Daemon dreams

"Ooh, master... goddess... fuck me!"

He silences your moan with his lips, crushing them against yours with a passion that exceeds mere lust. You gaze deeply into the ember eyes of your mate, your lord, as you ride his wrist-thick cock. You straddle his lap, thighs wrapped around his waist, and he bucks rhythmically up into you. Your hands are draped over his muscular chest, fingers alternately running across each finely-honed curve of his hard body or simply clenching, dragging your nails across his leathery, blood-red skin in a fit of uncontrolled pleasure.

Your petite body looks truly tiny while being molested by this model of masculinity. It doesn't help that you've lost the physical edge earned from a lifetime of combat training. Instead, you are now soft, feminine, sensual. Your milky skin glistens with sweat, reflecting the hellish light of the infernal landscape all about you. Your fiery mane cascades past your hips, revealing just how long you've been servicing the daemon who has claimed you. Each thrust from your master causes your ripe tits to bounce upon your chest. They're still as perky and well-formed as they ever were, but the full and round globes upon your chest leave no doubt as to your purpose...

Neither does the complex pattern of tattoos spiraling outward from the skin above your womb. Your succulent flesh has become a mosaic of daemonic runes that wraps around you from front to back and stretches from your ankles to your neck.

The lowly imp that took your virginity is nowhere to be seen, but with all your heart and whatever remains of your soul, you know in the very depth of your being that this magnificent creature is the master who claimed you in the abbey. The form that he takes now is as much a reflection of his absolute domination over you as your form has become a reflection of your total submission.

You've been locked in coitus for as long as you can remember, been filled to overflowing with his seed for as long as you can remember. Every moment brings a new climax of pleasure. Every climax is a lifetime of ecstasy.

He breaks the kiss to suckle upon your succulent breasts. Your mouth hangs agape in silent awe at the sensation while you clutch his head to your body. Your hips roll forward and back, stimulating him as much as he does with each fuck-pump into you.

"I love it... oooh, I love it. Don't stop, master. Please, don't ever stop!" To say that the poison has destroyed your personality and reduced you to this is an understatement. This pleasure-**** is simply who you are now. Take away the ****, and you would still be just as addicted. No trace of the former Sabine remains.

Your lover releases your fat tits and kisses you gently once again. "I love you... mother."

With a gasp, you regain consciousness all at once. Set upon by a momentary fit of panic, you pat yourself down quickly. Your body seems normal, at first glance. Was it all just a dream? What's going on?