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Part I: A Summoned Power This wasn't right. None of this was right. She'd wanted a familiar. Not whatever the hell this ogre was. It had been the better part of an hour since she'd stopped thinking about if she'd gotten a rune wrong or if she'd mispronounced part of the incantation or maybe forgotten some cosmic date or errantly performed her ritual on some unknown ley line. She'd not been given the luxury of considering such frivolities with this brutish demon in her presence. From the beginning, he hadn't needed to say anything. From the moment that his rippling, red skinned, nude form materialized out of the gathered shadows at the centre of her magical circle... From the moment his evil eyes froze the blood running through her veins and the tug of a smile at the corner of his lips caused her to instinctively pull her legs closer together in defence of her sex, she knew. She'd barely had the time to take a hesitant step backwards before the monster had sprung towards her closing the distance between them in an instant. With the same inhuman speed he'd seized her by the throat and effortlessly lifted her off her feet, flashing a fang-filled grin up at his new captive. She had tried to kick, to scream, to wiggle free and fight back in whatever way she could, but it was more reactionary than anything. He was impossibly stronger and faster than her, and the haphazard blows that managed to connect with his iron skin barely seemed to even tickle the masculine demon as he held her in the air and smiled. She felt the precious oxygen she needed rapidly spend itself in her body—his iron grip preventing her from drawing in more air—and she began to lose strength as he reached up and tore her sleeveless blouse clean off her. With her breasts now bare in front of him, the demon expectantly licked his smiling lips with an inky black, sinuous tongue. He let her suddenly drop just as her thoughts were getting muddled by lack of air, causing her to collapse at his feet when she was incapable of properly catching herself. She'd hardly been given time to cough and gasp for air before she felt his clawed hand take her by the hair and pull her up to her knees. He wasted no time in pushing the head of is all-too-fat and quickly stiffening member into her mouth. She tried to pull away, tried to bite down, but nothing allowed her to resist him. He held her tightly in place as he gripped both her hair and her jaw, and the leathery flesh that covered his bitch-breaking cock seemed to hardly even dent under the pressure of her teeth. So she was forced to feel her jaw nearly dislocate and her throat distend as he pushed his flesh into her mouth and down her windpipe, sliding forth until her nose was pressed against his hairless pelvis. Soon enough she had no will to try and fight back against the throat fucking that ensued. Not only did she know it was futile, she was too busy trying to keep herself conscious by drawing in what air she could every time he pulled back, knowing that the following thrust of his rigid meat would completely stuff and block her windpipe. She resigned herself to his brutality, crying from the shame and the pain of his roughness, and she knew without having to look up at him and his evil smile that that was exactly what all of this was about. After all, he didn't cum. Whether it was because he couldn't or wouldn't, she didn't know, but the way he fucked her face wasn't centred around his physical gratification. He was breaking her in. Making her into his toy. Playing with her life as well as her body each time he stuffed himself entirely down her abused throat and held himself in place until her lungs burned for air and her eyes began watering afresh. This was the time where she made herself think about what she might have done wrong, what could have gone awry in her spell. Not because she had any hope of fixing it, but because she wanted something, anything, to distract from the sensations she was being subjected to: the taste, the smell, the pain. Thinking about her magic, useless as it was to her now, was at least some form of escape as she resigned herself to the raping of her mouth. Of course, he didn't allow for that for very long. His rough thrusts and choking girth made sure that she wouldn't be able to consistently block out his presence as he made play of her throat for that long quarter hour. When the mental and physical numbness finally started to settle in despite the treatment, he deprived her of air again, for much longer this time. She had grown used to to the practice in a sense, knowing it was just another tactic to make her fold. This time however, with how he refused to pull out even as she started howling and struggling, hitting against his thighs and desperately attempting to bite down through the log of meat keeping her from live-saving air, she became scared. As much as she tried to rationalize that the beast only wanted her submission, part of her began to scream in her mind that this was really the end, she was going to lose consciousness and never wake up thanks to this fucking monster. She had been wrong. It wasn't her submission he wanted. It was that fear. When he pulled out and she was finally allowed to breathe again, she was too distracted with choking and gasping for air to even notice his hand coming for her. she was entirely caught off guard by the meaty palm that struck against her cheek and sent her to the floor. Somehow, she didn't yelp nor cry. The first was probably because her throat felt too sore to attempt much of any sound now. The second... maybe because she knew so much worse was yet to come. He picked her up off the floor by her hair again, making her stand to her feet though she was still only at eye level with his chest. He then grabbed her by both arms, pinning them to her sides and lifting her up in the air effortlessly. He handled her with the ease of a throw pillow as he moved her over to her bed and pinned her down onto her mattress, quickly straddling her. She'd always known this was coming, but feeling him grab at the back of her skirt and tear out a hole with his clawed hands she felt... compelled in a way to try and resist. To yell out whatever protest and expletives her hoarse throat could manage, to try and wiggle free from his grasp, to look back at him with what hate and defiance she could though her misty eyes. Consciously, she knew it would avail to nothing but... perhaps somewhere deep in her mind, it wasn't pride that motivated her, but the fear of what more he would do to her if he didn't get the reaction he wanted out of her: if she made him feel he wasn't hurting her enough already. He just smiled, lay himself on top of her, and shoved the massive member into her terrified pussy by force. She couldn't help but whine out in pain through gritted teeth as the incomprehensibly large cock pierced her and spread her wider and deeper than anything she had ever felt before. He was too big, too strong, too fat. She felt like her insides were displacing and her womb made to collapse as he forced her body to accommodate his otherworldly dick. She was no virgin, not by a long shot, but nothing she'd ever had could have prepared her for how it felt to have this mistake she had summoned into her world turn her womanhood into his breeding hole. Holding himself flush against her, she could feel the heat of his smokey breath against her as he pulled back slowly, and thrust himself deep back into her a few times. Slamming her down into her sheets with the weight and power of his hips with every plunge, she couldn't remain silent and he delighted in the mindless, choked squeals that came from her every time. She didn't fully know what made her tears flow more at that moment: the pain of his rough domination, or the guilty knowledge that despite all of this, despite how everything was happening completely opposite to how she'd hoped, a sick part of her deep within was somehow feeling pleasure from having such a hot, meaty cock abuse her and dominate her. She didn't want this, she hated this, hated this monster that played with her and raped her. And yet, she feared that the otherworldly creature could somehow smell the craving coming from her. That somehow he... it knew that her body was aching for more in stark defiance of everything her mind screamed. It had to be just her body. She couldn't really be wanting this. Whether the demon knew or not, it didn't voice it, and she imagined that the knowledge or lack thereof wouldn't have changed what it did next anyways. Buried deep into her, he shifted his position to be up on his knees, and pulled her back by one of her arms for leverage while he began rocking his hips back and forth rapidly. Scraping at her insides with his bitch breaker with every thrust and retreat, he made her produce intelligible moans and whines as she grit her teeth and clenched onto the bedsheets with her free hand. He was too much, too rough, too big, too deep, too good, too rough! She whined and cried and wished for him to sow down, to pull out, to leave, to let her forget and drown away the mistake of this night. She didn't want to feel this any more, the way he split her apart like nothing she could have imagined. She couldn't bear to hear the squelching of her sopping pussy as he raped her to his heart's content. She closed her eyes, tried to send her mind somewhere else, divorce it from this body of hers that betrayed her so and didn't let her fight off this aggressor, but he would have none of it. While he held her wrist and kept her back arched with his left hand, he craned the right one up in the air and began repeatedly slapping her ass hard while he fucked her. She'd have thought he was holding nothing back, but if that had been the truth he would have been carving chunks of flesh out of her easily with his super human strength. No, he wanted her in one piece, clearly, because he didn't so much as draw blood. He just hurt her, over, and over again. All he wanted was her pain, her fear, and her sorrow as she was made to understand that her life, her body, and her very will were now his. He grunted and smiled each time he slapped her. Did her clenching body feel good wrapped around his demonic meat? Or did he just love the flashes of searing pain he was subjecting her to each time? Was there eve much of a difference to this beast? His claws scraped against her, his palms left her reddened, his grip made her feel like he would turn her wrist into gelatin, and she could only whine, moan, and cry, while she looked back at the monster and wondered how much would be enough, when he would finally be satisfied. It wasn't over quickly, he made a mess of her pussy and abused it without rest for at least twice as long as he had worked her throat. She knew because he brought her back to attention in whatever way he wanted any time she tried to block out what was happening to her, at one point even roughly shoving a clawed thumb into her asshole to bring her back to attention. His lust for her emotional suffering clearly knew no end. However, she eventually did get an answer to her previous question concerning whether he hadn't cum in her throat due to lack of will or lack of capacity. Little had come in the way of warning from the brute, but she recognized full well what was happening when his thrusts became more and more pronounced for a few seconds, and he then sheathed himself completely in her while his thick meat twitched inside and she felt a sickening warmth spread through her. The size of his load was entirely as massive and inhuman as the demon was himself, making her feel like a geyser was erupting inside her womanhood. Sore and abused as she was, the sorceress still knew that she was feeling his thick seed spurt out the sides of her pussy around his twitching cock from how violent his orgasm was, and she found herself desperately hoping that she at least would be graced with the mercy of being incapable of bearing the demon's children. It felt good, she had come to accept, much like his power over her, but that didn't mean she was ready to become his breeding sow. As he seemed to be winding down and slid himself out somewhat, she looked back to him with the pain and hatred she knew he wanted to see, and felt her heart sink as her eyes met with his. He wasn't done, she could tell. Tonight was not yet over, and tonight would still only be the beginning of her servitude. This wasn't right. None of this was right. She had wanted a familiar, a servant to help her uncover more about the dark arts. Instead, here she was, poised to be this brute's slave and plaything for however long he found her entertaining. She hated it. She had to hate it. Nothing of who or what she once was would remain if she didn't tell herself that she hated all of this, no matter how good it felt to be hurt by him.