Wrestle it down with your bare hands

Frustrated with the imp's daemonic obscenity fouling your beloved abbey, you resolve to wring its scrawny neck with your bare hands. You begin by feigning fear and bewilderment, widening your blue eyes and holding out your hands defensively as you back towards one of the wash pools. The cackling fiend takes the bait, winging towards you more aggressively and flopping his cock around and stroking back and forth on the foreskin.

"Come on, lovely fire-haired bird. Come and kiss my scepter! Hee hee hee!" His barbed tail whips behind him.

You step back until you can feel the slick stones beneath your boots. Taking a step back, as if you might topple into the water, you suddenly leap onto one of the washing stools and seize the flapping imp in your hands.

He squeals with anger and thrashes in your grasp. He tries to bite you, and daemon's often have a dangerous bite, but you get him by his neck and begin to **** him. His little claws barely raise a wound on your arm.

"By the Burning Rose, I condemn you back to hell!" you growl, squeezing tighter around his throat.

Something hot and painful pricks in your thigh and you look down your body to see the imp's barbed tail stuck into your flesh. You yank the barb out and then, with perfect and terrible clarity, you recall your class on monster taxonomy.

"Imps, like most daemons, possess a potent sexual toxin capable of subduing humans into a lust-filled stupor. Unlike other daemons, the imp does not transmit this venom by bite or projectile. It uses a barb in the tip of its prehensile tail."

Your grip slackens on the imp's neck. His little claws push your hand away and he sputters for air. He wriggles out of your grasp as you feel a powerful warmth coming over your body. It is as if every inch is tingling and you feel the greatest heat between your thighs. It is a heat you last felt seeing the stallion in the stable become aroused at the scent of a mare.

"Purity is my holy shield," you begin to recite the prayer of chastity, "and my purity is my strength. By...by my pure heart I will know the...true..."

The imp flaps up into the air at eye level, its obscene cock now seeming luscious and plump. Something you want to fondle and kiss and thrust between your thighs. You shake your head and try to fight back against the daemonic toxin.

"What's the matter, fire-hair? Feeling a little parched?" He wags his cock at you. "Come and have a taste. My bollocks are full to the brim with thick, sweet cum."

A single glistening jewel of precum forms at the tip of his cock. You wet your lips and stare at the imp's swollen member, imagining how it will feel sliding into every hole on your body.

"Come here, lovely," growls the imp. "Come here and suck it."