For My Ascension, I Ordered My Commanders to Stalk Me
Copyright© 2025 by Palescript
Chapter 7: See Evil, Hear Evil, Speak Evil
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 7: See Evil, Hear Evil, Speak Evil - 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
Moments after Fenrow and Galen stepped back from the partition and reclined in their respective seats, an argument between sovereigns broke out as to when Lust should go. The additional challenge the drow had added to the rite was Lust’s specialty, after all, and preceding them or following them each presented unique challenges.
Libby could only numbly listen to them discuss her fate. She let her eyes fall to a whorl in the wooden platform and let her soul float somewhere high above her body.
To keep it “fair,” they eventually decided a lottery would be the best way to determine their order.
For all their heated debate, Lust drew first, anyway. Almost every sovereign groaned in unison, and some spat out foul curses.
Envy would draw next, followed by Sloth, Pride, and then Wrath. Gluttony drew last.
After their initial appearance, the sovereigns had arranged themselves in a circle around her platform, their stone daises about twelve feet wide and eight feet across. Even from down here, she could smell them on the dry current of the wind. Sulfur and sex, iron and roses, earth and incense, a rich perfume that made her head swim.
Libby risked a single glance up at the three she could see, unable to resist looking away from them for long. Their power was an almost tangible thing, a compulsion that hung in the air like a shroud of heavy smoke. Tendrils of it were brushing against every inch of her exposed skin, making her shiver with nausea and prickle with anxiety.
“At least the universe still has a sense of order,” a red devil said, his horned head propped on a fist. His voice was only loud enough for Libby and the other sovereigns to hear, the rich baritone raspy yet dangerously smooth. “I was already rehearsing my condolences if my champions had to wade through the aftermath of Gluttony’s indulgences.”
The devil laughed and shuddered, dragging far too many whip-thin tongues across the rim of a glass filled with a glittering liquid as dark red as his skin. Libby’s skin crawled at the sight. “It appears the fates have taken pity and decided to spare me from having to give such a droll speech.”
The devil, who she surmised was the sovereign of Wrath, sat upon an elaborate seat of human bones. His severe face was tempered to perfection. Fine bones were woven into the narrow strip of black braids that lined the crown of his head, glinting faintly in the harsh light of the sunless sky. In another life, one that hadn’t been subjected to the torments of Hell, Libby might have laughed at such a cliche. She certainly was not laughing now.
The hermaphroditic sovereign of Lust caught Libby staring and gave her a conspiratorial wink. She startled, instantly turning her head and dropping her eyes back to the divot in the platform.
“Luckily for us, she’ll be broken in by the time we get to round five. Hear that, little human?” Libby could feel Wrath’s eyes burning into the top of her skull. “It would be a bore if there’s nothing left for me to conquer, so do try to last, will you?”
That compulsion flared again. Her eyes lifted of their own accord and met his intense slitted gaze. She immediately wrenched her head away, but not before making the mistake of letting her eyes pass over the unnerving length of his phallus. The devil’s cock was shamelessly exposed, the intimidating organ many shades darker than his layers of honed muscle. A drop of cum pearled at the tip—which was covered by a cluster of thin, flexible bands that eerily resembled his tongue—and slid down the shaft, a lingering remnant of his earlier emissions into that profane chalice. He was semi-erect now, but even in this state, she knew he would be much too large for a human like her to take. She silently prayed he didn’t bring that thing anywhere near her.
“Are you listening, girl?” Libby jerked again, not realizing he’d been speaking to her. “Fail to become our vessel, and we’ll have you and this podium installed in the square in the lower districts where any vile thing crawling through the gutters can have you. Every demon who mounts you will know that you failed, and they’ll rape you until you forget that you were ever anything more than a hole to fuck.”
“Isn’t that what we did with the last one? That delicious brown man with the defiant fire in his eyes?” Lust released a soft groan at the memory, absently brushing the tips of their fingers across their clit. “Oh, how beautifully he broke for us. Fates, you could hear his screams for miles. Just thinking about it almost makes me want to fail her on purpose.”
Shock had frozen her mind into a cascade of white noise, but all too quickly it funneled into an anger that roiled through her veins and set the space just behind her ribs ablaze. Only her anger wasn’t solely for what was happening to her alone. Hollow eyes and chin-length black hair flashed through her mind’s eye. She hadn’t seen the former human tribute since she’d been on the terrace, and her heart clenched and bled for the man.
What manner of atrocities had they inflicted on him in the five years since the last Unification Rite?
When it came to her own pitiful life, did it even matter if she succeeded to become their corrupted vessel? Both outlooks were grim and promised a wretched existence either way. At least if she failed, she wouldn’t be putting billions of lives at risk and force the unwitting denizens of Earth to face an incursion from Hell.
How dare these vile creatures have such little regard for human life. All these demons saw was something they could exploit, a means to an end that would unleash untold suffering upon the world and gratify their own depravity.
And yet, these sovereigns must have failed what had to have been countless times with countless tributes who’d come before her. The chance that she would become the key they were hoping for was slim to none, and for some reason, that gave her a modicum of comfort.
Don’t look at them. Don’t think about them. Bear it for as long as you can, and keep your silence. Her stare remained fixed on the floor. She was determined to show them as little regard for their existence as they were showing for hers. Even if it got her killed, she refused to give them a single ounce of satisfaction.
Though for all her supposed bravery, she couldn’t stop her vision from blurring with tears and her legs from shaking with fear.
A sudden lurch was her only warning as the platform began to rotate. Libby’s heart started racing all over again, her splayed arms now trembling as badly as her legs. The audience had become almost feral. Many had pulled out grotesque cocks or slipped various appendages inside themselves, while the rest looked on with dark, feverish expressions.
The platform came to a stop in front of Lust’s dais.
Before she could process what was happening, multiple circular depressions appeared along the perimeter of her platform. With a series of loud clicks, the wooden floors dropped out soundlessly one by one, leaving an ominous black hole every few feet. Lust’s champions slowly rose from each opening, and from the way the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose, she was certain they surrounded her on all sides.
Lust’s champions were hermaphroditic, much like their sovereign. Some ebbed and flowed between the male and female form from one step to the next, while others chose to remain divided. All were unnaturally beautiful, and all made Libby feel crude and plain and painfully human.
The ceremonial chalice had been placed upon a stone pedestal a few paces in front of her. She estimated the vat likely contained at least three liters of their combined fluids, if not more. The various layers had fully emulsified, and the vulgar mixture was now a silvery white slurry. Her stomach lurched at the sight, though whether her reaction was from revulsion or hunger, she did not know, and she refused to examine it too closely.
The champions approached the chalice, their chiming, resonant voices blending together in a language Libby couldn’t understand. They extruded their cocks from their slick sheaths like their sovereign had, and she could only watch in horror as fifteen champions coated their shafts in that abhorrent liquid from root to tip.
A Lust demon who appeared fully female but for the angry cock protruding from their pelvis approached Libby from the front. Like the others now moving towards her, their eyes, including the whites, were a solid radiant blue. Full creamy breasts flowed into a narrow waist, their body toned but still voluptuous. The hair at the back of Libby’s head was suddenly fisted, and she gasped at the sharp sting.
The Lust demon used Libby’s disorientation to thrust their coated cock between her lips, and the bite of demonic semen instantly hit her tongue. It was the most potent thing she’d ever tasted, a heady combination of minerals and spiced, salty heat. The honey-thick substance burned going down, an unsettling warmth that spread through her chest and pooled low in her belly.
Her tongue automatically wrapped around the smooth head just as her lips took the length deeper into her mouth. She opened her throat, an ability she’d acquired in the Underground, until her nose bumped against the pillowy cushion that flared around the base of their shaft. Perhaps she was being driven to madness by the sovereign’s corrupted semen. Perhaps the repeated violations had rewired something fundamental in her brain. That had to be why she took their cock as deep as possible and extended her tongue to mindlessly lick at the delicate folds of their cunt, the little button of their clit.
Hands were stroking every inch of her body, teasing her and petting her and draining the tension from her with dozens of nimble caresses. They tortured her nipples with their mouths. Laved her clit between twining tongues. Stretched her entrances with dexterous fingers. She bit back a groan as their cocks slid into her pussy one after another, while others chose to stretch her ass until the tight ring was given no choice but to surrender.
Despite her efforts not to, she did come. Again and again and again until she could hardly breathe or separate one climax from the next.
No matter how many times she was penetrated, no matter how deep down her throat they came, she bit back every scrap of sound. Just once, a cry had almost escaped her, but she’d managed to thrust her head forward and plug her throat with the cock she’d been servicing at the very last second, trapping everything inside.
Her legs had already given out. Whoever was behind her was completely holding up the lower half of her body, nearly masturbating themselves with her thoroughly used cunt. They hissed through their teeth as they climaxed, praising her in English as they filled her with their seed.
What might have been minutes or hours later, a loud chime went off, signaling the end of the round. The champions disconnected from her without a word, leaving her cold and shivering. They exited the way they’d come, and Libby was left alone on the platform once again. Aftershocks were still pulsing through her body, her nerves buzzing and burning from the ecstasy they’d relentlessly stoked.
Above, the screens changed from a close-up of the cum streaming down her inner thighs to a single score result.
It read:
Lust: 12
It took a few moments to drag her sluggish mind back online, but it slowly became clear that number was how many times Lust’s champions had brought her to orgasm. How was it possible for them to track how many times she’d climaxed?
Frustration and hopelessness simmered in the blackened cauldron of her heart beside the sludge of her other caustic emotions. The pleasure they’d wrung from her body violated her more profoundly than pain ever could. In fact, she would have preferred pain. At least then she could have endured it with her pride and sense of self still intact.
One would think she’d have become accustomed to the relentless degradations by now. Except every offense stung as harshly as it had the first time Galen had forced himself into her without remorse on the library floor.
Fenrow came back to the partition and made an announcement, but she was too far gone to retain any of it.
Before Libby could find her bearings, the platform started to rotate again, a great gear clicking with every damning increment. It stopped in front of who could only be Envy, his platform crowned by a tarnished silver throne that had warped and melted like wax. Like most of the other sovereigns, Envy was entirely nude. The many-mouthed entity gazed down at her with a contemptuous sort of challenge in his all-black eyes that made her wish the ground would split open and swallow her whole.
A mouth with cracked black lips split open on the side of his neck and released a cackling laugh that chilled her to the bone.
“A paltry twelve orgasms for Lust, hmm?” it said, the breathy voice loud enough to ripple across the entire arena. Envy’s primary mouth gnashed on its chains, setting her own teeth on edge. “No matter, no matter at all. We can do much more with far less.” Another mouth, this one nestled in the hollow of his elbow, hissed in agreement. “Lust thinks that pleasure is an art form. How quaint. We do not simply pleasure, sweet mortal, no, no. We covet, we erode, and we take.”
Without another word, the sovereign raised a single blackened digit. The floor dropped out along the platform’s edge, and the portals admitted his chosen.
Envy’s champions were all male. They possessed three sets of heavily muscled arms, one pair at the shoulders, another midway down the ribcage, and a third that emerged from their lower backs. Their bodies bore meticulous rows of runic tattoos in a script she was fairly certain was Aramaic, and not even their faces had been spared the complex sigils covering their tanned skin.
Like every demon she’d met so far, they towered over her. At least seven feet to Galen and Fenrow’s eight, their stature still intimidated her all the same.
Half wore black strips of cloth across their eyes, evidence of facial scarring along the tops of their cheekbones, the bridges of their noses, and across their eyebrows. God, they’d been blinded, a blade taken to their eyes in some perverse ritual.
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