(Note for those who skipped the gross parts: At the end of Chapter 7, Ishiar is chained up in a metal rack with wheels on it, being paraded around town with her panties full of dookie. Hey, I told you demons were like that.)

It had been several hours since Ishiar's little "accident." Belaphonne's two slaves had simply kept wheeling her around, letting the sludge in her panties mush around the whole time. She did not recieve any respite until the group began to approach an enormous colliseum. Belaphonne turned to the three girls and wrinkled her nose, motioning to Slaza. "Get her cleaned up. We can't attend the circus with her being so offensive."

Ishiar had a few choice words to say about "being offensive" herself, but she didn't get a chance to say them as Wrin was already wheeling her away. She took her to a nearby bathhouse, slipped a few coins to the caretaker and took Ishiar to a secluded shower stall. At long last, Ishiar felt her overwhelmingly soiled panties being peeled off--it felt like her hips could breathe again. Wrin simply tossed the panties onto a passing cart filled with foul-smelling laundry, some of which was--terrifyingly--almost as filthy. The girl pushing the cart--another slave, by the look of it--simply nodded absent-mindedly and kept going.

A hot stream of water hit Ishiar in the chest. Wrin hadn't bothered to unchain her from the wheeled rack that was holding her upright, but was instead washing her off with her own two hands. She was gentle but efficient, scrubbing Ishiar down with water first, then with soap. She avoided touching the truly grossified parts until the water had mostly washed them clean, but once that happened, she gave them a thorough working over that turned out to be quite an eye-opener. Her hands rubbed vigorously up and down Ishiar's hips, thighs, and even her sex. She even felt a few fingers going up her ass, plunging it clean.

Ishiar wasn't sure whether to be humiliated, grateful, or just vaguely turned on. She decided to just keep her mouth shut.

After the shower, Wrin placed some clean cotton panties and a robe on Ishiar, then wheeled her back out to the front of the bathhouse where a few well-dressed slaves gave them both a gentle spray of perfume. Then it was back on the bumpy road towards the colliseum. They found Belaphonne standing just outside the enormous main gates, conversing with several other demonesses. She gave Ishiar a sniff and a smile.

"Ah, much better," she said. "You're quite fortunate you accompanied me shopping today; you get to see the show. Come along, it starts soon, and I don't want to miss a thing! You never know how abruptly they might end!"

Ishiar thought better than to contemplate this as they began to wheel her up a circular ramp that led around the colliseum. The black statues that seemed to saturate the massive arena were different from the ones she had seen in Kikagonroth. Instead of sculptures of succubuses with bulging bellies, this one had girls in the process of being devoured alive by all manner of beasts; winged snakes, giant worms, nagas, drakes, and many inhuman creatures Ishiar had never even heard of before.

Belaphonne continued chatting with her demoness friend as they walked; a skinny demoness with blue skin and a high-pitched, almost squealing laugh. She also had a slave with her, though she was dressed quite a bit differently--while Belaphonne's slaves were wearing robes, this one had a shining golden bikini, a jeweled tiara, and for all intents and purposes looked like a princess. Only the collar around her neck betrayed that she belonged to the lithe demoness next to her.

Some minutes later the group were taking seats not far from the Arena floor. Belaphonne, not wanting to take Ishiar's awkward metal rack through the benches, had finally taken her out of it and was now content with leading her around on a chain leash, her arms and legs manacled together. Ishiar was still surprised that Slaza and Wrin never tried to run, even though neither of them were bound in any way she could see.

Sitting on the hard stone of the colliseum bench was blessed relief for Ishiar, who had been upright in the rack the entire day. She allowed herself the luxury of slouching and, for a moment at least, let herself stop thinking about how much she needed to escape.

They waited there for several uneventful minutes before a loud voice boomed through the colliseum.

"Esteemed denizens of Slobberfang, welcome one again to the finest arena in Faneglut! I am your hostess, Lorna Lemondrop, letting you know that we have got one hell of a show for you today! Who says Matinees can't be good? Not me, by golly! And speaking of golly, she's cute as a dolly and sweet as a lolly, please welcome our up and coming hometown Molly, Molistra Featherheaaaaaart!"

Ishiar looked over to an iron portcullis that was being raised on one side of the arena. A girl stepped out of it--she was blonde, moderately built, with ruby red lips and smooth, light skin. She reminded Ishiar of the Girlyburps, and looked quite out of place, especially with the fact that the trim on her leather armor was forged to look like a heart. She had a steel broadsword in one hand, a small metal shield in the other, and didn't seem very excited about the cheers she was getting from the crowd--in fact, she was looking around quite pensively, as if she was trying to hide her fear--or stifle it.

The voice of Lorna, the very spritely announcer, started again. "Always a crowd favorite, that Molly is as adorable as she is deadly, but today she's gonna have a hard one. Ladies and gentlemen, the terror, the legend, coming out of retirement after it's fifth resurrection, the one and only Gaaaargmaaaaaawwww!"

A portcullis on the opposite side of the arena lifted and a huge, bestial worm appeared, thrashing against the chains that were only barely being held onto by four muscle-bound Thaegons. It was easily four times the length of a girl, and three times the girth. It had warts on it's leathery hide the size of knuckles.

Ishiar was too far away to hear, but she could see Molistra gasp. Her face became pale.

"This one will be worth the price of the popcorn, I guarantee!" Lorna said. "So far Molly's lived through everything we've thrown at her, but let's be real, this is Gargmaw we're talking about here...not exactly a walk in the park..."

The four Thaegons retreated behind the lowering portcullis before letting go of the chains, freeing the terrifying worm. It growled to itself in a beastial, gutteral tone, hissing and thrashing it's head back and forth. Long tendrils of spittle followed the edges of it's leathery head as it's mouth opened and closed like a fist.

Molistra Featherheart, despite being on the other side of the arena, dropped into combat stance.

"Well, good luck, Molly! I'll see you in the winner's circle, or in the corner of Gargmaw's stable, whichever!"

The demons in the audience actually laughed. Then there was a tense quiet. Gargmaw's gutteral growls and the rankling chains on his body were all that could be heard as he shuffled about the sandy floor of the arena. Molistra simply stood still, eyes wide and face pale, watching for the inevitable attack.

Gargmaw's head slowly pitched back and forth, almost as though it were sniffing--or listening. There was another gutteral sound, like a bark, or a belch. It turned towards the portcullis, then towards the nearest audience members.

"She's over here!" one of the demonesses in the audience yelled.

Molistra took a panicked step back, her ankle hitting the stone edge of the arena. Gargmaw snarled loudly, but did not approach her--it still seemed more interested in the audience. It quickly shuffled over to the wall of the arena, tracing along as if it were a hill or mountain it was trying to bypass.

Suddenly it leapt upward, thrashing itself against the wall of the arena, it's giant maw snapping as it did so. The demoness closest to it fell back in her bench--though Gargmaw had barely gotten it's lips over the top of the arena wall, it had still been enough to startle her.

Gargmaw leapt again, with a similar result, futilely throwing itself against the arena wall.

"Looks like our two lovers need a little encouragement," the announcer said. "Time to send in the key!"

A point of bright yellow light descended into the arena and settled between Gargmaw and the gate he had come from. As the light faded, Ishiar realized it was a large golden key.

"Come on, Molly, just get that key and you're scott free!"

Molistra was clearly hesitant, but with Gargmaw busy trying to get to meals he obviously couldn't get to, she apparently felt sneaking around the opposite side of the arena might give her a shot at survival. She carefully and quietly circled the arena even as Gargmaw circled in the same direction, trying to find some part of the wall he could get up.

She was only about ten yards from the key when Gargmaw started circling the other way, back towards her. She was very close to the gate--if she could run over and snatch the key, she might be able to make it back before Gargmaw caught her. The problem was, he was almost as close to the key as she was--if he kept coming closer and she kept sneaking, they'd reach it at the same time. And that was assuming it didn't smell or hear her before then.

Molistra gulped and sheathed her sword. It was now or never.

Sprinting as fast as she could, Molistra covered the distance to the key in seconds, kicking up a wake of dust as she did so. She skidded to a halt as her hand wrapped around the key and was already picking herself back up and running the other way by the time she heard the bestial roar that meant that Gargmaw had found his prey. Her hand had just barely touched the oversized lock on the portcullis when Gargmaw charged forward and smashed her. Her arm hit the bars hard, knocking the key out of her hand and spinning her as she flew several yards across the arena. She hit the ground with a crunch and a puff of dirt, bolting to her feet and looking frantically for the key.

She sighed with relief as she spotted it just underneath the lock--then bit her lip when she saw Gargmaw looming over it, getting ready to strike. She had only a split second to recognize the attack before it came; Gargmaw's toothy mouth shot towards her and she jumped back, flipping in midair and landing awkwardly on her ankle. She fell on her butt and spent a few moments frantically scrambling backwards before getting back to her feet. Gargmaw's head lurched towards her again, but she sidestepped, hearing a dull crunch as Gargmaw's face hit the side of the arena. It roared with anger just as Molistra drew her sword and leapt to the attack. She swiped at it's neck, but it drew away and all she struck was air. It turned toward her and snapped again. She stumbled back and reflexively raised her shield, which turned out to be a terrible mistake.

The worm's fleshy maw enveloped the shield and it's teeth caught around the edges. Molistra quickly braced herself against the edges of the worm's mouth to make sure it didn't instantly devour her. She gave the shield a yank but suddenly gasped as the shield, and the arm it was attached to, were sucked deeper into the worm's maw despite her strength. Her shoulder was now right up against the fleshy ridges that separated it's outer head from it's cavernous maw; she could smell the stink wafting from inside it and feel the warm slime all over her arm. She pulled with all her might but the shield was still caught against the worm's hook-like teeth, and if it was pulled any deeper she'd go right along with it. She tried frantically to wriggle her arm out from the shield's strap, but she'd put it on tight to make sure it didn't get knocked away during the fight. She suddenly found herself cursing that decision as the terrible yet imminent possibility of going down the worm's throat beat down on her.

Screaming with fear, she let go of the worm's head and plunged her broadsword into it's throat, slashing the straps to her shield clean off of her. With a dribble of glop she fell to the ground, springing to her feet as the worm eagerly swallowed her former possession. It quickly realized, however, that the meat it had been attached to had escaped. It growled and moved again, but this time it swept around Molistra almost like a snake preparing to encoil it's prey. She spun around, doing her best to keep track of it's head until she felt it's enormous body slam into her back. She was knocked forward just as the creature's maw opened wider than she had ever seen--at it's full size it was almost as big around as she was tall.

She knew she couldn't regain her footing--she was way too off-balance. Screaming, she did the first thing she could think of--she grabbed the top of it's leathery lips and pulled herself upward. This gave her just enough upward momentum to get a foot atop it's head, which she used to leap past it's mouth even as it's flaplike lips closed behind her.

Half of the crowd cheered, the other half booed.

She landed on the worm itself, which started thrashing beneath her. She wrapped her arms and legs around it like a giant oak tree, hoping that it couldn't swallow her so long as she was on it's back.

That lasted about as long as it took for Gargmaw to realize it could leap up into the air and intentionally land on her.

The impact was crushing--for a second the whole world seemed to blink out, and it took several moments for Molistra to stagger back to her feet after Gargmaw got off of her. She was dazed and barely managed to roll out of the way of a tail attack that would have crushed her a second time. Gargmaw's attacks were coming faster now, like it had lost his patience with this prey. Molistra leapt this way and that, swiping with her sword, scoring occaisional hits--but none of them seemed to slow the worm, which to Molistra's eyes was only growing all the larger and more terrifying for it's anger.

She held her own against the seemingly invincible beast until a chance opportunity allowed her to bury her sword up to it's hilt in the back of it's neck. Any lesser monster would have died instantly from such a crippling attack, but Gargmaw simply whipped it's head forward, flinging Molistra over the top of it's head. To her horror, she felt it's fangs biting into her legs as the warm flesh of it's maw wrapped around them. It's wart-ridden lips were now flush with her thighs.

Her fingers clenched as hard as they could around the handle of her sword as she fought the inevitable swallow. The worm's teeth pulled her backward as it's rippling muscles and saliva tried to coax her down gently. She actually felt her own blade brushing against her legs as they disappeared into the worm's mouth. She gasped and clenched her teeth, pulling with all her might as she tried to pull even an inch of her legs free of Gargmaw's clenched mouth. She felt it's teeth giving slightly, almost like the gums beneath were stretching, but just as she thought she might be able to yank herself free, there was another terrifying swallow. The teeth pierced and pulled on her like tiny fingers, hooking her and pulling her deeper.

The crowd was all riled up now, cheering like they'd never seen anything like this. Even Belaphonne, who had made a big show of her boredom for the first half of the fight, seemed interested.

Ishiar only stood and stared in shock. She could feel nothing but empathy for the poor girl in front of her, now swallowed almost up to her ribcage. She wanted to run out there, to help her, and fuck whatever odds there may have been.

"Belaphonne," Ishiar said, "Let go of my leash."

Belaphonne took a moment to respond, as she had been raptly watching. "Slave! This is the best part!"

"Let me go! I want to help her!"

Belaphonne scowled. "Rutta, I didn't pay thirty stones for you so I could feed you to the theatre."

"I don't care what you paid thirty stones for--"

Ishiar's breath caught in her throat. Something was happening with Gargmaw. It was making strange noises again, but this time, they were even more gutteral than before--almost wet. Seconds later, a thin spray of gooey, translucent orange glop erupted from Gargmaw's throat, soaking Molistra's body before dripping into the earth.

"Wha--what the hell is it doing?" Ishiar asked, dumbfounded.

"It's digesting her, of course." Belaphonne said absent-mindedly. "Since the poor dear can't seem to get it's meal into it's stomach, it figures it will just digest it where it is."

"Let me help her!"

"Oh, she's beyond help, slave." Belaphonne said. "Gargmaw doesn't give up her prizes. That gladiator would do well to simply accept her destiny and slide down it's throat quietly."

Suddenly, Gargmaw started wretching violently. More sprays of liquid came, along with harsh, forceful swallows. Molistra was swallowed up to her face now, only her arms clenching desperately to the sword that was her only chance of survival. Ishiar realized she could see her face--her teeth were clenched and her eyes were pinched shut. A despairing look had come over her.

Suddenly Belaphonne stood up. "Someone pry that girl's hands off and let's be done with it!"

Gargmaw actually seemed to react to this. It charged towards Belaphonne, leaping as it had before, smashing itself into the arena wall. Ishiar suddenly bolted forward, her leash momentarily forgotten by her master. Just as Gargmar's head crested the rail of the audience Ishiar dove forward.

In a moment that seemed to last forever, Gargmaw's massive head turned towards her. It's impact against the wall had finally broken Molistra's hold on her sword. Things moved in slow motion as Ishiar reached towards Molistra's hands. Miraculously, the other girl's eyes opened and for one moment, they saw each other face to face, ooze dripping down Molistra's cheeks as they became hidden bit by bit by folds in the worm's throat. Gravity began to pull Gargmaw down once more and Ishiar felt her leash pull tight--her fingers pulled away from Molistra's.

She remembered screaming, in anger, frustration, and grief. Not just for this stranger, but for everyone she hadn't been able to save.

Then, with a slap, time returned to normal.

Several slaps, really. Belaphonne was pretty much giving her the pimp workover and screaming her usual obscenities.

Ishiar barely even noticed over what had just happened.

"Well well, folks!" the Announcer started. "That was one delectible piece of bravery! I will say that that is one Ballsy Mollsy! For a minute it almost looked like she was gonna take the title! Ol' Gargizzy is sure to be happy with that special morsel, yes sir! And they say matinees are boring!"

Belaphonne finished her rant and turned to her other slaves. Ishiar simply watched as the Thaegons recaptured Gargmaw. She could see where Molistra was; a little bulge about halfway down it's length, shifting this way or that, out of sync with the worm's normal movements. Every so often it would bulge ever so slightly.

Ishiar couldn't help but think back to a few days ago. When Ushan had eaten her, she had been too confused and disoriented to be frightened. That and she really wasn't the frightened type. Yet once she'd gotten inside that belly, Ushan had told her that it would be wonderful--and it was.

Was Molistra discovering that? Was she terrified, kicking and wriggling in there, crying and helpless? Or was she rubbing her breasts and masturbating furiously? When the bulges and shudders got faster, was it because of the pain, or was it the pleasure?

The demons were all laughing. Did they just see this as a power trip? Was it a humiliation thing? Or did they really know something the rest of the world didn't?

"Rutta!"

Well, even if demons did have something going for them, it sure as hell wasn't Belaphonne.

"Yes," Ishiar said, biting her tongue to keep her from saying either "mistress?" or "bitch?" both of which she considered equally likely.

"I have more shopping to do, and my other slaves' arms are tired. Come along quickly and you might avoid further beating."

"You realize I won't care, right?"

"Please just carry the bags..." Wrin whispered, under Belaphonne's baleful glare.

*****

"Bend over the table, slave."

"Goddess, don't you people ever sleep?" Ishiar said, her voice dry. She'd been chained up or carrying things practically all day, and what she had experienced the night before could have been called many things but restful definately was not one of them.

"Rest is for those who obey," Belaphonne replied. "For you, there is something else."

Slaza and Wrin grabbed Ishiar and pinned her down to the rough wooden table. She was too tired to care at this point. She was thinking about just drifting off to sleep and letting Belaphonne do her thing, whatever it happened to be. She felt her panties being pulled down around her ankles. Okay, sure, they were going to pillage her flower. Whatever. She let her eyes close and relaxed, and the veil of sleep eagerly began to wash over her.

It was pulled away as quickly as it had come as they pried open her vaginal lips with their rough, meaty fingers. She winced a bit, but kept her eyes closed. Within a few moments she was already half asleep again. Something big, round and probably lubricated jammed it's way in there. It was uncomfortably large, stretching her privates to their bursting point just as she'd expected they would. She could feel little studs around it's surface as it began to slide in. She started to snore for a second before the stretching suddenly became painful--they'd shoved it in a bit further than she'd expected. Now would come the in and out action, ravaging her and all that...at least, that's what she expected. Instead, the thing, whatever it was, pushed even further into her. She couldn't help but squirm and lift her shoulders up at the sudden, powerful sensation of this thing pushing inside her.

She turned around, a clearly annoyed look on her face.

"Do you mind?" she said.

She caught a glimpse of the thing they were shoving into her--it looked like a dildo, but it was long and coiled, like a giant hose. To her surprise, none of them were touching it--it actually seemed to be inching itself into her of it's own accord. Belaphonne was simply standing back and admiring it's work.

It gave another painful shove into her--she felt a sharp cramp in her belly.

"Ergk--it doesn't go any deeper than that!" Ishiar grunted.

Belaphonne simply smiled. "Oh, my poor, stupid slave. It seems you're about to recieve a harsh anatomy lesson."

The wide, rubbery tip pushed into her hard. Her body clenched and she began to squirm; it was pushing so hard that it felt like her abdominal muscles were being stretched upward.

"No, seriously, it doesn't go any higher!"

"How typical that in your primitive world, girls would starve their flowers."

"What? I--OOOWWW!"

Ishiar clenched her teeth and started hyperventilating, the pain was so intense.

Suddenly something happened. The pain instantly washed away. She felt a powerful release and a wave of what almost felt like pleasure. The strange, snakelike dildo slid into her easily now, inch by inch smoothly disappearing inside.

Had it ripped it's way through her? It hadn't felt that way. It felt like something had just...opened up.

She could feel the strange, studded dildo slithering around in her belly. She could taste it's plastic surface. It was almost like it had opened up a second throat in her vagina and was now stuffing itself into her stomach.

She suddenly wondered if that wasn't exactly what had just happened.

"What exactly just happened?" she decided to ask.

"You humans really are savages, aren't you?" Belaphonne said. "I thought even barbarians knew that you could swallow things using your flower."

"You're thinking of Karis," Ishiar said.

"I'm tired of slapping you, slave, but I will say that you are not to correct me." Belaphonne said. Ishiar was surprised--she must have been wearing her down!

The strange dildo continued to worm it's way upward. Ishiar felt it reach the top of her stomach, then it began to push again.

"Oh crap...is this thing ever going to stop?" she asked.

Belaphonne said nothing. Ishiar felt her esophagal sphincter straining against the dildo as it pushed harder and harder, but in the end, the dildo overpowered it. The bottom of Ishiar's throat opened up and the bumpy dildo began to inch it's way up Ishiar's throat.

"Oh man, I really don't like wHHHGLK!!"

The rubbery end of the dildo emerged from her mouth, her lips stretched tightly around it. Incredibly, it just kept on moving, slithering out of her mouth before curling downwards. Placing it's tip on the table it suddenly gave a shove, flipping Ishiar onto her back and giving itself room to start slithering down her belly. Meanwhile, a small supply of it was still coiled on the floor, waiting to enter her flower which somehow still hadn't managed to become numb to it.

To her shock, she realized it was starting to feel really good--in fact, the bizarre sensation was almost incredible. Having the strange rubbery snake pushing it's way into her, writhing around in her belly, then all the way up her throat was stimulating her in so many places she felt like she was going to orgasm. This new sensation of having something travelling from her flower directly into her stomach was indescribable.

The tip of the dildo continued to inch it's way down her belly until it reached her flower again. Ishiar was almost afraid it was going to try to double-penetrate her. Instead, it waited patiently for the last of it's tail end to disappear behind the folds of her labia, then--without missing a beat--it began to shove itself in again. She soon had an unbroken chain of snakelike magical dildo working it's way all the way through her at all times. It became too much--with a squeal and the frenzied kicking of legs, Ishiar--against all her better judgement--had an enormous orgasm.

"Enjoy your new companion, slave, because she's going to be with you all night long." Belaphonne smiled wolfishly before getting up to leave. Stopping at the door, she turned to make one final comment. "Oh, and don't be surprised if it starts to get 'creative' after a few hours...I hope you have healthy bowels!"

"MRPH!?" Ishiar murfed in surprise as Belaphonne shut the door behind her.

*****

To say that Ishiar felt like she'd been run over by a truck almost seemed to give the metaphor too much credit. She felt like the truck had run over her, then backed up, then run over her again, then stuck her in between the pistons and driven to another continent. She'd been half comatose when Belaphonne's servants came into her quarters and removed the coiled dildo which had been snaking it's way in and out of her in a dozen different ways for hours and hours (it had even managed to hang her from the cieling at one point). Besides keeping her awake, it had given her orgasm after orgasm which was great at first, but after the eleventh or twelth it just made her all the more exhausted. Her flower now felt like it was made of pudding and her legs could barely keep themselves straight.

It was likewise an understatement to say that Ishiar had long since lost her ability to think straight, so when Belaphonne came in and told her it was time for her chores, she actually started doing them, without really knowing what they were.

For a while Belaphonne had her scrubbing windows. She would move the sponge over the glass from side to side, causing her whole body to sway as she did so. Every so often she would fall over. When she was lucky, she would manage to pick herself up, sometimes with the help of another of Belaphonne's servants. When she was unlucky she was helped by Belaphonne herself, who seemed to think the best way to do so was to pull Ishiar up by her hair.

After a few hours of that, she was put on toilet plunging duty. The plumbing was plugged up with a giant coil of waste that Ishiar was supposed to force down the tubes. This lasted about ten seconds before she leaned down on the plunger and fell asleep.

"RUTTA!"

Ishiar was on the floor, looking up with rather blurred vision. Someone was standing over her--from the voice it was probably Belaphonne.

"RUTTA, YOU ARE SLEEPING DURING YOUR CHORES!"

"Yeah, s'cause I'm tired..." Ishiar replied.

"I told you to plunge the toilet!" Belaphonne snapped.

"But I wanna sleep!" Ishiar said. "Just make the angel do it!"

"What angel!?" Belaphonne said.

"The one who you said plugged it up!"

Belaphonne sighed heavily and shook her head. After a long pause, she said "very well, slave. I can see you will be no more use to me today. Slaza! Take Rutta to her quarters!"

"No touchin' the boobs, Slaza," Ishiar muttered slurredly as the other slave came in. "They're still sore from last night..."

*****

Ishiar awoke to a smell that seemed to reach right into her nostrils and practically pull her eyeballs out. With the haze of sleep deprivation suddenly pulled from her mind, her eyes bolted open and everything came flooding back to her. More than anything, however, what hit her was hunger. Ravenous hunger--a hunger that was only being made worse by the smell of freshly baked pastries.

She was lying on the floor of Belaphonne's parlor, a room that was both lush and lavish--some might even say gaudy. She and her two other slaves, Slaza and Wrin, were sitting at a lacquered coffee table, eating freshly baked honey pastries with some sort of cream filling that were driving Ishiar as close to being genuinely insane as she thought she had ever been. She would have rushed over and siezed them, had her hands and ankles not been tied together.

"Good morning, Rutta." Belaphonne said. "Did you sleep well?"

Sleep wasn't the thing Ishiar wanted to talk about. But she answered anyway. "Sure."

"The slaves and I were just having breakfast. Would you like some?"

The war that suddenly erupted in Ishiar's mind was one of the quickest and bloodiest she'd ever experienced--her pride and defiance of Belaphonne versus her desperate lust for one or more of her pastries.

"Yes please," she said as quickly as she could, before her prideful brain could stop her.

"You must be very hungry, having eaten so little for the last few days. Here," she said, picking up one of the pastries as she pulled down the black leather thong she had been wearing. Alarms went off in Ishiar's mind at this second event. Giving food and taking off clothes are not supposed to be interdependant events. "You look positively famished. I insist that you eat something," she said as she carefully sat on the table, spread her legs, inserted the pastry into her vagina, and lifted her hips towards Ishiar's mouth.

Ishiar sighed heavily. "But I've got to eat it out of your pussy, don't I."

Belaphonne started to sneer, but before she could snap, Wrin interrupted. "You should thank her, Rutta! You can't eat it yourself because you're tied up and being punished! She's offering to feed it to you herself, it's quite an honor!"

"You would be wise to listen to your fellow slave, Rutta," Belaphonne said, her lightly-furred flower still hovering inches from Ishiar's nose. The flakey tip of the pastry hiding within taunted her, but so too did the thought of doing what Belaphonne wanted.

Slaza stepped over and knelt next to Ishiar. "It's okay, Rutta. Just lean forward with your head, like this..." She gently tipped Ishiar's head into Belaphonne's musky flower, mouth-first. The salty-sweet taste of her skin mixed with the sugary pastry and suddenly Ishiar couldn't control her hunger anymore. She started munching away like a mad woman, sucking all of the pastry she could out of Belaphonne. Most of the delicate pastry had broken apart, requiring Ishiar to probe around like a rodent. For her part, the demoness just moaned at the frenzied motions of her tongue.

"Oh yes, you must be very hungry, slave!" Belaphonne said, lifting her hips away. "Wrin, insert another!"

Wrin did as she was told, and soon Ishiar was gobbling another pastry right out of Belaphonne's snatch. This time Belaphonne actually started stroking herself with her fingers, clearly enjoying the experience. Ishiar was too blissed out from the food to even care. They were damn good pastries.

After Ishiar had rooted as much sustenance as she could out of the demoness' pink parts (which may or may not have involved the demoness having an orgasm, she wasn't sure), Belaphonne stood up, Pulling her leather bikini back up to cover herself.

"So, now that you have eaten, are you ready to do your chores?"

Ishiar rolled her eyes and groaned. "Look, Belaphonne. Seriously. I know all this slavery crap is your thing, but it's just not going to happen. I did some crap the other day just because I was delirious, but I'm not going to do it again. You'd best just take me back to whatsername and get your money back."

"Rutta--"

"MY NAME IS ISHIAR!" Ishiar yelled.

"YOUR NAME IS WHATEVER I SAY IT IS!" Belaphonne yelled back, belting Ishiar across the face as she did so.

Ishiar's face burned with anger. Though she was still hungry, sore, and weak, she was very pissed off. Summoning all of her strength, she pulled against the ropes that bound her, but to no avail.

"Oh, you wish to fight your master? Very well!" Belaphonne said snidely. She snapped her fingers and the ropes suddenly unwound themselves. "Let's see what you've got, sla--"

She didn't get to finish.

Ishiar lunged at Belaphonne with a punch that looked like it was aimed a foot behind her head. She felt a crack and it felt like someone had smashed her knuckles with a hammer. The demoness' head whipped back and her shoulders followed. Her arms flailed up as she was launched beneath Ishiar's fist, knocked into the opposite wall and thrown to the floor.

"I'm out like last year, bitch." Ishiar growled. "If you don't like it, we'll go right now."

Ishiar's fist was still knotted, her knuckles throbbing from the impact. She was rather glad. Each angry breath hissed between her barred teeth as she glared at the demoness.

Belaphonne returned the glare as she picked herself up off the floor. Her nose and cheek were slightly discolored from where Ishiar's fist had been a moment before. She stood motionless for a moment, seeming to size her up.

"Very well. A challenge. If you defeat me, you go free. If I defeat you, you serve as my slave for the rest of your existance."

"Fuck your terms and fuck you." Ishiar spat back. "I'm no slave whether you beat me or not."

"Oh, but you will be a slave. If you defeat me and run--which is an unlikely prospect--" Belaphonne said, "you will simply be captured by another demoness. This is Faneglut. We rule here, and none other."

"That's fine, I'll kill them too." Ishiar spat back.

"Whereas if you reject my terms and are defeated," Belaphonne said, "you will die in my belly tonight. Your life will end. You have my offer. This is the last mercy I will ever give you."

"Let me think about it!" Ishiar yelled as she picked up a chair and swung it at Belaphonne. It caught the demoness off guard, smashing against her and knocking her sideways.

"So be it, slave!" Belaphonne screamed as she lunged at Ishiar with outstretched claws. Ishiar grabbed her wrists, planted a foot in her sternum and flipped back, flinging Belaphonne across the room.

The demoness crashed into an intricately carved bookcase, smashing it to splinters before scrambling to her feet. Uttering an arcane incantation, she placed her fingers together. As she pulled them apart again, a firey line was traced between them. It grew as Ishiar watched, writhing and coiling like a serpent until it took the form of a long, firey whip, which Belaphonne took in her right hand.

Ishiar, lacking any neat weapon-generating spells of her own, picked up a splintered chunk of wood and flung it at Belaphonne before charging at her, hoping the comical projectile would at least distract her. Belaphonne knocked the plank away with her left hand as she brought up the whip with the other.

The whole world split in half for a moment as the burning whip struck Ishiar square in the face. She stumbled back but regained her composure quickly. It had hurt a bit more than she had been ready for, but she wasn't about to back down. The next attack came quickly and Ishiar snatched the whip out of the air. It seared the skin of her hands as she siezed it and yanked Belaphonne towards her, sending a powerful kick into her ribs in the process.

As Ishiar's leg thumped against Belaphonne's abdomen the demoness twirled to one side, and before Ishiar knew what was happening, the whip was wrapped around her throat. An elbow pressed into the back of her neck and the whip pulled tight, strangling her. Belaphonne stomped on her calf, forcing her to her knees as she pulled ever tighter.

The pain was too much to take. Ishiar screamed, a pathetic sound from an utterly crushed trachea. Her neck felt like it was being burned clean off of her head; even her face was scorching from the heat.

But she wasn't going to lose this fight. Not without screwing Belaphonne's pretty face up at least a little.

She brought her arms forward and placed one hand atop the other. Summoning all the strength and anger she had, she brought her elbow back as hard as she could. There was a crunch as it buried itself in Belaphonne's ribs. There was a gutteral yelp as her body abruptly pulled away from Ishiar's back. Wasting no time, Ishiar reached both hands behind her and grabbed two big fistfulls of Belaphonne's hair. Bringing her legs up and her arms down as hard as she could, she flung the demoness clean over her, sending her crashing to the floor.

Before the surprised demoness could get up, Ishiar stomped her in the neck and wrenched the whip away from her. It stopped burning her as soon as she got it out of the demoness' hands. She jumped to one side of the room and raised it high, ready to give the demoness a taste of her own medicine. Yet, subconsciously, her free hand was uncomfortably cradling her injured neck.

Belaphonne simply threw herself off the floor and stood there, waiting for Ishiar's move. That was fine with Ishiar. She flung the whip in a powerful overhead stroke. Belaphonne caught it and yanked.

Ishiar could see the writing on the wall. She twirled, feinting the same move that Belaphonne had strangled her with only a moment before. Belaphonne bent underneath it, which was the only opening Ishiar needed. Leaping past the demoness, she kicked backwards, sending the demoness sprawling. She followed up with a whip stroke which bit into Belaphonne's side as she tried to regain her footing. The stroke left a small, burnt welt along her midsection.

Belaphonne scowled and ran her finger along the wound. "You have some skill, for a slave."

"And you're fucking ugly, even for a demoness."

Belaphonne smiled. For a moment, the two simply looked at each other.

"I've got an offer for you," Ishiar said. "You let me walk out of here, and I'll let you live."

"What's the matter? Had enough already?" Belaphonne taunted.

The only response she got was another whip stroke, and the battle resumed. Belaphonne rushed at Ishiar, grabbing her arm in mid-stroke. She lifted her leg across Ishiar's shoulder and yanked it back, flinging her to the floor. Ishiar still held tenaciously onto the whip. Belaphonne raised a leg to stomp on her, but Ishiar quickly kicked her other leg out from under her. Belaphonne landed on Ishiar with a thud before scrambling around and trying to pin her. Ishiar responded by bringing the hilt of the whip down and jamming it directly into Belaphonne's eye.

"YAAAH!" Belaphonne screamed as Ishiar scrambled out from under her. She clutched her eye as her fangs grated together in rage. A moment later a whip stroke struck her squarely in the other eye. She hissed in outrage as she stood up, one whip stroke after another biting into her crimson flesh as she did so.

"I tire of this, slave!" she bellowed as she ran at Ishiar.

Ishiar threw a punch, planning to knock her right back on her ass, but Belaphonne yanked her arm aside and wrapped a clawed hand around Ishiar's throat. She lifted Ishiar off the ground with supernatural strength as she began to squeeze.

Ishiar kicked at her for only a split second before the whole world erupted in pain. As the demoness' eyes began to burn with rage, blinding orange flames leapt up from the floor beneath her, engulfing Ishiar as Belaphonne tightly held her in place. Ishiar screamed wholeheartedly as the unbearable heat consumed every part of her being; even her soul felt like it was on fire. Embers boiled up against the cieling as the whole room was cast in a hellish light. Belaphonne's merciless grip grew tighter and tighter as the hellish flames tore away the last of Ishiar's life energy. Her body surrendered, her limbs going limp as her skin almost sizzled off of her.

The flames abated, though by now, the entire room was painfully hot. Belaphonne huffed with anger and exhaustion as she dropped Ishiar's body to the ground. It was burned and mangled all over, her spiritual energies too depleted to restore her skin.

Ishiar tried desperately to move, but couldn't. Her limbs simply wouldn't obey her. Inwardly she was screaming, half in pain, half in futile defiance. She felt herself being lifted upwards, her skin calling out in pain everywhere she was touched.

Belaphonne's fangs bit into her head. It had begun. And it was all over. The demoness was devouring her.

Within seconds, a series of wolfish, savage swallows dragged Ishiar's ruined body into Belaphonne's throat. It contracted, shoving her into the hot sack of the demoness' stomach. The heat of her burned skin mixed freely with the heat of the stomach acids that rapidly began filling the hot pit. She was dimly aware of the stomach walls beginning to crush her, their brutal zeal expressing the rageful vengeance of their owner.

She tried to resist, but the best she could do was make her limbs twitch impotently. She had obviously lost, and lost badly.

Her eyes slowly pinched themselves shut.

Then again, it wasn't so bad a death. She had escaped slavery, and seriously pissed off a demoness. She had kept her dignity.

Well, most of it, anyway.