Danika was bored.
The demon prowled her chambers, racking her brains for some sort of diversion on this particularly dull Friday evening. A rapidly-diminishing bottle of spiced liquor on her desk stood as testament to her lack of success, the dwindling liquid failing to serve as the catalyst for inspiration that she had hoped it would.
Books, games, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling – none of it would do.
She huffed a hot breath, indulging in her own indignation, tapping dark fingernails against the rim of a cut crystal glass. What she wanted was company, good company, company that would distract her from the featureless plain of ennui that she currently wandered. And yet, there was nobody to play with – her maiden Jarri had taken the night off, and according to the grapevine was in paying a visit to a convent of nuns well known for their hedonistic hospitality; her sister, the lithe angel Lariel, was with her own heavenly companions, far away from the speakeasy-cum-bordello that housed the demon's chambers; and in the low-lit bar that lay two floors beneath, she had found no one who piqued her interest that night despite the cavalcade of incubi, succubi, and assorted fae-folk that thronged together – not one intriguing newcomer to discover or old flame to reminisce with.
Danika spun on her heel, intending to once more stalk irritably over to her desk for a refill; but this time, she caught her reflection in the mirror of burnished copper that took up the width of a wall, and paused in her stride.
A slender, crimson-skinned woman looked back at her from the polished metal, most of her body hidden by the oversized grey t-shirt that fell down to her knees in the most lugubrious imitation of a dress. Her features were youthful, playful, inquisitive, amethyst eyes at once mischievous and innocently bright. Full lips of blackberry purple rested half-parted to show teeth that flashed brightly, as easily given to a sunny smile as they were to a lazy smirk. Dark horns the colour of coal and tipped with gold curled up and back from her hairline, giving her an extra couple of inches on her otherwise five and a half feet, crowning a glossy mane of hair of the same shade. The mirror almost matched the metallic glint of the ring that shone in a half-moon beneath her small, ever-so-slightly upturned nose, smokey copper reflecting the thin curve of gold.
She stretched, reaching her hands up to the ceiling, balancing on the tips of her toes. The t-shirt rose to mid-thigh, her pose only serving to slowly accentuate her lithe figure, all long limbs and graceful lines, but her perky curves were still hidden beneath the shirt. She tensed her thighs, feeling the strain in toned muscles, reaching up as high as she could and clasping the glass in both hands. Then she settled back onto her heels with a relaxed sigh, twisted, and ran a hand up her leg, fabric bunching atop her wrist to expose her rear, shifting her weight to compress one springy asscheek into a delicious bulge, the crease beneath arcing in a welcoming smile to the audience of her own gaze. Her dark lips mirrored the shape, curving upwards at the corners, her eyelids lowering a fraction as thoughts of a very specific kind rushed across her mind, and she felt something begin to stir between her legs, something that, unlike the rest of her, could hardly be described as either curved or slender.
She was bored, it was true.
But more than that, she was undeniably, unavoidably horny, and the hardening meat between her legs gave no illusions to the contrary.
That was why her lack of companionship especially irked her – if Jarri or her sister had been around, the evening would have taken a decidedly less brooding turn. She smiled to herself, imagining the differences in spending the evening with either woman – one of being dominated, if it were with her sister, and one of dominance, if it were with her maiden. Her smile broadened as she considered what might happen if Lariel ever ended up with Jarri, the angel's ferocious appetite and fiery assertiveness pitted against the demon's easily-discerned submissive streak and willingness to be collared. The image of Jarri on her knees, open-mouthed and arched back, moaning brokenly in time with Lariel's hard thrusts while the angel pounded her from behind and pulled wickedly on her hair, leapt unbidden into her mind. The demon, of course, would be watching in delight, pleasuring herself at the sight of her sister unleashing her dominance onto the pliable maiden.
How have we never all made that happen? she wondered.
Her cock twitched at the thought and a furrow appeared between her eyes as she puzzled over how to find release. Finishing herself off was too easy, and always left her wanting more – if she'd been of that mind, she would already be writhing on the bed, pumping her cock with an oil-coated hand as she mercilessly edged herself. For the thousandth time that evening, frustration bloomed at the notion that despite being in a building full of pent-up ethereals, none suited her tastes.
She frowned to herself, her gaze flitting around as though looking for inspiration. The hand at her waist drifted down, fingers trailing along the half-moon crease between buttock and thigh, feeling her rear passage tensing wistfully, wishing that there was something to fill and stretch her.
Unless...
Her purple eyes widened as the thought came to her – delicious, lascivious, and so utterly obvious.
Just the other night she had fucked her sister into a trembling, cum-drenched mess, reversing her usual tendency to submit to Lariel by using a pair of bewitched panties, a ball-gag, and well-tied knots to render the angel helpless before her mischievous torment. With a pair of portals – the words of power to use them learned as a favour called in from a vampire well-versed in such conjuration – to manipulate the conventional boundaries of space and time, she had shackled her sister's customary dominance and turned the desire to dominate into the desire to sink angelic asscheeks onto nine inches of rock-hard demon cock.
But why should the portals only serve as a torment for her pale sister, when they could equally relieve her of the evening's blandness?
Unthinkingly she reached down to her already-growing cock, idly playing with it in her hand, and then looked over at the mirror to watch her ascent.
Her length throbbed and hardened, oxblood flesh swelling, dark against her crimson body, the tip flared like a horse's but slanted to a point like a blunt writing quill. Beneath her shaft heavy balls churned and boiled, already starting to fill at the mere notion of what the demon intended to do.
She was going to fuck herself in the ass.
The t-shirt landed on the floor in a crumpled puddle, followed by the crystal tumbler and then Danika bounced onto her bed, coming to rest on her knees. A thrill ran down her spine and her eyes flashed with glee, her thoughts racing with the prospect of self-pleasure.
Now for the tricky bit.
She murmured a silken word and a disc of light a hand-span's width sparked into life in front of her, its edges slowly fraying out like miniature galaxy arms, gently swirling, bathing her in a warm pink glow. The surface of the disc seemed to gently ripple like a pond grazed by a breeze, the colour fading until it was almost white at the centre.
Danika moved her hand, the two-dimensional circle following her fingertips, hovering a few inches out of reach. She described a few exploratory zigzags through the air, and, satisfied with her conjuration, whispered another word that fixed the disc in place. She took a moment to peer at it from the side, seeing that it wasn't two-dimensional after all, but rather the same depth as one of her slender fingers.
The demon murmured again and a second disc expanded from a pinprick of light in the air, this time violet, with the same softly undulating surface. She raised her other hand to the new circle, testing it also, and their combined light flashed against her pearly teeth as she grinned to herself in satisfaction.
Then she spoke one last time to link the two portals together, and their pale centres flickered and then vanished, leaving only a pair of gently rotating haloes levitating side by side.
Well...not quite vanished.
Each circle was now a gateway to the other, a crystal-clear plane bearing the image of what the other looked out onto. Danika waved her hand in front of the ring of violet light, and made a pleased hum in her throat when she saw her hand through the pink portal. Then she moved them to the height of her head, side by side like a pair of mismatched eyes, and the image of her face, her own eyes wondrously wide, appeared in front of her as though she were looking into a glowing, fractured mirror. The demon's lips parted, and her eldritch reflection grimaced back at her, what would have otherwise been a winning grin split by the two discs into a leer more akin to a church-wall caricature of her species.
Danika bobbed from side to side, mesmerised by the play of light and perspective, before pulling back and resting on her haunches. She pursed her lips, trying to work out the best angle for it. Lying on her back? On her side? Standing? She hadn't felt such clumsy hesitation since the heady days of her first sexual encounters, her now-experienced mind once wrought with half-understood notions of what was supposed to go where. Now, those same virginal questions came rushing back to the fore – how should I do this?
She decided that she would start off just as she was, and just how she usually did when it was someone else – on her knees. Wiggling her legs into a wider stance, her cock swayed achingly as she moved, pent up and ready to burst. She reached for a pillow flush with down, knowing already that it would be indispensable. In spite of the languid warmth in the room goosebumps prickled over her back, caressing her hips and thighs, spreading over her legs to send her toes curling in on themselves.
She huffed out a breath, the tips of her fingers tingling behind the pink portal as she moved it downwards, the meat between her legs already rock-hard at the prospect of something new. Red flesh took on a brighter glow as the portal's luminance danced on her thighs. Her tip broke through the immaterial boundary of the portal's surface with a sensation not unlike one of her maidens blowing a soft breath over her length – warm at first, but quickly turning cool, somewhere between wet and dry.
As her cock slipped into the pink portal and out of the violet one, the demon was torn between looking down and looking up, between seeing her shaft disappear, seemingly, into thin air, and seeing it reappear in all its glory right in front of her face.
In the end she went for a muddled attempt at both, obsidian hair dancing as she tried to drink in the utterly bewildering sight of her anatomy being painlessly displaced and relocated, finally settling on gawping straight ahead only when her entire length had emerged from the violet disc like a horizontal tower of rigid flesh. She blinked, eyes almost crossing as they struggled to capture the whole of her size in their gaze, and the thought occurred to her that she was sharing the view that so often confronted Jarri when she was serving the capricious whims of her mistress.
Well...hello there.
Despite the self-admiration for her own anatomy, Danika remembered to murmur the words that would lock the pink portal in place, fastening it between her legs so that no matter what happened, her cock would rear out from its violet partner.
Her dark lips parted, slowly, hesitantly, aware of the line that she was about to cross, but oh-so-excited to cross it. When they touched her tip sparks seemed to buzz at the contact, electrifying her soft skin and jolting down her length. Her tongue flickered out unbidden to lick up the bead of precum welling at her tip, the viscous liquid salty, familiar, yet ever so slightly different to any she had tasted before – there was the unmistakeable sense of parity with Lariel's flavour, but there was something new, something that was solely Danika.
She had only ever tasted herself a few times before, when Lariel had let her dominant streak take full control and made the demon lick her own cum from the angel's alabaster belly, or mercilessly stroked a bound and gagged Danika until she exploded on her own face. But now, tasting her arousal straight from the source...this was different, and her entire body shivered at the mere notion.
The demon eased into a middling pace, pushing down, pulling back, then pushing back a little further, each time rolling her lips further along dry skin to slick it with slimy saliva. Her hands stayed by her side to start with, but inevitably found their way up to the meat that filled her mouth, stroking her cock with delicate traces of her fingers and firm, girth-squeezing pumps, straining into the portal to cradle her heavy balls. She lavished the same worship and devotion on herself that she normally reserved for others, gradually coming to realise just how good she could make it feel. Small, wet schlicks escaped the seal between plush lips and rigid flesh, the sound that could only ever signal a cock being engulfed by a warm, wet mouth.
Out of pure habit her back arched, accentuating the lush swell of her ass, and her knees shuffled a little wider to compress her cheeks into tantalising half-moons. A muffled giggle escaped past her lips when she realised what she was doing, her actions born from the reflexive desire to give her partner a view that would make them even harder – yet since she was her own partner this evening, such an aesthetic enhancement was wasted on an absent audience.
Maybe a mirror for the ceiling, Danika mused, briefly flirting with future self-voyeurism before shifting her attention back to the task at hand.
Another instinct kicked in, and she reached behind the violet portal to press a finger against her clenched pucker. When her questing hand found nothing but thin air she chuckled around the rigid meat in her mouth and rolled her eyes at this second lapse of awareness – of course there was nothing behind the portal. Dumb demon, she thought to herself, scathing only on the surface. How can you finger an invisible ass?
She frowned, about to reach behind herself instead, then yet another fancy caught her and she ringed a thumb and forefinger around her base instead.
Oh, fuck yes.
Instantly her cock swelled, thwarting veins in their attempt to resupply the source. Her meat bulged and throbbed – not by much, but enough that she could instantly feel her teeth pressing into hard flesh. She slackened her jaw to accommodate the extra girth, letting her lips stretch as they formed an even tighter seal.
Several minutes passed of the demon bobbing up and down on her own cock, her long tongue swirling around its length to slick every millimetre of rigid flesh with warm, viscous saliva, her lips aching from being so taut around her engorged shaft. Every time her blunt tip prodded at the back of her throat she pulled back almost all the way, leaving streaks of bubbling slime in her wake, suckling lovingly at the quill-tip and tracing her tongue over the slit to elicit fat drops of precum to ooze out and coat her palate with the salty flavour of anticipatory desire.
She realised that she was procrastinating, delaying the inevitable conclusion of her foray into self-sucking – from fear, from distraction, from some lingering doubt as to the perversity of her actions? Danika didn't know why, but she knew that there was one thing that she had to do next.
All the way. Take it all the way.
She pushed forwards, breaking past the barrier of her gag reflex with a wet click, the resistance to her gullet long since trained to give way to any visitor that came knocking. Her sister's cock alone was no stranger to the demon's tight oesophagus, and the many evenings she had spent at the receiving end of a thorough, sloppy throatfucking were some of her favourites, along with the dull ache the lingered in her neck for days afterwards as a reminder of just how good of a girl she was.
Yet despite the fact that she took pride in taking the whole any length or girth that she deigned to allow past her lips, and rarely left any lover without the memory of her dark lips forming a wet seal around their root, the demon now came to appreciate the air-choked perspective of all those who had taken her length down their throat. Now that she was devouring her own meat, she realised that above all else, her own cock was thick. She knew this, of course, her own hand having traced its contours countless times before, and having heard Jarri's grateful moans when her mistress stretched out any one of her holes – and yet, what felt big in her hand and curled fingers felt huge in her mouth. The midpoint bulged gracefully, ever-so-slightly out like some organic parody of a perfecto cigar, slightly wider than at the root or even the blunt-ended tip, and with a third of her length still unswallowed she realised that the tension in her jaw was greater than any time Lariel had seen fit to pound her mouth.
The demon pulled in half a dozen greedy breaths through flared nostrils, then began the final descent. With nothing to hold on to her neck was forced to do all the work, straining alone without the benefit of thighs or buttocks to use as an anchor. She flirted with the idea of unfastening the violet portal and pushing her cock in like a freestanding dildo, but her pride bubbled to the fore and she snapped her hands to her sides, knuckles white as she vowed to take her entire length through sheer skill at swallowing alone.
Tears began to well in her amethyst eyes, tears that were normally reserved for an angel-dominated throatfucking, rolling down crimson cheeks as she slowly, millimetre by millimetre, forced her lips to slide towards her root. When they met, her lips squelching at the base of iron-hard oxblood meat, hot droplets streaming down her pretty face, the delicious revelation passed through her mind that now, with her own cock buried deep in her gullet, she had one more thing in common with Jarri.
I understand, now, she thought to herself. When you'd look up at me with your throat packed with my meat, with tears running down your cheeks, with your hands placed lovingly against my thighs – that light in your eyes was the yearning for recognition, wasn't it? Without words you were saying – look, mistress, I took it all the way down, are you proud of me?
She glanced over to the mirror-wall, wishing that it was closer to her so that she could fully appreciate the exquisite portrait of her choking on her own cock, dark tear-tracks running down her cheeks, lips oozing bubbling froth from the lewd O of her mouth. Despite her lips being stretched into a taut seal, Danika managed to squirm her tongue out from the crushing weight of her shaft. Its tip quested and probed, scraping past her teeth to lick the skin of her ballsack, lathering the sensitive skin with a thick coating of aphrodisiac saliva. A low rumble rolled down her length as she purred at the feeling, imagining the seed churning within her heavy orbs like a cauldron of scalding cream.
She swallowed hard, rhythmically, sending waves of constricting pleasure rolling along her length in a self-loving mimicry of the technique that she had used to make her sister pump countless loads of creamy, angelic seed into her belly. The very same urge arose inside the demon, and for a moment she briefly indulged the fantasy of fulfilling it, of not stopping until her throat was aching from exertion and coated with fresh seed, her tastebuds awash with the cloying flavour of cum, and her stomach filled with a pint of boiling demon-cream.
Not just yet, she chided herself. There's other fun to be had.
She reached behind the violet portal, took hold of it, and pulled it away from her face, eyes wide as she stared at the slick meat emerging from her mouth, lips stretching from her face as they clung to her shaft. In the cool glow of the portal her spit-slathered length glistened brightly, every millimetre coated with a thick layer of throatslime. Her lips likewise shone from their efforts, skin the colour of blackberries shining beneath a gloss of the demon's own making.
That's the front done, she thought. Time for the back.
Danika made the same hook-fingered gesture on the pink portal, drawing it away from her groin as though unsheathing her thoroughly throated cock. She moved the portal behind her, fascinated at how the image in the violet one changed, and then fixed it scant millimetres away from the perky swell of her buttocks.
She spread her cheeks and in front of her she saw the tips of slender fingers digging into springy flesh, pulling apart the valley of her buttocks to expose her dark, winking star. A shiver ran over her back as she moved further down, pressing a fingertip lightly against her pucker, the slight touch signalling anticipation, trepidation, and the promise of an eye-rolling anal stuffing.
She brought her finger back to her mouth, suckling on it to coat her digit in warm saliva, and then reached down again, pressing harder, rubbing tiny circles around her rim. Slowly she worked her digit in up to the first knuckle, then the second, then slipped in another beside it. Despite being a tight portal in its own right, her rear passage opened up willingly, the strong muscles of her sphincter accustomed to visitors from the outside and more than willing to welcome them back. She marvelled at the sight of her fingertips coaxing her winking star to loosen up, wiggling them as though it were the first time she had ever pressed them inside herself.
When she felt that her ring was ever so slightly more relaxed than it had been a few minutes ago she shifted her hands back to her cheeks, spreading them open again for the next escalation. She leaned towards the violet disc, her sharp features brightening from the glow, seemingly only a few inches away from the valley of her asscheeks.
Her lips parted, hovering for a moment in the prelude to a kiss before widening into a lewd O and diving through the portal and into the parted cleavage of her own perky asscheeks. The same tingling sensation that enveloped her shaft, cool and prickling, now swept over her face as though she had bowed into a washbasin of static, but the touch of the portal was forgotten in a heartbeat when her lips came to rest against warm, eager flesh. They formed a greedy seal around her winking hole, her long tongue probing, caressing, asking to be let in, slicking her rim with thick lashings of saliva. She pushed and prodded, impatient to be inside herself, whining a little as she sought to break down the barrier between her libido and a thorough, deep rimming.
Then suddenly, deliciously, her tongue plunged halfway into her own guts as her hole relaxed, spreading her pucker around its muscular girth.
She was expecting it.
Obviously.
Yet Danika's hips still bucked forwards as her tongue slithered into her depths, plunging into bowels that gratefully welcomed its passage, nerves alight with wet, warm joy. Her fingers were left behind, asscheeks springing back to trap her nose and cover her eyes with their curves. The motion did nothing to dislodge the tongue inside her, of course – the portal behind her was fixed over her asshole, and no amount of involuntary hip-bucking would change that until she wilfully moved it.
She giggled to herself, the sound distorted by her open mouth and muffled by her crimson asscheeks, and pressed harder into the welcoming valley of her ass-cleavage. The sensation of being opened up spread through her whole body in a warm tingle, along with the realisation that she was doing something that she had never done before.
She was eating her own ass.
The thought thrilled down her spine and a moan, muffled by crimson asscheeks, escaped her open mouth and vibrated through her bowels. She let the flavour of her own guts press against her tongue, surrounding her taste buds with a flavour that was acrid, meaty, warm – a flavour that she had only ever experienced when someone had pulled their cock from her freshly-fucked asshole and crushed it into her mouth.
She couldn't get enough.
Her tongue lashed around inside her like an errant tail, corkscrewing deeper into her guts, desperate to lick over every last millimetre. The sense of perversity made her push deeper, lovingly making out with her hole, her lips locked against her rim in a wet seal. She worked her ass just like she had eaten out her sister so many times before, finally understanding just how good it felt to have six inches of serpentine demontongue wiggling around inside.
It might have been the the half-bottle of liquor, or it might have been the intoxicating promise of being even more full, but it didn't take long for Danika's desire to overcome any notion of patience, the minute amount of willingness to delay crushed against the swelling urge to stuff her guts.
Fuck it. I can't wait any longer.
She fixed the violet portal to the pillow, taking a moment to once again admire the curves of her perky ass, the sliver of her rear cleavage the only thing visible through the portal's limited aperture. Just as she had done only minutes before, she reached back with one hand and pulled one of her asscheeks, her flesh almost quivering with desire. This time she could feel the slick coating of saliva that covered her red skin, the relaxed looseness of her hole, the tingle of anticipation that stirred within her at the thought of getting utterly stuffed by her own demoncock.
Then she lined up said cock with the glistening image of her pucker, shivering a little at the chill caress of the portal as her flared tip broke through its plane. When her cock met ringed muscle the shiver turned into a warm pulse that ran the full length of her body, the excitement for a gut-stuffing making her hair stand on end. She let go of her cheek, ass-cleavage bouncing back into place to hide the meeting of penetrator and pucker, and leant back with her weight held up on one hand. Her other had crept to her crotch, ringing her root to send blood swelling along her whole length.
Ready? she thought to herself, as though she wasn't about to push into her own hole.
Ready.
Danika's dark lips parted as she rocked her hips forwards, her eyes locked on the mesmerising sight of her cock about to stretch out her own guts. A gasp escaped her when the first inch of thoroughly-lubricated cock popped past her sphincter, effortlessly gaining entry to the constricting confines of her anal canal. Although she could see the physics-defying union through the portal at her groin, and feel the dull pressure of her flared tip opening up her hole, she nonetheless let go of her base and reached back to wrap her fingers around her shaft, only daring to believe that it was truly happening when she stroked around her now-stretched rim and confirmed with trembling fingertips that she was indeed inside herself.
She shuddered, then pushed further in. Her cock's passage was marked by a tide of tiny crackling squelches, its journey lubricated by the thick coating of demonic saliva. Millimetre by millimetre, her anal canal was reshaped in the image of her oxblood shaft, every nerve ending bursting into flame as they were pressed against steel-hard meat, tight bowels reduced to a cocksleeve for the demon's own pleasure. It was as though she were experiencing being opened and filled for the first time again – only this time, instead of her sister's ivory rod, it was nine inches of crimson hellmeat.
Her thighs were almost pressing against the portal, her skin illuminated by violet radiance, and then with a final push she was there, wholly sheathed inside her guts.
The thought struck her like a bolt from above.
I'm in.
I'm balls deep in my own asshole.
And it feels fucking divine.
The thought made her tighten up out of pure reflex, and she moaned as rings of muscle contracted and heat and pressure rolled along her length. She felt herself throbbing, oozing, creating a pool of sticky precum deep in her bowels. Her thighs trembled, and she collapsed to the side, legs shaking uncontrollably; her eyes fluttered madly, heart pounding in her chest, and her breaths pitched as though she had just run a marathon. She clutched the pillow, moulding her body against its pliable form, her hips twitching spasmodically, grinding into her own ass as she rode out the aftershocks of a miniature orgasm.
Seconds passed, then minutes, the demon's shuddering bliss surging back every time she thought she thought it was over, each dully glowing wave a precursor for another, keeping her writhing on her bedsheets with her mind on the verge of shattering.
When Danika came down from the aftershocks of her almost-orgasm, panting hard, she found herself in a lock-jointed constriction around the pillow. Shakily she got back onto her knees, being careful not to let her length slip out, and repositioned herself in a sci-fi parody of doggystyle. Surprised by her miniature orgasm, she was nonetheless exhilarated and energised, her face flushed with mid-game enthusiasm.
She huffed out a few shaky breaths, and then started to go to town on herself.
Shaky breaths gave way to the regulated sound of flesh on flesh as Danika settled into a rhythm, a hard but measured pace that allowed her to savour the familiar and yet brand new qualia of filling her own guts. Her insides smouldered, embers stoked by the hot rod ploughing in and out, in and out, not for a moment relenting in its pistoning movement. Compressive friction vied for dominance over saliva-slicked hellmeat, their opposition sparking every nerve in every inch of Danika's bowels, dredging up the precum her guts and churning it to a frothing, bubbling mess deep inside her – and all the while her tip leaked ever more droplets of nectar, arousal begetting arousal.
Minutes passed and a thin skim of sweat began to glisten into being on her crimson skin, the heat of her body providing it with the impetus to drift and infuse the very fabric of the room with the warmth and scent of sex, a texture as unmistakable on the skin and nostrils as the sensation of her constricting innards was on her rock-hard demoncock. It was intoxicating, driving the demon deeper into her bliss, and she wished that the portal were wider so that she could reach through and dig fingers into her own hips, to pull herself back onto her own cock, to squeeze perky breasts and toned thighs as she doggyfucked herself. Instead she had to settle for a death-grip on the hapless pillow and the gunshot-sharp reports as her groin slapped against what little area of her asscheeks was exposed by the portal.
As though mirroring the roiling liquid in her guts, a thick string of drool ran down the demon's chin, dripping from lips parted with lustful abandon to snap wetly against her chest – so lost was she in her pleasure that she barely even noticed. The combined sensations of her hips impacting her perky ass, her cock being squeezed by her tight canal, and her asshole being stretched out by unyielding meat, were enough to burn away any both any superfluous concerns and any pretence of restraint.
She hammered at her own rear passage, getting faster and faster with each passing stroke, fucking herself relentlessly even as she was being fucked in the most emergent form of self-love. Heavy balls churned, tingling every time they swung through the portal to fill the space they had just come from, the front of her sack grazing the back with every thrust. Onyx hair danced about her shoulders, errant strands striping her face and sticking to the sheen of sweat on her breasts. Her legs shook, thighs tensing and sour with a deep ache, and if her sister or her maiden or any of the scores of patrons in the bordello below had demanded or commanded her to stop, the demon would have been utterly unable to let up on her now-frantic pace.
When she thought back the next day, idly playing with herself as she relived her evening of self-love, she realised that there was something wholly different about it – a difference unaccounted for even by the presence of the twin portals as the guests of honour. Her lovemaking was usually characterised by some sort of power balance, whether it was impish submission to her sister's iron will or playful dominance over her pliant maiden. Even on those rare occasions when her sister's dominant veneer would crack a little and her unadulterated love for the demon would shine through, there would be an almost ritualistic sequence to their sex, a dance of command and mischievous insubordination, of assertion and submission, that had to be enacted before open, honest sisterly love could be shown. She loved it, for sure – the moment when facades crumbled and pretences were discarded was a climax in itself, but one born of desires that still conformed to some sense of choreography.
Not so when the demon was pounding herself.
There was no sister or maiden to occupy her thoughts, no audience to perform for, no one to consider save for herself – nothing to think about except for just how good it felt to be inside herself.
Matching her pounding strokes, a lapping tide rose inside her, a warm, thick haze that crawled up her spine and made her fingertips tingle, wrapped her limbs in fuzzy glow and signalled the inevitable slide from comfortably horny-tipsy into full blown fuck-drunk. Amethyst lustre vanished beneath dark lashes as Danika's eyes screwed shut, forehead wrinkled and eyebrows downturned at the sides, her mind focussed solely on the exquisite pressure in her bowels as her cock pounded in-out, in-out, relentlessly reshaping her insides to its girthy form. The demon was so absorbed in the single-minded business of filling herself that it took her a moment to recognise the familiar feeling for what it was – but when she did, she threw herself headlong into its embrace.
Heat, pressure, the underlying awareness that above all else she was fucking herself – they all combined into a hedonistic cocktail that Danika willingly sank into, spiralling downwards, her breath bubbling up through viscous syrup, shedding any sense of time, space, or existing outside of a single, basic thought.
Cum.
Cum for yourself, little demon.
Cum inside yourself, little demon.
It was all too much for the hapless Danika.
For the first time that evening she cried out loud, a raw, unrestrained release of the pleasure that had built up inside her slender frame.
"Yes..." she whimpered, her voice barely more than a rapturous sob. "Oh, fuck yes."
Her legs finally succumbed to the tendrils of fatigue that had wormed their way into her muscles and she collapsed, falling to the sheets for the second time that evening as her climax tore through her body, hips bucking spasmodically and back arching like a drawn bow. Her cock, swollen with pent-up desire, finally found its release, painting her insides white with spurt after spurt of thick seed, every inch crammed deep inside bowels alight with stimulation. Stars burst across her vision as her balls heaved and unloaded what felt like pints of cum straight into her stomach, flooding her guts with an evening's worth of anticipation.
The demon shuddered and twitched, her hands locked vice-like around the pillow, a low hiss escaping from between clenched teeth. She strained, veins swelling in her length as her rim pinched her root like a vice, pressing the pillow hard against her hips to crush her hyper-sensitive cock as far into her bowels as it would go, whimpering piteously with each haphazard sparking of synapses that graced her shattered mind. She ground into her own asscheeks, stirring the lake of cum that now occupied her rapidly-filling insides, feeling as though her mind were leaking out of her cock with every pulse.
Danika didn't know how long she lay there for, panting, sweating, basking in the smothering afterglow of her orgasm. When her eyes fluttered open and she unlocked her rictus embrace from the by-now crushed pillow, a low groan escaped her lips and she reached down to run a hand over her belly. Her trim stomach now betrayed the slightest hint of a bulge, the inevitable consequence of an incredibly horny demon blowing her load in an incredibly tight space.
Her breathing had barely slowed to its normal pace when a final flash of lust sparked across her fuck-drunk mind, a thought delicious enough to overcome even the immensely tempting urge to succumb to her fatigue and fall asleep with her cock still lodged in her guts. Eyelids at half mast over glassy orbs, she tried to muster the energy to do the one thing that every fibre of her being screamed not to do – pull out.
She uncurled from her full-body embrace around the pillow, the fuzzy glow in her brain not quite enough to overcome the desire to see the aftermath of her solo fuck session. Grateful that she was lying on her side, she tilted her horned head so that she could see her cock vanishing into the pink portal, and gently rocked her hips back, dragging her still-hard cock from inside her.
The demon's eyes widened at the beautiful, lewd sight that met them – the distension of her rim as it clung to her cock, reluctant to let its visitor leave, stretching outwards and squeezing oh so deliciously against the ridge of her flared tip, heralding the final pop that revealed her hole's dark gape. Her asshole, formerly so very tight, was a loosened ruin, the muscles of her sphincter slackened by the thorough ramming they had endured, her insides still echoing with the tactile memory of hard, throbbing cock. She groaned as she felt the pressure leaving her bowels – and as cool air caressed the gut-slicked shaft that had stretched them open for what felt like an infinitely long span of time, a pearly trickle of seed escaped to run over her curved asscheek before the portal of her pucker began to slowly wink closed.
No sooner were her bowels empty than the ache of longing began to began to worm its sour tendrils through her body. It was inevitable – whenever the bonfire of blissful satisfaction from a thorough ass-fucking faded, the demon always felt the small ember of anticipation that never quite burned itself out.
Soon enough again, she promised herself.
With a grace that belied her shaking limbs and climax-addled brain, the demon reached back and unfastened the violet portal, pulling it away while pushing back into the pink one. She brought her hand up to her face, holding the violet disc atop splayed fingers as a waiter might hold a delicacy on fragile bone china. Her cock reared out into the air, still as hard as when she first had the idea to fuck herself that evening. A thick, pearly droplet of cum oozed from the tip, lazily crowning at her slit before sluggishly rolling down her shiny, ass-sheened length.
She reached up awkwardly with her other hand to catch the droplet before it rolled through the portal, scooping it up on a fingertip and suckling it like nectar, the taste spicy, heavy, unmistakably thick. She hummed lethargically, letting the sticky seed coat her tongue, swallowing slowly. Then she moved the portal, bringing it to her lips, a string of cum bridging them as she opened her mouth to take in her cock one last time. It broke wetly against her flared tip, and her tongue smeared it against ultra-sensitive skin in a sticky massage. She pushed deeper, the soft walls of her cheeks lovingly caressing her still-hard shaft as it slipped further into her mouth, the acrid taste of her own guts pressing down onto her tongue. The last of her gag reflex put up a feeble resistance, trying in vain to rally from its earlier defeat, and a low moan vibrated in the demon's throat when her neck became fully stuffed, swallowing rhythmically once more to massage her meat in a post-coital embrace.
The demon kept her throat full for several minutes, lovingly milking the last drops of seed from balls that now ached with the deflation of release. She was fleetingly disappointed that there was no audience to witness her almost effortless self-deepthroat, her throat moulded to her length as though she had been doing it for years – yet the intimacy of being alone was its own reward. When she felt herself begin to soften she pulled the portal away, her meat slowly emerging from lips smeared with spit and sperm. She planted a delicate, cum-glazed kiss on her flared tip, a low chuckle rumbling in her throat as she slowly arched her back to pull her cock, for the last time, out of the pink portal.
A thin skim of sweat still coated her body, lending her crimson flesh the unmistakable sheen that could only ever arise from a thorough, deep, mind-melting fuck session. As she relaxed, basking in the dull ache of satisfaction that had begun to spread through her body, the demon felt a warm trickle run over one asscheek, another rivulet of her own seed that her loosened rim couldn't hold inside. A small smile crept over her lips, a smile that told of the perverse delight of finding herself in yet another novel situation that night.
Never been full of my own cum before, she thought. So full that it's dripping out of me.
At that, she couldn't help but notice the faraway stirring between her legs, the inevitable response of any lascivious thought, and her smile took on a wicked curve. She rolled onto her back and stretched lazily, straining to flex the muscles that made her only half-soft cock twitch, and then curled back onto her side.
Later, maybe.
Drowsily sprawling on the covers, something that one of the incubi who tended the bar downstairs had said while she was sharing spirits with Jarri drifted into her mind. Drinking is like sex, he had quipped. It's fun by yourself, but even better with someone else.
Filled with her own seed, her jaw and guts aching from being stretched open by her own meat, the taste of demon-cream as fresh on her tongue as it was hot in her bowels, Danika decided that he had been only partially correct. She couldn't feel as helpless or submissive as she did with her sister, nor engage in the kind of assured domination that she could with her maiden – but fucking herself in the ass was something else entirely, something that gave her levels of intimacy with herself that she hadn't ever considered before. A small smile crept over her lips, a smile that told of the perverse delight at just how good the evening's diversion had been, how raw and honest and utterly without pretence her self-lovemaking was.
As she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, fingers idly tracing the contours of her stomach, a final thought flickered through her mind.
Next time, I want Lariel or Jarri to be here.
But not to join in.
I want them to watch.