The Daemon Army Camp

At the mouth of the valley, just over the hill, sat a nightmarish military style camp. This was obviously the area the Daemon army had used to prepare for their attack on the Abbey.

Around you and your master lumber a menagerie of monsters in all shapes and sizes. You lose count how many different Daemons you see as you follow your master eagerly through the camp. The creatures largely ignore you, somehow sensing that you have been claimed by the large hellhound whom you now follow.

Though, once, as you are lost in the depraved splendor of the scene around you, a short, fat, barbed tailed Imp slaps you hard on your bare ass as you walk past. You yelp weakly, still sore from the brutal fucking your master had given you only a half an hour ago. Your master turns on the imp instantly, and his screams rapidly give way to the wet crunch of bone as he is devoured in front of you.

When your master finishes, he turns to you, blood still dripping from his jaws, and trumpets again, once more commanding you to follow. The visceral display lasted maybe fifteen seconds, but the way your master had so savagely defended you, his property, his bitch, made your body burn with desire again as you resumed your pace a step behind him, your arms at your sides, all thoughts of modesty long since gone.

Eventually, your master leads you to a large tent in the center of camp. Roughly fifteen feet high, it appears to be made from many shades of stitched human skin.

Your master walks through the flap, into the tent and you dutifully follow him.

Once inside, you see...