For My Ascension, I Ordered My Commanders to Stalk Me
Copyright© 2025 by Palescript
Chapter 9: An Ember Among Shadows
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 9: An Ember Among Shadows - Choose your own adventure. Black Flag: (least spoilers/you want the darkest ride): Libby's life as a small-town librarian is brought to an end the night two monsters masquerading as men drag her through a portal into Hell. Subjected to public humiliation and ritualized depravity beyond comprehension, Libby clings to one certainty: none of this is random cruelty. What purpose does it, and will she, ultimately serve in this terrible new world? Red Flag blurb is in the Preface.
Caution: This Supernatural Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Mind Control NonConsensual Rape Slavery BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Horror Paranormal Magic Demons BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Oral Sex Voyeurism Public Sex Royalty Violence
Libby blinked open her eyes, and the chaos of the arena instantly swelled in her ears.
She was crumpled on her side, her shoulder and hip pressed into the hard platform. Her hands were bound in front of her by a long length of rope, looped around her wrists several times and anchored through a heavy bolt in the middle of the platform. Maybe the stockade had been dismantled, or maybe it’d disappeared into the floor much like the champions had.
Regardless, its absence filled her with equal parts relief and unease.
“My good Hellions, welcome back to the second half of the Unification Rite. If you’re not already tuned in, I’m afraid you’ve missed your window. Premium access is officially closed, and no new entries will be accepted.” The gold at his neck, ears, and teeth winked in the glare of the overhead lights. “For those of you who paid for the immersive experience, tell me. How has it felt to be a champion and split our little tribute open with your cock?”
An ear-splitting cry broke out across all fifteen levels of the arena, tens of thousands clamoring to respond. Fenrow’s sneering grin was repeated across each screen, and his sly wink felt like it was meant for her alone.
“Our darling debutante has been cleaned off and is ready to face her next trial. The stage is set, the players are ready. Everything is in position for a truly spectacular performance. It’s time to dive back in and pick up where we left off. Let the fourth round begin!”
Fenrow pivoted on his heel and walked the short distance to his seat. He settled into the high-back chair, splaying his legs and steepling his fingers over his chest. He leaned over and whispered something to Galen. The darker brother didn’t respond, his piercing diamond gaze never once leaving Libby’s curled form.
The platform started moving. After a series of loud clicks, it screeched to a halt before a new dais, placing her face to face with Pride.
She observed them from under her lashes, not offering any of them her gaze. Though despite her efforts to remain impassive, a dull spark of surprise went through her when she realized the Sovereign of Pride was not one demon, but two.
The longer she covertly stared, the more certain she was. They were twins, one male and one female. Both were a black as deep as the night sky, their faultlessly sculpted bodies gleaming faintly as if they were honed from polished onyx. Their strange hair was a sinuous inky cloud that curled around their aristocratic skulls, a semi-transparent miasma that swallowed all surrounding light. The graceful, slender female was seated in a marble throne as dark as she was. The male, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, held perfectly still on all fours in front of her, supporting her feet with the defined planes of his back.
“I can’t believe we’re required to sit here and suffer through this. This mortal whore has somehow managed to bewitch not one, but two drow into turning this Rite into a fucking spectacle.” Her high voice, far too sweet for the venom behind it, resonated throughout the entire arena. “Doesn’t anyone else find it insulting that we’re expected to pander to her pleasure in this farce of a ritual? I mean really, this human is nothing but a vessel. A means to an end.”
Instead of feet, thin stilettos grew from the ends of her long legs, clearly part of her form rather than a mere fashion decision. She’d been digging the point of one heel into the back of the kneeling male, a cold smile contorting her lushly etched lips. He did not move, as still as a statue carved from obsidian and unwavering discipline.
Not willing to acknowledge that his display of composure was what ultimately spurred her to uncurl from her fetal position, Libby pushed herself upright with her bound fists until she sat with her back straight. She drew her knees together and placed her arms in her lap, choosing to stare at some distant point along the arena wall. She let her eyes unfocus, allowing her to see the sovereigns more clearly from her peripheral vision. Without the stockade to block her sight and force her to bend at a cruel angle, she was at least able to hold herself with something approaching dignity.
“I admit, I was a little skeptical at first,” Lust said. “Now I feel it brings a certain... je ne sais quoi to an otherwise dull and outdated ceremony.” They gave a delicate shrug of their shoulders. “No offense to you of course, Envy. The last Rite you hosted had a very classical charm to it. Gathering us in that stuffy throne room of yours while you lorded over us was such a warm and welcoming display of hospitality.”
Envy turned, and the look he gave Lust was so withering it could’ve flayed flesh from bone. Their daises were only separated by a handful of feet, and the air between them practically crackled with hostility.
A mouth above Envy’s left pectoral cracked open and started to cackle, a dry, scraping sound that harshly chittered like insects in Libby’s ears. Another mouth opened on the right side, its blackened lips pulling back from needle-thin teeth. “Fuck you,” it spat. “My Rite was dignified and conducted with the proper decorum. Just because you lack the attention span for anything that doesn’t involve instant gratification doesn’t make it boring.”
“Instant gratification is my specialty, darling. Plus, I don’t seem to remember you complaining about it when you sought me out last century.”
Envy shot from his seat, his serrated teeth gnashing on the lengths of chain pulled taut across his primary mouth.
“And unlike some,” Lust purred, unfazed by Envy’s bristling hostility, “my penchant for gratification continues to serve me rather well, don’t you think?” Lust gestured to the score screen with a sweep of their wrist and a wolfish smile on both sides of their divided face.
Another voice cut in just as Envy took two purposeful steps towards Lust’s dais, his scarred hands contorting into claws.
“For fuck’s sake,” the voice said around a cough. Libby subtly angled her head to observe the speaker. Of all the demons present, it was Sloth who’d spoken. “Should we pause this Rite so you two can finish your dick measuring contest?” He flipped the page of his book. “News flash for both of you: Wrath’s is bigger than both of yours combined. So shut the fuck up and move on.”
Wrath pointed at Sloth with a grin. “This right here? This is why you’re the only one of these fuckers I can stand. I fucking love you, man.”
“As I was saying,” the feminine personification of Pride cut in, her indignant face pinched in irritation. “All the vessel requires is a pulse, a warm hole or two, and an extensive history of sin. There’s nothing in the official rules that stipulates we need to make it enjoyable for her.”
Libby knew the blood had drained from her face, and she tried very hard to hide the fact that she’d started shaking all over again. It was partially from fear, there was no denying that, but it was also from the boiling, white-hot anger filling the cavity just behind her sternum.
A viperous smile formed on Pride’s glossy mouth. The female sovereign pointedly glanced away to hide a grin behind her fingers, an obsidian signet ring flashing on her longest finger. “Truth be told, I don’t care if we earn any points in this Rite. Pride will still participate, of course. The old laws and our traditions demand it, after all, even if my brother has proven himself incapable of upholding either of those things himself.”
If she hadn’t already been observing the male crouched on all fours from the corner of her vision, she would’ve missed the fissures that had formed and faded under his right eye in the same breath.
“If anything, I will endeavor to make sure she doesn’t enjoy it at all.” She angled her head down at Libby, the motion skewing her head at an unnatural degree.
Her gaze was unnerving. Solid onyx orbs revealed nothing, their focus impossible to determine. The sovereign could’ve been staring directly at her or at the wall behind her. There was truly no way to know for sure.
Libby let her eyes fall shut, ignoring the sting of tears pricking beneath them. She would not cry. This spiteful bitch didn’t deserve it.
There was still a single ember of defiance, one stoked by her fury that she guarded just behind her silence. No matter what they did, she wouldn’t let them take it from her.
“Do know why Pride has selected twenty champions for you, our dear, pathetic tribute?” Pride’s amplified words carried throughout the arena, the intensity of it shaking the very foundation of the mega-structure.
Libby’s eyes opened, and for the first time, she made direct eye contact with the female sovereign. Even though the jet-black demon was levelling her with a withering glare, she did not break her vow of silence.
The female Pride held up a manicured hand. A wall of obsidian bodies appeared around the perimeter of the platform, hemming her in on all sides. In spite of Libby’s outward projection of bravery, her mind had never stopped reeling. Now, with an inescapable ring of predators looming around her, her thoughts started to evaporate to static one by one.
The female sovereign was reveling in the gleeful attention of the crowd, holding out both arms as she addressed them. “No? Then let me tell you. Your champions are determined by how many times you committed a grievous offense for that particular sin. Honestly, I find it a little surprising that someone like you managed to commit this many acts of pride, especially considering how dull your life was. If what we witnessed of your sex life was any indication, that is.”
Laughter erupted across the stands, amongst the sovereigns. The only ones who weren’t laughing were Fenrow, Galen, and the male sovereign of Pride.
A flash of awareness surged through her dissolving consciousness. Had she truly sinned so egregiously that many times in her life? There had been fifteen champions for Lust, eighteen for Envy, and two for Sloth. Thirty-five demons had raped, sodomized, and assaulted her in the span of three hours, if the timer at the bottom right of the screens could be believed.
It didn’t make sense. She’d lived a quiet, uneventful life. She’d kept her head down, minded her own business. Life had been ... mundane. A constant repeat of work, home, and sleep. Where in that cycle had she had the opportunity to commit so many sins?
“I can only imagine your Lust penalties were accumulated from the obscene content you must’ve consumed. Not to mention your various...” she tilted her head the other way, her words a discordant echo to Libby’s own thoughts, “ ... other unrefined predispositions.” She stared up at her, somehow managing to do it without flinching. Those strange, solid-black eyes gave nothing away, but this time, she knew Pride was looking directly at her.
The more Libby considered her circumstances, the more holes she continued to find in the narrative.
Why did they need a vessel to destroy some great, ancient barrier when Fenrow and Galen had clearly entered Earth and abducted Libby without issue? They had used a portal to bring her here in the first place, for god’s sake. Couldn’t they have staged their grand Armageddon from that remote entrance point in Nova Scotia or from any other gateway that likely existed around the world? Clearly it wasn’t just Fenrow and Galen who could make the journey to Earth. Each circle needed to stock a fresh supply of humans for their infernal ritual every five years, after all.
Something wasn’t adding up. Though knowing that didn’t bring her any closer to the truth.
“Come now, little mute. You can’t possibly believe that staying silent is enough to preserve the pittance of pride you have left, do you?”
Smoke swirled around Pride’s noble head and shoulders, flowing down to partially cover the swell of her perfect breasts. Her chiseled brows lifted. “Your pride has long been defiled beyond redemption, much like the rest of you. But don’t worry. By the time I’m done, you’ll have nothing left, least of all what little remains of your pride.”
“If any of you make her come,” she announced, addressing her assembled champions, “then I will personally castrate you and send you to the flesh districts to live out the rest of your days as a slave. So unless you want to become a pitiful fuckhole for the masses for the rest of your lives, I suggest you make sure she doesn’t enjoy this.” A broad grin split her face, revealing a mouthful of carnivorous teeth. “Let’s do our part to help her find her voice. I want it raw from the sweet sound of her screams before this ends. Don’t disappoint me.”
The only thing keeping her terror from spiraling into mindless hysteria was one cold piece of logic: she still had two more trials ahead of her. They had to keep her alive and intact to see the Rite through to the end. There was always the chance they didn’t need her whole, that whatever came after could be done to a broken shell just as easily. But it was the only shred of hope she had left, and she clung to it with white-knuckled desperation.
Her gaze lifted to the terrace of its own volition. Galen and Fenrow’s faces were cold, inscrutable masks of stone. They had never involved themselves after they turned over the round to the sovereigns, and this time wasn’t any different. They made no move to intervene, their bodies coiled with a tension that could have been anything from anticipation to quiet, menacing hunger.
“BREAK HER, BREAK HER, BREAK HER!” the legion of demons shouted.
Twenty champions stepped forward in unison, each bearing the same polished onyx skin as their sovereigns. They were even larger than Envy’s chosen, though their bodies were longer and leaner. All had not one, but two carbon-black cocks hanging from between their legs. The shafts were equal in size, and both heads were distinctly conical in shape.
Libby wrenched her eyes from the upper level, tasting copper in her mouth as hatred and fear warred for supremacy. She dug her heels into the floor and lurched to her feet, nearly tripping over the rope in the process. Blind animal instinct had her frantically looking for an opening, even though there wasn’t one. She didn’t want to let them take her, she didn’t want to let them win.
“MAKE HER SCREAM, MAKE HER BEG!”
Her gaze shifted from one living shadow to the next. The first approached her, his twin cocks already fully erect. In a move too fast for her to track, he painfully seized her by the hair, dragged her under him, and pinned her to the ground by the throat before she could raise her bound hands to defend herself.
Someone shoved her knees up towards her chest until she was bent in half. Despite the futility of the act, her body responded on its own, a primal sense of self-preservation driving her to try and close her legs even as they were forced open. A heavy strap was fastened under her back and locked across the backs of her thighs, tightened so her legs were immobile and flush with her abdomen.
A punishing hand came down on her right flank, then her left. The dual stings jolted through her body, forking out from the impacts in electric spikes of agony. More strikes collided with her thighs and backside, again and again until a rain of open-hand slaps pelted her without reprieve. Searing pain filled her lungs, hooking sharp claws into every cell and receptor.
The champion gripping her by the neck used the strap and his suffocating hold to manipulate her like a doll and trapped her torso between his void-black legs. His engorged cocks filled her vision, each one as thick as her wrist and pulsing with a rhythmic throb that seemed independent of his heartbeat. The tapered heads wept a clear fluid that dripped onto her cheek, the droplets hot like liquid wax.
“Open,” he commanded, applying an agonizingly sharp pressure to the hinge of her jaw. More pain flared, and she opened her mouth on a silent gasp.
She hadn’t realized someone was holding the profane chalice above her head until the contents were streaming directly into her mouth and splattering across her face and neck. Her stomach heaved the moment the hot slurry hit her tongue, but strong hands clamped her jaw shut, forcing her to swallow. It was pungent and viscous, clinging to the roof of her mouth and sliding down her throat in glutinous strands. A twisted corner of her psyche sang with shameful want, and she hated that corrupted piece of her soul almost as much as she hated them.
She was allowed two short lungfuls of air before the demon straddling her chest held her skull immobile and slammed both shafts as far into her throat as they could go. Her body convulsed violently, helplessly. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her esophagus constricted around the double invasion. All the while, the constant blows never eased on her ass and thighs, every hit turning the flesh more angry and more raw. The champion continued pushing past her body’s resistance, working his lengths further into her gullet. Her vision was already dimming at the edges, her body’s desperate attempts to expel him only seeming to heighten his pleasure.
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