Akasha meets Doom

BY : smutmind
Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 386
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are mine. They belong to Valve's DotA universe.

                Akasha was no stranger to domination and submission. Ever since the succubus's summoning by the King of Elze, and subsequently being given the moniker of ‘Queen of Pain,’ she had made herself familiar with the manifold shades of sadism the creatures of this plane indulged. Humiliation, especially, was a popular topic among the mortals; they reveled in the idea of losing their petty power for minute periods of time. Her debacle in the battlefield of the Ancients, however, was beyond words like humiliation and submission.

 


                Despite her nature as a demon, she had been drawn in by the Radiant Ancient’s alluring promise to power. She awaited the creeps—grass imps, as she preferred to call them for their sinuous root abdomen and green, leaf-like limbs—at the elevated redoubt surrounding the Ancient. After setting off with her group of mindless warriors, she found herself at the river that separated the Radiant and Dire sides of the battlefield. Before her were the vast, dead forests of the Dire, cut abruptly by the flowing waterway; behind her was the greenery of the Radiant and the alabaster stone tower that could protect her until she descended into the river, where it would become neutral ground between her and her opponent to settle. Upon descending, she was met with the devilish, red creeps of the dire and a familiar, pink-skinned psionic warrior.
                It was Lanaya, the Templar Assassin.
                “Bow before your lady, little girl,” Akasha teased.  Lanaya simply scoffed and readied her mind-piercing blades.
                The battle between the two commenced—and quite the clash it was. Lanaya and Akasha were embroiled in bloodshed, the upper-hand shifting quickly and frequently between the two. In a span of minutes, Akasha would find herself retreating and applying healing salves to bleeding wounds, then putting the Assassin on a retreat, then repeating the process. It was only after a particularly impressive toss of her dagger dug into Lanaya’s back that she finally gained a decisive advantage. The succubus sprinted up to her prey to finish her off. The damage was worse than she initially thought: the Templar was on her belly and weakly crawling away from the battle, the blade halfway dug into her back. Lanaya was wheezing, wet and bloody gasps of air escaping from between her lips. She was pulling herself along with a single arm due to the dagger in her back preventing her other arm’s shoulder blade from moving.
                “Oh my,” Akasha purred, finding herself admiring the Assassin’s body. Even beneath the black and lavender garments, Akasha could see a toned and attractive body: generous amounts of breast tucked into her corset and long, strong legs flowing out of a skirt and into tight-enough leggings.  
“If you scream,” she lustfully taunted, “I might remember our safe w—” 
                “Pentagram!” A deep, powerful voice boomed from somewhere ahead of Akasha. She began to feel a tingling, warm sensation across her body that quickly grew into what felt like a fire that raged across her skin and insides alike; there were no embers or cinders rising from her, yet it felt as if she were lit aflame. While she was confident of her victory mere moments ago, she was now devolving into a screaming mess, arms swatting about her body like a panicking animal.
                Doom, a towering demon clad in thick and red plates of armor, hurried down from the Dire tower to recapture Lanaya from the clutches of the Queen of Pain. While the pale blue-skinned succubus writhed with burning agony, he knelt down besides the Templar and tore the dagger from her back; if she had the air to scream, she would be shrieking. He parted a healing salve in two with his meaty claws and dumped the contents on her injury. The effects were instantaneous. Lanaya’s wound closed and clotted and she was soon on her feet, albeit with her chest heaving for air. Before allowing the pink Assassin to have her revenge, as she no doubt would, Doom griped her upper arm tightly and thrust her forward into the river.
                “Take your troop into their tower and crush it,” he sternly dictated.
                “And what of—”
                “Now!”
                Lanaya reluctantly turned away from the imposing demon and pushed forward into Radiant territory.  Doom’s toothy mouth opened into a crude mockery of a grin. First, this one must learn the definition of the word pain, he chuckled.
                Doom sank his scorching blade into the mud of the river, steam rising and sinking down the path of the waterway. He trudged up to the screaming succubus, gripping her entire head with his wide hand and forcing her face into the muck of the river floor. While she flailed and kicked, Doom ripped apart the scanty armor and fabric that held her most intimate regions.
                “Face your demons!” He rose to stand in all his glory, Akasha’s head still in his grip. From where she hung, he could admire her body in its entirety: large and ample breasts that were crowned with perky nipples of a darker blue than her skin, long and tempting legs that were adorned with striations of toned muscles, a tight and strong abdomen, and a hairless cunt ripe for his taking.
                Akasha, head locked towards her horned captor, noted her body no longer felt as if in a conflagration. Indeed, the demon’s hex was no longer inflicting tangible damage upon her, but there were more insidious effects: she was weak and devoid of any connection to the Ancient’s power—any magic she could potentially conjure was now impotent.  Helpless, defeated, naked and humiliated.
                With his other hand, Doom ripped off the armor plating around his waist and crotch, allowing it to splash down into the river below. He tilted his winged captive’s head to put her gaze toward his between-legs. There her eyes were met with a hanging cock easily the thickness of a balled-up fist and nearly the length of her forearm—and flaccid. Its dull black skin was marred with scars. Akasha’s eyes grew wide; she was a succubus indeed, a being whose existence revolved of sexual matters, but she was always dominant and everything was always on her terms. This was well beyond her control.
                Before she could ponder further on her humiliating position, she’s thrust towards the river below, landing on her hands and knees before the hulking demon’s feet—a queen prostrated before her captor. Doom stepped over her to stand behind her, looking down at the bounty of her inviting snatch and tight ass. He dropped to his knees and pressed a hand on her back, forcing her torso into the waters of the river. Then, Doom guided his slowly-hardening cock to the entrance of her cunt and pressed it against her petals. Akasha’s body could do little but tilt her head back to behold the enormous, armor-clad body set behind her voluptuous derriere.
                “Damn,” Doom groaned, the succubus’s lips refusing to part for his cock. The head managed to find purchase as her hole finally split, but it refused to take any more of his girth. His fingers grasped her waist, the tips of each touching as his enormous hand enveloped her tight abdomen, and he began forcing his now hard, well-over-arm’s length cock into her reluctant cunt. It began to enter her slowly and painfully, accompanied by a wet sliding sound and Akasha’s own groans.
                “Nnnguuh,” protested Akasha, gutturally. She looked under her own belly, past her large breasts, to see a tremendous bulge forming from her crotch and slowly creeping up on her navel. There was no doubt the dull, resonating pain booming from her abused hole had the same fist-thick culprit as the bulge. Then, it stopped; right at her belly button, no less. Doom tried to force what little of his shaft remained exposed, but found that he had hit the closed entrance to her womb.
                “The fire,” Doom huffed, “starts now.” He pulled his shaft out right to the tip and then slammed it back into Akasha’s tight entrance. He repeated the process with muffled and dry THUD! THUD! THUD! sounds emanating from inside her. She could do little but part her mouth agape silently and allow her eyes to fill with tears of pain. That was short lived, however, as she began screaming and sobbing. Every excruciating ramming of his head against her cervix was accentuated with a raspy cry of agony from the demoness’s lips.
                “N-n-no! P-p-please!” Words were hard to babble out, the fervor of his forceful fucking interrupting every coordinated movement of her tongue. The skin of Akasha’s belly turned from a pale blue to an irritated pink as the skin began to become inflamed from the constant thrashing.
                Then, a pop. A wet pop, from inside her.
                Akasha’s eyes widened like they never had before. Her screaming and incoherent begging stopped. Her hands anchored any solid object they could find in the riverbed. A sensation of unknowable pain, something like a bone breaking in her stomach, detonated inside her loins. Doom’s fat cockhead had parted her cervix and had entered her womb.
                “Root of all evil,” Doom teased quietly. Akasha didn’t quite hear him, though, as blackness overtook her and the world faded away.

 

                Akasha’s eyes opened once again, albeit slowly. Her senses followed shortly after, much to her dismay. She felt herself upright, but with her back against something. The joints of her thighs and hipbone were terribly sore, and she felt her legs were spread wide and held up.  The worst sensation, however, was the one from her belly and crotch: both hummed with a constant pain and the skin of each burned as if on fire—the pumping in and out of her cunt was also just as displeasing. Panic building in her chest, she looked around to understand the situation. She was surrounding by the menacing tendrils of dead, black trees, and a stench of Sulphur assaulted her nostrils—this was not the midlane.
                “Your cause is doomed,” teased a deep and threatening voice. She knew then that the hot surface at her back was Doom’s armored chest, and the uncomfortable pumping in her snatch was his oversized shaft of rape-meat. Despite her mind’s protest, she looked down to observe her own body. It was worse than she could have imagined: she looked as if in the midst of a late pregnancy with twins, and her skin was even more reddened and irritated than during Doom’s rape in the midlane. Worse than that, however, was the fiery pentagram that hovered over her engorged belly. A mark of Doom’s ownership. Her nipples, now thick as a canteen cap and borderline black, were pierced with thick golden rings. She could have sworn her tits—udders, more like it—looked to be twice as large.
                Any connection she had to the Radiant Ancient was gone. She could feel it. She was Doom’s property now. She was in a full-Nelson position and there was nothing she could do to stop him. If she was lucky, he would take her back to his domain and make her one of his breeding sows. If not, she would die here when he bored of her body.

                As Akasha began to sob in humiliation and defeat again, Doom began to guffaw, his laughs echoing through the dead Dire forest.



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