Rescue Constance from being violated

You stare in revolted horror, paralyzed for the moment by the obscene sight of Constance's violation by the alligator-headed daemon. Her gold-fringed cunt is stretched nearly to bursting around the shaft of the daemon's cock. It is as big around as both of your fists together and the creature pushes it into her quim with little concern for her comfort. She jerks and her head and breasts bounce in time to the fiend's powerful strokes. Cum or precum slops from her stuffed hole, dripping in long, frothy strands to the floor between Constance's feet.

The daemon's fetid stench is that of a brimstone bog and it mingles with the sharp tang of sex that permeates the air. It opens its jaws again and hisses with more pleasure, swinging its reptilian tail from side to side. Its cock is so huge that you can see it throbbing at a distance. There is a loud slurping sound and overflowing cum spurts out around the fiend's thrusting cock. It spatters Constance's thighs and splatters against her quim.

Brandishing the sword of St. Magdalena, you choose that moment to charge at the fiend. Your swing is true, the blade flashing with holy fire in the moment before it makes contact and slashes into and through the muscled bicep of the daemon. The brute's huge arm flops onto the floor and a spray of black ichor hits your gown and face.

"Chastity my shield and devotion my weapon!" you cry and hack the blade at the creature again.

It recoils from your swing, pulling its cock out from Constance's jizz-flooded gape with a disgusting slurp and gush of pungent daemon-spunk. Constance falls forward onto the floor, her ass in the air, and the daemon dodges your swing and turns its full attention to you. It hisses and snaps its jaws in anger. It reaches for a barbed mace it had put aside to take its pleasure.

"Back to hell! Back to the abyss!" You hack at the fiend's head and neck, severing scaled hide and muscle and chopping into the bone. The daemon flails and falls to the ground, some vital nerve severed as it twitches and lets out a terrible scream. You turn, flourish the sword with renewed confidence, and bury the blade in its forehead. The holy fire ignites the daemonic flesh like kindling and in seconds its entire body has burned away to nothing.

You sheath the sword in its scabbard and quickly turn to Constance. She has sat up, her legs apart, her eyes as dull as before as she rubs furiously at her cum-slathered cunt.

"Sister, we must go," you say, seizing her by her shoulders and shaking her.

Constance fucks three fingers in and out of her flooded, gaping cunt. She writhes and squirms her hips. Her eyes roll here and there as if she cannot see you and she moans, "Fucccck meeeee."

You do not know if the condition of this mad lust is temporary or permanent. You slap her face and she does not react. You raise your hand to slap her again and you hear something coming out from the book shelves. It is snorting like a pig and judging by its shadow seen between the books it must be nearly as large as a bear.

You might still have time to escape, but it will mean abandoning Constance in her sex-crazed madness. The only other alternative is to confront whatever is coming out from between those book shelves.