A/N: Sorry about all the exposition. Also, I realized it was stupid to divide the previous sections, and integrated them.
The following chapter may be best enjoyed with the album "Escapextacy" by Poisonblack, and possibly a fine red Bordeaux, if you're into wine. I'm not, so I could be totally wrong.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
------------------------------------------------ Vaughan groaned, his consciousness swimming. The pounding in his head had grown infinitely more intense, and ---
And his breath caught in his throat as he realized he was alive. Alive, and sprawled on his back on solid ground. He let out an unsteady breath and gazed upward in vain -- not even the next floor above him was visible through the haze; it was impossible to tell how far he had fallen.
The fact that his body hadn't been torn apart by demons was enough to convince him that he hadn't been unconscious for long, if he had gone out at all.
An array of devices and projectiles lay scattered about him, dislodged in the fall. He gathered most of them and stowed them in his cloak and belt pouches, and staggered brokenly to his feet. Sore as he already was, he was in one piece. He had survived, and he would survive.
The pounding was incessant, and suddenly Vaughan had found its source. Resting in a wide pit in the floor was a massive, pulsating heart. The disembodied organ throbbed vivaciously, as though it had just been torn from a broken ribcage but still sought to pump its body's lifeblood. And yet, only a black, thorn-covered mockery of an aorta sprouted from the vile heart, disappearing into the well below it.
The structure simply radiated evil. Its destruction, Vaughan surmised, would deal a crippling blow to the Lord of Sin.
He looked about for his crossbow, and spotted it several feet away. Against the protests of his bruised body, he started toward it. As he reached for the familiar weapon, a peculiar, silvery-white substance dropped from somewhere above him and landed squarely on it, nearly coating it entirely.
A startled shout escaped the hunter and he looked up and around with an accusatory glare. Before he could spot a culprit, another glob of the substance shot from the hazy darkness onto his boot.
He jerked his ensnared foot, but to no avail. The substance coagulated immediately, and all his might could not dislodge his boot. He could have sworn he heard a laugh.
Frustration spilled over into rage, melting the pain in Vaughan's muscles as he hurled a trio of daggers into the darkness. "Show yourself, hellspawn!" he roared.
The voice that responded could only be described as sultry. "You weren't thinking of piercing my heart, were you?" At her words, a shimmering barrier coalesced over the heart, as solid and clear as glass. "But it gives me such delicious power."
Another sticky gob. Vaughan's instinct impelled him to spring away, but with his foot trapped he helplessly took this one in the center of his torso -- and got a look at the substance as it dried, sealing away his daggers. Spiderweb, impossibly sticky and rapidly growing as rigid as mortar.
The hunter snarled and managed to wriggle out of the reinforced leather of his cloak, then hastily freed himself of his boot as well. "Face me!" He readied a bola from one of his belt pouches.
"My.." the husky voice purred, as languidly as before, "..you're a handsome one, aren't you?"
Vaughan felt unusually exposed in his sleeveless jerkin, but he smirked and approached the edge, throwing his arms invitingly wide. "Oh? Why don't you come and take a closer look?" He still couldn't see the voice's owner, but had nearly pinpointed her location.
Keep talking, spider, I'll have you. After a lamenting moan of a sigh, the voice declined apologetically. "I do hate to disappoint, but I wouldn't want to deprive my daughters the pleasure of meeting you." The voice took on an authoritative tone. "Come, my daughters!"
The hunter was ready to let loose his bola, but stopped himself -- that summons made for a more urgent use of it, though the sight nearly stole his breath.
A harem of naked succubi pranced lightly toward him, their voices lilting in provocative laughter. With scarcely a moment's hesitation he slung the bola at one, and it wrapped obligingly around her slender waist. She paused in surprise to regard the device -- but the detonation struck her before she could fathom it.
Death was instant for that one, but the sister nearest her was not so fortunate. Thrown aside by the blast, she crumpled with an anguished shriek, her left arm and breast mangled and bloody.
Letting out a vengeful scream the third sister rushed to her aid, and knelt beside her. Fixing Vaughan with baleful eyes before retreating, her wounded sister in tow, she cast a crackling starburst of a fireball in his direction.
"You've hurt my daughters!" The matron's voice had dropped its seductive tone and now dripped with venom. "You will pay for that."
Vaughan, focused on dodging the angry orb sizzling toward him, didn't notice the fist-sized black spider that descended to the ground behind him. The fireball followed his evasive movements, but gradually fizzled away harmlessly.
The bevy had been reduced to one, and he'd make short work of her -- he started to reach for the back of his belt, where one last dagger was always concealed.
A sudden, stabbing sensation lanced through his bare ankle, causing him to falter and cry out. A spider had sunk its fangs into him; he punted the offending creature far into the chasm and noted that no more of its ilk lurked nearby.
Growling from the cold sting of the spiderbite he spun to face the remaining succubus, reaching again for his dagger. As his hand slipped behind him, yet another wet mass of spider silk assailed him, this one landing on his back, adhering to his wrist.
"Now!" came the matron's command. The daughter let out a fiendish hiss, and leapt at the hunter to seize him by the shoulders and fling him toward the massive heart.
Gummier than those that had come before it, this freshest gob of spider silk clung readily to the heart's glassy barrier, practically tacking Vaughan to it. He planted his feet and struggled savagely to peel himself away -- the substance gave slightly, but his efforts were fruitless.
In his back, he could feel the heart's pulse through its barrier.
The succubus was upon him in an instant, trapping his legs between hers, pinning his one free hand to the side. Her leathery wings curled around to shroud them in crimson and violet.
Vaughan's blood boiled furiously within him; yet, when he tried to wrench his hand away from her grasp he could barely move it. She was infinitely, impossibly more powerful than her lithe frame suggested -- or was it his strength that had diminished? He gave one final, desperate jerk, willing the arm behind him at least to come unstuck -- he would have readily torn the flesh from his limb if it meant freeing himself from the demoness' embrace.
Her amber eyes took on a hungry, wanton look when he defiantly met them. She stilled, having his struggling under control, and softened, her lips curling into a smile. Her eyes held his until their smoldering defiance began to waver; her hand not clutching his moved to run its fingers through the black length of his hair, trace the stubble on his jaw.
"Tell me," she purred airily, dipping her face close to his, "what do you desire?" Her hand continued downward, clawed fingertips slicing easily through his jerkin, grazing the faintest red line into his chest.
"Release me," he demanded, his voice undaunted, still sharp with contempt.
"Oh, I'll give you release," she promised with a lewd wiggle of her hips, and tore his jerkin fully open.
He thrashed against her then. "Release me, hellspawn!" His voice grew forceful with a threat. "I'll spill your blood like your vile sisters!"
"That won't do," she said simply, pressing herself against him, giving him a taste of her ample breasts against his bared chest. She heard him gasp at the sensation, and dove for a kiss, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth.
In powerless protest the captive hunter grunted into her mouth. Her tongue was so aggressive, though, effortlessly conquering his. He could feel himself surrendering in spite of himself. The next sound that escaped him, when she engulfed his lower lip and gave it a suckle, was void of protest.
Demons are demons, Vaughan. Resist this! All the discipline that girded his mind could not stop his body's natural response.
He bitterly cursed himself, but the succubus looked immensely pleased by his apparent change of heart. "I can give you release," she reminded him breathily, and gyrated roughly against him, as if to torment him.
The hand that had been clasping his relented at last, landing lightly on the side of his neck. Finally freed, Vaughan's hand lashed out vindictively to seize the arm of her wing, as if intending to wrench her off balance. The sensation below consumed him -- unable to focus, he merely draped his hand over her wing, until she guided it to the full curve of her hip.
His mind still protested, warning him of the peril of succumbing to the demon's allure. But it was growing impossible to resist -- something about his predicament had begun to thrill him. Was it his helplessness? Being bound against his will? The narrow trickle of blood on his chest where she had slashed open his clothing? He watched her, biting back a pleasured groan.
She was exquisite, perfect in every way with her milky skin and ample curves. A pair of ram's horns curled exotically through her crimson hair, framing a flawless face that was currently fixed in a rapturous expression, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, as she ground her hips tantalizingly against the bulge now straining his trousers. Her bare snatch soaked the front of him with her ministrations, her musk flooding his senses with blind lust until his mind's incessant protesting began to drown.
Resistance, revulsion, arousal, Vaughan couldn't tell them apart anymore. He
needed her -- and she was entirely aware of it.
In the blink of an eye her skillful fingers had stripped him of his belt, and torn open his trousers, leaving his cock to spring out, throbbing with urgent desire. The succubus let out an approving purr at the sight of it, a smile of wicked victory crossing her lips.
She cupped his balls with one hand, amusing herself with the desperate whimper that escaped him when she gave them a squeeze. Given the clear depth of his hatred, she imagined it wasn't a sound he would often let himself make. But the way his face now contorted with need, he probably hadn't even noticed it.
She released him, drawing another helpless whimper, and planted both her hands on his shoulders.
Vaughan met her eyes. Hot anticipation mixed with something fleeting -- fear? aversion? he couldn't remember -- and rippled through him as he watched her raise herself up, lining herself up with his aching shaft. All at once, she slammed herself down onto him, and drove her sharp nails into his shoulders.
Between the pain and the overwhelming pleasure, Vaughan practically screamed. She was so hot, so wet, so
tight. He could have exploded right then and there, and maybe blacked out, and perhaps even died in ecstasy. He moaned raggedly, fingers involuntarily digging into her hip where they still rested.
Vaughan was no stranger to carnal pleasures, but no woman he had ever bedded had been quite so impassioned, or taken such overt delight in the act. The succubus ravished herself on him, riding him in long strokes, shamelessly enjoying herself. Her blissful cries filled his ears, growing frenzied in pitch as she brought herself rapidly toward her peak.
Vaughan watched, enraptured, as she bucked against him spasmodically, throwing her head back with a keen that might have otherwise turned his blood to ice. He felt her insides clenching him, milking him as her juices flooded out, drowning his balls, soaking his thighs. The claws still embedded in his shoulders dragged their way down by a couple of inches, cutting like small knives through his flesh.
Unbidden tears stung the corners of his eyes, but the pain was negligible. When her rocking slowed, he had no choice but to keep the pace on his own, finally thrusting into her unholy sanctum, thrusting in time with the pulse of the heart at his back.
The demoness moaned deliciously at his pounding, inwardly delighted that he now fucked her of his own accord. She withdrew her clawed fingers from the shallow grooves they had raked into his shoulders to tangle them in his sweat-plastered hair, streaking blood across his face. Her hips gyrated, goading him on.
Vaughan's breaths came in gruff pants as he fucked her moist velvet depths with abandon, his hand gripping her ass.
His own climax was building much too quickly, but he was helpless to hold out against the eruption building in his manhood. He thrust to the hilt one final time, and with an arch of his back and a deep, shuddering cry he surrendered to a tremendously powerful orgasm, spilling his seed deep within her. Continuing to buck into her, he felt his cock twitch as it released another spurt, and another, until he was finally spent. Through dulled senses he heard her ravished sighs, and tasted his blood as she dipped a finger onto his tongue.
Vaughan shut his eyes and continued to pant, gradually recovering, thinking she might eventually withdraw, and perhaps let him rest. She.. didn't seem to have the same ideas, and never even dismounted.
He opened his eyes to her expectant expression, a wicked smile that almost terrified him. He was incredulous. "You.. you want more?"
------------------------------------------------
From her hiding place in the darkness, Cydaea, Maiden of Lust looked on in approving pleasure, idly stroking her nether folds. Her daughter had done well in breaking this defiant man -- the only one who had come along who actually posed a threat to her Azmodan. And yet, his will had crumbled almost as easily as all the others who had managed to make their way into her midst.
She'd have her turn with him, but for now, could stand to watch her daughter keep playing with him.
