To the Victor goes the Spoils/Continued

Author’s note: I own Exstapis! I do own something! What do you think about that huh? I own a lot in here! (But I do not own anything real, or the inspiration behind it, or even the book The Hellbound Heart.) So I really own nothing. Damn.
…but yes! Let there be Sex! Mwahahahahaha!

Xipe Topec looked across the labyrinth. At his side the Gash stood silent, their eyes averted, their heads lowered in respect, and awe. Exstapis knelt before him, his eyes shut, his hands at his sides. Leviathan called, shaking the ground about their feet and causing the two victims to tremble.
…And a deep rumble answered, echoing across the ground like a tremor as Topec’s eyes flashed a brilliant red. There was nothing to be said or done now, except to listen to the beings converse in the deepest of hell tongues. Then it was done, leviathan withdrew leaving his chosen restored. Topec turned to the gash, his eyes demanded compliance. One hands stretched out slowly with finger pointed. Dr. Mempt shivered when its shadow fell upon him. Instantly he was seized, tossed forward to sprawl at the cenobite’s feet.
He quaked, looked up out of his broken glasses. Topec extended a hand.
Confusion flashed across the doctors face, Topec stood impassive, neither beckoning, nor withdrawing. The doctor reached up, took the offer. Topec pulled him to his feet easily, then turned and made a careless motion. The labyrinth parted before them, the pathways stretching cleanly to the north one way, and the other back the way they had come.
“I offer you a choice, doctor. Which path, will you take? One of them leads back to what you know, and the other to my domain. If you can discover which the path you seek is, it will be given to you. Choose wisely.” The cenobites vanished into the shadows, Topec turned to follow, a dark smile upon his lips. “Trust yourself doctor.” He vanished into the shadows.


Dreamer and Angelique wrapped about him, across from him his lieutenant bent her head, her eyes distant. It was the only way to express she, who had not the ability for it in her, had feared for him. At his feet his youngest knelt, pressing her head to his thigh. Unsure how to show herself, and surprised by the friendly approach of his other consorts, she remained there. He stood silently, drawing in their scents, their slight warmth. Unseen to them, his hands shook lightly as he placed them upon Angelique’s shoulders. She felt it then, and rubbed against him softly, soothing as best she could. “We have missed you my lord, all of hell was in distress.”
“Angelique…”
“You will tell us? Of what transpired?”
“Perhaps. But not now.”

Dreamer curled against his back, sensing his edge rising, and feeling the tremor in his shoulders. She groaned lightly into his ear, blew gently upon his throat. He growled, deep, feral. Angelique rubbed up against him and closed her eyes, felt his pins as they brushed her cheek. His eyes shut, needing their submission now more than he would say. He had been chained, manhandled, studied and monitored like a tiger on a lab table. It was demeaning, maddening, and frustrating. He needed to assert himself again. His first made a soft sound, drawing his consort’s attention. Angelique and Dreamer looked at her unhappily, but complied, and silently the three retreated, leaving the youngest still at his feet.
She shivered. She could feel him, muscles tense and quivering against her cheek where she touched him. His hand fell upon her, a tender brush. Deceptively tender. She could feel his edge as well. He needed her now, and she must not fail. Silently she began rubbing, circles of well placed pressure moved about his legs, kneading and stroking. She pulled his robe up and brushed her lips across his bare thigh. He hissed, looked down at her. His hand pressed her to him.
She complied. Her tongue slipped from her mouth and lapped the skin, felt him shiver. She ran it upwards and over, lapped his inner thigh gently, her hands running in soothing strokes where her tongue had led. He groaned, stroked her neck, and pulled her closer.
Her mouth kissed him, worshiped the skin as he rose for her, blew teasingly on his proud tip, and part of her swelled as well, (but with triumph) at his soft cry. His length firmly encircled in her hands she lapped the vein, worried her teeth against it, he bucked into her touch, shivered. She grew bolder, her mouth slid down on his first inch, his fingers pressed harder, urging her on.
To his disappointment and amazement she refused, instead pulling off of him entirely. He ached, the feeling of fullness lying heavily between his thighs, uncomfortable without her touch. He growled, frustrated, grabbed her chin and forced her to look up and explain. Her eyes met his, not defiant, determined. “ My lord, the bed…” he forced her head down.
“I did not request that.”
She tried to look back upon him but he would not let her rise. “But my lord…”
“I claimed you on the floors of the labyrinth! Here will suffice.” She started to speak. “Do not.” She grew still, shoulders down. Head turned dejectedly away. Gently, he pressed her back against him. “…I am not upset.” She straitened, tried to look up again, again he restrained her. This time she understood. Once again, she cupped him, stroked him deftly, pulling another groan from his throat. Her tongue ran along his underside and further, teeth gently nipped around a sack. He shuddered, eyes closed with pleasure, his breaths became heavy, loud in the silence broken only by her mouths soft wet sucks. He gasped as her tongue lapped between the soft, taut skin of his sacks. Against his will his hips bucked in her hands. His legs felt weak… she nipped, kissed, ran her teeth upon them. Her fingers continued pumping his cock, one thumb worrying his tip… “…F-finish it…”
He felt her grin, moaned as her tongue slid up him again and her mouth slid over him. His eyelids fluttered, his breaths came in ragged pants. He quaked, pressing her into him, thrusting further into her throat. He was lost then, not lasting more than a bob or two, his head tossed back and he gave a cry…
…and shivered violently as she coaxed out everything he had to give in thick, heavy spurts.
Weak, his chin to his chest, he watched as dusky eyed she continued to swallow him, then slide of and kiss him a few parting shots with her soft lips.
“My lord… the bed now?” her head was down, her cheek against his flaccid length, her eyes shut. Despite himself a content rumble shivered from his chest, and once again he felt her smile.
“Yes, now the bed.”


Half awake, half asleep he felt his consorts snuggle in around him. Angelique at his right, dreamer at his left. His newest lay curled into him, lying with her head on his chest. Once again the rumble escaped him, and he felt their arms about him, their forms melding to his. This was his, this section, his to defend to the death, his consorts, to fight to keep, his lieutenant… a gentle brush of a finger across his lips roused him enough to hear her as she then turned away and vanished silently out the door. The demon in him deliciously lazy, the man in him at peace, he gave a deep content sigh. His mind and eyes closed to all but the god. And Topec slept.

In hell as was as it should be, Leviathan rotated above it, as a god should. The Gash were either guarding hell or with their consorts. The night was still, almost peaceful, and very quiet. Even the souls were once again still. Hell had nearly lost its champion; there was thanks and pleasure to be had in his return. Exstapis looked towards Xipe Topec’s section to the north and raised his blade in a silent salute. Then his attention turned inwards, his own consort, his first, nipping his ear and urging him to the bed. He complied readily.

…And alone where he had been left, Dr. Mempt watched in shock as his trial was ended, and a single pin, rusting in the dust, pointed his way towards freedom. A life for a life.