Slow Victory

Where once she had entered the Slaughtered Lamb without issue, without so much as a passing glance at staff hired to run a drinking establishment as a front for what lay below, Sarah now had to engage with them. To be allowed back onto the ground floor, first, and then, through considerably more amicable convincing and a not insignificant bribe, to be allowed to pass through the back room and the curtains to the winding way down into the basement.

In a pleasantly dusky side room, filled with well-cushioned seats and tables, each with its own little bowl of snacks – nuts and dried fruits and other things not easily ruined by being sat uncovered for hours – Sarah found Valeria. Beneath the orange light of a bone-colored wax candle, a kneeling woman before her, engaged in and totally focused upon the task of massaging her feet. As was ever the case when the subject of such ministrations, Valeria paid it no attention whatsoever, instead affecting complete absorption in some crumbling, dark tome, from which she only hesitantly looked up when Sarah approached. Without a word, she appraised Sarah, and under that withering gaze, it was impossible not to shrink just a little.

“You have come to change your fate,” Valeria said.

It was not a question, and in not making it one, Sarah felt the denial to be implicit before she had begun to make her case. Perhaps it was easier not to make it, then. Valeria knew the circumstances sufficiently, and had spent several years teaching her. Whatever conclusion she had arrived at, it was unlikely to be swayed by impassioned pleas. Appeal, instead, to her pride, or her sadism, or her curiosity. Those were ever-present, bottomless wells.

“So I have. And it’s in your hands,” Sarah said.

“What is it you think you can do to prove that you are in control?”

“I’ll subdue the demon. Raxandra. I’ll do it from a position of weakness, of your choosing. I don’t need advantage – I already control her. It.”

“Naturally,” Valeria said. Her eyes lit up, warming from that resting, icy gaze into a somehow more frightening state. She was engaged, thinking, concocting some scheme. Some plan. A small smile grew on her lips.

“I pose you a challenge, then,” Valeria said. She set the book down in her lap, still completely ignoring the woman on the floor before her. Merely another piece of furniture. “Before me, before a panel of gathered judges, who will observe and help control the demon, both, if things go wrong, you will copulate with it.”

“You might at least pretend that this’ll be about control, rather than my humiliation,” Sarah said.

“If you can control the creature, if you can take several feet of eredar cock, surely you are in control of it,” Valeria said.

“We’ve both seen the thing. Even supposing she-- it agrees, there’s no way—” Sarah stopped herself. Grit her teeth, feeling her nose scrunch up just so. She examined Valeria, who remained infuriatingly relaxed in the high-back chair. Wriggling her toes, just once, appearing to wait for Sarah’s tirade to go on. Continuing would do nothing but satisfy her former teacher. The challenge was set, and so, she had but to agree, or to leave and presumably never return.

“Fine,” Sarah said, at length. “I’ll do it.”

“Splendid,” Valeria said. “I will locate a paladin, a demon hunter, and a few more of our colleagues. That ought to be enough to contain the creature when it inevitably breaks its bonds.”

Sarah allowed herself a rare sneer in the direction of Valeria, and then turned, and stalked off to find a quiet place where she might panic without interference for a few long moments. For an hour or two, perhaps, which presumably was what it would take Valeria to locate the people she had promised.

A full three hours passed before a staff member, head continually bowed so as to not look at and risk the wrath of Sarah, informed her that Valeria had gathered a handful of observers in that same side room where they had conversed, and now waited for Sarah to return to begin the demonstration of control. The servant receded from view after she told him that she would be along shortly, and so she placed the finishing touches upon a few minor magics.

The first spell was illusion: Sarah had shed her clothes, and instead wrapped herself in garments that would come away at a snap. A thought. The demon, abuzz in her mind at the prospect of being let loose, soon, to do with her as it pleased, to some extent, for that was what she had promised it, would no doubt otherwise tear away and ruin anything real she might wear.

When the panic had settled down, when she tried to think of ways in which she could use the sordid clash as a way to demonstrate control over Raxandra, the second spell came to her. A more subtle thing, an enhancement of the durability and flexibility of her body, such that, for a few hours, at least, she could suffer much more pressure and impact and strength being applied to her than she might otherwise. She could, as heady and yet terrifying as it seemed, hope to contain the absolutely monstrously massive cock of her bound demon.

A third and final preparation was not spellwork, but rather a calling up of Raxandra in her mind. Their connection allowed them to share emotion, even to transmit words, albeit slowly. How it worked, exactly, Sarah did not know. The eredar was far away, in space, even if they were inextricably bound together by magical links which she held the keys to. Though those chains allowed communication, it was slow. So, much of the time had passed not with back and forth dialogue, merely with impressing upon Raxandra that she was to be summoned in relatively short order, and that the purpose of her being called forth was not to bicker, or to fight, but to fuck. Disgruntled and disgusted with being bound like some common imp, the eredar had nevertheless expressed some worryingly aggressive approval at the notion of fucking her notional slave-mistress, but no more.

Sarah, at last, left the little room, really no more than a storage closet with a chair in it, a place for those in need of utmost privacy, rather than comfort, and made her way back to the lounge. Its center had been cleared of furniture, most of which had been removed entirely. What remained was pushed up near the walls, some of it filled with the reclining shapes of other warlocks, Valeria included, while three corners each had a rather out of place figure.

In one, a tall draenei, clad in golden plate, the hint of a floating, blue-white symbol hovering in the air before her forehead. She leaned upon a huge, crystal hammer, presumably drawn and ready to face the demon that was to be called forth. In another corner, opposite the paladin, was a winged, scaled creature – once a high elf or blood elf, perhaps, but now outgrown that descriptor. Its fusion with and consumption of a demon’s soul had warped it, bloated it, made it taller, tougher, stronger, but also removed it from being classified as anything like what it had once been. It emanated poorly-contained power, and so, Sarah had no doubt that it would eagerly fight and try to consume Raxandra, if let loose. In the final corner stood a rather plain-looking woman, with refined features and well-crafted clothes – a bureaucrat or minor noble, Sarah guessed. Brought in as little more than a witness.

Valeria indicated the center of the room with a lazy gesture, one that Sarah did not need to take her place there. In one hand, she held the precise mixture of sand and glass and bone dust which the summoning circle had to be made up of, carrying it thus out of necessity. Illusory pockets would not hold real material, after all. She soon turned about herself, scattering it, anyway, once more guiding the floating mixture into concentric circles, shifting and maneuvering it into the shapes of well-known runes, each taking its place.

She spent no time at all on introductions. The paladin and the illidari would never be her friends or comrades, anyway, and after witnessing what was no doubt to come, she was sure she would be unable to face the bureaucrat-noble anyway, without turning a hitherto unknown shade of crimson. It was stubborn pride, a wish to prove herself up to the task to Valeria, that drove her. And, if she was to be truly honest with herself, which she was, when she was going to be naked and fucked by a demon before a small gathering anyway, it was also just the prospect of titanic demon dick, and fucking it. Being fucked by it.

With a little, anxious breath, Sarah hopped out of the circle, its last few intricacies settling into place before the shaping magic left it. She extended her right hand, then, fingers spread, eyes glued to the symbol upon the floor. Tracing a rough circle in the air above the real one below her, she drew, pulled, hauled magical energy from the nether and into being, into something real, allowing it to feed on and ignite the circle with purple power. A fifth of the way around the symbol at a time. She ignited each fifth with a jerked movement of her hand, until the full thing shone, and then, curling her fingers into a fist which she opened slowly, drove the tear in reality apart, expanded it into a hole from which Raxandra crawled. She was not, this one time, hauled, hissing and screaming, from wherever her home was, but came of her own accord. Pulled herself up from somewhere deep beneath the Slaughtered Lamb’s basement, by hands, elbows, the with a knee up on the summoning circle.

The rend in the physical world closed when the eredar had pulled herself free of it, one hoof, then another clacking against stone as she stood, straightening to her full, imposing height. Slowly, Raxandra’s fiery eyes scanned those gathered, the warlocks with only minor interest, the bureaucrat with a little hungry light in her eyes, the demon hunter with disgust, and the draenei with a smug smile that invited the paladin to try something. Anything. Attacking, perhaps. Submitting, more likely.

Without infusing the gesture with any power, Sarah raised her right hand further, and snapped her fingers. An insolent gesture to a millennia-old, experienced warrior, no doubt, but nevertheless one that made the eredar refocus her attention on the comparatively tiny human girl, the one who had so brazenly bound and summoned her, and refused to break the bonds that kept them tied to one-another. The petite creature who had reached out and asked to be fucked.

Raxandra took a step forward. Slow, as it always was, when she had to break free of the summoning circle’s wards. She waded, therefore, two agonizingly sluggish steps, freeing herself of the containment.

“Come closer,” Sarah said. “Stand before your mistress and affirm your service.”

In response to this command, Raxandra’s lips curled, her burning eyes seeming, for just a moment, to flash a different, darker color. Red, perhaps? Sarah could not tell, despite looking up at the demon. She saw, and yet the impression slipped her mind almost as soon as it had penetrated. Raxandra sneered, and took another three steps towards her much more freely, coming to a stop when she was very close. Close enough that she could reach out and repeat the previous day’s grip of Sarah’s throat, and yet did not. Not immediately, at least, preferring instead to loom, to project heat and barely contained, but nevertheless contained, aggression, a sign that some subdued part of Sarah’s mind interpreted to mean that, if nothing else, the eredar was interested in the proposition. However untoward it was, it was worth remembering the fact that even demons, even experienced, powerful, winged warriors, could be lured by the prospect of sex with a mere human.

Not, of course, that she wanted to make a habit out of fucking the creatures she summoned, controlled, or made agreements with in order to prove herself, or to make them more docile. In the case of Raxandra, however, the notion, as physically impossible as it might otherwise seem, could be facilitated with magic, and so, unusual tastes could be indulged in. Sarah would have preferred to do so in the privacy of her home, of course, but was not sure if she would ever have gathered the courage or impetus to take on the eredar in such a fashion if left to her own devices. So, in a sense, she should perhaps be grateful to her terribly proud, smug teacher. Another time, however.

“Is she meant to take that? Impossible,” someone said.

Sarah could not tell whether the comment came from the human bureaucrat, or the draenei paladin. The voice sounded too smooth to have come from the no doubt rough throat of the demon hunter. Regardless, someone observed the seemingly thigh-thick girth of Raxandra’s monster, strapped with straining leather to one muscled thigh, and came to the conclusion that Sarah was indulging in her death. Her eyes drifted down to the subject of the remark, taking in the grandiose horror, feeling the coiling spiral of anxiety twitch in the pit of her stomach. Magical precaution taken or not, the eredar was colossal, even for someone of her stature. Over eight feet tall, strong, solidly built. And yet, the behemoth stood out as enormous even in relation to such general size and build. Even as of yet untouched, without cause, the huge, fat shaft languidly pulsed with the eredar’s heartbeat. Each slight expansion made the three leather straps groan with effort, momentarily creating channels of pressure – indented skin – where they contained the beast. Held it to Raxandra’s thigh.

A day before, she imagined that Raxandra might have seized her by the throat immediately for her demands. Meant to incite strong emotion, it was rather surprising, then, that the demon held herself back, stood but two feet from Sarah, breathing steadily. Whether the clearly visible rise and fall of her chest and chiseled abs with each breath was meant to intimidate or attract, or both at once, remained a mystery to Sarah, but the mere fact that Raxandra bothered to try to exude these qualities rather than merely physically overpowering her had to, she felt, tell a tale of a violent, powerful creature that nevertheless desired something more than simple slaughter. Not base, uncomplicated, forceful fucking, either – the eredar could have tried and perhaps succeeded in physically claiming a small human warlock against her will, had it been against her will.

Instead, the two stood opposite one-another, not entirely quiet, for they breathed and shifted, clothing whispering against skin, hooves against stone, nor entirely still, for eyes moved, chests rose and fell, and thoughts raced. Sarah’s, at least. She had always felt some measure of attraction to the paradoxically tasteful, yet absurd. The grandest, most self-indulgent, hedonistic, and… mad. Raxandra fell into that category. Handsome, and yet overtly dangerous. As a warrior, to be sure, but also as a more intimate partner. Someone most used to getting what she wanted, taking it as a natural consequence of power and desire she made manifest likely without a second thought, and so, no doubt, a cruel lover. The two of them, together, the eredar bottoming that brutal beast of a cock out in her, seemed a particularly demanding notion, fantasy, and yet one that Raxandra would no doubt do everything in her power to make real, regardless of just how monstrously thick she was when opposite Sarah’s comparatively petite form.

Poorly concealed by very carefully torn trouser remnants, the heavy, huge balls between the demon’s thighs promised unrivaled potency, too, though Sarah had no intention of finding out whether eredar and human could mix and produce a viable halfbreed. Still, the appearance of a desire for such a thing usually penetrated right into the core of creatures proud of their physique and their might, and so, she resolved, at last, how to begin the tryst. Having allowed her eyes to wander over strong thighs, well-defined abs, powerful arms and clawed fingers, having noted the agility and steady power in the small movements of the great demon, the grace hidden beneath the appearance of a violent brute, Sarah, at last, sank to her knees.

She half expected Raxandra to make some self-aggrandizing, haughty comment, to try to verbally assert her power over the situation, but found that the eredar restricted herself to slightly elevated breathing, audible through nostrils. That control which was not exerted physically instead shone in her eyes, slowly dissipating with the heat projected onto Sarah’s face, and hair, from them. Whether the demon truly understood that her being serviced was contingent on her proper behavior, or whether she merely thought that Sarah kneeling, Sarah getting fucked, was enough of a demonstration of power, was uncertain. And more, it did not matter. Sarah breathed in the creature’s scent again, not the awful sulfur which she had first expected, but something rather more pleasant, if dry. The same sunbaked stone as before, which brought to mind long, parched, scorching days in the sun, not bloody slaughter, sacrifice, and cackling evil deeds. Much as the Burning Legion and its constituent parts had been all of that, she reminded herself that it had also been made up of individuals, however twisted, who had once just been regular people of one kind or another. Perhaps Raxandra had once been a dust farmer?

That thought, stray and unimportant and yet significant, fell away when Sarah breathed in again. There was a strong, sweet, ever so slightly metallic scent and taste in her mouth when she leaned in, nose but a few inches from the most recent, thick, creamy white and verdant green, massive drop of seed perched upon the deep, dark red, flat head of Raxandra’s enormous equine shaft. How the mere smell of it created a taste in her mouth, she did not know, but as it settled and spread, the metal died down and was instead replaced with something soft, comforting. Sweet, and filling, and thick. A sensation, as much as a taste or a scent, as if she were eating a smooth, creamy, slightly sweet soup. Something to wonder and linger on later, perhaps, for there was a strong exhalation through the nostrils from above, a kind of wordless and yet perfectly understood expression of impatience. Sarah leaned in yet closer, delicate lips meeting the center of that wide, flat flare, caressing it with a kiss that simultaneously gathered up the sticky, fat drop of seed.

It should not have been a surprise, given its odd and seemingly never completely intermixed elements of both cum and some fel substance, that a little, sharp note of magical energy surged through Sarah at that singular drop. Something to be careful of, for indulging in the eredar’s potent cum then meant that she might very well, should the volume promised by the demon’s stature and huge, weighty balls bear out in reality, be overwhelmed not just with seed, but with magical power. But then, why should a warrior like Raxandra not be able to conquer and subdue her prey by fucking and filling them, on top of more uninteresting, base violence?

Sarah placed another kiss upon that tip, and then another. Depositing a thin indication of black lipstick upon the skin, and then reinforcing it two, three, four times before deigning to move on. Towards the ridge around that wide, blunt cockhead, unable to help a silly smile from contorting her lips just so as she trailed down the side of that monstrously fat cock. Perhaps she could make the eredar into more than a summoned warrior, if only she could assert her worth and ability as a lover well enough? There was some illicit, feral urge in the pit of her stomach that told her to indulge in order to reshape the creature, to make it into her willing protector, even if it remained an awful demon to all others. A fanciful thought, perhaps. But it made her breathe in the sunbaked scent, the slight hint of clean sweat, and a whisper of smoke. It made her lean into the inevitable, powerful throbs of that behemoth, feeling it with her lips, and the tip of her nose, and, alternately, with her tongue pressed flatly against straining, smoothly-veined skin.

After a long while, after an approving click of the tongue from Valeria, Sarah’s lips at last encountered the first leather strap in their exploratory journey up the enormous girth of Raxandra’s shaft, and so, she found a slightly cushioned buckle and worked to undo it. The strap slipping when given the chance to, a slow breath of relief accompanying that release from above, the demon spoke a single word. Nearly a command, but the tone fell just short of leaning wholly into it. There was some hint of intonation that made it partly a request, too. She could have used red-skinned, blackened, fel-veined hands to undo the final two straps herself, easily, but evidently did not want to. Preferred that Sarah do it.

“Faster.”

Sarah pursed her lips so as to press a prim, proper, coquettish kiss to the side of that most brutish pillar, holding it as her eyes quested up to meet the fiery, flaming, flaring pits well above her. In that moment, despite her kneeling and servicing the demon, who was in control was only in some sense a question. Physically, Raxandra remained vastly superior. And yet, no matter how aching, how strenuous those consistent, pumping pulses, each cementing the crushing, colossal size of the eredar’s shaft, she clearly did not want to take matters into her own hands. She wished for Sarah to do it. A handing over of control, in some sense, no doubt? Sarah could not have flicked her gaze to Valeria, hidden behind one of the eredar’s strong thighs, if she wanted to, but then, seeking approval in that moment would have undermined what she was trying to do.

Instead, after allowing torturous moments to pass, she lifted her lips and moved whole inches at a time up the side of that monster, dotting less indulgent kisses along its length, until she touched the second, straining strap with her mouth. Pretended, for a second, to try to dig her tongue underneath it, as if she might pry it loose from its increasingly tenuous, overstretched holdfast with no more effort than that. A hint of frustration entered the next exhalation from Raxandra, and so, not wishing to push her luck too far, Sarah raised her fingers again, and opened the buckle of the second strap, which fell away with a whipping motion.

Kept in place only by the single, remaining strip of leather, urged into her full, frightening size by Sarah’s efforts, Raxandra exhaled several breaths that rasped in her throat, growling with effort as she flexed her core, and her thighs, willing that behemoth cock to grow to its full extent. For long moments, the final leather strap merely creaked and groaned dangerously, until, at last, it gave up the long, ultimately futile battle, a hairline fracture expanding into something much more significant over the course of but a heartbeat’s time, the strip separating into twin pieces with a sharp, snapping sound. At long last, Raxandra’s massively thick shaft was freed from the prison which she had, herself, placed it in.

Sarah shifted forward, placing only a passing kiss against the rim of the sheath at the base of Raxandra’s fat dick, her efforts instead focusing upon the things which she had first decided to kneel for. With reverent care, at least in that first contact, soft lips pushed against the slow curve of one of those enormous, churning nuts, followed soon after by another, and another. Her hands rose to gently lift and cup, managing only so much, the weight of each of the eredar’s colossal, hefty balls more than she was used to handling – more than she imagined anyone could easily move around with, and yet, of course, the statuesque, sculpted demon managed wonderfully.

A minute, at least, passed with quiet, thorough worship, tongue bathing and indulgent kisses, until Valeria’s click of tongue could be heard again. Sarah had no desire to march to the metaphorical beat of her former teacher’s drum, but nevertheless withdrew from the reverie she had found herself in. Nestled between Raxandra’s thighs, her efforts rewarded with sated, pleased sighs, she had let her hold of time slip just a little, and spending many more minutes with her lips stuck to the eredar’s enormous, weighty balls was not conducive to proving just how in control she was. So, with a final, swift kiss, she withdrew. Shifted backwards on the floor, somewhat awkwardly, feeling a warm hand, several fingers of it, trailing through her hair. A possessive gesture, perhaps, but not necessarily one that meant Raxandra felt herself to be in control. Certainly one that implied desire. She looked up at the demon’s face, then, and found precisely that desire, with great intensity and focus.

Sarah had not, really, intended to allow Raxandra to follow any urges, but there was an extent to which, even if she was there to prove that she was in control, she wished for the demon to wrestle that control away from her. Having moved away from mere violence, the idea of the large, well-built eredar making use of her as desired held a certain, primal appeal, even if, once more, she would have preferred such a thing not be done with an audience.

The fingers in her hair curled into a hold of but a few locks of hair, however, and encouraged her not to retreat too far. She halted, straightening her back even as she remained sitting on her knees and heels, doing her utmost to plaster a disaffected, somewhat impatient expression onto her face – one that was meant to portray slight exasperation, rather than a reawakening and rising of that coiling anxiety in her stomach, beneath her ribs. Halted, waiting, she felt Raxandra’s clawed fingers shift to take a hold of the back of her head, fingers spread widely so as to cup and secure her scalp, so that she could not easily twist away.

Why Raxandra might think she would squirm away became apparent in the next moment, as she shifted position, hooves clacking against the stone floor, the ridge of that broad, flat cockhead bumping against Sarah’s cheek with some force. Not that there had been any obvious desire to degrade her by such a slap, it was simply that Raxandra’s size and weight made precise navigation difficult, and so, once again, and then a third time, the head of that behemoth impacted Sarah’s face until it found what appeared its target. Thickly-flowing seed, a mixture of pure white and those ever-present, bright green swirls smearing against her chin, and then her lower lip. The tip of her nose. Only then, at last, finding its center, the small pillow of her lips.

Not easily able to reach the demon’s thighs, Sarah instead settled her hands, woefully insufficient for reaching all the way around that monstrously thick dick, a few inches behind the head. She could, at the very least, assist the demon in aiming, if not actually prevent it from trying the impossible. There was no way that the behemoth would ever fit into her mouth, between her jaws, or into her throat. Even with magical assistance, some things were simply not meant to be, and yet, with a single, staccato, rutting thrust, Raxandra pushed forward, trying to marry Sarah’s mouth to her. All that thrust, and the next, and the next, managed was to supplant the force of the movement into her body, so that she swayed backwards with precisely the same speed and energy that was leveled at her. Not that she had not opened her mouth. She gaped entirely indecently, pressing her tongue flatly against the source of those endless, fat drops of seed, but regardless of the inescapable hold of her head, regardless of the efforts poured into thrust after thrust, she simply could not gape so widely as to swallow that colossal, too-thick dick.

“It will not happen, demon,” someone said. “Let the girl be.”

Sarah was not entirely sure who had said it. It was not the voice from before, nor was it Valeria. The demon hunter, perhaps? Someone who Raxandra did not seem inclined to heed, as another half a minute passed with insistent, hard thrusts, until, at long last, that wide cockhead slipped the feeble grasp of Sarah’s lips, smearing, sliding across her skin to her left cheek, and then sliding almost a full feet past her head, grinding against her as it did so. Mighty indeed, the thrust that would have rammed so much into her, were it possible. She hissed a disappointed breath, her lips and jaw aching, her face dotted with splattered globules of spittle and cum escaped from the attempted union. Her hair, which she had spent a considerable amount of time and money having smoothed, was messy and stuck in one big mass within the eredar’s grasp. She remained as upright as she did only by the power of that hold of her head. Even if slumping did not project power, neither did having an eredar warrior unsuccessfully yet insistently try to facefuck her for over two minutes.

Raxandra allowed her some respite, then, long seconds passing, hard breathing from the both of them counting out the time, Sarah resting her head against that still powerfully pulsing, fat cock. She had something to prove, still, and the eredar had been promised something, and had yet to receive it. They had to go on. She pushed her tongue out, running it over her lower, then her upper lip, taking and then releasing a breath meant to calm. It did not succeed. Being in the presence of the red-skinned warrior’s colossus, knowing that her ordeal with it had not come to an end, had not even really begun, much of her mind remained focused on what it would be like to have the monster sink into her.

It appeared that she might soon learn, or at least that she might soon live through another attempt at coupling between mighty demon and small human, as the grip of her hair pulled upwards just so, three times in a row. Surprisingly cooperative, Raxandra, allowing Sarah to rise of her own accord, rather than merely pulling her to her feet with no warning. She hoped, at least, that their urgent movements looked like something they both urgently desired, though in truth, in that moment, she did not know what the eredar wished of her. She was turned, half by Raxandra’s effort, half by her own fluid movement, feeling that absurdly thick shaft push not upwards, along her back, but down. Finding the room it could between her thighs, not quite pressing between them, but clearly wishing to rise up between her legs.

Held close by Raxandra’s arms, their physical disparity became all the more apparent. Held to the sculpted muscle of the eredar’s core, and thighs, Sarah felt an intermixing of emotion. Those same, icy coils of anxiety continuing to make their home just about beneath her lowest ribs, yet also something still more base, settled lower down, in her core. A quieter, but still persistent, churning warmth. A suggestion of it, at first, and yet, when a strong, crimson arm came to rest across her front, from her chest and down to lay a hand possessively over her flat stomach, a rising, blooming heat.

Raxandra’s other hand joined the first, and, a moment later, both moved down to curl fingers around Sarah’s thighs, pushing them apart until she stood in an awkward, bowlegged stance. The purpose of it obvious as, the more Raxandra pushed her legs apart, the more that behemoth shaft rose between them, until she half sat upon its broad, languidly throbbing length, supporting herself only by the tips of her toes against the floor as the eredar adjusted her position, shifting slowly closer, those massively fat inches slipping deceptively easily between Sarah’s thighs, cradling that deeply red dick in their embrace. Until, at last, Raxandra’s strong core came to rest against the warlock’s back, and butt, that behemoth proudly extending into, pulsing in, the air before her.

Both of Raxandra’s hands found a home upon Sarah’s stomach, using slight pressure on it to keep her settled at the very base of that behemoth shaft for a long while. She imagined that the demon might wish her to acclimatize, somehow, to the monster’s slow, powerful throbs, as if that would somehow make it easier for the thing to fit into her. As if it might make the uncommon, desert heat of that smooth, red skin less of a curiosity. Neither happened, the only changes being that Sarah felt her heart to rise up into her throat when she looked down, presented with the true girth of that beast when compared directly to her, relatively, slim waist, and, secondarily, slowly sinking further down onto it. She might, given a little more time, a little more freedom of movement, been able to grind back and forth along the top of it, but Raxandra moved before anything could be done.

At first, the eredar pushed a thrust up against Sarah’s ass, which was already partially flattened against that chiseled core, the movement succeeding in nothing more than crushing the two together all the more. Heated, crimson skin and muscle pushing onto, against, Sarah’s paleness. The hands on her stomach allowing no escape, rather crushing her into an ever-tighter embrace for aching seconds. That grip eased off, at last, and so she slipped an inch forward, immediately hauled backwards again, the force of that movement meeting Raxandra’s second thrust seeing her bounce forward once more.

Those first, modest thrusts developed rapidly into far more brutal, demanding movements, the large demon’s strength employed in full, hammering that broad, behemoth cock forward, grinding, seeking the friction between Sarah’s thighs, having been so terribly cheated by her inability to take it into her mouth, and throat. That disappointment, however slightly, had seen Raxandra’s girth and length relax just so, but as one punishing thrust rolled into the next, that colossal, full girth returned in all its frightening glory, the apex of each thrust lifting Sarah off her feet, so that she rested wholly on the monster’s weighty, fat base.

“Disgusting. Madness,” the draenei said, both reprehension and poorly-hidden interest lacing her words. “What is this for?”

“You are here as a safeguard, Eraana,” Valeria said

Her tone was rather more amused than the paladin’s. An enjoyable kind of interest, though, rather than denigrating. Clearly, she was focused on Raxandra and Sarah, more so than those others invited to witness the insane test of control. Her words were not contested, anyway, all eyes in the room greedily devouring the absurdly thick eredar cock pounding between Sarah’s thighs, hammering into the air, as if it might conquer that, too. Again, and again, and again, until continually accumulating, sluggishly-flowing drops of fel-mixed seed flew from the wide cock-crown at each full thrust, splattering onto the stone floor before Valeria. Sarah had been too absorbed in those hard, ceaseless thrusts, in the possessive, warm fingers holding her safe, close, by her stomach, to notice that Raxandra had slowly turned them to face her former teacher directly. Those many, girthy inches of cock thereby hammering between her thighs, even as they presented their pistoning, continual strength directly to the other warlock.

At long last, minutes of thrusting having passed, that monster seeming, quite impossibly, to grow a little thicker still upon each concluding minute, Raxandra came to a stop. Labored breathing, a slight sheen of sweat coating her statuesque form, the continual pearling of potent seed rolling and dripping in long, drooping ropes from the head of that behemoth, all came together to prove that, if nothing else, she was at her peak. As ready as she might ever be to allow Sarah to prove that, no matter the challenge, she had it in her to maintain control, even in a position of weakness. In truth, though there had been fragments of doubt within her, she imagined that control would be the furthest thing from her mind, should the eredar manage to jam that mammoth cockshaft into her.

That, nevertheless, was clearly what was coming. Having failed to ram into Sarah’s throat, Raxandra concocted another plan, and so, at a gesture, Valeria waved a hand and, with magical assistance, caused a wide, cushioned, small table to shoot forward, rattling across the floor. It came to a stop before the two, the large demon and the small human nestled upon that colossal cockshaft, near hidden beneath the monster. Raxandra lifted Sarah off her seat, however, turning her, holding her up on shaking legs, until she could half fall into a sitting position on the edge of the table’s surface. She fell back, still possessed by the idea of displaying some level of control, raising her hand to curl four fingers in a slow come hither movement.

Curious, worried, quiet gasps could be heard from those around the two as Raxandra stepped forward, allowing that consistently thumping, immense shaft to come to a rest on Sarah’s stomach, pushing it gradually forward. Ever upwards, and upwards, dragging a thick, white and green trail in its path.

“Stop this, warlock,” the draenei said.

Sarah turned her head, and found that the paladin spoke not to her, nor even to Raxandra, but to Valeria. Valeria, who merely waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. Who then, once again, focused her attention upon the painfully pretty, towering eredar, whose gaze then slipped down that flexed, powerful physique, arriving at the absurdly thick base of that behemoth horsecock.

“Go on, Sarah. You have something to demonstrate for us, do you not?”

Without feeling quite as certain as she hoped she looked, Sarah moved her head in the slightest indication of a nod, and then turned her attention back to Raxandra, who had thoroughly ignored the prattling of those around her, instead swaying back and forth just so. The intense desire directed only at her caused those continued flutterings in Sarah’s stomach, but more so, the coiling anxiety won out in that moment, her position allowing her to come face to face with the immense girth clearly about to be forced, brutally, mercilessly, into her. She did not quite understand how, offering up a rare prayer to the deaf ears of the magic she had woven into herself in order to try to handle the demon’s size, but satisfied herself with the knowledge that, should something happen that was too much, those around her would step in. Hopefully.

Raxandra began to step back, dragging the immense weight of that monster cock across Sarah, slowly, down towards the inevitable union, drawing another thin, elongated trail of fel-mixed cum as she went. The demon seemed to take some pleasure in Sarah sucking in her stomach, chest rising as she simultaneously drew in a breath, when that heavy, fat shaft rested principally upon her stomach. Its compaction made it all the more apparent that Sarah was not built to be compatible with the eredar that was clearly intent on uniting them regardless of what reality seemed to think of the idea.

Slowly, then, half an inch every few seconds, Raxandra pulled backwards, trailing deceptively gentle hands from where they met Sarah’s skin, on either side of that behemoth, about at the level of her navel, and down along the top of her thighs, finally taking a hold at her knees. Pushing them aside, as if room needed to be made. She had made what room she could, already, though it was always going to seem sparse in the presence of the towering demon. Her attention drawn away by the hands on her knees only for a moment, she inevitably returned to the delight with which Raxandra seemed to draw out the positioning, allowing Sarah to feel the sheer weight of that huge, fat cock resting upon her, ever pulsing, pumping the eredar’s heartbeat into her body, never seeming to run out of those thick, thumb-sized drops of seed. The pace of withdrawal had slowed to so much of a crawl that those beads rolling down to touch her skin had pooled in the little pit of her navel, and easily overflowed, rolling down and over her left flank in a sticky, intermittent little river.

At long last, however, Raxandra’s broad, flat cockhead slipped the last little rise, the boundary presented by the small rise and mound above Sarah’s pussy, a muted thump resounding in the room, cast from wall to wall but twice, as the monster settled in the cushioning between her legs. She shifted, trying to angle herself more favorably, however silly it seemed with the crushing, colossal girth of that demonic dick, snapping a breath which she only reluctantly released, the coiling anxiety crawling and shifting further up her chest. Closer to settling in and constricting her throat. Raxandra’s hands traveled down her thighs once more, curling around Sarah’s butt to re-settle her once more, angling her upwards. The object of the eredar’s desires was clear enough, then.

Despite the long, indulgent moments of demonstrating her size compared to Sarah’s comparatively petite frame, Raxandra had maintained the throbbing, absolute peak of desire, that fat, pulsing, deep red pillar jerking just so with each beat of the demon’s heart. It seemed, almost, to Sarah, as if the behemoth had packed on just a little more girth, a finger’s width near the medial ring, and towards the base, but, looking down at it between her legs, the angle made it rather difficult to judge. And, in any case, she was committed to showing that she was in control. That remained the point, somehow, though she no longer quite followed Valeria’s logic. It did not matter, anyway. The demon’s immense shaft lay ready, cradled against her skin, on the cusp of trying to do the impossible – trying to press that flat, broad head into her ass.

Those heated hands that had angled her body upwards to better meet the monster’s advance shifted, blackened, felscarred fingers curling around her waist. Raxandra’s grip, her fingers, actually large enough that, with a little wriggling to get beneath Sarah properly, met, just about, both above and below, enveloping the girl. That was not the purpose of the grip, however, there instead being a tightening, pressing down, so that she would not slip away at the first sign of pressure.

It came, that pressure, gradually. Rising from near nothing, but never abating from that moment onward, Raxandra shifting, ever so slightly, her pelvis forward, the musculature of her thighs, of her core, of her arms, slowly flexing, tensing, as she ground that fat flare forward, its shape not allowing Sarah’s rump to slip aside and shape around it, but rather forcing her to shift here and there, hoping that the eredar would do likewise, so as to begin to create that wide, circular crater within which the behemoth might start to fit.

Sarah’s breath did not rasp, but every slow escape met her throat, making it a foggy, slow, audible thing, each one. As the pressure increased from mere insistence to something more merciless, her throat compressed, and the exhalations became fiercer, more and more half a hiss. There was not enough room. Between her thighs. Not enough room for that stupidly thick demon dick, not enough. Not without something drastic happening. But, of course, the spellwork she had woven on herself might provide an opportunity for that drastic thing to happen. Certainly, Raxandra cared not for Sarah’s struggles, cared not that her mammoth, fat cock was simple too absurdly big for a mere human, and so, she continued to increase the pressure. Continued to settle in closer, and closer, allowing, demanding that Sarah’s ass mold, shape around that enormous, broad cockhead, those ever-flowing pearls of cum released directly against the little warlock’s entrance, twitching, prying apart further, and further, and further.

With a weakened, ailing groan, Sarah felt something give, felt certain that she had somehow shifted, been forced into a wider stance, a wider build, merely to accommodate Raxandra’s cruel persistence. She pulled in a breath, then, so as to stop the high-pitched, hissing exhalation that would have revealed too much about how close to letting control slip she felt herself to be, instead merely looking up, wide-eyed, intensely absorbed, receptive, at the fel-green fires of the eredar’s eyes. The demon returned her gaze with a hard, needy stare, puffing air out through gritted teeth, lips parted, as she gave the slightest of thrusts, adding force to the crushing strength applied already to Sarah. It was that final gesture that allowed, at last, her clenching, already abused ring muscle to relax for just one more moment, and thus be conquered by Raxandra’s colossal girth, the ridge of that flat cockhead slipping an inch into Sarah’s ass.

No longer able to contain herself, she exhaled a long, ailing sound that balanced on the knife-edge between a hissing whine of pain, and the shaking satisfaction of managing, at last, something long-sought. Sarah’s stomach rose and fell rapidly, as did her chest, her neck aching from leaning so that she could look down to see the effect of the union with her demon, shifting her hips just so, the next few seconds seeing a slow, inexorable progress of that monster of a cock, another inch, and then another, slipping in. Forcing her belly to rise in order to contain the beast. She reached down, at last, pressing slightly spread fingers from both hands against the living swell of Raxandra’s colossal cockshaft within her ass, unable to stop her eyebrows from rising, her breathing from remaining shallow and swift. Trying very hard to relax, she could nevertheless not stop her body from betraying that desire, compressing, trying and failing to contract, around that slowly pulsing behemoth, clenching, tightening, to no avail. All it did was elicit more hard breaths from the eredar, her strenuous effort at last rewarded as Sarah’s body seemed intent on continuing efforts that amounted to rhythmic milking around that immense shaft, locked safely within her.

For another few moments, few minutes, hours, Sarah could no longer tell precisely the passage of time, Raxandra sated herself merely by pressing those enormously fat inches of dick in at a gradual pace. Ostensibly, the languid pace might have allowed Sarah to get used to the presence inside her, to the slow conquest further and further up her form, but she found that there was no getting used to the behemoth. Each moment the same intensity as the last, her fingers feebly pressing against the immensely thick cockbulge on her stomach as it progressed upwards, not quite trying to halt it, at least not consciously, even if some feral, subconscious segment of her mind made her hands stem the tide. Feebly, ineffectively. But persistently. It stopped nothing, only emphasized that colossal cockshaft’s conquest of her ass, compressing her, over-stuffing her more thoroughly than she had ever thought possible. Even the coiling anxiety which had threatened to take over her throat had been beaten into submission, of a sort, broken down into a softer, spreading mist within her chest, only an occasional spike of clearer nervous energy rising. Piercing through the intense pressure, bringing attention to itself, but then, inevitably, when it dissipated, leaving that attention to absorb the churning pleasure that lived beneath cruel, ever forward-moving, crushing force.

Redoubling the strength of her hold of Sarah, shifting the grip to more securely grasp the girl’s hips, Raxandra jerked forward in a testing, relatively meek thrust. A mere two inches of that behemoth rammed up, fighting with, winning over Sarah, capturing more of her insides. Her hands shoved upwards further, shifting as that fat bulge did, up her front, and the addition of more colossal cock pushed a little, hard gasp from her, one both aching and, laced into those struggling tones, in the grasp of pleasure as brutal as the demon’s girth.

Another thrust, more insistent than the previous, harder still, allowing less time to acclimate to that monster’s presence. Massively fat inches plowing, powering into Sarah’s tight, completely conquered ass, forcing from her lips and nose once more an ailing, straining breath, high-pitched, and yet one not entirely captured by the cruel force necessary to slowly take her backside. The next thrust came, hammering yet another three, mammoth inches into her, and so she let out a breath that trembled as much with desperately-fought pleasure as it did with the overwhelming, internal pressure, each subsequent, slam-fucking, ever more brutal thrust leaning her slow, struggling gasps more and more into the arms of some primal satisfaction she had thought impossible.

“Oh, Light’s mercy,” the draenei paladin said. Words drifting into, caressing Sarah’s ears, reminding her that something more than her and Raxandra and that incredible, impossible union existed. “That bulge is reaching her ribs.”

Completely at the mercy of Raxandra’s pistoning thrusts, Sarah slid up the cushioned surface of the table, and was then hauled back down into position, rolling thus back and forth. Crammed full of another few inches with each thrust, and then pulled onto another as the demon set her back in the position desired, dragged down. For a moment, Raxandra struggled to drag that clenching, tight ass across the thickest point of that behemoth, strength and long moments of insistence seeing Sarah slipping, inexorably, slowly, down over the medial ring, and then deeper still on that monster of a cock. That little interlude done, staccato, powerful thrusts resumed, and so, half a minute of grinding, powerful fucking having passed, the deepest, fattest inches of that demonic horsecock remained, the sheath mere inches from pressing all the way into the molding, shaped crater that was her ass.

Another moment, not another thrust, but merciless, continual forward pressure, and that last, colossal inch sank into her, and so, finally, Raxandra’s sculpted, muscled form came to rest against Sarah’s skin. Weighty, massive balls settling against her promised much, much more than she would ever have thought herself capable of, and yet, as moments passed, the eredar appearing to enjoy the physical conquest of hilting in the small human, Sarah became aware of yet another impossibility. One in a long, seemingly endless line of them.

Raxandra’s warm, black, fel-scarred fingers curled around her cock-bloated form, holding her in place, securing the place of that huge, fat dick within. Not just to demonstrate physical union and conquest, but, it seemed then, to ensure that they both held their place as the eredar breathed heavily, staggered for long moments. Sarah’s trembling fingers, still resting upon that bulge on her belly, rose first a minuscule amount, and then more noticeably. Just enough to notice, no more, no less. Another moment passed, Raxandra’s breathing hard, powerful, and then, accompanying one of the demon’s heartbeats, Sarah felt once more the same, growing girth. Having bottomed out in her with great difficulty, impaled her, it seemed Raxandra could at last let loose, fully, allowing herself to gradually pack on more of that absurd girth, seemingly no longer limited to what Sarah had naively assumed was her full size, her full thickness.

In spite of what the beginning of that slow, resumed growth seemed to have taken out of Raxandra, she appeared no longer satisfied with merely claiming complete conquest of Sarah’s ass, and so, pulled back a few inches. In that, other partners, Sarah imagined, might have savored things more, might have only slowly began the inevitable, rolling thrusts that would lead to orgasm, but the eredar suffered no such impulses. Perhaps unused to a partner capable, just barely, of taking her, perhaps simply not used to agreeable partners at all, she clearly sought as swift an end to their union as possible. That enormously thick cockbulge growing fatter still each few passing moments, there might even be a measure of mercy in seeking swift orgasm, not that the little corner of Sarah’s mind set aside to think and evaluate such notions could do much to impress their importance on the much grander, overpowering thoughts occupied with the maddening, brutal pressure, with the rolling, cruel pleasure imposed upon her.

A first hard, staccato thrust crammed into her, a hammerblow meeting of muscle and skin as Raxandra hilted, the base of that massive shaft once more finding a home completely within Sarah’s squirming, trembling form. Another few inches were withdrawn for the second thrust, that pulsing, languidly pumping behemoth straining to be buried back in the small human, and soon finding that desire fulfilled. Five, then ten, then fifteen inches of that mammoth cock slam-fucked into Sarah, thrust after thrust, after endless, unceasing, plowing thrust. Hammering her into shape, and yet demanding subtly more of her each time, each little fraction of added girth staking its own claim to her slowly swelling stomach.

She rocked back and forth, brought to the surface of awareness, ripped from the pressure and building ecstasy of her senses only by the occasional click of Valeria’s tongue, still audible over the rhythmic, hard smacks of skin against skin that accompanied her and Raxandra’s union. The demon pumped brutal thrust after brutal thrust into her, grinding, taking, and yet fostering upwelling satisfaction for each movement, whether intended or not. To the sound of the eredar’s labored breathing, each deep hilting of that monster within her became a clarion call to Sarah’s body, drawing from the depths of her mind a permission she did not know was even possible, a bidding for her aching, straining form to flex, and contract, and rhythmically clamp down as best it could around the enormous invader. She became aware, again, of her superficial, struggling breathing, almost wretched, near sobbing, halting at last, for a little while, as Raxandra bottomed out, again, with great need, with ever-growing force.

Without any chance of control, trusting that she would not be brought under the demon’s sway in that moment because she had no other choice, Sarah let slip the last, feverish grasp of command within her mind. Her stomach tensed, tightening around the eredar’s massive cockshaft, her thighs flexing, her cheeks burning, prickling, her forearms near cramping, fingers curling around Raxandra’s, for she had moved her hands down to rest upon those that gripped her hips. Allowing her head, finally, to sink back, to rest upon the cushioned surface below her, her eyes half rolled up, and, with the rhythm of those conquering thrusts that ended only when the base of the monster had settled in her ass, she came. Desperately, holding on to breaths, letting go only when her body demanded it of her, sucking in another to hold while the expanding, coiling, misty bursts of pleasure rose in her, lingered, wavered, fell, and then came back stronger. Weaker. Always came back. Always riding upon another cruelly hard, plowing thrust.

Those long, rhythmically tightening moments seemed to draw from Raxandra the same reaction, the demon steadily piston-fucking that behemoth into Sarah as the girl came, dutifully, seeming not to even consider the moment of weakness she had pounded the warlock into, instead chasing the peak of pleasure she had fostered and inflicted, both, upon her partner-prey. At long last, tens, and then over a hundred thrusts later, Sarah’s shaking fingers crawled from Raxandra’s and back up to caress, to press against that fat cockbulge, still very slowly rising in girth. A feeble effort, in the grand scheme of things, but Sarah infused those small, massaging efforts not with magic, but with desire, a feeling which she willed forth in Raxandra, in spite of the brutish way in which she still hammered up the soft table surface, railed, pounded, and then drawn back down.

Raxandra did not grow erratic, did not cease for one moment, her pace mechanically, frighteningly steady, even if her breathing grew harder still, held for long moments, then released. Only that, and the occasional glimpse of hungry, fiery, fel-green eyes told Sarah that she had managed to survive until the natural end of their obscene union.

At the apex of one thrust, lingering at its deepest marriage with Sarah, settled in her ass, that behemoth trembled, Raxandra’s musclebound form tensing, a vast, fat rope of seed pumping, pounding through that monster of a cock, splattering with great strength into Sarah’s depths. The demon remained entirely hilted only just long enough to allow that enormous, fat strand to find a home within Sarah’s stomach, withdrawing, then, only to hammer another thrust in, culminating in another molten, copious load, boiling with strength, with the magical energy trapped within the eredar, with millennia of potency.

Raxandra continued to slam-fuck that colossal shaft in, to the hilt, the bloating outline of it gradually growing indistinct, the shape distorting, the mild, further bump of the medial ring disappearing as a third, fourth, tenth enormous, thickly-flowing load pumped into Sarah. Despite that slow, punishing growth, the ever-increasing girth of the demon’s beastly-fat cock, even that titan had to give way, each of those sweltering strands filling, over-filling, the girl, such that her stomach rose first around the behemoth, and then over it, shaking, wobbling both with those continued thrusts, and with the culminating, powerful, thick cable of seed which marked its finish. Sarah’s stomach thus rose in small bursts, until she appeared laden down, past pregnant, gasping, and yet still feeling Raxandra pressed against her thighs, completely hilted. Reluctant to separate the two, even if no more of those strong quakes of muscle came, no more fat ropes joining the churning, full mass within her stomach.

For a long moment, for many moments, Sarah remained still, breathing labored, arms cradling that colossal bulge upon her stomach. Briefly, Raxandra’s hand came to rest upon one of hers, caressing the enormous dome, the result of her efforts, after which the demon slowly shifted. Not so much pulling back as carefully working herself free, bit by bit, moving side to side to pull back, that behemoth still as absurdly girthy as it had been at the apex of orgasm. Over the course of uncountable seconds, Sarah occasionally letting out a rather undignified, straining breath as Raxandra shifted backwards, tugging once, twice, thrice to drag the medial ring of that still languidly pulsing horsecock free, over half, and then two thirds of the monster was freed. The demon released its iron grip of Sarah’s hips, at long last, only to settle them against the reddened skin of her inner thighs, stemming against them as one yanking pull, and then a second managed to pull that wide, flat flare of a cockhead free, a small, until-then trapped flood of clear, white cum spilling out afterwards, still filled with those lazy swirls of green.

“The creature certainly seems somewhat sated,” someone said – a rasping voice – from one of the corners. “But does that mean the girl is in control?”

“Sarah?” It was Valeria, her voice piercing the dulling veil that had settled around Sarah. “Are you still with us?”

“We aren’t… done,” Sarah said, at length. Though her arms shook, her vision swimming, she fought to raise herself from the table, the colossal dome of her belly reluctant in shifting, threatening to pull her with it when it finally did. She wrapped an arm around it again, her attention settled on Valeria only for a moment, after which her focus drifted back to Raxandra. Though clearly drained of some of that aggressive energy, the eredar still stood proud, that truly titanic shaft still lazily pulsing, throbbing with might, somehow, despite what churned within Sarah’s stomach, still slowly producing fat drops of seed from its tip.

Another moment, and then, to the evident surprise of both Raxandra and the onlookers, the movement accompanied by several snapped breaths, Sarah slipped from the table. She extended a hand to the side, towards an unoccupied chair, and so a floral-patterned, carefully created pillow flew through the air, finding its place underneath her knees as she half fell to the floor, cushioning them from the otherwise uncomfortable surface of the stone floor.

The behemoth presented in front of her, she did not shy away from. As she had at the very beginning, Sarah connected her soft lips with the head, pressing her tongue against the slowly growing bead of cum forming there, letting it trickle into her mouth. She swallowed it, and then placed a kiss in precisely the same spot, raising arms still trembling from the effort of taking the demon’s rough fucking, from supporting herself, wrapping entirely inadequate fingers around that colossal shaft but a few inches behind the head. With another meeting of lips and that heated, sensitive, deeply red skin, another white orb breaking against them, she gave a singular, encouraging stroke with both hands. The forceful breath pushed from Raxandra’s mouth told the whole tale, just then. Pleased, very much so, but equally surprised. The towering creature had clearly not expected Sarah to come back for more, to provide more pleasure, so soon after that merciless union.

“You are much more resilient than I first thought, human. I will admit as much,” Raxandra said. She flexed core muscles, and so, a larger upwelling of that potent, thickly-flowing seed met Sarah’s lips.

She drank it down.