Page 15 of Altar of Flesh

Without any preparation, Furcas tried to push inside.

I sighed with wanton anticipation. The pressure of the head against me felt not quite right. Part of me longed to give, for my hole to shudder open and take the impossibly sized length and bear the pain of it. But the reality was simple: without preparation, I could not open for it. Thus, Furcas had me change positions. It lowered itself so my mouth could suck at its cock again, and it could use its human hands to relax me and pleasure me. It knelt down for my ease and—my heart shivered. Was this affection? Was this a kindness? My experience with human sexuality was non-existent, but I had imagined, somewhere beneath the lust and the depravity, for something. . .something like this. . .

I want to hear you scream.

I came back to myself, for this was not a kindness. This was not for my benefit, but for Asmodeus’, Furcas’ Lord, and Furcas itself might take me to the brink, leave me gaping and weak, but it would not be allowed to impale me to death.

It slipped a finger in and pumped it in and out of me with no slowness or kindness. I groaned. Pleasure had me instantly relaxed, and I spread my legs, a sight that made Furcas chuckle. My eagerness was palpable. Even from that single finger, I felt wanton and wild.

It waited very little time to slip another finger in, then another, and another, until four fingers were moving slowly in and out, and Furcas was murmuring to me, fingers from its other hands gently stoking my cock. I kept bucking up towards the touch, for the slightest friction drove me insane, but Furcas kept hushing me, waving its hand inside my hole until it forced its thumb inside, too, and I cried out.

Its knuckles slid deep into me, hand elongated and fingers reaching for my insides before it curled into a fist. It spat onto its hand, and the slickness made it easier for Furcas to move. The only sounds were our heavy panting, my cries of pleasure and often pain, and then the wetshlickof its fist filling me.

Minutes went by with me arched like that, eyes rolling to the back of my skull. Furcas stared down at me, chilly eyes boring into my soul, and then it came to some decision. It punched down into my hole with such force a scream was ripped out of me.

I cried out, tears springing into my eyes, and every forceful thrust forward had my eyes rolling back, had me crying, had me limply jerking from the ache, the sharp stretch, and the pleasure pulsing out from my prostate.

“God’s puppet,” Furcas said in wonderment, “and now mine.”

It pulled its fist free and rolled me, not gently. I flopped onto my stomach, moaning weakly. Cold air pricked at my entrance, and I could feel the hole pulsing weakly, squeezing around nothing. Furcas made a low moan of approval.

It guided me to slide between its equine legs, straddling me, and pressed again to my backside, clear slick fluid oozing onto my back as dragged its cock wetly over my ass.

“For my Lord,” Furcas said. “As repayment for this bastion Asmodeus let me build here, for its honouring of the promise made on the precipice of the Fall, I will breach this human and fill him with seed and a thirst for knowledge: to know the True Form of our shared Lord and to satisfy it for eternity.”

It mounted me completely and pushed the flared head of its cock to my open, pulsing hole. Clear fluid spouted from the tip, so much so I could feel it running over the cleft of my ass and down into the gap, down my inner thighs. My own cock was desperate for friction, but from this angle, I couldn’t do anything but let Furcas have its way. And it did have its way.

The demon-centaur reared up with an excited whinny and breached my body.

My head fell limply to the floor. There was a long moment of incomprehension where I could feel the bulge as it shuddered into my stomach, and I became like a pocket in which Furcas’ cock could sit. My hole pulsed rapidly around Furcas, and I realised I was groaning and crying out, my body spasming for the sheer overwhelm of the sensation. The pain came next, as the initial shock ebbed out of my body. But I kept trembling.

“You’re so. . . big!”I cried out, and Furcas laughed.

“Little human, I have barely entered you.”

I frowned. Furcas was not moving, allowing me to relax, and I pressed my hand to my stomach, certain I had felt it bulging just moments ago. As I relaxed, though, I understood only the great flared head of the cock had pushed inside.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

I—how could Idothis?

Furcas’ massive hands stroked my torso, so big they could easily interlock at my front. They encompassed the entire waist.

“I think you are ready now.”

I strained. I felt its cock quiver into me and then hammer down.

I howled. Bright, shocking pain blazed into my body. Straining, almost fearfully, my body lurched away, but Furcas put a hoofed foot against my back and pressed. It felt so large that I could barely squirm against it, and my body collapsed to the ground, ass raised but otherwise still. Like that on the ground, crying out, I choked on a plea. I broke a little, then. I cried. I begged:“Please, please, please.”

Furcas either did not hear or did not care. It did not stop fucking me. And when I opened my mouth, nothing came out except my desperate moans.

Pathetic.

With a slowness, Furcas pressed down on my back and pushed inside to bottom out. I strained around, trying to see how much of it my body could accommodate. Little more than a third of its length had pressed into me when my body began to convulse.

Looking back now, I believe it was shock. A body pushed to its limits too quickly, a mind equally whorish and terrified, too frightened and too aroused to demand the demon stop. Because despite the fear and the pain and the instinct in my body to get away, I lay there moaning, reaching back to spread my cheeks to further ease the access to my hole.

I wanted it. Iwantedit.

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