The pop and crackle of a lone fire split the silence of a cold autumn night. Bare branches clawed at a midnight sky, a clouded sky spanning the deep woods that brooded in ominous darkness as abyssal as the black seas. Cold winds rattled and waved boughs in eerie silence and tugged at the layers of cloak and cape of the hooded figure.
She sat over a circle drawn into the dirt. A book with its pages held by small stones bore the blasphemous visage of one cast from the heavens, of a demon whose name cast a black ice through the veins of those who spoke it. Hood down, ember-red hair was tied back with keen green eyes surveying her work, a nick of a scar at her chin with thick robes warming her leaner frame. Murmuring an incantation, a palm filled with salt poured it along the etchings in the dirt, the fire cracking with a golden pop and plume of smoke.
Then came the objects of her demon's request. She could feel his whisper against her neck like a lover's caress as she cracked a raven's foot over a sigil of blood. Wind tousled loose dirt with harsher gusts that flickered the flames, casting contrasting lights over her hands as they poured sap from a hangman's tree into the sigil of defilement. The ground chilled, leaves tossed, her heart pounded hard as the last piece of the ritual would be in its place: the blood of want. A knife slit her own palm, letting it drip unholy treasure onto the sigil of lust.
The fire exploded in a red fury. It cast a wrathful heat into the clearing and a great plume of smoke into the sky, one that choked the light from the stars until only the full moon remained. She shuddered at the new warmth, goosebumps on her skin as she subtly bit her lower lip in anticipation, wrapping her wounded hand tight. Then the ground shook.
From the pillar of fire stepped an immense form. Heavy cloven hooves seared dead leaves and blackened dry earth. The sooty black fur gave way to skin that gleamed like black iron, hot from the forge with the detail and chiseled features rivaling great works of cathedrals. Ring pierced nipples were lined in that red heat, broad pectorals thick and defined, a forceful impression of abs leading downwards, and the being's arms. The arms were dense, toned, corded muscle shown, each thicker than the woman's torso. His face seemed mostly human, with imposing features and sharpened fangs. He was clean shaven, and his head was adorned with two massive horns bearing a flame between them. Those eyes bore into her, hotter than any flame yet did so with a deep chill, fully black save for a brilliant red-hot iris. Wings behind him opened, great and terrifying with a deep blackness that threatened to engulf her.
As he stepped forward, very nearly twice the woman's height, it was clear he was not alone. From the fire stepped other beings. Beings with those same hooves, sooty fur, those defined muscles and broad set shoulders, then a distinct bullish head with blunt snouts and horns bearing their own fire, the devil's sigil etched into each of their foreheads. As they stepped out they moved to encircle her, rougher bovine snorts breaking the silence as they all eyed her.
"What purpose have you called upon my name. Speak." The devil commanded, his voice carrying darkly handsome tones enhanced by the depth of it, the force of it. The woman did her best to hide her smirk as the others towered over her, standing tall before him.
"I, Evelyn Barlowe, call upon the name of Beshalar the Iron-Brand, and make a plea for power. I ask that you give me the profane, give me skill and knowledge, and potency in the black arts and what is unholy. In return, I offer a gift of the flesh."
Beshalar scratched his chin in thought with black-iron claws, raising his brow to the human who stood before him. Impatient horned demons tossed their heads with snorts and his hand lifted to silence them. The authority he imposed cast a dry heat over the clearing, details of his body giving a subtle flare as he spoke. "The contract is accepted, and drafted. Now, you sign."
With a snap of his fingers golden parchment unfurled before her. Evelyn's eyes gleamed as she read over the boons of their deal, her black arts to learn for a gift of flesh. Taking a shimmering quill she hastily signed her own name, and with another snap of his fingers the scroll rolled up and disappeared.
"It is done."
A deep breath caused Evelyn's shoulders to rise and fall, then she held the knife to her uncut hand, held up for the devil to see in the pillar of red firelight that made the trees dance.
"A gift of flesh-"
Deep, throaty laughter of the demons sounded in the forest. They began to step closer, each one's body heat piercing the layers of her cloak. Beshalar himself crossed his arms with an amused chuckle of his own, leering down at her. "Human, that is not the gift of flesh you have signed for."
Her heart skipped in her chest as she cleared her throat before asking, "and what is, the gift of flesh, that I've signed for?"
The sound of her own heartbeat in her throat made it hard to hear anything else as the circle of demons loomed closer. Massive hands reached out with rough palms and fingertips, grasping at her clothes and tugging at them. Beshalar sat back in an iron bramble throne that rose from the deep red flames. "Must I waste words to tell you?"
Evelyn let herself smirk earnestly for the first time, allowing herself a giddy laugh as her eyes drew between the towering horned demons and the great devil throned before her.
Massive hands tore at her clothing, shredding it with ease as a startled gasp choked in her throat. Thick robes were torn away to reveal her lithe frame, her small, pert breasts, the gradual shape of her hips, and that soft pale skin the demons craved. She was shared between them, hands dragging down her skin. Each one was hot, rough palms that teased her skin, broad as she made a dreamy sigh under all the attention.
Taking her body, they lifted her among them, lifted her horizontal as she felt them caress her entire form. Up her legs, along her back, over her chest to grasp at her breasts, over her throat as no single part of her went unwarmed. Reaching out she touched the cheek of one of the demons. He made a bovine grunt before capturing her thumb between his lips, blunted teeth pressing down as an impressively thick tongue brushed back against her. Her eyes rolled back at the heated snort one made against her thigh, gripping horns of two different demons as her ankles went over shoulders.
Beshalar sat back in his throne as he watched, taking his imposing member in hand. Sleek and black as iron he stroked himself, enjoying the sounds Evelyn made as his demons shared her. Those eyes watched as his bulls groped her, devoured her in kisses, and took part in her. A leisurely sigh issues from his lips as he awaited her, letting his demons prepare her for him. Already half hard, his length was well over a foot and she would need thorough preparation for all of him to fit inside her.
One of the horned demons pulled her thighs apart as they reflexively tensed against his grip. They quivered, she could feel his breath against her dripping sex as the others continued handling her, continued feeling every inch of her body. Without pause his lips pressed to hers, Evelyn's back straightening with a joyous cry of pleasure as she tried to squeeze his head between her thighs. That cry choked and became even louder at the feel of that thick tongue piercing her.
It was hot, just before the point of pain as it lolled in forceful circles. He snorted against her skin earning another desperate squirm as she rode against his blunted snout. The others closed on her, their own lips joining their hands as they kissed along her body. Kept aloft by their strength her body shuddered in their collective grip, eyes rolling back with the deep plunge of the demon's tongue.