Attack it with your bare hands

You have been trained to fight without a weapon. You would rather be holding a sword or mace, but you are too angry to be afraid of this creature.

"Hey!" Your voice echoes in the room and the creature's head snaps up. "Come and get your neck snapped!"

The creature lopes out of the shadows and for a moment you doubt the wisdom of your decision to try to fight it with your bare hands.

Its flesh is smooth like an amphibian and a red-black color. It stands more than waist high and has the lean body of a spring wolf. Its head is a single tapering cone of mottled flesh with a snout that droops and then lifts as the beast blurts a discordant parody of an elephant's trumpet.

You bring up your fists in a fighting stance.

"At least you won't be able to bite me with that mouth. I'll-"

The trumpeting snout hisses and there is a sharp prick in your neck. You swat at the pain and feel the bony protrusion of a tooth stuck into your flesh. You pull it out, but the damage is done. You feel the hot throb of a sting as the daemon hound's venom works its way into your system.

"Goddess," you moan, feeling the heat of the venom begin to thrum within your blood. Your face flushes and you feel a gathering warmth between your thighs. You wet your lips and look at the horrifying hound as it lopes towards you.

The poison is making it hard to stand. You feel a nearly overwhelming urge to lift your gown and touch yourself in obscene ways. You do not even care that the daemon is there. No, you do care. You want it there. You want to touch it and fondle it and find its cock.

"Goddess, help me," you whisper, just barely clinging to your sanity. "I must be strong."