighting. Her body felt as though it had plunged into fiery lava and she screamed until she felt her lungs exploding, but the vile magicks kept her alive, kept her aware. Sadiste kept raping her, torture fucking her over and over, climaxing repeatedly as the helpless half-satyr twisted so hard she wrenched her shoulder and hips out of joint, her tits heaving and blood oozing from her ravaged quim as she screamed and screamed and screamed again.
How long it went on like that, neither woman could have said. Anguish and euphoria slammed into each other over and over in a moving tableau of sexual release, two incredible female bodies thrashing together, the exotically gorgeous faces of each girl a window to their souls as they gasped, choked, and grunted in endless unison. Red and white forms slid up and down against each other furiously, as ardent and crimson tits bounced and jostled each other and small rivers of perspiration flowed down their quaking flesh, mingling in the soaking sticky heat of their pounding pink sexhoods. Satyra’s red hair fell about her horns in lank strands of molten copper, as her full mouth stretched painfully to express her suffering, her voice all but gone from howling. The pain in her smashed and shredded pussy radiated out through her, until every tiny nerve in her ripe body was being flayed by the never-ending torture of the metal atrocity lodged deep inside her.
Sadiste howled too, another orgasm shaking her to her black core. She had never dreamed such bliss could be, the pleasure of tormenting such a resilient soul leaving her in ecstasy. He mouth flashed forward, fangs burying themselves in mortal flesh and blood filling her mouth as she bit deep into the redhead’s neck, so that streams of blood ran down over her breast and writhing body. ‘Give in,’ she hissed. ‘Give in, Satyra, let go.’ She pumped on and on, hearing her captives sobbing screams. ‘I need you with me, Satyra, I need you to…arrrrrggggggghhhh!!!’
Satyra blinked, feeling the wash of pleasure and feeling Sadiste’s body shaking, not in delight, but in suffering. Somehow, the pain had turned on the demoness, giving Satyra a moment of respite. But how?
She barely had time to form the question in her mind before the red skinned hellion hauled herself upright, face twisted in fury. Again Satyra felt the agony engulf her and her broken voice howled anew, but this time the suffering was less all encompassing. Almost as if it were being somehow diminished…
Satyra concentrated, focussing her will. Days [or was it centuries] of torture in the Pit had left her shaken and frayed, but they had also tempered her inner strength. Like the sword that was heated and beaten over and over, her will had been hammered into something hard and flexible and steel. She thrust the pain aside and looked, really looked, into the leering facing of the woman raping her, studying that vision of diabolical beauty, searching its chiselled, inhumanly lovely features.
Their faces were so close their breath mingled as each panted from between lush full lips. They could smell each other sweat as their bodies twisted and jerked in unison, tits rubbing together like pairs of wine-skins, firm and yielding. As the juices of their sex blended into a single sticky morass between their legs of crimson and alabaster, Satyra clenched her teeth so hard it felt like they would shatter, her throat constricted with the sounds of pain gurgling up from within her. Sadiste thrust hard and the pain-cock of hell ripped her deep, making her sob aloud, and in that instant when she felt herself suffused with torment, she saw what she knew the demoness was desperately trying to hide from her victim.
Pity.
Satyra’s mind reeled. She grunted at another thrust, acid fire scalding her pink centre, but her thoughts were racing. The spell had worked, and now Sadiste was feeling the purity of her evil compromised, diluted by empathy. She cared about what was happening to Satyra, wanted her to surrender not just to know the pleasure of conquest, but so she could stop hurting her!
Satyra snarled, feeling her torment easing. The Teacher of Submission responded not just to the feelings of its victim, but also the one who wielded it. It was a double edged sword, and Satyra had the secret now. She clenched the muscles of her womanhood, made herself squeeze down on the abomination ravaging her, though every part of her cried out to expel it from her. She gripped it tight, drinking in the pain to feed her anger, and then suddenly she thrust.
Sadiste was drawing back her own hips and was taken unawares. The cock went back with her but kept going, lifting her onto her toes as her yellow eyes registered surprise, which quickly changed to a gasp of pain. She staggered, and as she stumbled off-balance Satyra thrust again, concentrating her rage into the thing of darkness nestled inside her and sending her black anger surging through it and into her demonic captor.
Sadiste screamed, eyes screwed shut, her back arched. The pain fuelled her own anger and she pulled herself up, sending her own violent thoughts through the double phallus and into Satyra as waves of suffering. Her eyes lokcked with Satyra’s own and the demon woman gasped in surprise to see that Satyra’s green orbs were quickly darkening, transforming into two shining black marbles, cruel and pitiless as a sharks.
And the battle was joined in earnest.
Two maelstroms of agony battered at each other as both women twisted and thrashed upon the horns of the evil artefact, seeking to dominate and beat down their opponent. The screams of both women mingled into a single raging symphony of pain and hate.
Throughout the Underworld, the minions of darkness paused in their vile chores to take note of the strident screams, as the forces being unleashed within each trembling form made the leaping pools of fire shiver and opened hairline cracks in the ceiling and walls. Elsewhere, Yukkoth turned their heads from the mutilations of young lovers who had embraced the ways of pleasure at the expense of others. Warrior demons busy flaying the hides of men and women who had enslaved others for their twisted desires held their whip hands steady to wonder at which soul could produce such a sweet cry of utter torment. In the pits, the serpents of lust coiled and hissed as the sound of ultimate suffering echoed along the tunnels and in the dark caverns and crevices where they slithered, hungry for prey.
In the chamber where they stood, Satrya and Sadiste continued their contest of wills without respite. Both women stood transfixed with the horrid metal cylinder impaling her though her female centre, like fish squirming upon a hook lodged deep in their moist red flesh. The waves of sexuality emanating from their two magnificent bodies heaving against each other would have burned away the blood and bones of any mortal man who stumbled upon them, as forces primal and elemental built in their twin cores, fighting for release. Both now experienced pain that took them to the edge of madness, yet neither backed away. Their bodies crackled with mystic energy that stung their nerves like the bite of a thousand hornets across each lovely inch of smooth skin, but they fought on. Searing bolts of sorcery sprang up between them, lashing their bodies and tender breasts with fire that boiled the blood in their veins and rent their curving forms to bloody ribbons; they screamed and kept going, the blood running down over sculpted asses and exquisite legs to gather in steaming pools about their feet as they stood tip-toe to tip-toe. Between those gorgeous lower limbs the lips of their tortured cunts blistered and smoked, the succulent pink sex within each girl a receptacle for agony; but they did not relent, each thrusting madly, knowing that to yield for a instant would be fatal.
It could not last forever. The fire raged in each of the two mystics, but in one in burned the hotter. Sadiste felt her strength reach its limit, her power curtailed by the empathy that clung like a parasite about her and leeched her dark strength. Her eyes widened in horrible realization, and she pulled back, seeking escape.
Satyra was faster. As the red-skinned demoness tried to rip free, the fingers of the ram-horned Chevaan locked about those of the Underworlder, holding her fast. Sadiste screamed in rage and fear, but she could not pull free.
‘Release me,’ she howled, but Satyra only laughed through her pain. ‘Set me free or die!’
Satyra grinned wide and sent another wave of power racing through the mystic circuit. Sadiste shrieked and twisted in the Chevaan’s grip, but could not pull herself away. Her loins sparked and sizzled around the Teacher as it suffused her with torment, as Satyra leaned forward, pressing her advantage until the demoness full red tits arced up towards the cavern roof and the vertebrae in her back cracked like kernels of grain in the fire.
‘Do you feel it bitch,’ Satyra laughed again, her face glowing with wild exultation. ‘You wanted my power, sluttress of hell. Now take it! Take it all!’
Sadiste took the power being channelled into her, having no choice. She took it until her hands and pussy burned with dark fire and tears of blood leaked from her yellow eyes. She took it until her lush crimson skin blistered and bled while she screamed endlessly. She took all her demonic form could endure.
And then she took more.
‘Mercy,’ Sadiste howled, her skull feeling it would burst from the pain. Her inside were liquid fire, consuming her endlessly. ‘P-please…pleasssssssee…..’
Satyra stared down at the broken think twisting in her grip, her eyes cold and black as the pits of darkness. ‘Yes, mercy,’ she whispered. ‘Such mercy as you taught me.’
The power flared in Satyra’s eyes again, and she did nothing to deny its siren call. Within her wet sex the pain was transformed instantly to euphoric relaease, washing through her like a tide of pure erotic bliss, drowning her soul in its power. And in an instant, the chains that had held her fast were wrapped about the demon woman’s wrists instead. Without effort Satyra stepped free, pulling herself off the Teacher of Submission with a wince of pain as her flayed womanhood steamed, the terrible wounds healing slowly.
Sadiste sagged in her new bonds, but only for a moment. A gesture from the red haired satyr woman and fire crackled from her fingers, flowing into the malevolent phallus and into the demoness ravaged cunny, making her scream anew.
‘Hang there in shame until you master comes for you, cunt of hell,’ Satyra snarled, still trembling from the ordeal she had endured. Blood and sweat rand down her curvaceous body as she stood naked but clothed in power. ‘And when the Teacher is done with you and he begins you true torture, I will be listening for your screams.’
Sadiste looked at the Chevaan with pleading eyes, betrayed by compassion. There was none to be seen in the now black orbs of the priestess.
Movement behind her reminded Satyra of her danger. A groups of Yukkoth gathered in the entrance to the cavern, eying her nude form with evil smiles.
Satyra smiled back.
A moment later only she and the howling Sadiste and a half dozen pools of steaming goo occupied the rocky walled chamber. Satyra raised her hands and summoned her new-found power, black flames rushed upwards to surround her, and when they died away, only Sadiste and the bubbling pools remained.
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