For My Ascension, I Ordered My Commanders to Stalk Me
Copyright© 2025 by Palescript
Chapter 6: Let the Games Begin
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 6: Let the Games Begin - 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 at the beginning of Ch. 1
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
Awareness slowly seeped back into Libby’s body.
She cracked open her eyes, and fresh tears welled in the harsh, sudden glare. Voices bled through the haze, steadily rising in volume before crashing over her in a cacophonous deluge.
Her vision started to clear. Countless shapes in her peripheral blurred with movement, but she didn’t turn to look at them. She stared up at the saffron sky through bleary eyes, oddly stricken by the realization that there was no sun here. Only those scorched, giant asteroids filled the atmosphere, the string of leviathans slowly tumbling end over end towards the horizon.
A part of her had once dreamed of leaving her solitary cell. Of seeing the sky again. But as she became aware of the cumbersome restraints around her neck and wrists, she knew she would give anything to be back down there once more.
She tried to move her head, but the scarred wooden planks of the stockade held fast and made it impossible to see anything behind her. She was bent over at the waist, the restraints forcing her to remain in a fully presented, ninety-degree angle, her pussy and ass on display for thousands of demons.
She’d been disrobed at some point, and now her legs were spread, her ankles fastened to the platform with heavy manacles to ensure they stayed apart. Despite all she’d been subjected to, she still felt the burn of humiliation blazing through her, recognizing this exposure was deliberate and calculated to break her even further.
“Citizens of Obduros—are you not entertained?” boomed a deep voice she recognized all too well.
A cry went up from every direction, vibrating the very air and thrumming all the way into the marrow of her bones. The acoustics of the sunken arena amplified every sound, and down here in its epicenter, the reverberation was nearly overwhelming.
High along the uppermost tier of the arena, a stone collar wrapped around the circumference of the sunken pit. Dozens of screens were mounted on it, giving anyone in the stadium the ability to see every detail, no matter where they sat. Half of the screens depicted Fenrow’s grinning face and glowing eyes. The remainder showed her haunted face before flipping to close-ups of her vulnerable flesh, magnified images that captured every involuntary twitch and flutter.
“Four months.” Fenrow let his words echo across the stands. “Four long months you’ve watched her bend, break, and blossom into something truly extraordinary.”
The realization of how long she’d been locked in the darkness hit her at the same time the audience erupted into an uproar of applause.
“And what a magnificent creature she’s become. Even the betting pools have reached record numbers, and wagers are still pouring in. You’ve been placing your bets on the crucial questions. How many rounds can she endure? How many champions will she take? Will she have what it takes to make it to the final trial?”
Libby’s eyes scanned the upper level of the pit, searching for the terrace she knew was nested somewhere in its highest rung. She found it almost immediately. It was deep-set into the sheer rock wall just below one of the large screens.
At least fifteen stories above, Fenrow and Galen stood behind the glass partition. She could barely make them out from here, but it hardly mattered when their faces were displayed across every screen. Fenrow occupied the center, a cascade of fine gold necklaces delving into the billowing azure shirt that nearly plunged to his navel. Beside him, Galen leaned against a pillar, his arms loosely crossed over a black leather vest studded with silver accents.
“Clearly you all have opinions about how much she can take. Though judging from your bets, most of you think she’ll break well before we even reach the intermission.”
Libby could barely process what was happening, could barely think past the surge of fear that accompanied her despair. An intermission. The implications in that single word made her stomach drop. None of the other acts had lasted long enough to need an intermission, which meant whatever they had planned for her was going to be worse than anything she’d survived so far.
“Whether you were spawned here, did something so terrible that you were sent here, or ultimately chose to make Hell your home, Unification Day is the day we put our many differences aside and celebrate sin in all its forms.”
A thunderous cheer followed in the wake of his words. After a few moments, he held up a hand to rein in their bloodthirsty enthusiasm.
“Today only comes once every five years, and this year, the honor has fallen to Greed. It’s been nearly five decades since we’ve had the privilege of hosting the Unification Rite in our gilded realm, so naturally, we had to craft something extraordinary. Months of preparation, no expenses spared. All to acquire the finest human offering we could find and put on the greatest show Hell has ever seen.”
While she’d been going about her daily routine, they’d been planning every detail of this depraved nightmare. What criteria had they used to choose her? Why her? The thought of them evaluating her amongst a sea of other humans like livestock made her skin crawl.
“Originally, we’d organized quite the show for you. A beautiful virgin sacrifice, her innocence stripped away layer by layer for your viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, our little starlet couldn’t wait and decided to go and rehearse her act with someone else before we could claim her.”
A clamor of hisses and boos rose up from each tier, and she caught words like “whore,” and “slut,” and “filthy cunt.”
“I know, I know. A waste, to be sure. But do not despair, good citizens of Hell. At least now we don’t need to be gentle.”
A roar of laughter broke out across the stands, no one, not even Libby, believing that her virginity would have spared her from their sadistic appetites.
“To make up for this unfortunate turn of events, we’ve taken certain liberties with tonight’s format. Let’s just say this rite will test limits no previous offering has ever faced and break boundaries no other circle has ever dared cross.” At the audience’s howl of approval, Fenrow bared a sinful smile gleaming with gold-tipped fangs.
Throughout his brother’s speech, Galen’s face had remained quietly cold, almost impassive. And yet, even from her place at the bottom of the pit, Libby knew his burning eyes were fixated on her. It was impossible to read his impenetrable expression, but it prickled like the scrape of a physical touch across her skin.
“Now,” Fenrow continued, spreading his arms wide. “Without further adieu, allow me to introduce the honored assembly who will be presiding over tonight’s trials. Six thrones, six circles, six absolute monarchs who shape the very nature of damnation itself. I present to you the architects of sin and suffering, the Six Sovereigns of Hell.”
Everyone in the stands rose from their seats, dropped to their knees, and bowed their heads in deference.
Libby cast her eyes upward. A blinding shower of gold coalesced at the apex of the arena, fluttering down to her platform and the surrounding sands before dissipating entirely.
From that shimmering mass, six stone platforms began to emerge. They descended as one, buoyed by an enchantment beyond her comprehension. They came to a stop twenty, perhaps thirty feet above the arena floor. Each platform was occupied by a demon wrought in the image of their circle, all seated on thrones as varied as their forms.
Half of the sovereigns were almost painfully beautiful to look at. The other half were anywhere from unsettling to downright horrific.
One was a specimen of male and female perfection, their sculpted body fused together and divided at the vertical meridian. Another was inhumanly pale with hundreds of gnashing mouths recessed into his flesh, a lattice of chains fastened across his actual mouth, a shroud of pin-straight black hair partially veiling his cruel-cut face.
She forced herself to look away from the sovereign at the far end, a massive thing of constantly shifting flesh, muscle and bone rearranging beneath translucent skin, sometimes bipedal, sometimes not, its true form never settling long enough for her to fully process.
Even their thrones varied wildly in aesthetic. Interlocking bones, sculpted marble, chrome and black leather, tufted velvet, an assemblage of tarnished silver. The last was an elaborate bench that resembled a gruesome maw, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the shifting thing seated upon it a second time.
“From the frozen wastes to the burning fields, from the halls of avarice to the pits of rage, they have each come to witness our offering’s final transformation. Should any one of them find her lacking, should any question her suitability, then this mortal will discover firsthand that there are fates far worse than death.”
If Libby hadn’t been forced to remain in a standing position, her body would have dropped to the ground right then and there.
“Tonight, we carve out every last trace of this pitiful soul’s humanity and shape her into a vessel worthy of our claim. Tonight, we will pursue Hell’s greatest cause. Tonight, we will create the key that will shatter the barrier between us and the mortal realm!”
Her body felt distant, the arena around her beginning to blur, shapes and frenzied cries bleeding into indistinct smears of color and noise.
A key. A vessel worthy of Hell’s claim.
Libby couldn’t even bring herself to process what his words might mean for the people of Earth.
Not once in her life had she ever been more fragile than she was now. Even if she managed to cling to her sanity and survived these trials, even if some part of her could endure, would anything be left of her in the end?
And even if there was, could she truly call that remnant ‘herself’ anymore?
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