(WARNING: CITRUS AHEAD)
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The atmosphere in the opulent chamber was thick with the scent of musk and desperation. Rizevan Lucifer sat enthroned on the edge of the massive bed, his expression one of cold, detached superiority. Between his thighs lay a monument to his divine lineage: a twelve-inch cock, thick-veined and pulsing, that commanded the absolute submission of the three women kneeling before him.
Kushina Uzumaki, Mirajane Strauss, and Celica Arfonia were locked in a frantic competition of worship. Mirajane was positioned in the center, her lips stretched wide as she took the massive head of his shaft, while Kushina and Celica crowded in on either side, their tongues darting out to lick the length and the heavy, aching balls beneath. They worked in a synchronized rhythm, their mouths slick with saliva, swirling around him in a desperate attempt to elicit even a flicker of pleasure from the demon prince. Rizevan remained motionless, his gaze icy, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a moan; he wanted them to suffer in their longing, to earn every inch of his release.
Growing impatient with the oral attention, Rizevan shifted. Kushina, eager to please, shifted her position. She pressed her massive F-cup breasts together, creating a deep, suffocating valley of soft, pale flesh. She slid Rizevan's cock between them, the sheer girth of him stretching her breasts wide. As she began a fervent tit-job, sliding her body up and down his length, she looked up at him with pleading eyes, continuing to suck on the head of his cock as it peaked over her chest. Rizevan finally reacted, his large hand diving into her luscious red hair, gripping it firmly to guide her movements, his fingers tangling in the crimson locks as he drove himself deeper into the cleavage.
When he grew tired of Kushina, he pushed her aside with a blunt command. Mirajane and Celica didn't need to be told twice. Both women possessed staggering H-cup breasts that dwarfed Kushina's. They pressed themselves against him, alternating turns to envelop his shaft in their mountainous breasts. The sight was obscene—the massive cock disappearing into walls of soft, trembling flesh, the women panting and whimpering as they fought for the privilege of feeling him slide against their skin.
The tension finally snapped. Rizevan seized Mirajane, flipping her onto the bed. He entered her with a singular, violent thrust that buried his entire length inside her, the impact making her back arch and a loud, guttural scream escape her throat. But he wasn't finished with the others. As he began to pound Mirajane with rhythmic, punishing force, he positioned her so her face was pressed firmly into Celica's soaking wet pussy. Celica lay on her back, her legs spread wide, while her own face was buried deep between Kushina's thighs, her tongue relentlessly eating Kushina's clitoris.
The room was a symphony of wet slaps and feminine moans. Mirajane was being stretched to her limit by Rizevan's girth, her face drenched in Celica's juices, while Celica was lost in the taste of Kushina. The cycle of pleasure was a closed loop of depravity.
With a final, powerful surge, Rizevan groaned, his body tensing as he blasted a massive volume of hot, thick seed deep into Mirajane's womb. He didn't let her recover; he withdrew instantly, leaving her leaking and trembling, and immediately flipped Celica over. He slammed into her without a pause, his cock still rock hard. As he claimed Celica, Kushina scrambled over, her face diving into Mirajane's dripping pussy, hungrily licking away the overflow of the creampie, desperate to taste Rizevan's essence before it was her turn.
The pace intensified until Rizevan reached his peak again, filling Celica with another torrential load of cum. As he shuddered, Mirajane—still dazed from her own climax—was already positioned between Celica's legs, her tongue working furiously to swallow the creampie as it began to leak from Celica's stretched opening.
The orgy reached its crescendo just as the heavy double doors of the chamber swung open. Allia Satanachia stepped inside, her presence commanding and predatory. She stopped, her eyes scanning the scene: Kushina, Mirajane, and Celica lay scattered across the silk sheets, broken and blissful. Thick ropes of cum leaked from their pussies and asses, their ample tits and beautiful faces smeared with white seed.
Rizevan remained standing, his cock still turgid and glistening, looking at his mother with an expectant, challenging gaze. Allia let out a slow, knowing smirk. Without a word, she reached for the tie of her gown.
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Rizevan woke from his sleep with a quiet start, he'd dismissed Kushina, Mirajane, and Celica to their respective points and places in time. Part of his abilities were being able to travel to other universes including alternative versions or timelines of said worlds. So he snatched up a version of Kushina who never had her version of Minato and seduced her, and snatched the primary Mirajane and Celica for a spot of fun.
After a bit of history changing since he could also visit any specific part of the timelines of said worlds. All in the fraction of a second it took to use his Demonic Power. And as for his mother… well he didn't need to say much….
Anyways, Rizevan was in the mood for a long soak, it had been a boring few weeks, sexual escapades notwithstanding.
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It had been a trying few weeks for Grayfia Lucifuge. The dynamic between her and Rizevan had been changed irrevocably. Since the visions, and the announcement of her marriage to Rizevan she felt different. Found herself more invested in the life of Rizevan, desiring his presence more, and when he touched her as they linked arms and he led her, her body involuntarily reacted. She couldn't be falling in love with him, not so quickly. He was different compared to other Devils born to the Four Great Clan's. Indeed he was different compared to most of the Devils from the Pillar Clan's, but the question was whether or not it was an act. The fact that Rizevan seemed determined to prevent such destruction to the Underworld outwardly seemed a good thing. But she had nothing to use as a point of reference for whether or not that was good or bad. Prophecies were inherently fickle and elusive. Trying to prevent a prophecy could invariably lead to the prophecy coming true. She didn't know what to do.
But what was clear was that it was a war in which she would temporarily need to fight beside the loyalists.
''Sister, Lord Rizevan wishes to speak with you.'' She wasn't sure liked the way her body warmed at her brother's words. Of course she wasn't sure she disliked them either.
''Where is he?'' She asked her younger brother.
''In the meeting room. He awaits us and the others.'' Says Euclid as he offers her his arm which she takes. The creation of the Knights of Hell had been hotly debated, even among the other Satan Descendants. But Tsufaame Tereaku Leviathan continued to back Lord Rizevan causing a deadlock. Not that it mattered. Lord Rizevim and his heir, even that fool Razevan were leagues beyond the other descendants in sheer power.
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The meeting room of the Knights was silent save for the echoing footsteps of the arrivals. Crimson light filtered through stained obsidian windows, casting bloody patterns across the polished grey marble floor. At the head of the long, serpentine table carved from a single piece of the hides of the Red and White Dragon Emperors sat Rizevan Lucifer.
He was motionless, his crimson eyes watching as the doors at the far end of the hall swung open. First came Euclid Lucifuge—tall, composed, with silver hair that fell to his shoulders and eyes the color of quicksilver. He moved with the grace of a predator, each step deliberate. Beside him walked his sister, Grayfia, her identically silver hair cascading down her back, her expression serene yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority.
As they approached, Rizevan's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. Grayfia came to stand at his left side, her hand resting lightly on the back of his throne. Euclid bowed slightly before taking the seat at Rizevan's right.
The others followed in precise order.
Raziel Satanachia entered next - Rizevan's maternal uncle, his features sharp and aristocratic, with eyes that held nearly a century worth of cunning. He took the second seat without a word, his gaze scanning the room with calculated interest.
Then came Zaziel Sargatanas, the Knight of Destruction. His presence seemed to suck the warmth from the air; his aura was one of barely-contained annihilation. He sat third, his massive frame making the obsidian chair seem almost delicate.
Lady Urthemis Algaliarept followed—a warrior whose beauty was as lethal as her skills. Her armor was polished to a mirror sheen, and she moved with the confidence of one who had ended empires. She took the fourth seat.
Duma Fleurety entered quietly, almost ethereally. The Knight of Purification carried an aura of calm that contrasted sharply with the others. His white and Red robes seemed to dance with colour and life in the crimson light as he took the fifth position.
Roygun Belphegor was next—her magenta eyes immediately finding Rizevan's. A knowing smile played on her lips as she took the sixth seat. Her relationship with Rizevan was no secret, least of all to Grayfia, who watched her with calm acceptance.
Andor Nebiros entered like a shadow given form. The Knight of the Fallen moved silently, his presence somehow both there and not. He took the seventh seat, his hooded eyes observing everything.
Finally, Mephisto Pheles entered last — the Knight of Ancient Lores. He carried an ancient tome bound in what appeared to be dragonhide, his fingers tracing the runes on its cover as he took the eighth and final seat.
When all were settled, Rizevan leaned forward, his hazel eyes sweeping over each face at the table.
''Thank you for your attendance…'' he began, his voice calm yet carrying through the vast chamber. ''You are the first generation. The founding members of the Knights of Hell.''
He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle.
''You are the first and last line of defense for the Underworld. You are my personal honor guard. But more than that—you are the foundation upon which our new order will be built when the appointed hour comes.''
His gaze moved to Grayfia, who stood beside him. ''Grayfia's voice is my own. When she speaks, she speaks with my full authority and trust. She is the absolute only other person to whom you owe your loyalty.''
Rizevan's expression hardened slightly. ''Not my fool of a brother, Razevan. Not my dear father, Lord Rizevim. You serve me. And when Grayfia and I eventually marry, she will serve as my first wife and your queen."
He leaned back, the crimson light catching the subtle silver embroidery on his black robes. ''Each of you was chosen for a reason. Your strengths, your talents, your unwavering loyalty, and each gift you now have is a core part of your position. The Knights of Hell are not merely soldiers — we are the architects of our future and the death sentence to our enemies. In the years to come, The Knights of Hell will command legions of troops, and while in time your membership will end and be passed to the next Generation, the Knights and all its members in the past, the present, and the Future will be the protectors of our people. The shepherds of my vision. The enforcers of MY will.''
Raziel Satanachia spoke first, his voice smooth as aged wine. "We understand, my lord. Our loyalty is to you alone.''
Zaziel Sargatanas nodded, the motion causing the chains on his armor to clink softly. ''Destruction serves creation. I will tear down whatever stands in your path.''
Lady Urthemis placed a gauntleted hand on the table. ''War is my domain. The canvas upon which I forge my greatest works. I will wage your battles and claim your victories.''
Duma Fleurety's voice was soft but firm. ''Purification requires discernment. I will cleanse what needs cleansing, preserve what deserves preservation, and excise the cancerous rot that remains."
Roygun Belphegor's smile widened. ''My loyalty has always been to you, Rizevan. In all things.'' She said with a slight yawn.
Andor Nebiros simply nodded, his shadowed face giving nothing away.
Mephisto Pheles opened his tome. ''The ancient lores are yours to command. Knowledge is power, and power is yours.''
Euclid Lucifuge finally spoke, his silver eyes meeting Rizevan's. ''As your right hand, I will ensure your will is done. Without question. Without hesitation.''
Grayfia placed her hand on Rizevan's shoulder, her touch light but possessive. ''Together…'' She said, her voice clear and resonant. ''...we will build something eternal. Something worthy of the legacy you will add to the Grand Grimoire.''
Rizevan looked at each of them again—his knights, his council, his foundation. ''Then let us begin.'' He said, voice clear and authoritative. ''The first meeting of the Knights of Hell is convened.'' He said as the doors were sealed.
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The Knights were dismissed except for Mephisto, who was asked to remain by Rizevan, who had instructed Euclid to wait outside before instructing the other Knights to remain by Grayfia's side. ''You played your part well, but we're alone, speak freely.'' He said.
''It's sickening. How tightly wound their own intestines are to the lucifer is great stick up their arses.'' Mephisto gags slightly. ''It takes everything I have not to fucking puke!'' He continued mouthing off.
''I agree. But the only way to change things is to bring the Underworld to it's knees. With the coming war, the destruction will be unfathomable. Catastrophic. But we can limit the damage. And when we come to that final precipice of change, we will leap into the new world arms outstretched. You are vital to the future Mephisto. When War breaks out I want you to do everything you can to strike a non-interference agreement with Azazel. Kokabiel will probably argue against it to which I would counter-argue so-called Fallen Angel superiority is not going to be proven against a weakened and fractured enemy.'' Says Rizevan.
''You don't expect the Knights to survive.'' Mephisto says quietly. ''You have foreseen our deaths.''
''Not yours, not Euclid's, and not Roygun's.'' He clarified. ''I cannot speak for the others, but I wouldn't be surprised if you, Euclid, and Roygun were the only surviving members by the war's end. Roygun will be the only Knight I send to support the Rebels. As far as their soldiers are Concerned she broke away to support them, their leaders will know the truth. Lucifer supports them.'' He admitted.
''Your not like you grandfather. That's a good thing boy. But why side with the rebels secretly at all, you could simply pick a side outright?'' Mephisto asked.
''Our era is coming to an end. I have zero interest in the role of Lucifer, but the only person I will allow to take it will never be allowed to do so under the current regime. When Lady Leviathan and Lord Asmodeus die, when the Chimaera of Flies appears, the Six Houses of Lucifer, the Extra Demons, the Knights of Hell, and the Leviathan and Lucifer Clan's will support the Rebels in full and in public. If that doesn't happen, the great war is restarted. And we're all fucked.''
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(WARNING: MORE CITRUS!)
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The private chambers of Rizevan Lucifer's wing in the Lucifer ancestral estate were a study in stark contrasts—obsidian pillars veined with molten crimson, ancient tapestries depicting the Great War, and a forge-blackened anvil in one corner beside shelves of leather-bound tomes. Candles of black wax flickered in iron sconces, their flames enchanted to burn eternally, casting restless shadows across the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of smithing coal, old parchment, and the unmistakable musk of devil flesh in heat.
Rizevan Livan Lucifer lay back against the dark silk sheets, his silver-grey hair unbound and spilling across the pillows like forged moonlight. His body was a cartographer's map of violence—scars from Lancelot's blade traced his neck and face, Crom Cruach's fangs had left their mark across his ribs, and the battles of centuries had sculpted him into something harder than demonic steel. His crimson eyes, the mark of the Lucifer bloodline, were half-lidded with the lazy satisfaction of a man who had conquered kingdoms and now simply wished to conquer flesh.
Between his powerful thighs, her cherry-blossom hair fanned across his lap like rivers of pink silk, knelt Roygun Belphegor, his loyal Knight of Hell.
She served him with the eager, practiced devotion of a woman who had been a willing and eager lover. Her plush lips were stretched obscenely around the impossible girth of his cock—twelve inches of thick, vein-ribbed Lucifer flesh that disappeared inch by torturous inch past her lips and down the tight, welcoming heat of her throat. Saliva glistened on her chin, dripping in shimmering strands onto the pillowy expanse of her H-cup breasts, which she had wrapped snugly around the base of his shaft. The deep valley of her cleavage was slick with her own spit and the pearly beads of his arousal, her tits—bountiful, perky, impossibly buoyant despite their generous size—squeezing and massaging everything her throat couldn't yet swallow.
Rizevan's scarred hands were wrapped around her horns, thumbs stroking the smooth, spiraling ridges. He could feel the texture of her hair—softer than mortal silk, warm from the heat of her body—brushing against his knuckles with each bob of her head.
''There….'' He murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble that resonated through the obsidian chamber. ''That's the spot, Roygun. You learn quickly for a woman who spent years barking orders at servants.''
She couldn't answer — she was too busy choking on him — but her violet eyes, glassy with adoration and lust, rolled up to meet his. A pitiful, grateful mewl vibrated along his shaft, and the fresh gush of slick that dripped down her inner thigh was more eloquent than any words.
Roygun Belphegor. Once the mere Heiress of the Belphegor clan. Once a mere lesser Devil from a lesser Extra Demon house who moved pieces across the Underworld's chessboard with careful precision. Now on her knees, the only rank she cared about was how deep she could take her future husband's cock before she passed out from bliss. Because that was his promise to her and the others. He'd marry them, he wasn't the one to fuck just anyone, and he would marry them.
Behind Rizevan, pressed flush against the hard planes of his scarred back, Katerea Leviathan writhed like a serpent in heat.
Her tanned, athletic body—honed by decades of scheming and survival in the cutthroat politics of the Satan Clans — gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat. Her massive G-cup tits, darker-nippled and impossibly firm, mashed against his shoulder blades, her pebbled nipples dragging across the ridges of old scars with every desperate roll of her hips. Her arms were looped around his neck from behind, her sharp nails tracing lazy patterns across his collarbone, and her breath came in hot, ragged gasps against the shell of his ear. She was grinding her naked, dripping cunt against the dip of his lower back, her slick smearing hot across his skin.
''Ruin her….'' Katerea hissed, her voice the desperate, broken rasp of a woman who had already been thoroughly ravaged earlier that night and now wanted to watch someone else share her fate. She bit down on his earlobe — hard enough to send a jolt of pain-pleasure sparking down his neck — then laved the sting away with a hungry tongue. ''Make Roygun gag on it, Rizevan. Make her cry. Make that pretty Belphegor throat remember the shape of you for a week.''
''Needy tonight, aren't we?'' Rizevan chuckled, his free hand reaching back to grip Katerea's hip and grind her harder against his spine. ''I filled you four times before Roygun even arrived. Still not enough?''
''I came four times and you left me empty,'' Katerea corrected, her hips rolling frantically. ''Roygun got to go first tonight. I had to sit there and watch while you stuffed her cunt full. I've been patient, haven't I? Don't I deserve—''
''You deserve what I decide you deserve.''
The words were spoken with the calm, unquestionable authority of the man who had faced down Lancelot, trained under Scathach, and forged weapons that gods envied. Katerea's protest died in her throat, replaced by a whimper of pure submission. For all her scheming, all her ambition within the Leviathan Clan, in this chamber she was simply his—and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Rizevan's grip on Roygun's horns tightened. He pulled her off his cock with a wet, obscene pop, a thick strand of saliva and precum bridging her swollen, glistening lips to the ruddy crown of his shaft. Roygun gasped, chest heaving, those magnificent H-cup tits bouncing with each ragged breath, strings of drool still connecting her chin to his cock.
Before she could catch her bearings, Rizevan moved.
He rose from the bed with the lethal grace of a man who had studied under gods, Katerea tumbling from his back onto the silk sheets with a startled moan. In one fluid, dominant motion, he seized Roygun by the flare of her hips and flipped her onto her hands and knees. Her cherry-blossom hair fanned across the black sheets in a disheveled halo, her spine arching on pure, animal instinct, presenting her upturned rear to him. Her pussy was a vision—soaked, pink and glistening, already clenching around nothing, her thighs trembling with desperate, aching anticipation.
''Katerea.'' Rizevan commanded without looking at her. ''Beneath her. Now.''
Katerea scrambled to obey with the alacrity of a soldier following orders and the hunger of a woman possessed. She slid beneath Roygun's trembling form, positioning her tanned, sharp-featured face directly under the Belphegor's dripping entrance. Her golden eyes—cold and calculating in the council chambers of the Old Satan Faction, now utterly feral with lust—stared up at the glistening prize hovering inches above her mouth.
''I want to taste her on your cock,'' Katerea breathed up at Rizevan. ''I want you to fuck her so deep I can feel the tip of you through her.''
Rizevan's scarred mouth curved into a smile that would have made lesser devils kneel. He mounted Roygun from behind, one hand gripping her hip with bruising force while the other guided the swollen, weeping head of his cock to her soaked entrance. He didn't tease. Roygun didn't need teasing. She needed to be taken by the man who would one day be her husband.
One brutal, mercifully swift thrust, and he was buried to the hilt.
Roygun screamed into the humid, candlelit air—not in pain, but in pure, obliterating ecstasy. Her silken walls clamped around him in a stranglehold, fluttering and spasming as her body struggled to accept twelve unforgiving inches of purebred Lucifer cock. Her arms buckled, her face burying into the black silk sheets, and the strangled sob that tore from her throat was sweeter than any prayer offered to any god.
''That's one,'' Rizevan murmured, drawing back until only the flared tip remained inside her clutching heat. ''Let's see how many times the Belphegor Heiress cums before she forgets her own name.''
He fucked into her with the relentless, inexorable rhythm of a master smith hammering demonic steel—controlled violence, precision in every devastating stroke. Each thrust was a piston of his hips, shaking Roygun's entire frame. The wet slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the obsidian chamber, underscored by Roygun's broken, hiccupping moans and the obscene squelch of her thoroughly soaked cunt parting for him again and again.
''Eat her,'' Rizevan commanded, one scarred hand fisting in Roygun's cherry-blossom hair and shoving her face downward. ''Katerea has been patient. Show her the same skill you showed my cock.''
Roygun buried her face between Katerea's spread thighs with desperate, worshipful enthusiasm. Her clever tongue delved into the Leviathan's soaked folds with the same devotion she'd lavished on Rizevan's shaft—licking, sucking, swirling around Katerea's swollen clit. Katerea's back arched off the bed like a drawn bow, a guttural, animal moan tearing from her throat.
''Yes—fuck, yes, right there, you Belphegor slut, don't you dare stop—'' Katerea's babbling dissolved into incoherence, her fingers tangling in Roygun's rose-pink locks and mashing the Belphegor's face harder against her cunt. ''I can taste him in you—I can taste where he came in you earlier—''
Rizevan watched them—his two powerful, ambitious, thoroughly claimed women reduced to a writhing tangle of desperate flesh—and fucked Roygun harder. Each savage thrust drove her face deeper into Katerea's soaked pussy, creating a closed circuit of pleasure that fed endlessly back into itself.
But Rizevan's attention was split.
Because through the narrow crack of the chamber door—barely wider than a whispered confession — a familiar silhouette stood motionless in the corridor beyond. Silver hair, longer than his own, caught the faint light of the hallway sconces like threads of captured starlight. Red eyes, calm as a frozen lake, watched from the shadows with an intensity that belied their stillness.
Grayfia Lucifuge. The woman who would be his first wife. His Queen. The only person in any realm to whom Rizevan had ever granted authority equal to his own.
Rizevan didn't know precisely when she had arrived. He hadn't sensed her approach—she was far too skilled for that, trained in the Lucifuge arts of shadows and silence. But the moment his crimson eyes met hers through that narrow gap, a silent understanding passed between them.
She had come to watch. Come to witness. Come to feed some private hunger she rarely acknowledged even to herself.
He locked eyes with her now and didn't let go.
His scarred face — the face that had stared down Lancelot's betrayal, that had watched Camelot burn at his own daughter's hand, that had forged weapons of legend at the feet of gods — softened, fractionally, for her alone.
And then his smile sharpened into something knowing, something possessive.
Stay, that smile said without words. Watch. Watch what's yours. Watch what you've been chosen to share with them because you are generous, and watch what you could claim for yourself whenever you wish.
He pulled Roygun's hips back onto his cock with deliberate, brutal precision. The wet, obscene squelch of her cunt parting for him filled the chamber. He didn't blink. He didn't look away from Grayfia.
Not for a single heartbeat.
He didn't alert Katerea. Didn't alert Roygun. He let them drown in each other while his crimson eyes held his wife captive through the crack in the door—a silent conversation conducted entirely through locked gazes and the rhythmic, savage music of flesh against flesh.
Katerea climaxed first, screaming into the thick, humid air as Roygun's tongue pushed her shatteringly over the edge. Her powerful thighs clamped around Roygun's head like a vice, her whole body seizing in spasm after wracking spasm, her cries dissolving into broken, hiccupping sobs. Rizevan felt Roygun's cunt tighten in instant, sympathetic response—felt the Belphegor tipping helplessly over that same jagged precipice, her walls beginning to flutter and clench around him in the telltale rhythm of impending release.
''That's two,'' he grunted, and drove himself deeper, chasing his own end with the single-minded focus of a master craftsman approaching the critical moment of a forge.
Roygun came utterly undone around him. Her wail was swallowed by Katerea's still-spasming cunt, her silken walls milking his cock with rhythmic, involuntary clenches that bordered on violent. The sensation was exquisite—wet, clutching heat, the desperate flutter of her inner muscles begging him to fill her.
He obliged.
With a final, brutal thrust that seated the head of his cock flush against her cervix, Rizevan came. His release flooded Roygun in thick, scalding pulses—rope after rope of hot, pearlescent seed painting her insides white, filling her until there was simply no room left and his cum began to leak in slow, creamy rivulets down her trembling thighs. She sobbed against Katerea's pussy, her whole body quaking, and Rizevan held himself there, buried to the root, grinding against her deepest point to ensure every last drop was sealed inside the woman who would one day wear his ring alongside his wife's.
His eyes never left the door.
Grayfia hadn't moved. Her expression was composed—impeccably controlled, as always—but her lips were parted, just slightly. Her chest rose and fell faster than composure should allow. Her elegant fingers, the fingers that couled weave spells capable of dismantling armies, were curled against the obsidian doorframe with a grip that whitened her knuckles.
She hadn't fled. She hadn't looked away. She just... watched. Watched her destined husband fill another woman. Watched the seed that would father her own future children paint the insides of Roygun Belphegor.
And her red eyes burned.
Rizevan withdrew from Roygun with a wet, lewd sound, his seed spilling from her thoroughly used cunt in a slow, creamy cascade that dripped onto Katerea's waiting face below. Without ceremony—without granting anyone a moment's respite—he flipped Katerea onto her stomach and mounted her from behind. His cock, still brutally, impossibly hard, slid into her soaked cunt with the practiced ease of a man who had already broken her in thoroughly earlier that night.
Katerea keened, overstimulated and trembling, already bucking back against him, already babbling for more. ''Yes—yes—fill me too, Rizevan, I need it, I need—''
''Quiet!'' He said harshly, not unkindly, and fucked into her with the same relentless, smith's rhythm.
Roygun, dragging herself forward on shaky limbs, crawled up the bed and pressed her cum-slick lips to his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tasted Katerea's arousal on her tongue, tasted Roygun's own utter submission beneath it, and bit her lower lip—hard enough to bleed, but gentle enough not to wound. She moaned into his mouth, greedy even for that small, sharp cruelty.
The night blurred into a fever dream of tangled flesh.
Roygun riding his face, her magnificent H-cup tits bouncing with every desperate roll of her hips, grinding her cum-filled, thoroughly used cunt against his scarred mouth and tongue. Katerea impaling herself on his cock with desperate abandon, her golden eyes rolled back, her bespectacled face a mask of pure, brainless ecstasy.
Katerea and Roygun kissing frantically—tongues tangling, breasts pressed together, nipples dragging—while Rizevan took them both from behind, alternating between their thoroughly used, cum-leaking cunts with each brutal stroke of his twelve-inch cock.
Roygun on her back, legs folded to her chest, while Katerea sat on her face and Rizevan fucked Katerea from behind. His scarred hands reached around to maul Roygun's bouncing tits, rolling those pebbled pink nipples between his calloused fingers until she was screaming into Katerea's cunt and gushing around nothing.
Position bled into position, climax into climax, until both women were perfectly, thoroughly, exquisitely undone.
Their elaborate hairstyles reduced to tangled rats' nests. Their bodies marked with constellations of love-bites and the imprint of his grip. Their pussies leaking his seed in slow, steady pulses with every aftershock.
And through every single moment—every thrust, every scream, every broken sob, every desperate plea for more—Rizevan watched Grayfia watching him.
He watched her through Roygun's final, sobbing orgasm, his cum leaking from the Belphegor's cunt as she collapsed bonelessly onto the sheets.
He watched her through Katerea's second climax of this round, the Leviathan's screams muffled against Roygun's sweat-slick shoulder as Rizevan emptied himself inside her for the final time that night, flooding her womb with the same seed that had given Grayfia twins.
He watched her, and she watched him, and neither of them spoke a word aloud.
She stayed far longer than was necessary. Far longer than she needed to verify that his lovers were being properly tended to. That fact alone told him more than any confession ever could.
But eventually, as the first pale light of the Underworld's false dawn began to creep through the heavy black curtains, Grayfia Lucifuge moved.
She stepped back from the door. Her silver hair caught the dim corridor light like a ghost's shroud, and for one frozen, unguarded moment, her mask of ice cracked—not shattered, never shattered, she was far too disciplined for that—but a hairline fracture split her composure wide enough to reveal the truth beneath.
Hunger. Desire. The cold, aching loneliness of a woman who had given permission for her husband to share himself with others and then found herself on the outside of a door, watching.
Then the mask sealed itself shut with the quiet, terrible finality of a tomb closing.
She turned. Her heels clicked a measured, unhurried rhythm against the obsidian floor—the gait of a woman who refused to flee, even when every instinct screamed at her to either join or retreat.
Fade. Fade. Silence.
Rizevan smiled softly—not the sharp, cruel smile he wore for his lovers, but something quieter, something reserved for the woman who held his heart—and let his eyes drift closed. Katerea was curled against his right side, her tanned body limp with exhaustion. Roygun was pressed against his left, her cherry-blossom hair sticking to her damp cheek, her lips brushing the scar over his heart with unconscious worship.
Both women would wake tomorrow sore, satisfied, and thoroughly claimed.
And Grayfia... Grayfia would be waiting for him at breakfast, composure impeccable, a single silver eyebrow raised in that way that meant they would be having a conversation later. Not an argument—Grayfia didn't argue—but a conversation, in the privacy of their own dining chambers, about what she had seen and what she had felt and why she had stayed at that door for so very, very long.
He was really looking forward to it….
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(Author's Note:)
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I don't often write lemons, and not in such detail. But I figured it would be a good way to open the chapter and a great way to finish it. More descriptive than I normally would use but I'm satisfied with it. As to whether he banged his mom I'll leave it to your perverted imaginations. Anyways, Rizevan is now master of the Knights of Hell, and by War's end the Knights of Hell will expand significantly to seventy two members over the following centuries. They won't be given a rank based on the number of Knights already in the Order, because while the Devil who'll become the 72nd Knight is alive, the replacements for Zaziel, Urthemis, Duma, and Andor are not even born yet and won't be for a few centuries. Every one who becomes a Knight is specific to a particular part and as such a particular power or clan train that comes with it.
Anyways, I'm going to end it here before this Author's Note breaks the six thousand word mark for the chapter. I'll see you guys at the next one.
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A very special thanks to Mitchell Howard, David Martinez, ROGUE505 Saver, Mathew T Linderman, Luck George, Kyle Diano, Julien, Morgan Sinn, Tom A, Nicholas Berenguer, Arimar26, Robin Kristiansen, Dragon emperor87, Daniel Setchell, James Fleming, Zero 12995, Spencer Davidson, Rowdy_Rich, Beastmode2003, Birhaledin, Blood For The Blood God, Dymarkus Tillman, Lorra Thorsdottir, Parker Kessinger, Ryan, Jacob Hixson, Kazim Zaidi, and Natalie McCowen for their support on P-atreon.
And also a big thank you to Cody, Luci Alarra, TJ Cruz, Kunta, Availon90, Gavin Barclay, Dragonslayer29, Jacarya Robinson, Nathan Just, Francisco J Guzman, Axlii, Reece Hutton, Ken Harris, Zeldris Wrath, Duy, lonelynib _, Austin, D3EATH707, Cutler1812, Aleksander_402, Lewis Wilson, Profound Magician, Arzard, HxC 740 VxD, Attila Kovács, Ruby Uzumaki, Mudit Chadha, Maciek, Joao Goncalves, Dwhateverprof, Jibreel Kamal, Luis, Luis, Zeca, Bent, Jason, Solus 1994, Evil King, Manuel, Benoit Valtin, Craig Butler, Joseph Brann, Cristobal Ahumada, Nathaniel Lessord, GGbeejee, Trey-Way, FisherKing711, Calvin Ellis, adrian szydlowski, Robert Hernandez, James Lloyd, Ryan, Meet Parikh, Kyle Santora, Toros Silver, Vlone_Icy, reikon aijin, weird song, Cameron Krueger, Nattapat Attachat for their past support on Patreon.
The next Chapter is currently available on my relaunched and rebuilt P-atreon, to access simply search the following link, but without the dash between the P and A, Two tiers with the same benefits but different contexts. The chapters on P-atreon will be published when the chapters following them are done and dusted and ready to publish over here on this site.
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