Ebilith came to lie beside him, one graceful arm draped across his chest. The rat turned so that his back now faced her. Her cock throbbed against his rump, her hand sliding between his cheeks, guiding that ebon rod to his gaping anus. Ebilith slipped her arm from his chest, tucking it beneath his thigh, raising his leg up over her shoulder. The rat’s cheeks parted, allowing her to push herself deep. Her velvet tip met the sweet ring of dark flesh, pressing now, pushing, spreading Blackthorne wide. The rat gave a pained cry, his belly swelling with fresh expansion as the imp bucked her hips. 

Deeply she plunged, stabbing his trembling core. Her tip nudged his shivering prostate, the rat howling. Ebilith pulled back, circling, never stopping, never slowing. She came in once more, the life within the rat’s womb shifting, growing restless with the pounding of the battering ram that was the imp’s thundering rod. Ebilith pushed, pressing deeper. Her face bloomed scarlet, her mouth a blackened O, moaning in chorus to the groans of the rat. 

“O-Oh,” moaned Blackthorne. “Oh… Oh…”

The raw slap of bare, wet flesh resounded through the chamber, the imp quickening her pace. Her breaths were becoming ragged puffs, her chest burning, fighting to breathe, yet still she would not relent. Tears of hot, red blood flowed from her eyes, staining her cheeks crimson, for what else would a demon cry? Her pert breasts were firm with the erection of her black nipples. She pressed herself into Blackthorne’s damp back, the fur tantalizing, spurring her to buck faster still. She heaved herself into the rat, her nipples gliding up his back, the ripples of ecstasy shivering down her spine. Her tail curled behind her, lashing in a frenzy of wicked glee. Her balls screamed for release, hot precum spurting from her tip, splattering the rat’s womb. 

“Ha… Ha… I cannot,” she panted. “Mmm, Blackthorne, but I fear that I must. I only wish for this moment to never end.”

“Is that the wish of your master?” the rat replied with a strained grunt. 

His head swam with giddy pleasure. His body coming to life, every nerve tingling. His heart fluttered. The sensation of the imp pushing deeper, compelling him to reveal his deepest self to the demon. He laid himself before her, naked, afraid. He gave his body and soul without question. The imp buried her hot face into the back of his neck, gasping softly, clinging to his gravid body. 

“It is what I wish,” Ebilith said at last. Her cock throbbed, ready to burst. Bitter tears wept from her velvet tip, hot as molten lead.

Blackthorne let go of the pillow, casting the cushion aside so that he may cling to nothing. He felt himself buoyed on that surging tide, his body swept out to that dark sea of blissful obliteration. 

“Then, let go,” he whispered. 

Every muscle in the imp’s lissome body contracted, she shuddered once, thrusting deep. Locking herself to the rat, she released. Hot, bubbling seed gushed from her velvet tip, flooding the rat’s hungry womb. His belly surged with fresh expansion, swelling to the size of triplets. The skin of his stomach stretched to the breaking point and Blackthorn’s hands flew to his belly, fingers plying their magic to ease the new growth which distended his swollen middle. The creature in his womb roiled, pushing out against his flesh, raising tiny mounds along his belly, pummeling his kidneys as the nurturing seed of the imp swirled around it. 

“The seed of a demon shall nourish the unborn one,” panted Ebilith through gritted her teeth, pumping another ropy strand deep. “It will make him strong, my love.”

“Love?” Blackthorne said. “Since when does a demon love?”

She was caught and Ebilith knew that there was no going back. Her softening cock, she pulled from the rat’s battered flower, leaving a trail of purple to ooze from between his cheeks and soak into the fur of his inner thigh. The imp pressed her lips into a thin bloodless line and gazed into the dark eyes of the rat. 

“I…” she let the words trail off. “I must fulfill my duty.”

“And you have done that, very well I might add,” the rat mage replied. “Mmm, you were positively marvelous.” He rolled over with a grunt, heedless of the sticky purple seed which leaked from his ass. His belly was a full, grey pearl before him and Blackthorne placed both hands on his stomach, struggling to gaze up at the imp who now refused to meet his eye. 

“Ebilith.” The word was spoken with the force of a command, compelling the imp to turn her gaze upon the rat. 

“Y-Yes, Blackthorne?” she stammered. 

The rat was heaving himself into a sitting position. One clawed hand gripped her wrist, drawing her close so that his belly pressed into her. The life stirred against her stomach and the imp felt a tightness in her throat. 

“This is about more than duty to the King,” the rat whispered. “You know that you will be banished back to the hells when the child is born.”

The imp nodded, her copper hair falling over one shoulder, covering up one eye. Blackthorne carefully brushed her hair away from her face, his lips grazing her ear. The breath flowed from his mouth, warm and sweet, tickling her ear with a tempting promise. 

“I will not allow it,” he said. “The King will not get to have you back.”

“But, Blackthorne,” she protested. 

“No, there is one power greater than the King. The power of the Material Plane is greater than the Lower Depths.” The gravid rat took her in his arms, his gaze filling her vision. “Ebilith, I wish to claim you as my familiar.”

The imp’s heart leapt into her throat. Was the rat mage serious? To take her as his familiar was to bind their very souls together as one. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, yet the imp, a simple demon of the abyss, felt then as if she had become the queen of the netherrealm. 

“Yes,” she sniffed. “I accept your offer, my mas--my love.” She dropped a hand to her groin, slipping her fingers under her balls. “My love, I wish to show you something. A treasure which you have not yet seen.”

The rat gazed at her black cock, lying limp upon her scrotum and huffed. “I’ve seen your charms, lovely though they are.”

“Not this, I can assure you. For I have kept my precious treasure well hidden,” laughed the imp and lifted her crinkled sac. 

Wet, dripping folds greeted the astonished eyes of the rat. Her womanhood, so cleverly concealed, was now laid bare before him. A treasure indeed, for those glistening petals did quiver with an aching need to be plucked and caressed. The rat’s cock throbbed with renewed vigor, urging the rodent to seize the imp in his claws, to claim her as he would his mate. Gingerly, his claws did fall upon that supple, yearning body. The soft exhalations of the imp’s breath was all that he needed as he began to run his fingers up her muscular belly. The ripples of her abdominals thrilled Blackthorne in ways he had never known before. As if he had beheld the seductive creature for the first time, the rat mage’s heart pounded in his breast, his breath catching his throat. He came to the sweet apricots of her breasts, the nipples hard, reaching up for him like spears of rigid flesh extended to the heavens. How he desired to pluck the stems of those succulent fruits. His hands cupped her ripe globes, caressing her tender flesh, kneading the soft mounds until Ebilith moaned with pleasure. He took her eager buds, twisting and pulling, eliciting a thin squeal from her black lips, lips which shimmered softly in the lamplight, begging for his mouth to claim them. 

The imp reached up, grasping his wrists, pulling him down. Blackthorne was tumbling, crashing atop the giggling creature. Her hooved feet wrapped around his gravid waist, locking him to her. His cock pulsed, the spongy tip nestling into the satin folds of her womanhood. His belly churned against her tight stomach, the protestations of the life within him going ignored. His vision was filled by the allure of the otherworldly beauty who lay in his arms and not for the King himself would he have turned his gaze aside. 

“Ebilith,” he whispered, a breathless sigh of such longing. 

He came to plant his lips upon her mouth, the tang of sulfur and brimstone playing on his tongue, but for the rat it was as the finest of wine. His tongue darted from between his lips like a fat, pink worm, slipping between her jaws to caress the roof of her mouth. Ebilith’s slender forked tongue too, did lash out, teasing the smooth underside of the rat’s tongue, twirling around him, slipping into his mouth to explore the wet, red gums and fine white teeth. Blackthorne’s paws fell from her breasts, taking her hips, relishing the way her supple muscles danced in his palms. He tore himself from lips, her mouth swollen with the lust bubbling just below the surface. The imp panted, her chest heaving, begging for him not to so cruelly pull away from her. Instead, Blackthorne descended. 

His wide hips rose up into the air, his muzzle lowered, plunging down her throat to dip into the oasis of her collarbone. Ebilith groaned, arching her back, thrusting her chest into Blackthorne’s face. The rat plummeted between her breasts, his lips grazing the hot, sweet flesh. His tongue found her nipple and he flicked the ripened bud, swirling and licking. The imp’s claws flew to his head, tangling into his scruffy hair, dragging him to her chest, refusing to let go. The white fangs of Blackthorne bit, pain and exquisite pleasure, agony and bliss, washed over her, sweeping her out on that dark tide of such elation that the imp did scream to the frosty moon above. 

“Yes, oh yes,” she wailed. 

The rat slid farther, his lips kissing her stomach. Her belly rolled, carrying him down the succulent trail of fine, soft hairs which led him to the treasure of her ebon rod. Limp and soft, her male sex spent from their earlier lovemaking was no less a treat. How he hungered for its virile promise, but the rat knew of much greater gifts to plunder. The imp pushed herself back, opening her legs to reveal to him her dripping womanhood. Those trembling petals parted, glistening with the pungent dew of her love like the fine glaze adorning a rich, sweet pastry. Blackthorne licked his lips in anticipation, lowering himself with a grunt to graze the delicate folds. 

“You are a mage of no small repute,” the imp said with a sly grin. “So I expect that cunning tongue of yours to weave quite the spell.”

A smile creased the jowls of the rat. “Oh, I am a most capable linguist and an even better weaver of spells, dear Ebilith. In fact, I have such a spell in store for you.”

He placed his lips to hers, stealing the very breath from her lungs. His tongue lapped the heady wine from her petals, plunging between the folds of her bloom to plummet to her trembling core. The rat’s tongue swirled, rising, now falling, twisting. He spoke the words of ancient power, his tongue flapping with the speech of the elder beings who had so long ago formed the very universe. Ebilith wailed, grasping the folds of the bedspread. Her back arched as white hot lightning surged through every nerve. Her lips were compelled to move, to sob the spell of supplication which answered the compulsion of the rat. Ancient words which no mortal was meant to hear spilled from her lips, groans of ecstatic torture bubbling up from her belly. Meanwhile, the rat continued to chant, his tongue swirling deeper, lapping the gates of her womb, curling back, stroking the quivering walls of her vagina. The juices of the imp’s love poured down his throat, pooling in his engorged belly, making his cheeks flush with a lustful glow. 

“M-My love,” the imp sobbed. “I-I cannot resist any longer.”

Indeed, for her womanhood bloomed like a majestic flower, opening to him. Blackthorne kissed her dripping folds, nudging the ripe bud of her clit, flicking that sensitive nub until the imp was jelly in his hands. 

“At last,” he said. “Now, to seal our covenant.”

He heaved himself up onto his knees, his swollen belly lying on the imp’s stomach. The life within stirred, the offspring of the King shifting, spurring the rat to conquer this craven demon. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, his cock now throbbing against her wet folds. His hips bucked, he pushed, spreading her open. Ebilith wailed as pain and gleeful jubilation vied within her. Her pussy stretched, closing tight around the shaft of her new master, her new love. Blackthorne pushed deep, spearing her core, crashing into the gates of her womb. Now, he pulled back, the pulsing veins of his cock caressing the walls of her shuddering womanhood, shivers of delight rushing up the spine of the imp. He pushed once more, circling, raising her hips from the creaking bed, now pulling back. His pace quickened, the raw slap of bare flesh and pungent sweat echoing across the dusty stones of his chambers.

“A-Ah… Ah…” Ebilith groaned. Her belly ached, yet she craved the pain, the sweetest agonies of her lover’s manhood. “Deeper, my love. Do not spare me your exquisite rod.”

Sweat dripped from the snout of the rat, dribbling down the curve of his belly to soak into his fur. He came in harder, crashing deeper. The imp’s body came alive in his hands, guiding to that secret place where her innermost self could be revealed. Their bodies were aflame, becoming as one shrieking, writhing form. Blackthorne plunged, locking himself into her. His balls churned, the hot spray of shimmering precum jetting into her thirsting womb. 

“I cannot continue,” the rat panted. “I must…”

“Yes,” the imp said, stroking his hot face. “You have claimed me utterly, my love. Now, seal our contract with your essence.”

The rat released himself, hot, bubbling seed flooding into the womb of Ebilith. The imp sobbed for breath, her belly growing tight with the gentle expansion of Blackthorne’s seed. Blackthorne pumped, another ropy strand spilling forth to paint the imp’s womb. His hips refused to relent, crashing harder, releasing himself into her again and again. 

“E-Ebilith,” the rat mage uttered in a pained groan. “I can’t stop.” 

“Then do not stop,” the Ebilith cried. “Expend yourself into me, love.”

He buried his hot face into her thigh, his fingers strumming the inside of her leg like a lute. Ebilith wept with elated glee. Her claws wrapped around his neck, embracing him, refusing to let go lest she be swept away forever. Blackthorne trembled, letting one last pump escape and pulled back his softening member. Semen oozed from the imp’s battered flower, a single sticky strand still clinging between them, their bond eternal and everlasting. Hearts beat in time with one another, their very souls merging into one being. 

“That was divine,” the imp sighed. 

“It was, truly,” Blackthorne replied. “I have never felt myself becoming one with another being like that. Are we truly bonded?”

“Forever, my love,” the imp said. She cupped his hot cheeks, her lips pressing to his red mouth. “Not even the King has the power to sever such a bond. The power of the Material Plane is greater than even he.”

Blackthorne took her hand in his, kissing each lovely finger. “Soon, the child will be born and with it I earn the powers of the King, for such was the price I paid. I wonder though,” he placed a hand on her belly, “what shall come of our union?”

The imp cocked her head to the side, a wry grin upon her lips. “Perhaps, you will find out.” She placed her own hand on Blackthorne’s belly and laughed a high tinkling note.

“Oh no,” the rat snapped. “I am not doing it again.”

“Are you so certain?” the imp asked. “You’ve already experienced it once and besides, dear Blackthorne, do you not question the potency of the seed which I have continued to plant within you?”

The color briefly drained from the rat mage’s face. 

“We will bear our young together,” the imp laughed. “And such offspring they will be.”

“I may just have to craft a spell to temper your lust,” the rat chuckled. 

This earned him a crooked smile and a flash of yellow eyes. “Beware, mighty mage. There are some powers too great even for you to control.”

“Then, I shall have to seal them myself.”

Blackthorne’s lips embraced the imp’s mouth, sealing her words with a kiss which would see them falling into one another’s arms, tumbling into the blissful slumber which only lovers may know.