Blessings from Hell!
By: Mikolai
Characters: 
Vlad is a male sergal with red outer fur and gray inner fur—runic symbols on his chest and arms. 
Conner – 14-year-old male t-rex, light brown outer scales, and white inner scales, big cock. Muscular body with amber eyes. (Death by garrot)
Finnian – 13-year-old male kitsune, white fur as snow. Blue eyes and slim body. (Neck snapped)
Tyson – 14-year-old male dragon (wingless), red outer scales white inner scales. Muscular body and green eyes. (death by hanging)

Story:
Vlad, an adult sergal male, trudged up the cobblestone path to the towering mansion. The sergal’s tall and muscular frame filling out his handmade tailored suit as his heavy footsteps echoed through the still night. The moon cast eerie shadows on the ivy-covered bricks, but the gothic architecture felt like a warm embrace after a long day in the office. 
The day’s work as an accountant/enforcer for the Jade Devil mafia had been long and bloody but satisfying. Today, he sent a couple more souls to the underworld and a delicately balanced ledger. All in a day’s work. He loved his job, even if it meant the occasional heated argument with Ivan, the head boss, and his cousin.
But Vlad knew his role, and he played it well. The mafia ran Catopia with an iron claw, and he was proud to be part of that. So, they had to kill people every once in a while, when they broke the rules. Nothing new in the world. Vlad didn’t care as long as he had fun and got paid for it. 
The sergal got to the front door and snapped out of his thoughts. The moonlight shines down on him as he glances up to admire the stars in the sky for a second. He slid the key into the heavy wooden door and pushed it open with a sigh. The grand foyer greeted him with silence, the only sound being the grandfather clock ticking. He threw his briefcase down next to the other shoes, and the leather smacked against the cold marble floor. Vlad walks up the padded staircase, his steps muffled by the thick carpet as he loosens the tie around his neck. The second-floor stairs to the master bedroom on the third floor creaked under his weight, a gentle serenade to the slumbering house. 
Reaching the master suite, he cracked the door open and peeked in. Natasha, a 35-year-old otter, lay sprawled across the king-sized bed, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of a sleeping giant. He glances at the room and sees it is a mess. The sergal picks up dirty clothes and puts them in the hamper in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom.
Vlad couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his sleeping wife. Despite her fiery temper and penchant for chaos, she was his angel. He tiptoed across the room, gently placing a kiss on her forehead. Her snores rumbled through the room, a gentle thunder that had become a comforting lullaby to some. To Vlad, though, her snoring could wake up the dead that he could no longer sleep in the same bed as his wife. But that will not stop him from showing her his love daily, even when they argue. As he shook his head, trying not to laugh, he tucked his wife in, smoothing out the wrinkles in the silk sheets.
As quietly as he opened the door, Vlad closed it to walk back down to the second floor. The twin’s rooms were next for him to check on. Damien and Alexei are 13-year-old otter boys who slept like the innocents they were despite the demonic blood flowing through their veins. They get their fiery hair from their mother and their gorgeous eyes from their father. Vlad then approached a door with a nameplate that said, Alexei. 
He peeked into the room to see the teen otter boy had fallen asleep with a book on his chest and his night-time lamp shining in the dark room. The room was filled with all types of books on several shelves. Vlad knew the boy did not get this thirst for knowledge from him. It must be from his lovely wife. Also, Alexei’s room is all nice and neat. Nothing out of place, not even the boy’s dirty clothes.
Alexei is fast asleep with no care in the world as Vlad approaches the boy. Vlad wonders if the boy studies too much but decides to talk to him later about it. He wants his son to have fun while Alexei is still young. The sergal gently takes the book away and puts it on the nightstand. He then tucks the boy into bed, kisses Alexei’s forehead, causing the boy to stir a little, and turns the lamp off before he leaves as quietly as possible. 
Damien is in the room across from Alexie with the boy’s nameplate on his door. Vlad’s other son, on the other hand, loves to work out, play with his friends, and, most of all, play video games all day. Vlad always laughs when his wife gets angry with Damien’s grades, which are still good, with Cs and Bs. They do not come close to Alexei’s perfect grades of nothing but As. 
Vlad opens the door to see a typical teenager’s room. Clothes on the floor, rock band posters on the wall with other posters, a desk with a gaming computer, and other stuff that would make any teenager happy. Vlad approaches to see his son fast asleep. Like his other son, he tucks the boy into bed and kisses the otter on their forehead before leaving.  
As he leaves the room, Vlad feels a twinge of pride stabbed through his cold, beating heart. Those boys were his legacy in this world, his reason for doing what he does and for making his family's lives as comfortable as possible. It might be questionable to people, but Vlad did not care.
With the house secured, the sergal made his way downstairs to the basement. The staircase spiraled like a serpent into the earth, the walls with portraits of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow him as he descended. His personal sanctuary awaited him, a bastion of solitude amidst the chaos of family life and away from Natasha’s dreadful snoring. The door to the basement apartment was a sleek slab of black metal, a stark contrast to the aged stone of the mansion above. 
He entered the dimly lit space, the faint scent of incense and leather greeting him like an old friend. He took a whiff, which brought back memories of the days when he was a warrior on the battlefield, and his apartment showed it. The walls were adorned with weapons and trophies of his past conquests, a stark reminder of his life before Natasha and the boys came into his life. The rest of the apartment had several bedrooms, a big bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. 
The apartment is filled with fancy furniture like the mansion, except this place has several secrets inside. Of particular note was the enormous walk-in closet that housed a portal, allowing Vlad to store his most prized possessions, namely a trio of teenage boy sex dolls that he kept preserved in a state of animation with the rest of his collection.
The sergal starts stripping naked as he takes off all of his clothes. Vlad walks into the closet, pushes some shirts hanging to the side, and snaps his fingers, causing a portal to appear. Vlad retrieved three naked corpses from the closet, laying them out on his enormous bed. As he stood over their lifeless bodies, memories of how he had initially acquired and killed them came flooding back… The sergal grins as he remembers the past.

(Hundreds of Years Ago)
Close to sunset on a cold day; the wind whipped at the tattered edges of Bram’s cloak, the chill biting through the thin fabric like a hungry wolf. Bram, a 40-year-old male sheep, stood on the barren hilltop, the skeletal remains of the shine groaning in the gusts. Below the village of Elderenstone huddled a cluster of half-empty homes clinging to the dying earth. Years and years of failed crops, blight, and sickness thinned the villager ranks, and faraway lords took young men for their squabbles and wars. Despair and misery had become Elderenstone’s only crop. 
Bram, the village chief, a man etched with worry lines deeper than any harvest furrow, had taken the village’s last desperate gamble. The sheep had found a tome buried in a secret cave near the town. He studied it day and night to decipher the old language. The tome warned him of the dangers but also told him great rewards if he did what was in it.  
The sheep chanted the old forbidden words, his voice raw with desperation. And now… now the air crackled with an unnatural energy. A figure coalesced before him, not of light and glory but of shadow and dark energy as old as time. Crimson eyes, like chips of hellfire, fixed on Bram. The sergal before him smiles, too broad and too knowing, stretched across a face that was handsome and disturbingly to be anything other than pure evil. 

With a smooth voice, the sergal begins to speak. “Intriguing! A mortal summons me to another realm with a touch of theatrical, I must say. You reek of desperation, little sheep. It’s… stimulating. Tell me, what manner of foolish wish has dragged me from my… engagements?” Vlad said as he was only wearing a loincloth. He was in a battle between clans before this interruption. The sergal snaps his fingers for a colossal throne decorated with fallen foe skulls appears, and Vlad sits on it, waiting for an answer. 
Bram swallowed; the dryness in his throat felt like gravel. He’d pictured something else, someone else. But this… this entity felt ancient and powerful and terrifying. “We… we are dying, honored… entity. Elderenstone… it will be gone by winter’s end. The crops have failed and died for years. The sickness takes our children. The wars… oh god, the wars… they leave us with nothing.” A tear travels down his face as he tells of the hardship that everyone has had to endure.
Vlad tilted his head, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “A common tale! Mortality is so fragile. And what, precisely, do you expect me to do about your rather predictable demise? I am no saint, and I do not do anything for free little man.” His smile grew even more prominent. The anguish from the sheep is delicious; no, it's mouthwatering to the sergal. 
“Save us. Save our village. I… we will offer you anything.” Vlad chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in Bram’s bones.
“Anything, you say? It's such a grand and empty offer. Let us be more… specific. I can indeed breathe life back into your pathetic little village. Fields will flourish, and you will never experience a failed harvest again. The sick will recover overnight, and disease or plague will never happen again. Your coffers will overflow. And no war will ever touch the people here ever again. Imagine, little sheep, a prosperity you have not dreamt of.” Vlad said as he chuckled, knowing full well that he had the sheep where he wanted him.
Hope flickered in Bram’s chest, a fragile ember in the encroaching darkness. “And… the price for this miracle?” Vlad’s smile widened, revealing his teeth were sharp.
“Ah, yes! The price to take away all your misfortune. Mm…It's quite simple, really! I require three children between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. Healthy, I trust? No wheezing weaklings.” Bram’s blood ran cold from hearing what the sergal had told him. Did he hear the entity right?
“Children? To what end?” The chief wished it was anything else. Hell, he would give his life to save the village. But children, sweet and innocent children who have not done anything wrong, do not deserve the horrible fate he is thinking of.
“Let’s call it… a down payment. And for the continued prosperity I offer, a further agreement will be made. Every four years, you will offer three more children to me. I chose them, of course, and you will execute them. You will build an altar to lay their bodies on for me to collect, too. A small cost for unending bounty.” Vlad laughs uncontrollably as he watches the despair reappear in the sheep's eyes. The hope in Bram’s chest withered, replaced by a sickening dread. He opened his mouth to protest, but Vlad cut him off. 
“And consider this your only warning, little man. Agree to my terms, fulfill your end, and your pitiful village will thrive beyond measure. In four years, your population will have grown by double what you have lost over the years and will continue to grow. But if you fail or attempt to break this pact in any way, I will personally ensure your village becomes less than dust as I drag everyone down to the deepest depths of the underworld. Understood?” The sergal glares at the sheep, shaking in terror before him. His eyes seemed to bore into Bram’s very soul. 
“And… and these children now? What will happen to them?” He asked, dreading the answer that he already knew.
Vlad shrugs his shoulders as he responds. “They will be utilized. Let’s say their essence will contribute to Elderenstone’s new vigor. I’ll take care of them this time. But remember, mortal, for future offerings, you and the village will be responsible for the children’s… dispatch. In the manner I deem appropriate at the time, naturally.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken horrors. Bram’s mind screamed in protest, but his gaze drifted down to the village, to the flickering lights in the dying homes. He heard sick children coughing in the wind from the town below them. Bram was speechless and could not say anything for several minutes.
“I grow impatient, mortal. Do we have an agreement, or shall I unmake what little remains? And as for your immediate payment… Mm… Elara’s son, Finnian, has grown into a study lad. And young Tyson, Miller’s boy, is strong and muscular. Last but not least… yes, Conner, the blacksmith’s apprentice. All robust specimens! Gather them for me, mortal. I shall give all the time you and the village need till the last drop of sand reaches the bottom of this hourglass.” Vlad said while he snapped his finger for a giant hourglass to appear behind him. The sand slowly flowed down to the bottom to indicate that the countdown had begun.  
Tears streamed down Bram’s face as his world was coming down. Finnian, Tyson, Conner… he knew their families. Hell, he and the village helped raise them. Worse, he promised Tyson’s father he would protect the boy when the boy’s father left the town to fight in the war. It was only a year later they found out that the father had died. 
“Bu…but… they are just children. Take my soul, the devil. Oh god, what have I done.” Bram said as he started praying for their god to save them. Vlad was getting irritated from the mere thought of this idiot trying to pray for his problems to disappear as if the gods cared about mortals.
“ENOUGH!!!!! Your excessive whining mortal.” Vlad shouted at the sheep, causing Bram to stop praying and fall on his back in terror. 
“Those children are the price of your survival. It is a paltry price, considering the alternative. Decide, little sheep! You're running out of time.” Vlad said as he tapped on the hourglass behind him.
The silence stretched, broken only by the mournful wind. Bram looked from the demonic figure back to his dying village. He thought of hunger and the slow and agonizing decline of his people. He thought of the graves that dotted the hillside. Several tears traced a path through the grime on his cheek. He had no choice. He had condemned them all. God have mercy on his soul is the only thing he can think of now. 
Bram's voice is a broken whisper when he speaks. “W…We agree!” as he lowered his head down in shame. Vlad’s smile returned, wider and colder than before. 
“Excellent! I do enjoy a sensible mortal. See to it, then. I’ll be waiting.” Vlad said as he leaned back into his throne. 
The chief slowly got up, the weight of his decision crushing him. He stood there for a long, agonizing moment before turning his steps towards the village below. Towards Finnian, Tyson, and Conner. Towards the impossible task of telling their families and the town.
Vlad waited patiently as he heard cries from the people in the village and then heard fighting. He started to laugh. It's not his fault they are in this situation, but he might as well have some fun with them. There is nothing free in life, as Vlad had been taught. 
Hours later, under the pale light of the rising moon. Bram led three terrified and weeping boys up the hill. The village had no choice but to tie the boys up as Tyson tried to help his friends by fighting the adults. It took some time, but they managed to capture the boys, strip them naked, and tie their hands behind their backs. Tyson had a gag in his mouth as he tried to bite the adults, too.
Their parents’ anguished cries echoed in the night, imprinting into the sheep's soul as Bram descended into damnation. Vlad waited by the ruined shrine, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Bram forced the boys to kneel before the demon, and Vlad inspected them from head to toe.
The first in line is Conner, a 14-year-old male t-rex. The male has light brown outer scales and white inner scales. His muscular body told the story of a boy who worked hard as a blacksmith apprentice. His amber eyes and big flaccid cock were a bonus to the sergal. 
Next in line is the hotheaded boy named Tyson, a 14-year-old dragon. Vlad was surprised that the boy had no wings but assumed that his species had none after a while. The boy has red scales on the outer part of his body, while his inner parts have light yellow scales. The sergal can tell the male works out extensively due to his muscular form. The boy's green eyes tried to pierce Vlad’s soul as he stared angrily at the sergal. Oh, was Vlad going to have fun with this boy as he glanced at the huge cock they had.  

Last is Finnian, a 13-year-old male kitsune with beautiful white fur as snow. With his slim body, the boy was the smallest of the three, yet Vlad fell in love with the male’s gorgeous blue eyes. It was like he was looking at the ocean. The teen has a decent size dick, too, which is a plus for the sergal.
“A prompt delivery. Commendable. All that is left is to sign this contract, and all your worries and problems will disappear. Vlad said as a scroll appeared in his hand. He unwinds the scroll for the massive document to reach the ground, bounces a few times off the ground while unrolling, and finally reaches the chief’s foot. Bram bent down, with a heavy heart, bites his finger to cause it to bleed, and signs his name on the contract. Once that was done, the scroll automatically rolled back into the sergal’s hand and disappeared into a cloud of smoke. 
“Excellent! You will find, sheep, that my end of the bargain will be most fulfilling. Now, leave us. These boys belong to me now.” Vlad said as he flicked his hand away to shoo the chief away. Bram couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boys’ terrified faces. He wanted to apologize, to explain, but no words came. He nodded a broken man and stumbled back down the hill, leaving the boys to their fate. The deal was struck, and the village was saved, but at a cost that would haunt its chief and its people for generations to come. Finnian wept as Conner screamed at the chief for betraying them. Tyson could only make grunting sounds as the gag muffled his voice. 
Vlad's grin grew wider as he got amusement from the sheep running away. He finished assessing the offerings. The sergal licked his lips, his pointed tongue tasting the salty air of the boy's fear. He knew their names, their secrets, their deepest desires. Conner, the pious one, who prayed every night for salvation. Tyson, the rebel, whose thoughts were filled with anger and a willingness to fight. And Finnian, the innocent, whose mind was a whirlwind of confusion and horror at the fate thrust upon them.
“Well, boys, let's get this show on the road,” Vlad said as he snapped his fingers, and the three boys and sergal vanished in a cloud of black smoke. They were instantly transported to a chamber deep within the earth's bowels, surrounded by cold, damp stone walls. The room was illuminated by a flickering, hellish light, revealing a massive, ornate bed draped in velvet and adorned with chains and ropes. On a nightstand beside it stood a bottle of lube, glinting ominously in the fiery glow. 
Tyson’s eyes widened in rage as he realized what was happening, but his gag muffled his protests. Finnian’s sobs grew louder, his frail body shaking uncontrollably as he tried to pull away from the invisible bonds that held him in place. Conner, however, remained stoic, his eyes squeezed shut as he whispered prayers under his breath, his cock growing harder with each passing moment.   
Vlad strutted over to bed. He took his loincloth off, and it fell to the floor. He picked up the bottle of lube with a sinister smile, eyeing the trembling boys with a hunger that went beyond the physical. He knew the power of fear, of the ultimate surrender that came from facing the unspeakable. It was a delicacy he savored more than the taste of their souls.
The boys stand up as they watch the sergal closely. Vlad turned to Tyson, the fight still raging in the boy’s eyes. He walked over, reached out, and gently caressed the teenager’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the pulse of his fear. “You,” Vlad said, his voice a seductive purr, “will watch as one of your friends will meet their end. And when it is your turn, I shall see if that fire inside you still burns as brightly.”
Without any hesitation, the sergal removed the gag from Tyson’s mouth. Tyson spat at the demon, his saliva landing on the stone floor with a wet splatter. “You're a monster,” he spat.
A chuckle escapes the sergal’s mouth, his eyes alight with malicious pleasure. “And you are a delightful meal,” he replied, his tone playful. “But not yet, my young warrior. First, we shall see how one of your companions fares.” 
The demon approached Conner, who had now opened his eyes to meet the creature’s gaze. “Your purity is commendable, young one,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But I shall grant you one last indulgence before you meet your end. Would you like to feel the warm embrace of my cock in you before you die, or shall I proceed with killing you?”
Conner's face contorted with disgust and fear, but his body betrayed him, his cock twitching at the sergal’s offer. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the demon and the bottle of lube. “No,” he finally managed to choke out. “I want to remain pure for my God.” 
Vlad’s smile grew wider, his sharp teeth gleaming in the flickering light, and he tossed the bottle onto the bed. “As you wish,” he said, his tone mocking. With a snap of his fingers, a chair appeared behind the t-rex, and the sergal forced him to sit down, his muscular legs spread wide. Vlad untied the ropes, bounding the boy's hands, then tied the boy’s hands behind the chair. Securing the male in place for what was to come.
Ignoring the boy’s discomfort, the rope was too tight around his wrists. Vlad moved around the boy as he knelt before the boy and took the base of Conner’s cock in his hand. He licked the head with the tip of his tongue, savoring the salty taste of the pre-cum that had beaded there. Conner gasped, his body instinctively responding despite his protests. 
The demon took the entire length of the boy’s impressive cock into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head as Conner’s eyes rolled back in his head. Despite his fear, he couldn’t deny the pleasure that was building within him. Tyson watched, his own cock growing hard with a mix of anger and arousal, as the sergal worked his magic.
Vlad’s other hand began to stroke Conner’s inner thigh, his sharp nails digging into the boy’s flesh. The pain only added to the overwhelming sensations coursing through the teenager’s body, and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge. Finnian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the scene before him, his heart racing as he thought of his impending doom. 
Conner’s chest heaved with each deep, guttural moan that escaped his lips. His body tensed, and his cock throbbed as he neared climax. Vlad’s eyes never left the t-rex’s, holding his gaze as if to claim him fully, body and soul. With a final, powerful suck, Conner came, his seed spurting gallons of semen into the sergal’s mouth. He bucked in the chair, his entire body convulsing with the intensity of his release, and then slumped back, panting heavily once he finished.
Vlad drank all of the boy’s semen. Then he stood up, his lips glistening with the boy’s essence. “Ah, the sweet taste of innocence,” he murmured before swallowing the last amount left in his mouth. He goes behind Conner, using magic to have rope appear in his hands. Then, he gently wrapped the rope around the boy’s neck with ease. “Now, my dear,” he whispered into the male’s ear, “it’s time for your final test of faith.”
Conner’s eyes grew wide with terror as he felt the rope tighten around his neck. He tried to struggle, but the chair held him firmly in place. His legs kicked wildly, and his face turned a deep shade of purple as he fought for air. The boy tries to break his restraints but fails as the rope will never let him go free. Vlad’s gripe was unyielding, the rope cutting into Conner’s neck, the pressure increasing with each passing second.  
Tyson's shouts grew more desperate as he watched his friend’s life being squeezed away. Finnian’s cries grew louder, his eyes now open in a silent scream as he witnessed the horror unfolding before him. The room felt as if it was closing in; the air was thick with the scent of fear and arousal.
Conner’s eyes bulged, and his tongue protruded from his mouth. His struggles grew weaker as the color drained from his face. His cock, still hard from the forced pleasure, stood out starkly against the teen’s belly. The rope dug into his neck more, leaving deep red marks that would never fade.
Vlad’s eyes glowed with excitement as he tightened the rope, feeling the thrill of the boy’s life force slipping away. He could feel the energy in the room shift, the very essence of Conner’s soul crying out for mercy. The demon’s own cock grew harder with each gasp and twitch from his victim.
Finally, with a last, desperate kick, Conner went still. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his body slumped forward, held upright only by the rope that now served as a grim necklace. Vlad loosened his grip, and the rope went slack. Conner’s lifeless body slumped over, his head lolling to one side, a final, pitiful look of betrayal etched upon his face. His cock remained hard even after his demise. 
Vlad stepped back, admiring his handiwork. He wiped a smear of blood from the boy’s neck and licked it off his thumb with a sigh of satisfaction. The taste was exquisite, a blend of fear and despair that filled him with a dark pleasure. He turned to the remaining two, a smile on his face, a promise of what was to come.

Tyson’s rage had reached a boiling point. He pulled at his bonds, the veins in his neck bulging with the effort. His eyes bore into the demon, a silent challenge that spoke volumes. Finnian, however, had gone eerily quiet, his body trembling as he waited for his face.
The sergal strolled over to Tyson, his cock now fully erect and bobbing with each step. He leaned close to the boy, his breath hot against his face. “Now,” he purred, “it’s your turn to see how much you're willing to endure for your precious village.”
The ropes around Tyson’s wrists fell away with a flick of Vlad’s wrist. The boy took the opportunity to kick out, his foot connecting with the sergal’s chest. Vlad stumbled back, his expression one of genuine surprise. It was rare for a mortal to land a hit on him, especially one so young. 
Tyson’s eyes blazed with the fire of rebellion as he lunged at the demon again. His muscles, honed from years of arduous labor in the fields, flexed and bulged as he threw punch after punch. Each blow was fueled by his rage and the desperate need to survive. His knuckles bled, leaving smears of crimson on the sergal’s unyielding skin, but it was clear his efforts were futile.
Vlad’s grin grew wider with each hit, his eyes flashing with a dark amusement. He had seen this kind of defiance before but rarely in one so young and inexperienced. He raised a hand, easily catching Tyson’s next punch, his palm wrapping around the boy’s fist. “Your spirit is… delicious,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
With a swift movement, Vlad raised his other hand and punched Tyson squarely in the stomach. The air whooshed out of the dragon’s lungs, and he doubled over, gagging and wheezing. The sergal stepped back, watching as the dragon crumpled to the floor, his eyes watering with pain. “Now, now,” he chided, his tone mocking, “is that any way to greet your lord and savior?”

Tyson’s breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to recover. He glared at the demon, his eyes promising vengeance. It was a look that made the sergal’s cock throb even more. He enjoyed breaking the strong ones, watching their will crumble.
“Beg,” he hissed, “beg for mercy, and maybe I’ll grant it.” 
Tyson spit out a mouthful of blood, his teeth gritted in determination. “Go to hell,” he managed to choke out.
The sergal’s smile turned into a snarl, his patience-wearing thin. He reached down and yanked the dragon's head back. “You dare defy me?” he roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. With several swift punches, Vlad breaks a couple of ribs, and the final punch snapped Tyson’s arm out of its socket, the sickening crack echoing through the chambers.
Tyson screamed, his body writhing on the cold stone floor. His arm hung at an unnatural angle, the bone sticking out of the skin. The pain was unbearable, but he refused to give the sergal the satisfaction of seeing him begging.
Vlad stepped back, enjoying this game, the thrill of the chase, the sweet taste of fear and pain. He knew that Tyson would break eventually; when he did, the boy’s soul would be all the sweeter. “Now,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I think it’s time for your true punishment to begin.” Vlad snapped his fingers; a silk noose appeared in the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling. The noose had a dark glow that promised a fate worse than a swift death. 
Tyson’s eyes went wide with terror as he took in the noose, understanding the true extent of the demon’s sadism. He knew what was coming, and he knew there was no escape. The fight drained from him and was replaced with a cold, numbing dread. 
Finnian, watching from the sidelines, had gone utterly still. His eyes were open, but they saw nothing, his mind retreating into a corner where the horrors of reality couldn’t reach. The demon’s laughter was the only sound, echoing off the walls like a taunt to the gods.

Vlad leaned closer to Tyson, his hot breath fanning the dragon’s face. With a dramatic flourish, he began to chant in a language that sounded like the screams of the damned. The air around Tyson grew thick with power, crackling with dark energy. The boy’s broken arm began to twitch, and he let out a scream as the bone ground back into place. The muscles and tendons knitted together, the skin sealing over the wound with a sicking pop. 
The pain was excruciating as if the dragon’s body was being ripped apart and reassembled piece by piece. Tyson’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from crying further. The spell healed his ribs and piece tongue, too. Vlad's laughter grew louder, feeding on the boy’s suffering. The noose remained in the air, a silent threat that hovered over them both. 
As the last of the pain subsided, Tyson felt a strange warmth spread through him. He looked down at his arm, now perfectly whole, the skin unmarred by any sign of injury. The demon had healed him, but the cost had been his dignity and what little hope he had clung to save his friends from this nightmare.
“Ah,” sighed Vlad, standing up and brushing off his knees, “how delightful to see you restored.” His eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he took in Tyson’s agonized expression. “Now, let us proceed.”
The demon swept over to Tyson in an instant, one of his hands wrapped around the boy’s neck, and hoisted the dragon up as if the boy weighed nothing. Despite his fear, Tyson tried to resist, but his attempts were futile against the demon’s iron grip. The creature was far too strong. With a laugh, Vlad tossed him onto the velvet-covered bed, landing on his stomach.
Vlad produced another length of rope out of thin air in his hands, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he approached the dragon. His eyes burned with an unquenchable hunger as he took in Tyson’s naked, trembling body. The boy’s cock was still hard from the fight and the pain, a stark symbol of his unbroken spirit. The demon licked his teeth, eager to taste that fiery spirit.

With a swift motion, he tied Tyson’s wrists together behind the dragon’s back, the rough rope biting into the boy’s flesh. Tyson’s eyes never left the demons, a silent challenge that only fueled the creature’s lust. The sergal’s cock grew harder as he felt the power of the boy’s resistance. He knew that the moment of true victory would come when Tyson could no longer fight when he had crushed that spirit completely. 
He climbed onto the bed on top of the helpless boy, his heavy weight making the springs groan. Tyson tried to get the demon off of him, but it was useless. The creature was too strong, too heavy. He felt the ropes tighten around his wrists, cutting deeper into his skin. 
Vlad leaned over Tyson; his face masked with perverse excitement. He licked his lips, his pointed teeth shining in the dim light. “Now, my rebellious little snack,” he whispered, “you shall see what happens to those who dare challenge me.”
With a sudden jerk, the demon pushed Tyson’s legs apart, exposing his tight, pink hole. Tyson’s body went rigid with fear, his eyes wide with horror. Vlad reached for the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount onto his thick, pulsing cock. He rubbed the slick fluid onto his shaft, his eyes never leaving Tyson’s face. The boy’s breathing grew rapid, his chest heaving with each panicked breath.
Vlad positioned himself between Tyson’s legs, the tip of his cock touching the boy’s entrance. Tyson’s eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the inevitable pain. The demon chuckled, his voice low and sinister. “Don’t worry, I’ll make this interesting for you,” he promised.
In one powerful motion, he thrust into the boy, tearing through the tight ring of muscle. Tyson screamed, his body arching off the bed. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that stole his breath away. The demon’s cock was massive, and it filled him to the brim, stretching him in ways that made him feel like he was being split apart.

The sergal began to move, his powerful hips driving his cock in and out of Tyson’s virgin ass. The boys’ screams filled the room, echoing off the stone walls. The demon reveled in the sound, his eyes rolling back in his head with each brutal thrust. He felt Tyson’s body tighten around him, the boy’s muscles clenching in a desperate attempt to push him out. 
But the demon was relentless. He fucked Tyson hard, his clawed hands digging into the boy’s thighs, leaving deep red marks on the skin. Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a statement of his absolute power. The boy’s cries grew weaker, his struggles more feeble as he succumbed to the pain.
Finnian watched from the corner, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen anything so violent, so depraved. The demon’s grunts and Tyson’s whimpers created a symphony of despair that haunted his ears. He felt sick to his stomach, his body trembling uncontrollably. 
The demon’s pace grew erratic, his breathing heavy with the effort of his exertion. He was close, so close to the edge. Tyson’s eyes were squeezed shut; his mouth open in a silent scream as he felt the demon’s cock swell inside him.
And then, with a final, brutal thrust, it was over. Tyson’s body went slack, his eyes half open and glazed over with a mix of pain and defeat. The demon roared in triumph, his seed spurting into the boy’s bowels, filling him with warmth that was anything but comforting.
Vlad pulled out, his cock glistening with the remnants of the boy’s innocence. Globs of cum falling out of Tyson’s butt onto the bed. Vlad stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Tyson lay there, his body broken and bruised, his spirit all but crushed. The demon felt a thrill of victory, his cock still hard from the battle. 
“Now,” he panted, his chest heaving, “you will learn the true meaning of fear.” He turned to Finnian, who was cowering in the corner. “And as for you, my little one,” he said, his voice a cold whisper, “your time will come soon enough.”

The noose hovered in the air, a grim specter of the fate that awaited the boy. Tyson’s eyes met Finnian’s, the unspoken terror passing between them. They both knew that their deaths were only moments away, but they were determined to face it with what little dignity they had left.
With a cruel twist of his lips, Vlad yanked the ropes binding Tyson’s wrists, pulling him to his feet. “Walk,” he barked, gesturing towards the silk noose that awaited him. Tyson’s legs trembled with a mix of pain and fear, but he managed to stand, his body still slick with sweat and the demon’s seed.
The sergal’s hand was like a vice around his bicep, guiding him to the center of the room. Each step was agonizing, his ass raw from the brutal rape, he’d just endured. He stumbled, his knees threatening to give out, but the demon’s grip was unyielding. “Look at me,” the demon hissed, his eyes burning maliciously. “Anything else you like to say before you die little warrior?” he asked, wanting to see the dragon beg.
Tyson’s eyes shot up to meet the demon’s, a spark of defiance flickering in his gaze. “I’m still a man,” he spat, his voice hoarse from screaming. “I’m still stronger than you’ll ever be, vile beast.” With all the strength he could muster, Tyson spits on the sergal’s face.
Vlad’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening until Tyson winced. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice a dark promise as he used his other hand to wipe the spit off of him. He shoved Tyson towards the noose, the silk brushing against the boy’s skin like the kiss of a venomous snake.
The rope felt cold and unyielding around Tyson’s neck as the demon secured it. He choked, trying to swallow past the constricting fabric. The room spun around him, the hellish light making everything seem otherworldly and unreal. Finnian’s cries grew more distant, muffled by the pounding of his own heart in his ears. 
Vlad stepped back, appreciating the sight of the boy before him. The demon was astonished that the boy still had the willpower to show his defiance to the very end. He had hoped the dragon would not disappoint him, but Tyson had not. It was a shame he couldn’t play with him longer, but he needed to get to the other boy before the night was over. “Say your final words,” he said. “Show me the man you truly are to the end warrior.”
Tyson’s voice was barely a whisper, but his eyes never left the demon’s. “I’ll see you in hell,” he murmured. The demon’s laugh was like the crack of a whip, echoing through the chamber.
With a snap of the demon’s finger, the noose tightened, pulling Tyson off his feet and off the ground. The boy’s legs kicked out, searching for the floor, but there was none to be found. The pressure on his neck grew tighter, and the air in his lungs became a distant memory. The demon watched with a twisted smile, his eyes never leaving Tyson’s face as the boy’s body danced its final dance.
The magic within the noose pulsed a dark rhythm that seemed to sync with Tyson’s racing heart. The pain was unimaginable, a searing fire that consumed every inch of him. He could feel his life slipping away, each second an eternity of agony. His eyes bulged, and his tongue swelled in his mouth, the desperate need for air an ever-present torment. 
But the boy was not ready to die. Not yet. He fought against the noose, his muscles straining, his legs thrashing. The demon’s magic held him aloft, taunting him with the promise of release that never came. Soon, his body was covered in sweat from head to toe, and sweat dripped off his body and onto the ground. His vision got blurry; the world grew dark around the edges. Yet, Tyson’s spirit remains unbroken, his body a testament to the fiery will that raged within him.
Finnian watched in horror, his own fear now replaced with a strange mix of admiration and terror for his friend. Tyson’s eyes never left the demon’s, his hate a beacon in the abyss. The noose grew tighter, its magic feeding on the boy’s pain. The demon’s smile grew wider with each of Tyson’s futile struggles, his cock still hard from the rape, eager for the climax of the boy’s suffering.
The chamber grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. The demon’s laughter filled the room, a cacophony of malicious glee. Tyson’s body twitched and convulsed, his toes pointing downward in a silent plea for mercy that would never come. The rope dug into his neck, leaving a deep red groove that grew darker with each passing moment.

Vlad walked to the boy and leaned closely, his hot breath tickling Tyson’s ear. “Your spirit is so… tempting,” he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. “But your body… it betrays you. See how it responds to pain?” He gestured to Tyson’s erection, bobbing with each spasm of agony. The demon’s hand caressed the boy’s thigh, his claws leaving trails of red in their wake. “Your body craves more, even as you die,” Vlad said right before he stepped back to appreciate the show the boy was giving him.
Tyson’s eyes burned with a mix of rage and humiliation. He knew the demon was right; his traitorous flesh was responding to the pain, the fear, and the sheer power that radiated from the creature before him. It was a perversion of all he knew, a sickening revelation that even in the face of death, his body could not resist.
With a final burst of strength, Tyson’s cock erupted in a spray of cum, arcing through the air to land on the demon’s foot. Vlad's eyes widened in surprise, and he laughed even more. This boy’s defiance to the end was terrific. Tyson felt his vision fail more; his mind clouded with the lack of oxygen. Yet, in that moment of pure agony, a strange pleasure began to coil in his gut. His cock jerked, and he felt the beginnings of another orgasm. 
Tyson’s body convulsed, his cock spurting again, painting the demon’s chest with his seed. It was as if the very act of defying the creature was enough to push him over the edge. The room grew darker, the edges of Tyson’s vision so blurry that he could hardly make out anything. He could feel his life draining from him, his body growing cold and weak. Yet, the strange, twisted pleasure grew within him, a perverse counterpoint to the agony that consumed him. His cock throbbed, a betrayal of the horror of this situation. 
Finnian watched, his eyes wide with shock and horror. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His friend, so strong and fierce, was brought to this state by the demon’s sadistic games. Yet, even as Tyson’s body responded in such a way, Finnian could see the hate in his eyes and his unbreakable will to resist. 

Vlad continued to watch, his eyes gleaming with a mix of surprise and admiration. He had never encountered a mortal with suck resilience, such a capacity for pain. He began to clap his hands slowly, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a macabre applause for a twisted performance. “Bravo,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “Such a display of vitality. You did well to the very end, warrior.”
Tyson’s legs gave out, his body hanging limp from the noose. Even as the life left him, his cock remained erect, a final act of rebellion against the creature that had taken everything from him. The demon used his tongue to lick the cum off his chest, savoring the taste of the boy’s defeat. 
The room grew silent; the only sound was Finnian's muffled sobs in the corner. The noose remained tight around Tyson’s neck, a silent sentinel to his end. Yet his eyes remained open, staring at the demon with a cold, lifeless glare that seemed to burn into the creature’s very being. Vlad thought he might have gone a little overboard with indulging in his pleasures on these innocent children. He glanced at Finnian to see the boy was petrified. 
He thinks to himself more and decides to do something different for the last boy. Vlad started to walk over to Finnian, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “And now, my sweet little fox,” he said, his voice a seductive purr, “it’s your turn.” 
Finnian’s eyes snapped to the demon, the last of his hope dying with his friend. Yet, there was something in Tyson’s gaze that gave him strength. A promise, unspoken but clear. The demon would not break his will. Vlad leaned down, his hand reaching out to caress the boy’s cheek. “Do not worry,” he whispered, “I shall be much kinder to you. I shall make sure your transition to the afterlife is pleasurable.” His hand trailed down to Finnian’s chest, his claws lightly tracing the outline of the boy’s nipple.

Finnian shivered, his heart racing. He had watched the horror unfold before him, the brutal rape and murder of his two best friends. That fear was a living thing inside him, a best that threatened to consume him whole. Yet, the memory of Tyson’s final moments gave him a strange, perverse resolve. He would fight, even if it meant enduring more pain.
The sergal’s touch was like ice on his fevered skin, a stark reminder of the fate that awaited him. Finnian closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He felt the creature’s hand move lower, the sharp claws lightly grazing his abdomen. He clenched his teeth, bracing for the worst.
But instead of pain, he felt a gentle pressure, the demon’s cock nudging against his side. Finnian’s eyes flew open in shock, finding the sergal’s gaze softened, almost tender. “You need not fear,” Vlad whispered his voice soothing balm over the raw wounds of their earlier torments. “I shall ease your passage into the beyond,” Vlad said as he used one hand to untie the boy’s hands. Finnian could not understand what was going on.
The demon’s hand moved to Finnian’s cock, stroking it lightly, eliciting a gasp from the boy. It was an odd sensation, the mix of fear and arousal, the knowing of what was to come, yet the gentle touch was so… unexpected. Finnian’s body responded involuntarily, his cock hardening despite the horror that had just transpired.
Vlad’s eyes searched Finnian’s, looking for any sign of consent or willingness to accept the fate he offered. Finnian felt a tear slip down his cheek, his mind racing with thoughts of escape, of fighting back, but his body was betraying him, succumbing to the demon’s touch. Vlad’s strokes grew bolder, his claws retracting to allow for a smoother, more sensual touch.
Finnian’s breath hitched, his eyes darting between his dead friends and the demon’s face, a silent plea for mercy. But mercy was not what the sergal had in mind. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Finnian’s ear, “Do you want to feel pleasure before you die?”

The question hung in the air, taunting the boy. Finnian’s mind reeled. Part of him wanted to scream, to beg for death, but another part, a darker, more primal part, was curious about the promise of pleasure amidst the pain. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper, “What… what do you mean?”
Before the sergal could answer, he swept the kitsune into his arms like a baby and brought the boy to the bed. He laid Finnian on his back and snapped his fingers for an enormous canopy with purple drapes covering the bed. This way, it blocks the boy’s view of his dead friends as Vlad gets on top of the kitsune.
Vlad’s smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I mean that I shall grant you a gift, Finnian,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “A final taste of the sweetness of life before you leave it behind.” His hand continued to work the boy’s cock. Finnian’s body responded despite his fear, his hips bucking involuntarily against the demon’s touch.
The sergal’s other hand moved to the bottle of lube, popping the cap with practiced ease. He coated his fingers, then leaned over the boy, his cock pressing against Finnian’s tight little asshole. “Relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against the boy’s skin. “Let me show you the beauty of the abyss.”
Finnian’s eyes squeezed shut as he felt the demon’s slick digits penetrate him, pushing inside with a gentle insistence that seemed to echo the demon’s words. The pressure grew, the stretching sensation a mix of discomfort and an odd, burgeoning excitement. His body responded to the creature’s touch, and it was all he could do to hold back a whimper.
Vlad’s breathing grew heavier, his strokes on Finnian’s cock growing more deliberate. The sensation of fullness grew as the demon’s fingers explored deeper, finding the spot that made the boy’s body quiver. Finnian felt a strange warmth spreading through him, a sensation that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to feel anything but fear and anger, yet he couldn’t deny the way his body was reacting to the demon’s ministrations.

With a final, gentle push, Vlad’s fingers were replaced by something much larger, something that stretched him to the brink of pain. Finnian’s eyes flew open, his mouth forming a silent scream as the demon’s cock began to invade him, inch by inch. The demon held him down firmly, whispering sweet nothing into his ear, promising a swift and painless end if he only allowed himself to feel the pleasure that was being offered.
Finnian’s mind was a tumult of emotions: fear, anger, and traitorous arousal that grew with each slow, deliberate thrust. He could feel the demon’s claws digging into the bed, the fabric shredding beneath them, as if the creature was holding back, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. The pain was intense, a white-hot blade slicing through him, but the rising tide of something else quickly swallowed it. Something that made him feel alive. 
He bit his lip, trying to fight the moan that bubbled up in his chest. He didn’t want to give the demon the satisfaction of hearing him enjoy this; he didn’t want to give in to the sick pleasure that was building inside him. Yet, the demon’s strokes grew more skilled, more demanding, and he couldn’t help but arch his back, pushing himself onto the creature’s cock.
The sergal watched him, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He knew he had the kitsune now; he knew that Finnian’s will was crumbling beneath the weight of his touch. He leaned down, his fangs grazing the soft flesh of Finnian’s neck, his breath hot and heavy. “Do you feel it?” he whispered, his voice a dark promise. “The sweetness of the void?”
Finnian’s eyes rolled back in his head as the demon’s cock slid in deeper, the pain giving way to something… more. He felt the creature’s power, the dark magic that pulsed through his veins, and he knew that he was lost. He was going to die here, in this hellish chamber, impaled on the demon’s cock.
But as the demon’s strokes grew faster, the pain began to morph into something else. It was a strange, twisted pleasure, one that made him feel alive in a way he never had before. The demon’s cock was like a living thing inside him, stretching him, filling him, claiming him. He could feel the creature’s excitement; his body trembled with each thrust, and his breathing grew more ragged.

Finnian’s hips began to move in rhythm with the demon’s, his body betraying him, seeking the release that was building deep within. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight the sensations that flooded through him, but it was no use. The demon’s cock hit that spot inside him, the one that made stars explode behind his eyes. The pleasure was unlike anything he had ever felt, a fierce, burning need that consumed him.
The demon’s eyes grew darker, his strokes more urgent. “That’s it, my sweet,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through Finnian’s soul. “Take it, take all of me.” His claws dug deeper into the bed, the fabric ripping and tearing as he fucked the boy with a fervor that bordered on madness.
Finnian’s moans grew louder, his body shaking with the force of each thrust. He could feel his orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to feel good, but his body was not his own. It responded to the demon’s touch with a hunger that terrified him. 
The kitsune felt the demon’s cock swell inside him, the pressure almost unbearable. His own orgasm was so close, the need to come to a desperate ache in his balls. The demon’s words played in his mind, taunting him, tempting him with the promise of ending this horror. And so, with a broken whimper, he did. He gave in to the dark pleasure that filled him, his body shuddering as he came, spilling his seed onto the demon’s hand and on his chest.
Vlad’s eyes widened in surprise at the boy’s sudden submission, his own climax following swiftly. He groaned, his cock pumping his hot seed into Finnian’s tight, quivering ass. The feeling of the boy’s tightness around him was exquisite, the power of his soul flooding into the demon like a river of molten gold. It had been so long since he had tasted suck purity, suck raw, unbridled life force. 

As his orgasm washed over him, Finnian’s body went limp, his breathing ragged and uneven. The room was filled with the sounds of the demon’s triumphant roar and the boy’s pitiful whimper. The scent of sex and fear mingled with the dust of the ancient chamber, a heady aphrodisiac that made Vlad’s head spin. He pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with lube and cum, a twisted smile playing on his lips.
The sergal leaned over Finnian, his hand still wrapped around the boy’s still-hard cock. He brought his face close to the fox, his breath a warm caress against the boy’s cheek. “Look at me,” he whispered, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of Finnian’s bones. Finnian’s eyes snapped open, filled with a mix of fear and resentment. Vlad’s lips captured Finnian’s in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, his fangs scraping against the boy’s lower lip. Finnian’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.
There was something in the demon’s touch that was soothing, a strange comfort amid the horror. His own body was still reeling from the orgasm that had been ripped from him, and he was acutely aware of the demon’s cock still buried deep inside him. The demon’s tongue darted out, licking the remnants of cum from Finnian’s skin, the action almost loving. Finnian felt a shiver run down his spine, a confusing mix of revulsion and desire. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, why he wasn’t just screaming in pain and fear. The demon’s eyes searched his, looking for something, and Finnian realized with a sinking feeling that he had given the creature exactly what it wanted: his submission.
Vlad pulled out of the fox gently, his cock still hard and slick. He sat back on the bed, his muscular frame starkly contrasting Finnian’s slender form. The demon’s eyes never left his eyes, and Finnian felt a strange sense of vulnerability. He was naked, both physically and emotionally, in front of this creature that had just violated him in the most intimate way possible.
“Come,” Vlad said softly, patting his thigh. “Sit with me.”

Finnian’s legs trembled as he obeyed, the demon’s words echoing in his head. He perched on the edge of the demon’s lap, feeling the creature’s warmth seep into his skin, his body still shaking from the tumult of emotions. Vlad’s arms wrapped around him, surprisingly gentle. “Now, my dear Finnian,” the demon said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through the room. “Do you have any questions for me before we proceed?” His eyes searched Finnian’s, a hint of amusement in their depths.
Finnian’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the twisted kindness offered him. “What… what is heaven like?” he finally managed to ask, his voice shaking. It was all he could think of, a desperate grasp at the fading hope of salvation.
Vlad’s smile grew wider, his eyes lit with a strange warmth. “Ah, heaven,” he murmured, stroking Finnian’s head. “It is a place of endless beauty, where the sun always shines, and the angels sing sweet lullabies. The air is filled with the scent of roses and the gentle coo of doves. It is a place of peace and love where souls are free from the pain of the mortal world.” His words painted a picture so vivid that Finnian could almost believe it was real.
The demon leaned back, cradling the boy in his arms. “There are fields of gold and rivers of sweet, cool water,” he continued his voice a hypnotic lullaby. The food is like nothing you’ve ever tasted, and there is no hunger or thirst. You will be surrounded by loved ones, and every day celebrates life and joy.”
Finnian’s eyes searched the demon’s eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all he found was a strange sincerity. He took a shaky breath, his heart racing. “Can you… can you tell me more?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Vlad chuckled, his grip on the boy tightening slightly. “Of course,” he said, his voice soft. “In heaven, there is no sadness, no pain, only joy and contentment. The angels will embrace you, and you will feel their warmth, their love. They will guide you to a place where you will be reunited with all those you have lost, and you will live in harmony with the gods themselves.”

Finnian’s breath hitched as he listened to the demon’s words, his heart racing with desperate hope. “Can… can I die now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “Please, make it fast.” Vlad’s smile grew softer, his eyes seeming to hold a genuine warmth that sent a shiver down Finnian’s spine. “Of course, my little fox,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “Your end shall be swift and painless, as you wish.”
With surprising gentleness, the demon’s large hands cradled Finnian’s head, his grip firm but not painful. Finnian felt the warmth of the demon’s breath against his ear as he leaned closer. “But before you go,” the demon whispered, his voice a seductive murmur, “there’s something you should know.”
Finnian’s heart raced, his body tensing in anticipation of the end. He didn’t dare to hope for a reprieve, but the demon’s tone was different. It was almost tender. “What?” he managed to croak out, his voice hoarse from crying and fear.
Vlad leaned closer; his breath warm against Finnian’s ear. “The truth,” he whispered, “is that you and your friends… you will all wake up in heaven.”
Finnian’s eyes went wide with shock, the words sinking in like a cool balm over the scalding horror of his situation. The demon’s grip on his head remained firm but gentle, the promise in his voice soothing the boy’s trembling soul. Finnian’s heart pounded in his chest, hope warring with fear. He didn’t dare to believe the demon, but their words sounded so sincere. “But… but we’re being sacrificed,” he stammered, his voice shaking.
The sergal chuckled, his grip on Finnian’s head unwavering. “Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes glinting with something that might have been mirth. “But sacrifices are just a way for mortals to appease their fears, to think they have control over the uncontrollable. In truth, you and your friend's souls were never meant for me nor the underworld.”

Finnian’s eyes searched the demon’s eyes, looking for any hint of deceit, but all he found was a strange sort of kindness. It was a kindness that didn’t quite fit with the monstrous creature that had just taken his innocence, but he clung to it, nonetheless. “Does… does that mean we’ll be together again?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Vlad’s smile grew, his eyes gleaming with something that might have been affection. “Yes,” he murmured. You will all be together again in a place of endless beauty and peace.” Finnian felt a strange calm wash over him, the fear and anger dissipating like mist in the morning sun. He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the demon’s embrace. The feeling of the creature’s strong arms around him was almost comforting.
“But… why?” Finnian managed to whisper; his voice was barely audible. “Why are you being kind to me?” Vlad’s smile grew, his eyes filled with something unreadable. “Because, my sweet little fox,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress, “you remind me of someone I once knew.”
With those words, he leaned down and whispered the secret about the contract that would change everything. Finnian felt a strange warmth flood through him, a sense of peace that seemed to wash away the horror of the night. The demon’s hands remained gentle on his head; his grip was firm but not painful.
Finnian’s heart raced as the demon’s words sank in. He didn’t know if he could trust this creature, but the thought of seeing Conner and Tyson, again, in a place of peace and joy, was too tempting to resist. He took a deep breath, his body relaxing slightly in the demon’s embrace.
“Fast and painless,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.” Vlad’s eyes searched Finnian’s, the flame of power flickering in their depths. “As you wish,” he said, his tone a gentle rumble. In a swift, practiced motion, the demon turned Finnian’s head with a sharp twist. The boy’s eyes went wide for a brief moment, then the light in them faded. The sound of bones cracking was the only evidence of the violence that had just occurred, the room otherwise silent except for the demon’s soft chuckle. The kitsune was dead, as the sergal made sure by checking for a pulse and found none.

Vlad laid Finnian’s lifeless body on the bed, his hands moving with a surprising tenderness to arrange the boy’s hands to rest on the body. He took a moment to admire the peaceful expression that had settled on the boy’s face, a stark contrast to the agony and fear that had contorted it just moments before. The demon felt a twinge of something akin to regret, but it was quickly swallowed by the satisfaction of a job well done.
As Finnian’s soul slipped free from the confines of his mortal shell, it took the form of a radiant orb, pulsing with a bright light that could have outshone the sun. Two equally brilliant orbs emerged from Conner and Tyson's bodies, floating in the air around Vlad. Each soul had a few dark splotches, remnants of the sins they had committed in life with the fear and anger they had felt in their final moments.
Vlad watched with a curious eye; his demonic nature drawn to the purity of their spirits. He reached out a long, forked tongue and delicately licked at the dark spots on Conner’s orb. The boy’s essence quivered, and the darkness retreated, leaving only a shimmering, golden light behind. The demon found it oddly satisfying, the way the fear and pain melted away under his touch.
Next, he took Tyson’s orb in his clawed hand, its light casting a warm glow on his face. He swiped his tongue over the areas stained by the boy’s rebellion, and with each pass, the darkness diminished, revealing a fierce determination within. It was a trait that had intrigued him earlier, and as he licked away the shadows, he couldn’t help but admire the strength of the boy’s soul.
Finally, he turned his attention to Finnian’s soul, the smallest of the three and most complex. The demon’s eyes narrowed as he tasted the layers of fear and doubt, the lingering remnants of the pain he had just inflicted. He took his time, savoring the sweetness of the boy’s innocence, the light that had stoned through even in the face of the darkest moments. His tongue danced over the surface, the darkness retreating until only a pure, shimmering light remained.

Vlad leaned back, the three souls hovering before him, each a beacon of hope. He couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. These boys had been more than mere sacrifices; they had been his entertainment, his challenge, and ultimately, his conquests. And now, they would ascend to the realm they had been promised.
“Conner,” he said, his voice echoing in the silent chamber, “your faith was unshakeable, even in the face of the abyss. It is a trait that will serve you well in the halls of the divine.” He reached out with one hand and touched the glowing orb that had been Conner. The light grew brighter momentarily, the boy’s soul basking in the demon’s praise.
“Tyson,” he continued, his gaze shifting to the second orb, “your spirit was like a wildfire, untamed and fierce. You fought with valor that would make even the mightiest demon’s weep. In heaven, you will find a place where that strength is cherished.” The light within Tyson’s soul flickered with an intensity that seemed to acknowledge the demon’s words, a silent nod of understanding. 
Finally, he turned to Finnian’s essence. “And you, Finnian,” he murmured, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Your purity was like a beacon in the darkness. Watching you struggle, seeing your soul shine brighter with every touch of despair was a delight. In the realms above, you will be a beacon for those who need guidance.”
With a wave of his hand, the three orbs shot upwards, leaving trails of light in their wake as they ascended to the heavens. The demon watched them go with a strange feeling in his chest, one that was almost akin to pride. He had taken their innocence, but he had also given them something precious: a swift and painless passage to the afterlife, free from the torments of the underworld.
Vlad stood, his powerful legs flexing as he rose from the bed. He reached down and picked up his loincloth, sliding it back into place around his waist with a smooth, practiced motion. The fabric clung to his still-hard cock, a testament to the pleasure he had taken from the boys. He took a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Then, he decided he needed to get back to work.

With a snap of his fingers, he conjured a shimmering portal, the edges of it flickering like candle flames. The demon walked over to Conner’s body, his eyes lingering on the boy’s still form for a moment before he bent down and lifted the lifeless weight into his arms. He carried the boy over to the portal, Conner’s head lolling against his chest. With a gentle but firm touch, he placed the boy inside the swirling mass of light, watching as the flesh and bone vanished. The same was done with Tyson and Finnian, each nestled within the portal.
Each boy was laid out on their backs, arms folded over their chests, as if in peaceful slumber. The portal hummed with power, the light dancing over their forms, preserving them in a state of eternal youth. It was a strange sight, a testament to the demon’s twisted sense of mercy. Now, Vlad can preserve them and use their corpses anytime he wants.
With a wave of his hand, the portal vanished, leaving no trace of the event that had just transpired. The room was once again nothing but a stark, empty space, the large bed and the chair the only indications that anything had ever happened.
Vlad looked around, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He had kept his end of the bargain, and the village would reap the rewards of their sacrifice. The demon had no doubt that the villagers would soon forget the price they had paid, their fear and desperation replaced by the comfort of a bountiful harvest and good health. It was a cycle as old as time, and he reveled in his role as the bringer of despair and relief.
In the quiet of the night, Vlad returned to the village. The air outside was cool and crips, the smell of the earth mingling with the distant scent of rain. As he approached, he could feel the change in the energy. The crops were no longer withered and lifeless; they stood tall and proud, their leaves a vibrant green that seemed to pulse with life. The once-still air was alive with the whispers of the wind through the fields, a promise of plenty to come.

Chief Bram waited for him at the edge of the village, his eyes haunted by what he had allowed to happen. Vlad could see the regret etched into every line of the man’s face, the weight of his decision like a millstone around his neck. But as the demon stepped out of the shadows, the Chief’s expression shifted, the relief palpable.
“It is done,” Vlad said, his voice a low rumble.
Chief Bram nodded; his eyes cast downward. The night’s events were too much to bear, the weight of his decision pressing down on his soul. He had sacrificed three of his own to a creature of the night, and now he had to live with the consequences. The sheep goes to bed, hoping that tomorrow will be better.
The village of Elara stirred with new life the following morning, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the fields that had once been barren. The crops had grown overnight, reaching towards the heavens as if in gratitude for their salvation. The once-sickly livestock grazed contentedly, their coats shining and their eyes bright with health. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoming flowers and the distant sound of laughter as children played without care, their youth restored and cured of the disease that was inflicting them.
Chief Bram walked through the bustling marketplace, his eyes scanning the faces of his villagers. They were all smiles and cheerful greetings, the worries of the previous weeks, months, and years erased like the night’s shadows by the dawn’s light. He knew he had made a pact with a creature of darkness, but the evidence of the demon’s power was undeniable. The village had been granted a new lease on life, a gift brought with the innocence of three young boys.
Vlad watched from the shadows, a smug grin on his face. The demon revealed the power he wielded; fear and desperation had driven the mortals to bargain with him. It was a dance as old as time, and he was always eager to lead. He knew Bram would struggle with his conscience, but that was the price of power. Wasn’t it? It's too bad Bram didn’t read the entire contract before signing. The sacrifices are only for Vlad’s entertainment. The actual price is three adult souls that he will receive after their deaths. Vlad had chosen the chief and two other adults whose souls were so dark they would never see heaven. They might as well feed him and be tormented in his gut for all eternity.
The sergal’s thoughts returned to the present, his eyes focusing on the three lifeless forms on the grand, velvet-covered bed. The room was bathed in a soft, crimson light, casting an eerie glow across Tyson’s muscular body, Conner’s peaceful expression, and Finnian’s serene features. Despite the horror of their fates, they looked almost angelic in their final rest. The scent of sex and death lingered in the air, a potent cocktail that sent a thrill through his being. 
Vlad felt a primal urge surge through him, a hunger that their fear and pain hadn’t fully satiated. He stepped closer to the bed, his cock growing hard once more at the thought of another act of dominance. The sergal is fully naked at this point and ready to get started. His massive frame loomed over the boys, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the last vestiges of their mortal lives.
He started with Tyson, the rebellion in his eyes still haunting the demon’s thoughts. The boy’s body was limp, the life force drained from it, but that didn’t matter to Vlad. He grabbed Tyson’s legs and spread them wide, admiring his muscles and body. With a single thrust, he impaled the corpse, the cold, unyielding flesh giving way to his burning need. The demon groaned, his hips pumping in a rhythm that had nothing to do with love or tenderness. It was a raw, savage claim, a reminder of his power over them even in death.
As Vlad fucks Tyson’s dead body, he feels the firm inner walls wrapping around his cock. The demon admires this and the boy’s athletic body as he stares into his beautiful, unseeing eyes. He admired the defiance that boy gave him as it still lingered in the otherwise vacant stare. Vlad did not care, as fucking his body was terrific.
The sound of his flesh slapping against Tyson’s filled the room, a macabre counterpoint to the gentle whispers of the breeze that played outside the shuttered windows. His eyes locked on the unseeing gaze of the boy, and he felt a twisted thrill at the thought of the defiance that had once burned so brightly in those eyes. Now, all that was left was a dull emptiness, a testament to his victory. He picked up his pace, his claws digging into the bedposts as he drove himself deeper into the lifeless body. The room was filled with the scent of death and sex, a heady mix that only served to fuel his desire. 

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, Vlad climaxed. His seed spilled into Tyson’s corpse and filled the boy up. He felt momentary satisfaction, a fleeting victory over the mortal coil. But even as he pulled out, the feeling faded, leaving only the cold emptiness of his soul. He moved to Conner next, his eyes lingering on the boy’s still-erect cock. He had enjoyed watching fear and pleasure on the boy’s face, how he had clung to his beliefs even in the face of unspeakable horror. Now, he would claim that purity for himself.
With a snarl, he mounted Conner’s body, his cock sliding into the warm, lifeless cavern of the boy’s ass. The demon’s hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his eyes never leaving the slack expression on Conner’s face. The feeling of the dead boy’s flesh beneath him was both exhilarating and strangely saddening. He had enjoyed the fight in the other two, the way they had struggled and resisted, but Conner had been different. He had accepted his fate with a quiet grace that had unnerved the demon.
As he fucked the corpse, he reached down and took one of Conner’s feet in his hand. His sharp teeth grazed the soft skin; the toes curled slightly as he brought it to his mouth. He sucked on the boy’s toe, his tongue swirling around it with a surprising gentleness. It starkly contrasted with the brutal act he was committing, a perverse parody of affection that made him feel powerful. He switched to the other foot, his cock still pumping in and out of the cold, unresponsive body.
The taste of Conner’s foot was unexpectedly sweet, like the scent of innocence itself. However, the flavor was quickly overwhelmed by the metallic tang of death that lingered in the air, a bitterness that only served to excite him further. He took the entire foot into his mouth, his tongue dancing over the arch and the heel, savoring the feel of tender flesh. Each suck and lick seemed to echo through the room, a twisted serenade to the god of the underworld.

Conner’s body lay still beneath him, a silent partner in this final act of desecration. The demon’s hips ground into the lifeless flesh, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his first orgasm. He felt a strange kinship with the boy, a bond formed in the crucible of fear and pain. As he fucked the cold corpse, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Conner would have become. Would he have continued to serve his god with that same unwavering devotion, or would the horrors of this night have broken him?
The demon’s eyes closed as he lost himself in the rhythm, the sensation of Conner’s cold toes in his mouth and the feel of the boy’s ass around his cock sending waves of pleasure through his body. The room was a symphony of death, each sound and scent a note that played to his darkest desires. He felt his orgasm building again, a crescendo of power that seemed to resonate within the very fabric of the room.
With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his cum spilling into the boy’s body like a dark offering. His climax was a shout to the heavens, a declaration of his dominance over life and death. He pulled out, his cock glistening with the mixture of life and decay, and moved to the final boy, Finnian. The youngest of the three, his body was as pure as his white snow fur.
Vlad lay on the bed, his muscular frame sprawling across the velvet, and pulled Finnian onto his chest. The boy’s head lolled back, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. With surprising tenderness, the demon kissed the soft, cold flesh of Finnian’s neck, his fangs grazing the skin. He whispered sweet nothings into the boy’s ear as if he were a lover trying to coax him into passion. The irony was not lost on him; in a twisted way, he had become all three of their firsts: their first lover, their first taste of pleasure, and their last sight before he killed them.
Finnian’s legs fell open naturally, and Vlad slid his cock into the boy’s cold, tight hole. The contrast between the warmth of his own flesh and the chill of the corpse was a thrill that sent shivers down his spine. He began to move with a gentle rhythm, his powerful thighs flexing with each thrust. It was a far cry from the brutal ravaging he had given Tyson, a silent testament to the complex tapestry of emotions that had played out in the single night.

The demon leaned in, pressing his mouth to the boy’s, his tongue probing the still-warm depths of the mortal’s mouth. He felt the ghost of the boy’s spirit lingering, a faint echo of the purity that had once dwelled within. The kiss grew more profound and urgent as if by claiming the boy’s lips, he could somehow claim that purity for himself. His hips picked up speed, the sound of their bodies together a morbid echo of the passion they had shared in life.
The sergal’s clawed hands roamed over Finnian’s body, tracing the contours of his ribs and the softness of his belly. He felt the boy’s heart, cold and still, beneath his fingertips, a stark reminder of the life he had taken. Yet even in death, the boy’s body responded to his touch, the muscles contracting around his cock in a mockery of pleasure. This was because Vlad infused his dark magic into the corpse. It was a dance of death and desire, a final, twisted embrace that sent shudders of pleasure through the demon’s core.
Finnian’s body was limp, but the demon’s passion was anything but. Vlad’s movements grew more frantic, his hips bucking wildly as he drove himself deeper into the corpse. The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before, a strange mix of coldness and heat that seemed to ignite every nerve ending in his body. The scent of death was thick in the air, a heady perfume that only served to drive him closer to the edge of ecstasy.
With a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality. Vlad reached his climax, his seed spurting into the lifeless body of the boy. The sensation was like a mix of pleasure and power that seemed to surge through him like a raging river. He continued to kiss Finnian, his tongue delving into the boy’s mouth, exploring every last inch.
Finally, the demon pulled back, his eyes meeting the unseeing gaze of the child he had just claimed. Something in that gaze haunted him, a spark of life that even death had not managed to extinguish. He tenderly brushed the hair from Finnian's face, his clawed fingers lingering on the soft skin. He felt a strange, alien emotion well up within him, something he had not felt in eons. It was a feeling that was a mix of regret and a strange, perverted form of affection.

With a sigh, he pulled the boy closer, cradling him in his arms as if he were a living child needing comfort. The demon's breathing slowed, and the room grew quiet once more, the only sounds the fading whispers of the night outside. He lay there, holding the cold, lifeless body, feeling the slow thump of his own heart in his chest. It was a rhythm that seemed to mock the boy's stillness in his arms, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night's events.
Vlad felt a strange warmth spread through him, a sensation that was not of the flesh but of something more profound. It was as if the purity of Finnian's soul was seeping into him, filling the void that had existed in his heart for so long. The demon's eyes grew heavy, and he found himself drifting into a slumber he had not known for centuries. His arms tightened around the boy as if afraid that the warmth would leave him if he let go.
The room grew quiet; the only sound was the distant rumble of thunder that promised the coming storm. The red light flickered and dimmed as the demon's breathing grew deep, and even his chest's rise and fall was the stillness's only movement. Finnian's body remained limp. Yet, in the demon's arms, there was a peace that neither of them had known in life or death.
The storm broke outside, the rain pounding against the windows as if trying to wash away the sins that had been committed within. The thunder grew louder, a cacophony of rage that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. Yet, in the center of it all, the demon and the boy remained a tableau of calm, a stark juxtaposition of life and the aftermath of destruction.