Beg for

You throw back your head with the shame of your failure. It is all your fault. You did not kill the imp when you could have. You did not kill the slimes. You lost the sword of the revered saint, and worse yet, the reason you failed, that you did not take advantage of the slime’s distraction to kill it was because of your lust. You laugh brokenly and begin to cry. Truly, the goddess has a sense of humour.

You shudder as a tentacle slides along your cheek and collects your tears. “Kill me,” you beg. “End my shame.”

“Poor thing,” the red slime croons as its gelatinous hand, firmed by the demonic power coursing through it cups your chin. Her lips, so soft, press against your throat and suck, leaving a dark red hicky on your pale skin. “As you wish. But we’re not monsters.” You hear the laughter in her voice as her lips move to your ear. “We’ll make you love every minute of it.”

And you know they will. As the red one begin to rock her hips into your own, you feel her prehensile cock resume its delicious torments on your abused cunt as much as the purple one assails your puckered rear with her own. You moan and gasp, bucking against them wantonly. You have submitted to ****. There is no reason to restrain yourself now.

“More,” you moan. “More. Please!”

“Yes,” the purple slime croons. “More. More and more, for as long as you last. Relax sister. Relax and feel your life slip from you.”

The endless pistoning of the slime’s faux-cocks is relentless. Your body succumbs completely and merely rocks against them when you can. When the red slime leans up and kisses you, you willingly comply.

You were wrong, however. As sweat beads your body the slimes to not bother trying to collect it. What they are now does not need such liquid sustenance. Rather, as you come against them, you feel yourself become weaker, your very essence drained in orgasms.

“Oooh sister!” the purple slime groans as she seems to swell, the tendrils binding you growing about your spread limbs. “Did you feel that?”

The red slime throws back her horned head with a satisfied sigh. “I did sister! Oh I did! A delicacy!” Her tongue trails over your face. “Such a shame for her to die.”

As the realization takes you, you wail your helpless lust to the ceiling as you come again. The slimes laugh, oh their lovely, girlish laughter as they rut the very soul from your body. You grow thinner as your soul is devoured by the slimes, feeding their monstrous hunger. They grow larger with your every shuddering climax, or maybe you merely shrink. No demonic breeding these two, but an almost Sapphic vampiric embrace.

Your soul was once pure. It takes a long time to die.

Your strength deserts you, your muscles shrivelled against the bone, but still the slimes relentlessly rut you. They tower over you near the end; you, hanging like a desiccated skeleton in the bindings of the slimes, the red one **** to crouch over you to continue pumping into you, looking down imperiously from over her impossibly wonderful breasts, her eyes glowing with power as she fucks the last from you. This vision stays with you as you gasp and, with a shuddering orgasm, breathe your last. The world fades and darkness closes on your eyes, your last sight her smirking at the thoughts of who will fall to their touch next, and your last thought is to shudder at the horror you have unleashed on an unsuspecting world.