mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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They rubbed their thighs together in anticipation. Whatever pleasure that small movement might have brought you was overshadowed by the growing emptiness in your mind.
You took a step away from Raphael, towards the exit doors. Then another. No one seemed to be stopping you. For a fleeting second, it seemed as if you could actually walk out of the chamber.
Raphael tapped gently on the red blanket that covered his bed. Twice. In an inviting, almost tender way.
"Let's spare both of us the humiliation of the chase, shall we?"
You continued to back away.
"I see, - Raphael sighed, - we shall not. Let me give you a choice: if you wish, run. But I will catch you, I will pin you down and I will take you - no preparations and no mercy. Or lie down on your own and have the mercy of my spit. So how exactly stupid - never mind, I think we know the answer to that - how exactly masochistic are you feeling today?
A lump in your throat. The scratch of fear, the images of the inevitable. You remembered the size of his manhood. Not a pleasant memory. If you run, he will tear you to pieces.
Then he will make you bathe in his pool and tear you to pieces again.
You took a step towards the winged devil. The pride in you was remarkably quiet, perhaps for the first time in your life.
"Can it be that you finally hear the voice of reason? You managed to silence it for so long!"
The marbled devil's head stared at you from the notch in the bed. It was not the first time you had laid on these sheets. You looked up at Haarlep, your eyes, pitch black instead of blue, watching every step. They longed to be filled, emptiness tortured them, and their neediness tried to reach you through the union of your forms.
"Since you seem to be lost without a simple command: on your knees. Head down, legs wide apart".
You obeyed. Slowly. First you put your knees on the edge of the bed, then your elbows in front of you, then you lowered your head. Every second was a chance for divine intervention. Moonmaiden owed you for both Dame Aylin and Shadowheart; you'd remind her if you knew how to pray to her. A pat just above your coccyx urged you to arch your back until you felt the strain of the stretch.
"Wide apart, I said. I would like to have a good look at what’s on the offer".
Nobody offered you shit, devil, you thought as you moved your knees further apart.
Haarlep hissed, hips swaying in anticipation, hungry to at least witness the humiliation without the chance to partake. The red silk blanket felt cold on your forehead. Once again
you resorted to imagining yourself somewhere else - or with someone else. Unfortunately, no image came to mind, your imagination failing you along with your pride and humour.
The only thing you could think of is the devil behind you. The shadow of his outstretched wings on the crimson blanket.
You felt the hot touch of his fingers against your labia, spreading you apart. You leaned into that touch, hoping he would take you the natural way and spare you the utter humiliation of sodomy.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" whispered Raphael as your sudden willingness was met with a tender, praising caress.
Stroking his ego might just work.
"I'd prefer that very much".
You had never been the begging and crawling type, and the submissiveness in your voice felt fake.
"I know. I would prefer to hold the crown of Karsus in my hand. Haarlep would prefer to be taken by me instead. But here we all are."
He spat, small but vulgar noise. Saliva, hot and thick, much thicker than human, coated the muscle ring of your orifice. Raphael smeared it with his index finger in a light circular motion - careful not to cut you with his claw, but constantly reminding you that it is there. You clenched your fists and tugged at the blanket.
Haarlep made no attempt to hide their burning envy: "Bleed her, Master. Rip her apart."
"Aren't you bloodthirsty! Where was your bloodlust, incubus, when this wench ransacked your Master's place?"
Raphael thrust his finger into your clenched orifice. A moment of shock passed before you realised that he had hidden his claw a moment earlier and the sting of pain you felt was only from the penetration. You let out a small sigh of relief.
"The promise of pain, Haarlep, is often sweeter than the actual brutality".
He pushed the finger out, pushed it in again, again and again, stretching you from the inside out. His technique was that of someone who had done it a thousand times.
The pain was mild, unlike the mental image of being bent over by a devil. You grimaced and hissed as he added another finger, spreading them apart once inside.
"Such an adorable whimper, Tav. Like a puppy with a broken paw. But you're not going to cry over a couple of fingers, are you? Save it for later."
You braced yourself for the agony of his full length as he pulled your legs further apart, the muscles in your thighs aching from the stretching. As you felt the head of his cock against your entrance, you realised there was not enough bracing in the world to prepare you for it.
"No, - you gasped. - No-no-no."
Panic overcame you. As you jerked your hips forward, away from him, trying to escape, Raphael grabbed your throat and squeezed hard.
"No-no-no, please", - he corrected. Haarlep let out a servile chuckle.
Claws digging into the flesh of your left hip, Raphael pushed himself past your entrance. The muscles of your orifice gripped his shaft and contracted. The cry you let out was alien even to your ears. The red of the room grew redder; the capillaries in your eyes burst.
"Hush... hush, - Raphael whispered, working his length a little deeper with each word. - The first time... hurts, but it gets... better... Nothing good... nothing good... comes without a little... pain".
You gasped for breath under his assault. His cock stretched you, hurt you, much too big, much too long, much too wide. Your whole being fought against this humiliation. This shouldn't happen to you. But the more you fought, the deeper he buried himself inside you.
Incubus let out a moan of frustrated pleasure. You looked up to see the slick of excitement running down the pale thigh of Haarlep - your thigh, that is.
"Give it... time... and you'll... beg...".
Your sobs remind of an animal trapped in the woods, its paw slammed shut and bleeding. Trying to get out only made it worse. Raphael slowed down, taking his time to wipe the tears away from your cheeks.
"The defiled maiden... sheds a few tears. How... touching."
He licked the salt from his fingers, the essence of your fear feeding his devilish appetite. When he was done, he pressed your head against the pillow, your nostrils and mouth blocked. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps you'd slip into unconsciousness.
"Master, let me, - Haarlep begged, going wild in their bonds, - let me fuck her, take me, anything, I beg you!
The ghost of their frenzied excitement echoed within you, barely visible through the thick veil of your pain and humiliation, but it was there, and its very presence frightened you.
"Nobody gets anything out of this night," Raphael growled. - No one but me."
He found his pace, rhythmic, hard, short thrusts, never quite slipping out of you. You didn't find yours, clenching and fighting, engaged in a futile struggle.
"Let it go, little mouse. I will have my way with you, for a long..."
He cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples, his other hand resting firmly on your thigh.
The devil trembled with excitement, drenched in his own lust.
"...long time."
Acid soaked his hoarse voice; your insult still burns within him. The long forked tongue left a wet mark on your neck.
"You and your worthless companions..."
The thought of your companions seeing their leader impaled on the devil's cock horrified you.
"Shadowheart, is it? What a stupid nickname... Oh, she'll take me much better than you. She'll love it. The Sharran whore will love to lick my seed off your... oh yes..."
It's all your fault for leading them here. Challenging them to fight the son of Mephistopheles in his Avernus lair. It's all your fault. All the suffering you've saved them from, only to condemn them to far worse.
"The vampire spawn? Dozens of men have had him spread his legs beneath them... but I will... I will make him remember me..."
Raphael seemed to lose himself in fantasies of his debauchery, more excited by them than by his thrusts.
"My own little troupe... my own little De Sade rehearsal".
High on his own dirty talk, Raphael licks and bites your shoulders, moans and groans. He is more a fiend in heat than the refined aristocrat he likes to portray.
"But you... you truly deserve the lead... so very... very... special.."
For a fleeting moment the frenzied passion in his voice could have been mistaken for one of a lover.
The pain from his thrusts began to fade. Or were you just getting used to it? Either way, bad news, for no empty space remains empty for too long. Haarlep's desire to submit to their Master was knocking on the door of your subconscious.
You felt their lust crawling into your skull; you breathed in steadily, trying to tune it all out, that tingle in your loins, eroding resolve, diverting the flow of thought down a ruinous path.
The visions of yourself being ravaged by the devil became more dirty than horrifying. So obscene, so pornographic, so explicit, so wrong.
If Raphael had any interest in redirecting his fingers to your more sensitive parts, that would be...
That would be...
"She wants your fingers on her clit, Master - Haarlep was all too eager to relay your thoughts - she longs to come under you".
Raphael gave a victorious little laugh, more smug than ever.
"I have little doubt of that. And little concern for what the stupid little whore desires. Isn't that what you are, mouse?".
He continued to fuck you, and made an extra point of not touching you anywhere that might be remotely pleasurable. And yet your arousal lingered, unfulfilled and painful, fed by many other stimuli.
Perhaps if you gave in to his obscene talk, he would finally burst inside you.
"Yes. A stupid little whore..."
You vividly imagine the disgust on Shadowheart's face if she heard you now.
"Who loves... to be fucked in the ass..."
Your choice of words was deliberately vulgar. It worked; the devil's lust was physically palpable, engulfing you like a thick black goo. You searched for more words to quench his lust, and they came surprisingly easy.
"By her Master, - you whispered. - By you... Master".
The last words seemed to have struck the right chord. His thrusts became reckless, violent, the steady rhythm dissipating. In an attempt to finally push him over the edge, your cries became a torrent of disjointed obscenities.
please please fuck me yes please fuck your stupid little whore fuck her harder
Filth. You bathed in the filth of your words and thoughts. But you emerged victorious: Raphael came undone, cursing and shaking. Infernal seed burned your insides, searing the tender skin of your thighs as it leaked onto the sheets. The burn extinguished your arousal, much to your relief.
That was it. It was over.
At least for this time, but it was over.
As he pulled away from you, you instinctively reached between your legs to assess the damage. The touch burned like wildfire. Your fingers were covered in a white slime, but there was no trace of blood. His attack had somehow managed to avoid tearing.
Exhausted and aching, you lay on your side, relieved to be out of the humiliating position you had been propped up in.
"Let me lick her clean, Master," the frenzied incubus pleaded. -- Let me lick you clean. Let me polish every inch with my tongue".
The Devil was already busy straightening his clothes, his upper lip curled, looking both bored and disgusted, as if he had just walked in and had nothing to do with the depravity that had just taken place.
"You've had your share for today, Haarlep."
Raphael ran a hand through his hair and let out a weary sigh.
"So there is a tomorrow, Master?"
Raphael looked straight at you. You did not look away. What did he want to see on your face? Tears? Still there, still tracing your cheeks. Defeat? Already happened. Did he want you to beg for mercy and forgiveness? You are not stupid. Or at least not that stupid.
"There is one for me. There would be one for you... if you choose to live through my idea of tomorrow".
Every moment he keeps you alive is a moment when you have a chance, however small, however illusory, to bring about his demise. There is always hope, and if she is dead, there is always her spirit, and if the spirit is banished, there is always a memory of her.
And you planned to cling to it.
The devil threw back his head in a hearty, loud laugh.
Shadowheart thought it was just going to be Lae'zel.
The first couple of nights had been... passable, in spite of their impending doom. Shadowheart slept like a brick, that was for sure. The pent-up anxiety contained within her body combined specifically with the exhaustion of the everyday fighting made her fall asleep as soon as her head touched the thin bundle of cloth that served as a pillow.
(Not without having prayed to Lady Shar before. The goddess was more keen on letting her children fend for themselves, but still Shadowheart begged her for protection and salvation, still trying to find comfort in her close end.
Admittedly, this specific grief was a bit difficult to handle. May Lady Shar forgive her.)
Shadowheart slept like a baby, until she couldn't anymore.

They rubbed their thighs together in anticipation. Whatever pleasure that small movement might have brought you was overshadowed by the growing emptiness in your mind.

You took a step away from Raphael, towards the exit doors. Then another. No one seemed to be stopping you. For a fleeting second, it seemed as if you could actually walk out of the chamber.

Raphael tapped gently on the red blanket that covered his bed. Twice. In an inviting, almost tender way.

"Let's spare both of us the humiliation of the chase, shall we?"

You continued to back away.

"I see, - Raphael sighed, - we shall not. Let me give you a choice: if you wish, run. But I will catch you, I will pin you down and I will take you - no preparations and no mercy. Or lie down on your own and have the mercy of my spit. So how exactly stupid - never mind, I think we know the answer to that - how exactly masochistic are you feeling today?

A lump in your throat. The scratch of fear, the images of the inevitable. You remembered the size of his manhood. Not a pleasant memory. If you run, he will tear you to pieces.

Then he will make you bathe in his pool and tear you to pieces again.

You took a step towards the winged devil. The pride in you was remarkably quiet, perhaps for the first time in your life.

"Can it be that you finally hear the voice of reason? You managed to silence it for so long!"

The marbled devil's head stared at you from the notch in the bed. It was not the first time you had laid on these sheets. You looked up at Haarlep, your eyes, pitch black instead of blue, watching every step. They longed to be filled, emptiness tortured them, and their neediness tried to reach you through the union of your forms.

"Since you seem to be lost without a simple command: on your knees. Head down, legs wide apart".

You obeyed. Slowly. First you put your knees on the edge of the bed, then your elbows in front of you, then you lowered your head. Every second was a chance for divine intervention. Moonmaiden owed you for both Dame Aylin and Shadowheart; you'd remind her if you knew how to pray to her. A pat just above your coccyx urged you to arch your back until you felt the strain of the stretch.

"Wide apart, I said. I would like to have a good look at what’s on the offer".

Nobody offered you shit, devil, you thought as you moved your knees further apart.

Haarlep hissed, hips swaying in anticipation, hungry to at least witness the humiliation without the chance to partake. The red silk blanket felt cold on your forehead. Once again

you resorted to imagining yourself somewhere else - or with someone else. Unfortunately, no image came to mind, your imagination failing you along with your pride and humour.

The only thing you could think of is the devil behind you. The shadow of his outstretched wings on the crimson blanket.

You felt the hot touch of his fingers against your labia, spreading you apart. You leaned into that touch, hoping he would take you the natural way and spare you the utter humiliation of sodomy.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" whispered Raphael as your sudden willingness was met with a tender, praising caress.

Stroking his ego might just work.

"I'd prefer that very much".

You had never been the begging and crawling type, and the submissiveness in your voice felt fake.

"I know. I would prefer to hold the crown of Karsus in my hand. Haarlep would prefer to be taken by me instead. But here we all are."

He spat, small but vulgar noise. Saliva, hot and thick, much thicker than human, coated the muscle ring of your orifice. Raphael smeared it with his index finger in a light circular motion - careful not to cut you with his claw, but constantly reminding you that it is there. You clenched your fists and tugged at the blanket.

Haarlep made no attempt to hide their burning envy: "Bleed her, Master. Rip her apart."

"Aren't you bloodthirsty! Where was your bloodlust, incubus, when this wench ransacked your Master's place?"

Raphael thrust his finger into your clenched orifice. A moment of shock passed before you realised that he had hidden his claw a moment earlier and the sting of pain you felt was only from the penetration. You let out a small sigh of relief.

"The promise of pain, Haarlep, is often sweeter than the actual brutality".

He pushed the finger out, pushed it in again, again and again, stretching you from the inside out. His technique was that of someone who had done it a thousand times.

The pain was mild, unlike the mental image of being bent over by a devil. You grimaced and hissed as he added another finger, spreading them apart once inside.

"Such an adorable whimper, Tav. Like a puppy with a broken paw. But you're not going to cry over a couple of fingers, are you? Save it for later."

You braced yourself for the agony of his full length as he pulled your legs further apart, the muscles in your thighs aching from the stretching. As you felt the head of his cock against your entrance, you realised there was not enough bracing in the world to prepare you for it.

"No, - you gasped. - No-no-no."

Panic overcame you. As you jerked your hips forward, away from him, trying to escape, Raphael grabbed your throat and squeezed hard.

"No-no-no, please", - he corrected. Haarlep let out a servile chuckle.

Claws digging into the flesh of your left hip, Raphael pushed himself past your entrance. The muscles of your orifice gripped his shaft and contracted. The cry you let out was alien even to your ears. The red of the room grew redder; the capillaries in your eyes burst.

"Hush... hush, - Raphael whispered, working his length a little deeper with each word. - The first time... hurts, but it gets... better... Nothing good... nothing good... comes without a little... pain".

You gasped for breath under his assault. His cock stretched you, hurt you, much too big, much too long, much too wide. Your whole being fought against this humiliation. This shouldn't happen to you. But the more you fought, the deeper he buried himself inside you.

Incubus let out a moan of frustrated pleasure. You looked up to see the slick of excitement running down the pale thigh of Haarlep - your thigh, that is.

"Give it... time... and you'll... beg...".

Your sobs remind of an animal trapped in the woods, its paw slammed shut and bleeding. Trying to get out only made it worse. Raphael slowed down, taking his time to wipe the tears away from your cheeks.

"The defiled maiden... sheds a few tears. How... touching."

He licked the salt from his fingers, the essence of your fear feeding his devilish appetite. When he was done, he pressed your head against the pillow, your nostrils and mouth blocked. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps you'd slip into unconsciousness.

"Master, let me, - Haarlep begged, going wild in their bonds, - let me fuck her, take me, anything, I beg you!

The ghost of their frenzied excitement echoed within you, barely visible through the thick veil of your pain and humiliation, but it was there, and its very presence frightened you.

"Nobody gets anything out of this night," Raphael growled. - No one but me."

He found his pace, rhythmic, hard, short thrusts, never quite slipping out of you. You didn't find yours, clenching and fighting, engaged in a futile struggle.

"Let it go, little mouse. I will have my way with you, for a long..."

He cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples, his other hand resting firmly on your thigh.

The devil trembled with excitement, drenched in his own lust.

"...long time."

Acid soaked his hoarse voice; your insult still burns within him. The long forked tongue left a wet mark on your neck.

"You and your worthless companions..."

The thought of your companions seeing their leader impaled on the devil's cock horrified you.

"Shadowheart, is it? What a stupid nickname... Oh, she'll take me much better than you. She'll love it. The Sharran whore will love to lick my seed off your... oh yes..."

It's all your fault for leading them here. Challenging them to fight the son of Mephistopheles in his Avernus lair. It's all your fault. All the suffering you've saved them from, only to condemn them to far worse.

"The vampire spawn? Dozens of men have had him spread his legs beneath them... but I will... I will make him remember me..."

Raphael seemed to lose himself in fantasies of his debauchery, more excited by them than by his thrusts.

"My own little troupe... my own little De Sade rehearsal".

High on his own dirty talk, Raphael licks and bites your shoulders, moans and groans. He is more a fiend in heat than the refined aristocrat he likes to portray.

"But you... you truly deserve the lead... so very... very... special.."

For a fleeting moment the frenzied passion in his voice could have been mistaken for one of a lover.

The pain from his thrusts began to fade. Or were you just getting used to it? Either way, bad news, for no empty space remains empty for too long. Haarlep's desire to submit to their Master was knocking on the door of your subconscious.

You felt their lust crawling into your skull; you breathed in steadily, trying to tune it all out, that tingle in your loins, eroding resolve, diverting the flow of thought down a ruinous path.

The visions of yourself being ravaged by the devil became more dirty than horrifying. So obscene, so pornographic, so explicit, so wrong.

If Raphael had any interest in redirecting his fingers to your more sensitive parts, that would be...

That would be...

"She wants your fingers on her clit, Master - Haarlep was all too eager to relay your thoughts - she longs to come under you".

Raphael gave a victorious little laugh, more smug than ever.

"I have little doubt of that. And little concern for what the stupid little whore desires. Isn't that what you are, mouse?".

He continued to fuck you, and made an extra point of not touching you anywhere that might be remotely pleasurable. And yet your arousal lingered, unfulfilled and painful, fed by many other stimuli.

Perhaps if you gave in to his obscene talk, he would finally burst inside you.

"Yes. A stupid little whore..."

You vividly imagine the disgust on Shadowheart's face if she heard you now.

"Who loves... to be fucked in the ass..."

Your choice of words was deliberately vulgar. It worked; the devil's lust was physically palpable, engulfing you like a thick black goo. You searched for more words to quench his lust, and they came surprisingly easy.

"By her Master, - you whispered. - By you... Master".

The last words seemed to have struck the right chord. His thrusts became reckless, violent, the steady rhythm dissipating. In an attempt to finally push him over the edge, your cries became a torrent of disjointed obscenities.

please please fuck me yes please fuck your stupid little whore fuck her harder

Filth. You bathed in the filth of your words and thoughts. But you emerged victorious: Raphael came undone, cursing and shaking. Infernal seed burned your insides, searing the tender skin of your thighs as it leaked onto the sheets. The burn extinguished your arousal, much to your relief.

That was it. It was over.

At least for this time, but it was over.

As he pulled away from you, you instinctively reached between your legs to assess the damage. The touch burned like wildfire. Your fingers were covered in a white slime, but there was no trace of blood. His attack had somehow managed to avoid tearing.

Exhausted and aching, you lay on your side, relieved to be out of the humiliating position you had been propped up in.

"Let me lick her clean, Master," the frenzied incubus pleaded. -- Let me lick you clean. Let me polish every inch with my tongue".

The Devil was already busy straightening his clothes, his upper lip curled, looking both bored and disgusted, as if he had just walked in and had nothing to do with the depravity that had just taken place.

"You've had your share for today, Haarlep."

Raphael ran a hand through his hair and let out a weary sigh.

"So there is a tomorrow, Master?"

Raphael looked straight at you. You did not look away. What did he want to see on your face? Tears? Still there, still tracing your cheeks. Defeat? Already happened. Did he want you to beg for mercy and forgiveness? You are not stupid. Or at least not that stupid.

"There is one for me. There would be one for you... if you choose to live through my idea of tomorrow".

Every moment he keeps you alive is a moment when you have a chance, however small, however illusory, to bring about his demise. There is always hope, and if she is dead, there is always her spirit, and if the spirit is banished, there is always a memory of her.

And you planned to cling to it.

The devil threw back his head in a hearty, loud laugh.

Shadowheart thought it was just going to be Lae'zel.

The first couple of nights had been... passable, in spite of their impending doom. Shadowheart slept like a brick, that was for sure. The pent-up anxiety contained within her body combined specifically with the exhaustion of the everyday fighting made her fall asleep as soon as her head touched the thin bundle of cloth that served as a pillow.

(Not without having prayed to Lady Shar before. The goddess was more keen on letting her children fend for themselves, but still Shadowheart begged her for protection and salvation, still trying to find comfort in her close end.

Admittedly, this specific grief was a bit difficult to handle. May Lady Shar forgive her.)

Shadowheart slept like a baby, until she couldn't anymore.