Doom Story

2k words

***

She giggled like a kid on Christmas morning, struggling to contain her excitement as she reached for his restraints, Andreas liking that expression on her. She bent over him, her breats dnalging over his face as she grabbed his wrists, bringing her claw to the keypad.

“Code,” she said, and he told her. The shackles popped open, relief surging inside him as blood flow returned to his digits. Once more she placed the restraints aside, coincidentally leaving them within arms-reach. Andreas pushed them away with his foot, Sharrya putting a claw to her lips and giggling mischievously.

“What’s the matter? You looked good in chains,” she said. “All panting and red-faced. One would think you liked being- Ah!”

He had wasted no time in bringing his hands to her chest in an audible clap of flesh, the gentle flesh of her breasts quivering beneath his fingers. He tried to gather them up in his palms, but they were so voluminous that they just spilt out of his grip, deforming around his hands like dough.

Her gasp tapered into a moan, then settled into a growl as she pinched her eyes shut. “Fool,” she breathed. “don’t be so harsh with them!”

“Who’s panting now, huh?” he shot back, Sharrya still holding her eyes shut, which might have been on purpose. His biceps flexed as he tried to lift one up, its weight rivalling that of a lead ball. He resorted to kneading them, the way her bosom jiggled with rippled, always bouncing back into their perfect shape, their very size – all of it combined to kindle a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He kept telling himself, as he groped and played with her chest, that it was for the good of mankind, that this was a just a means to get information out of her and nothing more, ye the fact he was enjoying himself was becoming harder to deny than ever.

Despite her warning, he worked her chest with a renewed dedication, her soft flesh melting around his hands. He was being rough, far rougher than he would have been with a human woman, but if Sharrya could take a particle cannon to the face and live, she could handle some roughhousing.

It was the demon’s turn to make embarrassing noises, her growls and mewls reaching his ears, despite her attempts at biting them back.

He surprised her (and himself) by placing his tongue between her breasts, the taste of her sweat burning his tastebuds. He dragged it down to the left, outlining her bosom with a wet smear, Sharrya experiencing a minute shiver. He slowly rotated up towards her nipple, the pink protrusion a shade lighter than the rest of her fiery hide. He kneaded her other breast as he drew closer to it, placing a gentle kiss upon it.

“I knew you liked them,” she chuckled, but her confidence faltered when he sealed his lips around her nipple, biting down on it. She pushed her bust out in invitation, one of hands sneaking round his neck to hold him closer.

He clamped down his jaw, deepening his bite, his roughness rewarded by another high-pitched moan from the demon. He knew he couldn’t hurt her with his dull teeth, her demonic nature meaning he could push boundaries that wouldn’t be possible with a human.

She chewed down until he felt his teeth leave little furrows, then relented by lashing out with his tongue, suckling on her nipples, the colliding sensations making Sharrya wriggle over him.

“Oh!” she breathed, pinching her other nipple as he continued to mouth and lick. “It seems you’re not so d-discouraged by my looks after all. Oh, like that. Yes…”

He wanted to a word in, taunt her about how she was now the one making the little noises, but having a mouthful of her perfect chest made that impossible. This wasn’t him trying to please her, of course, this was just him paying her back, make sure she was satisfied by this deal of theirs. Anything for the mission…

He made to resurface for air, Sharrya pinning him down for a few moments longer before allowing it, the demon flicking a carnal grin his way.

“Here I was thinking you had a sharp tongue,” she cooed. “but you can be oh so delicate when you want to.”

“Why don’t you get on your back, and you’ll see how delicate I can be.”

“My back?” she echoed. “I am Baroness of the Shattered Peaks, to lay back is to admit weakness, defeat.”

“If you can’t handle a bit of mortal foreplay, that’s your call,” he said, feigning disinterest.

“Given these…. special circumstances, perhaps I can overlook such a transgression,” she replied, meeting his look with a challenging grin.

The tension on his body lifted as Sharrya rolled away, tucking her elbows into the nook where the floor meets the wall, propping herself up. From this angle she was so long, almost taking up half the cell’s length from hooves to horns.

He approached her like a rider coming up on a wild horse, shuffling over on his knees. They were past hostilities by this point, but he still felt the need to tread lightly nevertheless. Andreas admired the way her flat stomach transitioned into her flared hips, her voluptuous profile as curvy as a meadow ridgeline.

Andreas mounted her leg like it was a fallen log, fingers sinking up the knuckle into her downy fur. The luscious coat was far less course than it looked, the strands blooming across her strong legs in all directions at once, its texture rivalling cotton. Perhaps they didn’t have combs in Hell, giving her an untamed, wild look, which wasn’t bad in his book.

His hands couldn’t resist running up and down her thigh, taking in the fur’s silky touch. It was insulating him from the infernal heat coming off her, allowing him to appreciate her even further, his secret desire to touch her getting the better of him.

“I see you waste no time running your hands over me,” Sharrya mused from seemingly far away. “Not that I don’t understand why. You may be the first mortal ever to get a chance to do so to a Baroness. Savour it, savour me.”

Blushing that she’d called him out, he continued over her leg, depositing himself before her lap. Her legs ran along either side of him like atomic warheads, enveloping him in heat and flesh, her knees slightly bent upwards.

“Come,” Sharrya cooed, a hand falling to her nethers and patting in invitation. “Let us consummate our love.”

She must have thought his request was his way of asking to bring things along to their conclusion, but Andreas thought otherwise. The quick climax she’d brought him too had left him spent, he needed time to recuperate. Plus, giving Sharrya a taste of her own medicine wouldn’t hurt either.

He resisted looking to her nether regions, turning his eyes instead to her thighs. They rivalled his torso in terms of size, and when he snaked his arm around one, his cocked elbow couldn’t even form a full loop, her meaty flesh bulging beneath his limb. He couldn’t resit bringing his cheek to her downy fur, curling his head to plant a kiss on her inner thigh. Although not quite as soft as her chest, the fur made up for that in droves, and the muscles beneath the coat formed a pleasing barrier of toughness that rose up to meet his questing fingers.

Humans were sensitive on the inner thighs, and it seemed Barons were too, Sharrya taking in a shaky breath as he fought through her fur to her skin, his breath making her fur pull and push in regular strokes. He moved to the other leg, gripping her from below the knee to ply at her sensitive skin, Sharrya helping him along by raising her leg and allowing him access.

“That tickles!” Sharrya laughed when he introduced his tongue, though it was more sultry than humorous. Andreas responded by doubling down, lashing through her coat and getting at the skin beneath. It was almost pink, he saw, as raw as the forgotten side of a tan line. “You devious little mortal,” she growled. “Must your tongue be so soft?”

“You said I was easy, but you should look in the mirror,” he said, Sharrya breathing hard as she met his gaze, her wobbling chest distracting him. “Sharrya of Shattered Peaks, made into a mess by a lowly human’s mouth in two seconds flat.”

“I am allowing you to do this,” she snapped. “I could put you back in those chains just like that.”

“Do it, then,” he said. She made to say something, but he kissed her thigh again, and whatever it was drowned out beneath a mewling grumble. She was enjoying every second of this, and her attempts at denial were really firing him up.

She seemed unusually receptive down here, her hooves scraping along the floor behind him as his mouthing sent shocks down her body. Maybe Baron’s didn’t get so touchy-feely when they got it on, an image he never imagined himself trying to picture.

Soon enough, he brought his attentions upward, his hands wandering up to her waist next. He settled one palm on her hip, admiring its flared shape for a moment, then skirted her mound with the other. Her fur ended in a rough line here, giving her the appearance that she had a carpet of woolly pubic hair.  

He palmed the place her entrance should have been, but felt no blemished in her fur, going over it again with his brow creased. Sharrya cooed happily as he explored, but eventually she realised what he was trying to do, her voice reaching him in a whisper.

“A little lower. Here.”

She took his hand into her own, guiding him towards a spot between her legs. She plunged her claws into her coat, Andreas watching as she used her index and them to part the coat, revealing a flush set of lips. He half-expected her to have far more alien anatomy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary here, save that the size of her lips was a little larger than what he was used to seeing. That had to be expected given she was skirting ten feet.

Her coat walled her labia with a furry perimeter, leaving her lips smooth and very red, the skin here returning to her usual hue. Holding her fur apart with one hand, he guided his head closer, his cheeks tickled by the strands. If he thought she was giving off heat before, she was practically boiling down here, her nethers like an oven he’d just stuck his head into.

He planted a single, doting kiss on her entrance, his lips flush with hers. A growl built up in the Baroness’ throat, her hips swaying from side to side. He held himself there to make her think he’d give another, but then pulled away, his nose skirting her mound as he pecked at her washboard stomach next.

The line of her coat ended here, giving way to a flat stomach that would put even the most hardcore bodybuilder to shame. The bottoms set of her abs were liked two stones carved from obsidian, with defined dimples and sculpted with veins. The twin rows travelled up her body like rivers of liquid muscle, carving channels that could fit the tip of his fingers perfectly.

He kissed her between her momentous six-pack, another on her sternum, then on her nipples, their genitals lining up for a scant second before he pulled a knee onto her belly for balance.

“How do I fare to a mortal woman?” Sharrya asked, closed eyes parting just enough so she could watch him work. “Demons are harbingers of power, destruction, death, but that makes me all the more alluring to you, doesn’t it? Fear and desire go hand-in-hand…”