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There was a rather poetic quality to the destructiveness of the Earthquake Devil, it had to be said. One could suppose that the nature of its carnage was precisely in the name: earthquake. It was a thing of rumbling ferocity, its power shown through shattered superstructures, rent concrete, and crumbling masonry. The works of Man seemed helpless in the face of something that represented the conceptualization of the earth’s tectonic movement and redefined it in a hellish format. 

It was monstrous, no doubt, but a mindless sort of destruction. It did not move with a singlefold desire to break everything around it, but that was a byproduct of its own movements. Every step, sweep, and push made buildings crumble and caused roadways to fracture. The shifting of its heavy scales was reminiscent of the grinding of continental shelves, and the glistening punctures of its flesh were much like the Earth’s natural subduction. Where it was wounded, the skin curled inward, sucked in on itself, while new mountain ranges of pinkish flesh bloomed.

It wasn’t trying to destroy, but did anyhow – because that was what an Earthquake was. Mindless, unfocused save for where it appeared, and capable of breaking anything it wanted to. The Earthquake Devil, thus, left behind a pattern in its unintentional work; no footsteps, no clawmarks, but a layer of destruction that honestly was indistinguishable from a natural event. Anyone who walked over this scene later would never assume some thirty-meter monster was thundering through Japan, and instead only see the after-effects of a very normal natural disaster.

But this wasn't a very normal natural disaster. The Devil was a draconic thing, insofar as humanity defined the conception of dragons: four-legged for the most part, with a heavy tail of spikes and a triangular head shaped like the prow of a yesteryear dreadnought. Its mouth was filled with rows and rows of jagged, mountainous teeth, wicked and sharp. Claws were as long as people, and each one rent furrows where the thing crawled.

And that, really, was where the draconic similarities began to end. Heavy scales covered the beast, but strung between those natural ridges was pin, slippery skin, as if fresh-formed and new-growing. Sometimes it bubbled like magma, with the occasional skull and ribcage visible in the squelching morass, before resettling again. It bled constantly, though by the time it hit the ground, it was mere stone. A set of too-human arms jetted from its clavicles, helping it to crack and crunch anything that its prowed head slammed into.  Other sets of arms seemed to randomly poke out between sections of scales, sometimes lasting for mere moments before they sank back down into its skin.

Makima enjoyed the poetic symmetry of it, if nothing else. Brutal, uncompromising, and totally dumb. It had a focus, and it executed it without knowing why or what it was. Sometimes, she wondered what it would be like to be a ‘simple’ Devil like that, something that was a mere natural disaster, created only because of physics, geology, and weather patterns afflicting the globe, instead of something like her – something with terrible focus. 

She wondered what it would be like if everything held that dumb purity of action – and dashed the thought in an instant. It was no way for people to live. There were many things wrong with the world, but there was nothing to be gained from ignorant purity. She couldn’t even sanction the thought of being so pointlessly enslaved to something that couldn’t be understood. She found that she did not appreciate it whatsoever, and twitched her nose with distaste that she’d ever considered it whatsoever.

But, still, Makima watched its rampage. She stood on a fairly elevated landing and watched the way that the Earthquake Devil began to falter; Public Security Devil Hunter’s Section Four had engaged alongside other assets in a method and meaning of Makima’s choosing. Other assets had been deployed to contain the Devil's rampage before it started to send everything crumbling down, and Makima’s orchestrations had seen them contain it and combat it where it seemed the most suitable.

It was an unfortunate series of events that had caused the Devil to form and it had been some time since Makima had been responsible for dealing with it. An earthquake of a magnitude that started on the eastern coast of China, whipped into Typhoon-battering storms across the southern tip of Japan. The Devil had formed in China, emerging in response to the natural disaster – but somehow, had found its way across the seaboard to chase the destruction on Japanese soil.

There had been a brief worry that it was a targeted event, perhaps orchestrated by their unfriendly fellows across the ocean. It was possible. Anything was possible. What it would achieve, Makima did not know – but it was possible. Either way, once it hit Japanese territory, it became the problem of the Public Security Devil Hunters. Once it was within Makima’s relative jurisdiction, it was their division's issue to deal with. Certainly, the kilometers of destruction it had wrought earned it a banishment with all due prejudice.

Makima’s eyes flicked around again. The creature was fully engaged now with practiced Devil Hunters and Fiends. Most of them were Devil Hunters, and contracted out their powers from Devils – some useful here, some less so. Fiends, repurposed corpses, were a little more tactically sound. A couple of Hybrids too, but of a distinctly different sort to any Weapon-Hybrid.  Under her orchestration, things moved in an elegant symmetry of combat to contain, and kill, the Earthquake Devil.

Makima remained cool, stone-faced, the entire time. Her face showed no emotion, because it did not have to. Nothing had gone in contrast to her plans, and even if they did, there would be no reason to show anything. She observed coolly, watching the fluid dynamics of combat with a practiced eye. She could intervene at any point, should she desire to. She could hurt this thing, and hurt it good; but it was large, and it regenerated quickly enough. She’d rather let the peons do the hard work.

There was also the not-so-subtle reason that Makima felt no need to show the full extent of what she could do to anyone. Some might suspect her of being a full-on Devil. Most would assume her to be the average, contracted human, or a fiend, perhaps. Even if she felt no fear from any individual threat around, even if her Contract made it so that she could remain hale and healthy, she did not need to serve herself up on a silver platter. Her plans were much easier to contain and handle when she was under the radar.

Quite unlike the Earthquake Devil, who was big, flashy, and dangerous. 

I wonder, Makima mused after a cool moment , if I could control something like that. 

There were few things she could not Control in life. As long as she viewed her target as being beneath her, it was hers to control and contain. Her pet, her dog, her slave, for as long as she wished. But, the creature still had to understand the concept of give-and-take, rationalize that control was something that existed, and could be given – or stolen. Many things, thankfully, understood that fear, whether it be animal or human. But a rock? A tree? An Earthquake? She rather doubted such a thing would matter.

No reason to risk her immortal life trying it. She might be immune to death so long as Japan had a single citizen in it, but she’d rather not suffer the indignity and ignominity of the pain death brought – and show her hand to anyone. On a more practical note, her Special Unit had it handled. And, for an experimental unit, Makima had to admit that they were doing rather well, indeed. They hadn’t seen many operations yet, at least not compared to other Divisions, but Makima knew they’d become a finely honed tool.

Makima did enjoy her tools.

The Earthquake Devil roared. Its jaws split open wider, and a gush of fresh blood – or magma, or whatever it was - poured from the too-wide gap. It brought its head down not even a second later, crushing someone in a rather unfortunate manner. It wasn’t Makima’s concern, however it was. She did, however, see how the Devil, though weakened, continued to rampage. It was bleeding from a hundred wounds, but it regenerated in a matter all too similar to the subduction and induction of the earth's mantle-  skin sinking, new skin rising. 

Makima sighed. She began to step forward, dress shoes slapping against the concrete landing. It might be that she would need to get herself involved a bit more directly, then. She would not tolerate any sort of failure, not when it would reflect poorly on herself. How could she remain in control over her subordinates if she failed at something? It would be a ridiculous notion, and not one worth considering.

A flash of brightness stopped her short in her tracks. She watched with idle curiosity as a hail of arrows pelted the demon’s lashing arm, slicing into the joints of its body – not attempting to kill, but to instead lock bones together, sever ligaments, and reduce the functionality of the arm itself. Excellent hints. Pinpoint accuracy that would put the Gun Devil to shame – not that such an entity required accuracy to do its fell work, but all the same. 

Makima, again, found herself staring. Not in shock, but in something like a rising admiration. She watched with hard, golden eyes as a Devil burst on the scene again, after having been rammed through a wall about six minutes and thirty-one seconds ago. At least, Makima assumed it was the same person: minutes ago, a white-haired Devil Hunter had been knocked through that very wall, but now, a full-on Devil emerged. Its head was angular and triangular, but crossed through with bolts. Arms were shaped much like fleshy crossbows, bowlines formed of stretched ligaments; bolts and arrows skewing through limbs to look like some kind of skeletal armour.

A full-on Hybrid. It was something that made Makima’s lips curl up. Hybrids were a much rarer sort; fused between humans and Devils, with the ability to transform from one to the other, it was a big, substantial upgrade from a mere contract to gain supernatural powers. The disparity in strength was put on full display when the Bow Devil raced forward and began to pelt the Earthquake Devil’s arms, specifically targeting joints and ligaments with storms of arrows that moved with eerie precision. 

Makima’s head cocked in a birdlike gesture of curiosity. The shots were just right, aimed to lock the arm down in the seconds before the Bow Devil landed on it. Next, it was running up along the Devil’s scales and flesh, ascending with animal-like movements. When the angle became treacherous, it used the arrows jammed into its biceps to bodily yank itself upright, clawing higher and higher.

Each was like a pinprick against a giant, hopeless to cause lasting damage – but still the Devil roared. It was being pelted with a  thousand cuts anyhow, worn down and sawed away at. Makima watched curiously, almost rapt at attention, as the Bow Devil moved up higher before finding a solid point of purchase. With an ungodly flexion of its muscles and a curling that was not out of place on some gelatinous undersea animal, it began to unload a furious fusillade of arrows, bolts, and other such archaic projectiles.

Most did not find purchase, and many did not find the mark. Some bounced uselessly off of iron-hard scales. Others sank deep into the pliant flesh, earning a squeal of hellish indignation. An arm rose, and then fell, moving to swap the fly on its shoulder. The broad palm crashed home too fast to follow, applying skyscraper-crushing force to the Bow Devil. Or, at least, the spot upon its shoulder, which subsequently cracked bone and sent the mindless Natural Disaster Demon howling with pain.

Oh? Makima mused. She crossed one of her arms behind her back in an elegant, refined posture; something like a butler, ready to wait upon their master. The other hand curled by her lower lip in a gesture of fascination. This is almost like something out of… oh, an American triple-A action film. Yes….

The Bow Devil reappeared, but It was now a She. The impact must have destroyed her Hybrid form and rocked her back into her normal self: that of a woman in black pants and a white tanktop, her hair a smooth shade of gray-white. An eyepatch that looked far too much like that of a pirate was stretched across one half of her face. She was very distinctly Chinese in appearance, though at that distance Makima would not have been able to tell; she only knew because she had been alerted beforehand.

The woman, the Devil Hunter, stood proud on her perch, just atop the Devil’s arm. There was a moment, a brief moment, where the Devil looked at her, and she looked back. There was an almost eerie quality to it, a brief moment of such stillness that Makina felt it even from there. Then, movement. The Devil hunter began to climb, ascending across scales with the efficacy of a rock climber.

Before, the Devil hunter had been using her bolts to scale the creature. Now, though, she climbed it as if it were a rock-face, her hands finding every single handhold, her feet on every single ounce of purchase, with unnatural skill. It was effortless so as to be symmetrically perfect, and Makima enjoyed the sight - even as she tried to think about how it was possible. 

Her lips quivered with amusement. Her golden eyes watched, observing, staring, calculating. The Devil Hunter flipped herself up onto a high portion of a shoulder blade and rotated smoothly; the full force of the Earthquake Devil’s attention was now her own. She had no direct, distinct weapon, but she seemed unphased by that fact. The two entities now stared at one another, eyes locked, a meeting of Hunter and Prey. 

Makima unexpectedly found her pulse rising, as if she was reaching the crescendo of some American action flick.

“Entertain me,” Makima whispered to no one but her expectant ego.

Movement. A blur of it, in fact. The Devil Hunter raced left, along the connected arms. The Earthquake Devil could have swatted her like a fly, and so it attempted to as its arm flicked to the right – a fast gesture, and the figure precariously perched upon it would be unable to keep her hold. At least, such was Makima’s expectation, and her expectations were not met. One second, the white-haired woman was there, the next, she was higher up – as if she’d just slipped from one end to the other, so fast it was akin to teleportation.

She was there , in the crook of a neck and a shoulderblade, in the recessed shadows. There was a longsword in her hands, one that looked particularly fleshy; the hilt was knotted bone. Makima then frowned, her red eyebrows twisting inward. Something was certainly off about that; it was a Devil's weapon for certain, but she had just witnessed a Bow Devil . Swords were certainly not classified beneath that, and even further, to conjure something like that up could only be contractual.

Now, now, s he mused. Interesting. A Hybrid… but contracted with another Devil, is that it? How curious.

Was it possible? Makima had never encountered such a thing before. With a stoic look, she ran her index finger along her lower lip, enthused by the performance. The  Devil Hunter moved in with deadly intent, her sword slicing – cutting down into a neck, between exposed skin. It seemed like a superficial blow at best, but then the Earthquake Devil howled. Arterial blood gushed out in a wild, volcanic spray, as if the sword had truly bit into the creature’s vital arteries.

Carotid Artery, left, Makima thought. Beautiful cut.  

It didn’t seem possible on the face of it. The blow was too precise, too perfect, hitting just that right mark with uncanny precision. Now, the sword was buried into a neck, down to the hilt. The Devil was still howling. It wildly tore its arm up and around, trying to fling the woman aside. This time, she did fly back; effortlessly tossed off the beast’s body. Now, though, it was listing, bleeding, wounded a bit too much altogether. It regenerated, but sluggishly now. 

The Devil Hunter fell, but even as she did so, another weapon was ‘conjured’ into her hand: a spear, long and thin and needle-like. It resembled something more akin to a human’s spine capped with metal rather than anything human-made, and Makima knew it to be some Devil’s conjuration. She watched the woman swing her arm back, then lose the spear with a mighty snap. It slashed through the air with the uncanny accuracy of an arrow, and it punctured straight through the Devil’s profiled eyes.

Both of them. With eerie, unnerving ease, it punched through one eye and to the other. The Devil howled, scrambled, head lolling. It slumped down and crashed into a portion of a building, sending stone tumbling. It hit the ground with a tectonic rumble, sending asphalt shifting like playdough. Other Hunters moved in for the kill, but Makima found her eyes focused on the white-haired Devil Hunter. She could not find her. She did not land where one expected her to. She wasn’t on the ground, either. Makima’s eyes narrowed with curiosity, looking –

There . The Devil Hunter was there , running up along the creature's fallen flank as if she'd never been hurt at all. She skipped along scales while molten, shifting flesh bubbled; skeletal hands dripping with viscera sloshed out of the mixture and attempted to grab her heels, but failed to find purchase. The Devil Hunter skipped from scale to scale, avoiding the rising, grasping hands. There were dozens of them, tens of dozens, until the creature’s hide looked like a thousand people trying to reach for the sky – but not a single one could pull down the Devil Hunter.

There was too much precision, too much grace, an uncanny flexibility that saw handstands and flips become as common as running. It didn’t matter if the creature began to rise again, or if any of the others attacked it with all due ferocity; the white-haired Hunter leaped, grabbing onto the huge spear that jutted from its right eye, and used it like a gymnast would. She swung up and around, then moved in for an attack with her longsword back in hand. 

Another cut, perfectly set. Another slice opened up along the monster’s  jawline, tearing a neat line. It, again, seemed to nick major arteries, and the explosion of blood was downright violent. It seemed for a moment that the wild rearing of the Devil would throw off the Hunter, and it did – she again flew back, one more tossed away like a ragdoll in a storm. 

Another weapon formed and conjured. This was small, coiled, like a rope of ligaments and cured leather-  a whip. Makima stared with something akin to fascination as the new Devil weapon was conjured, and watched with unexpected excitement as it lashed out in a long, lean line. It made contact with the lodged spear and wrapped around it twice over before latching on tight. The Hunter swung her body up and around, the sword still in her hand. The spear shifted, pulled out of its eye-socket mount, but not nearly enough to stop her.

The Hunter crashed against the creature’s throat-hollow. The sword cut in deep for a third time, hitting a point that caused the Devil to violently jerk and spasm. Blood was truly pouring now, and where it hit the ground, it congealed into magma-like stone. Makima was utterly, entirely fascinated by that point; three solid strokes and the Earthquake Devil was on its knees.

Arteries, her mind mused. Cartoid. Left, right, and then the hollow point of the throat to sever into the spine. Clever. But how did she achieve such impossible precision? It was beyond anatomical knowledge; it was the correct application of power and force that almost seemed to be luck. Makima found herself oddly impressed. It was talent, plain and simple. Uncanny, but shockingly accurate. 

And the sheer number of weapons, she further considered. Interesting. How many contracts does she have already? Or… is it more than that? Devil consumption? Makima was not quite sure if it operated in such a way. Could the power be absorbed into a Hybrid in such a manner? For certain, the Chainsaw Devil…

Her mind trailed off. She rubbed her index finger along her lips, considering. 

She did not watch the exact moment the Earthquake Devil was slain. It was handled by a combined effort where its heart and brain were carved out and into pieces, ensuring total death. She, instead, stared at the white-haired Huntress as she stalked out from beneath the creature’s shadow. Makima had not seen her land on the ground at all, but there she was, casually walking. There was not an ounce of blood over her body, despite the fact that she’d repeatedly been in their path.

Makima was a woman of practicality, at the end of the day. She was a woman of precise focus. She had plans for her life, and that was to gain control over everything and wipe away all the ‘wrongs’ in the world. She needed tools for that task, useful weapons to serve her purposes; she could not do everything herself. There was always a point of danger otherwise, even with her Contract through the Prime Minister in effect. The power that this Hunter showed, the talent, was almost instantly seductive. 

And so, Makima made her decision in that very next second:

I’m going to make this person one of Mine.

Her name was Quanxi. 

She was not part of the Devil Hunter’s association. She was not even from Japan at all. She was Chinese, and she’d come specifically to help deal with the Earthquake Devil on a privately commissioned basis. Such a profession was common in the world, generally speaking; private contractors were always a more lucrative business than public work, especially for salaried employees. It was still far more dangerous and far more regulated, but there are always contractors in the job space.

It was simply odd for there to be someone from another Country there. When Makima did some digging – which was to say, asked some questions – she hadn’t found out too much. A Chinese contractor, she’d arrived in the wake of a Devil she was hunting. Things lined up, and she took the commissioned bounty offered by the Government. That was it. She was now waiting to get her cheque. 

It left a lot of holes in Makima’s knowledge, but it was nothing that she had to care about. So what, after all? It wouldn’t change anything. The Hybrid was to be Makima’s next target, plain and simple. She was clearly strong, but hardly anything that would pose a threat to her. She was maybe the strongest Hybrid Makima had ever laid personal eyes on, but Makima remained in a power class of her own. Something like this was no direct threat. She was inferior, and thus, she was easily controllable.

But Makima was not a brute-force object. She enjoyed her social decorum as much as the next government worker. She made sure she was tidied and composed for their meeting: her dress shirt was drawn tight to her body, pressed in so close to the skin that – at points – it looked painted on. Every button was elegantly fixed, and her collar was scrupulously defined. Every fold was flattened into a neat crease, ensuring that it remained taught to the skin. It had the intentional effect of highlighting much of her curvature, and that was something that Makima tended to use willingly.

Her tie was pulled through that elegant-folded collar and draped over the swell of her chest. Due to the natural sweeps of her body, there was a somewhat comical forward slope before a downward drop; it had to work around her breasts, but that, too, worked in her favour. Sex, after all, was potent. Even if Makima thought nothing of sexual contact, she could not deny the effect it had on her targets. Her chest was always emphasized for that reason, and she never tended to think anything of it.

A crude, but effective, form of manipulation, Makima always enjoyed musing. Sex meant little to her, and it never failed to amuse her with just how enthused others tended to be by it -and her body by extension. She did not complain, though, because it was oh-so-useful for the dogs in human skin that surrounded her. She doubted it would make much of a difference here, but Makima was a woman of strict habits – this included.

Her dress shirt was smoothed down into her high-wasted dress pants, so high that they were near her navel. There was not a single fold of cloth out of place, such that it highlighted the length of her legs as well as the over-generous curve of her hipline. She knew the effect it had on people. She knew she was beautiful. She was not immune to it. She simply never thought much about it, because she’d never come across anyone who was worth the appreciation of her curves.

The average person was little better than a dog, and hardly worth her time. 

Makima brushed her fingers through her hair, then brushed a few of her longer bangs backward. Her hair was a slick, pale red, the colour of warm coral. Her braid was wrapped up and stretched back, forming something much like a leash. She enjoyed the visual symbolism of her chains. She was an exceedingly unsubtle woman at the best of times, but people never saw into it. Maybe, if they did, Makima would be considerably less confident in her abilities- but they weren’t, and so she wasn’t. 

Once satisfied, Makima walked out of her office. Her shoes should have made little clicks as she walked across the cool, crisp floor, but she was instead silent as the grave. No one would hear her if she did not want them to. She moved like a prowling cat, her gait crisp, officelike, businesslike, yet precise as a hunting cat. She did not cut a particularly impressive figure outside of that, though, for she was dressed like every other Government official.

The place was filled with Devil Hunters ‘on break’ after the operation, but they were scattered about here and there. Makima could keep track of most of them through scent, but generally speaking, most of them were white noise to her senses. She could not quite distinguish between the faces of humans, and she didn’t really care to. It wasn't necessary. If they took her interest, she kept it. If they didn’t, she left it. 

Makima expected Quanxi to be in the break room of the Security Office. It was not in doubt that it was where she would be; there was no other place at all for a contractor to be, especially when waiting for pay. The government office was not a playground, after all. Still, when Makima walked in, she did not find anyone. There was no one sitting at the plastic tables, no one on the chairs, no one by the vending machine. 

Odd , thought Makima. She scanned her head around, patiently panning. Her arms were set behind her back, palms crossed, in an almost’schoolgirl’ gesture of innocence – a way to disarm the senses, and not for anything else. But, suddenly, she felt as if she were overcompensating. There was no one there to see her. Now, if I were a foreigner waiting for a paycheck, where would I be?

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Said a voice to Makima’s left, in an area she’d certainly looked over when walking in. “I had to make a fresh point, ‘cause it was empty. Wait, that’s fine, right? Sorry for using your stuff, but…”

Makima turned gently, slowly, with disguised surprise. Quanxi was there, positioned near the counter festooned with basic break room appliances: coffee maker, tea pot, microwave, the works. Makima was sure she’d glanced there upon entering, but somehow had missed an extremely tall woman standing by the coffee pot. 

Tall. Very tall, Makima realised. Much taller than Makima’s five-six, maybe even over six-feet. Easily one of the tallest women that Makima had ever seen in person, and certainly above any average in Japan or China. A tall height for a surprisingly handsome appearance. Even for Makima, someone who never really thought about such things, she could – in an entirely objective manner – notice the strength of Quanxi’s jawline, the regal tilt to her chin, and the roundness of her cheeks.

Her eyepatch ran over the left side of her face, and was thick and featureless. It was as dark as her real eye, which glimmered like polished onyx. Both were in stark contrast to the white-gray of her hair, which looked permanently tousled and windswept. It looked as though fingers had been raked through it one too many times, offering a permanently messy appearance. It was a distasteful sort of asymmetry, but the woman wore it perfectly naturally.

In her hand, she held a paper cup filled with what was presumably coffee. It still steamed just below her lips.

“You must be Quanxi,” Makima said with a fake smile and the air of a false socialite. “You were very admirable out there. I was quite impressed.”

The woman smiled against the cup of her coffee. “You were the one watching from the landing, right?” A sip, calm and simple. “Are you one of those captains?”

So she noticed me; impressive, I suppose . Makima’s expression did not really change. To say she cared would not have been representative of how her mind calculated situations like these. “I’m in charge of Division Four, but I don't have the particular rank of captain.”

“Oh. Cool.” Qianxi sipped again, eyes slowly panning across Makima. “So, are you going to leave me guessing, or are you going to tell me your name?”

“Makima,” she replied, easy, smooth, and fluid. She stepped closer, making the prerequisite contact to begin her control. 

“That’s one heck of an interesting name,” Quanxi mused, seemingly at ease. “Makima. Ma-ki-Ma. Rolls off the tongue.” Another sip, slow and steady. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Thank-you,” Makima said, her voice elegant and fake at the same time. Even if it was flirting, it barely registered in her head. “Tell me, Quanxi, if you would… What brings a Chinese Devil Hunter out here?”

Quanxi looked aside, glancing out the window. That wasn’t quite so good; Makima wanted eye contact when establishing her control. Gently, she slipped in closer,  like a viper ready to strike. Her manner was innocent and light, unsuspecting as a schoolgirl.

“It caused some problems, and people asked me to help those problems,” Quanxi said idly. “So, where I am. The bounty is a nice bonus, I’ll admit.”

“How altruistic,” Makima said with a facsimile of a smile. “You must be very kind-hearted.”

Quanxi let out a low, throaty chuckle. “ Mhm… Oh, I don’t know about that. I can get greedy in my tastes.”

“Don’t we all?” Makima mused. The irony thickened in her throat, made her want to laugh. She moved nearer to Qianxi. Her eyes drank in the sheer fitness of the woman's body, shown off through the tightness of her tanktop. The swells of her chest were pronounced as could be, and the lines of a functional sports bra were readily apparent. Abdominal muscles were clear from where the tank top snagged, showing a considerable amount of raw, steely strength.

Her biceps flexed with a dazzling interplay of muscles. Tight, corded control laden in the most casual of gestures. Makima’s eyes raked over those bare arms, and she found herself enjoying the sight a bit more than she intended. There was something attractive, she had to admit, in the strength behind the human body. Makima herself was clearly stronger than Quanxi by far, but her arms remained thin and slender. To see that kind of apparent power on a woman was fascinating.

“I’ve never seen a Devil Hunter with so many contracts,” Makima then said, cutting right to the chase. “You’ve intrigued me, Quanxi.”

Quanxi glanced at her. Lips flicked up into something like a lazy smirk. “You haven’t heard of me?”

That caught Makima back, if only for a single moment. One single moment. A little bit of a thing, hardly anything to matter, and nothing that would ever show on her face – but it did, because it was not something her mind would have planned for. Her cogitations didn’t allow for people to say things that came out of the blue, because people tended to be predictable. 

“Should I have?” Makima mused wryly. “Elucidate me.”

She should have already tried to Control Quanxi by now, but she was curious. She didn't admit it, but she was interested in what she had to say. Really, then, what was one or two more minutes of her time? It would change nothing. A Devil Hunter, a Hybrid, was just that – a human playing pretend. Powerful, insanely so, but Makima was a Devil. She was The Control Devil, a Horseman, and not one to be caught unawares.

“I’m the First Devil Hunter,” Quanxi then said, her syllables flowing like warm butter. “I was around when they first made these kinds of offices.” She rapped her knuckles on the windowsill. “Guess you could say I was your… hm, what’s that word? My Japanese gets rusty. Senpai, is it?”

A ridiculous notion. It made Makima want to laugh. Still, she liked everything she heard. The First Devil Hunter? A clearly potent and powerful tool for Makima – but evidently not that strong, if she’d never heard of her before. Certainly not very good at her job, if she could not tell a Demon was staring at her in the face. Quanxi did not know it, but her smug assertion only worked against her.“You must be quite old, then.”

“Geez.” Quanxi chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck in a good-natured way; almost charming, for what it was worth. “Do I look that bad?”

Makima found the phrase as unexpected as the last. It made her smile a bit more, though she didn't feel it. “Not at all. You’re quite fetching, in your own way.”

“Somehow,” Quanxi chuckled, “I feel like you don’t mean that.”

Makima looked up at her one good eye. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you look at me like you want something,” Quanxi mused in a wry, rolling voice. She sipped from her cup until it was empty, then put it down gently. “And I can’t imagine what a gorgeous girl like you wants with a hick like me.”

A pause. Makima couldn’t help it; whether it was the way Quanxi spoke or the perceptiveness, she found herself terribly amused. “I like interesting people. I enjoy having them around. And someone like you, Quanxi, with so many contacts, is interesting indeed.”

“I see.” Quanxi’s head tilted, if just a bit. “See, I’m simple. I like drinking, I like vacations, and I like pretty girls. Just give me one of those three things, and I’m good.”

“Oh, I can certainly tell,” Makima mused. Her tongue traced her teeth. “You’ve stared at my chest no less than four times in the last three minutes.”

Quanxi threw her head back and laughed. “Sorry, sorry. It might be rude, but you’ve got one hell of a body, Makima.”

“You’re very direct, aren’t you?” 

“ Mhm – am I?” Quanxi’s head tilted back. “I might have lost my touch. Maybe I am getting old.”

Hybrids could get quite old, Makima knew that implicitly, but Quanxi had moved as fluidly as someone who was in her twenties. Elegance and violence in human form. Human, sadly, not a Devil, but Makima had been impressed. She was still impressed. She could absolutely use a tool like this, and it wouldn’t even be hard: from the way Quanix stared at her, how she seemed to be flirting around, it was entirely likely that she was trying to get in her pants.

She never would, but Makima would use that freely.

“I wouldn’t say that; I think you’re in your prime,” Makima said and did so honestly. Her finger rolled out, sliding her fingertip along Quanxi’s bare forearm in a playful, flirtatious gesture. She did not mean it. She'd never meant such a thing in her entire life, but Quanxi didn’t know that. An onyx eye flicked down, then up, in an appreciative way. Easy. “And I'm going to enjoy getting to know you better, Devil Hunter.”

“Really?” Quanxi mused. “I’d definitely like to get to know you better, too.”

“Might I inform you of a secret?” Makima murmured, her voice low, throaty, seductive. She leaned in, her chest sliding toward Quanxi in an alluring curve. If Quanxi’s guard wasn’t down yet, it would be. 

“Are we trading secrets now?” Quanxi said wryly.

“I have the power,” Makima began to purr, “To control those –“

Her power of Control did not need magic words to work, but a declaration of intent. Saying it, keeping eye contact, were easy ways to break someone’s willpower down just that much more. As long as they were weaker, as long as they were of a Lessar Rank than her. by saying the words, she conveyed her authority – and with that, she sealed one’s fate. No one had ever –

“You made a mistake, though, before,” Quanxi interrupted, almost musing on the words.

Makima blinked. It took one heck of a rude person to speak over someone, and Quanxi muted Makima's words with her rumbling assertion. She even leaned forward toward Makima, stretching to all six-feet-one of her height. 

“No one ever said I contracted with other Devils,” Quanxi said with an easy, lazy grin, small, but composed. “I ate them.”

Makima took pause, her words dying on her tongue. She registered what Quanixi had just told her, and felt something run along her spine. It was a feeling she was very used to. Confusion, perhaps?  Palpable confusion as she chewed on the information that Quanxi’s powers were not the form of some contact with many Devils, but that she’d eaten Devils and obtained their powers. A very possible thing to do, but to do so regularly? Or even in quantity? That required considerable power and a level of personal control to avoid turning into a monster.

Quanxi was in front of Makima. She’d not heard her move at all. She was right there, head lowered, her six-one towering over Makima’s five-six. Their chests would have been rubbing, had they been the same height. They were not. Though it inspires no fear whatsoever – Makima had been face to face with much, much taller Devils before, of course – she felt uncertainty run along her veins. 

Why, her mind mused, can’t I hear her move? How couldn't I tell she crossed the distance?

Suddenly, there was a feeling running along the back of Maima's neck – the feeling of being watched.

Makima moved her mouth. The pause had been momentary, and faded away again as she continued talking. ‘-I have the power to control those I consider of –“

Something in Quanxi’s expression changed. It grew dark, hooded, and knowing. It was as if, in one moment, Quanxi realized something. It was as if she knew what was going on, or what Makima intended to do. It should not have been possible, but something on Quanxi’s face indicated that she knew – and that she was wary. It shouldn’t have mattered, though. As long as Makima considered herself superior, as long as this woman wasn’t strong enough to stop it, she would be Makima’s bitch before the minute was out.

Makima –

Makima hit the wall hard, hard enough to drive the air out of her lungs and cause the word ‘lesser’ to die on her tongue. Before she was even aware of it, Quanxi had slammed her against the wall, right by the window. One hand was right above her head of coral-red hair, like some schoolgirl in a romance flick. The other one was on her throat, holding it firmly. It all happened as fast as a whirlwind, drawing out an appreciative ‘oh’ from those lips.

But it did not inspire fear. It did not matter to her. She had been pinned down, pressed, and attacked too many times to care. Even being killed was not, itself, a problem for her. The act of death did not scare her, because Death was just another ‘thing’ for her to experience. Still, the fact that this happened at all, combined with how Quanxi’s expression had changed, did make Makima wonder just who she was dealing with.

And still, Makima continued, “L-lesser –“

Qunaxi slammed their mouths together. That was not part of any one of Makima’s calculations about the moment, not at all. Why would she predict someone kissing her full on the mouth like this? Why would she ever imagine that a stranger, a woman, would force her into a kiss, and lock her up with a strong push of their mouths? Makima had been in the process of speaking, of announcing her Control, and now she had lips against her own in a powerful, unyielding kiss.

No, not just lips, but a tongue. Quanxi forced her tongue into her mouth not even a fraction of a second later, and again,Makima was filled with new experiences. She’d been kissed before, though that would be more apt to say she’d manipulated people with her mouth; but she’d never once had tongue shoved into it. She'd never been in a situation where someone fed their tongue down into her mouth like that. It rolled against her lips, plunged down against her tongue, and moved into hot, sticky, full-on contact.

It was thick, slimy, and powerful. The tongue plunged down and worked around in a sudden contortion that made Makima sigh. Her throat, which had before been forming words of Control, now instead offered a confused yet appreciative purr; a noise like an ‘mmmmm?’, drawn out and thick-set. None of her plans accounted for this at all, but there she was pinned to a wall with a hand above her head and a tongue rolling into her mouth.

The depths of her mouth, in fact. It pushed along her cheeks and down toward her throat, inspiring a sudden flush along her spine. Her own tongue pushed up to spar with the offending invader, but it was also at that very moment that Makima remembered a very poignant thing: she did not know how to kiss. She teased people with sex, she enjoyed playing around to manipulate love-struck fools how she wanted, but she had no practical experience. Now, she did not know what to do.

Quanxi did. She knew how to move her tongue. She knew how to press it against Makima’s, to stroke it, and then to wrap around it – wrestling it down in a sensual shove, saliva sloshing around the slimy muscles. The tongue withdrew, then pushed back around again. A head tilted, and lips moved into firm contact. Lips applied more pressure, sinking down into a firmer, cushion-like seal. They lodged in, and now all Makima had was Quanxi’s scent in her nose.

She was not sure how she had not smelled it before, upon entering the room.  It was thick and flavourful, but also strangely muted. It was ashen – no, smoky. It was like firewood mixed with leaves and bramble, almost earthy. There was the acrid tang of sweat there, but also something else – the lingering perfume of women. Multiple women. Many women? Makima was not sure, but she could almost somehow smell every encounter of Quanxi’s life across her skin.

What…. Is this? Makima’s mind mused with confusion. She was not sure how to deal with this. She never had before in her life. She did not know what to say or do about it. She could fight Quanxi off, of course. She could even kill her. But, for the moment, she resigned herself to a sort of perplexed confusion as this six-foot warrior pushed her into the wall, shoved her down, and fed her tongue halfway down into her throat.

Makima’s hands did not know what to do. They curled idly against the wall, curling halfway around the corner, quite unsure of what they were actually meant to achieve right now. Quanxi had no such compunctions. Her free hand went down Makima’s collar, along her tie, and over the curve of her chest. Abruptly, firmly, she grabbed onto her breast, latching right through her blouse. She pushed in hard and bent cloth, skin, and bra at the same time, all with a power that was gasp-inducing.

Makima was not inured to pain or discomfort, though she did not show it. These sorts of things did not phase her all that much, but she certainly wasn’t sure what to do when Quanxi groped into her chest with such firmness. Makima was used to softer touches, those of tentative, lovestruck fools, not the old self-assurance of a clear and practiced womanizer. The hard, gripping touch made her spine quiver, the arch; a slight push for the wall that Quanxi took advantage of. 

What is this woman doing? Makmia’s mind thought, struggling to make sense of the moment. Her lips rolled; she bit down on Quanxi’s lower lip, teeth shamelessly digging in to draw blood. Qunazxi was not at all deterred. She offered a sexual groan that washed through the contours of Makima’s mouth, making her feel an entirely unexpected heat. There was something oddly delicious in that sensation, something that Makima had never really properly felt before.

She knew people desired her. She knew that getting sex wouldn’t be all that hard, either. She was hot, people wanted her, it was as easy as blinking. It was why sex was such a useful tool. She had just never experienced it before, because there was no one she’d ever offer herself up to like that. No one, at last, save for the Chainsaw Devil, but that was not quite yet on the cards. Here and then, Makima was running through experiences she did not properly understand – shifting tongues and slurping saliva and the bubbling heat of a warm, willing mouth.

Quanxi’s hand dug into her chest. The force applied popped a single button on Makima’s shirt, causing her to hiss. A leg pushed up between her own, a knee forcing her own two apart. Her stance widened; Quanxi leaned over her just that much more powerfully, a single heavy bicep curled straight beside Makima’s head. The physical prowess and womanizing talent on display were almost as impressive as her hunting skills, actually. Makima hated to admit that, but this woman was good.

A knee pressed up between her thighs. It was high. It was way too high. Makima recognized that, but she was not sure what to do on the face of it. One hand pushed forward a bit hesitantly, then pressed against Quanxi’s shirt. She curled her fingers into it, threatening to tear – and that was the moment that Quanxi’s knee rose all the way up and pressed against her clothed sex. Makima hissed; her waist almost – almost – bucked. Quanxi pushed in with devilish intent, applying a sudden burst of friction that had absolutely no right feeling as good as it did.

Makima did not like that. On the face of it, she didn’t care for it. Her body, though, did not quite feel the same way as her head. Something in her, whether that be her own lack of experience or the simple fact that she was still a woman with needs, a burst of stimulation passed across her spine. She hissed, and almost instantly cursed the undignified noise. Quanxi, by contrast, shoved that knee up, bouncing it between her legs whilst fully pinning her to the wall. 

The hand that was above Makaima’s head lowered itself until fingers could thread through the red of her hair. A mouth pushed into rolling, grinding alignment, lips curling with friction-filled pressure. The tongue curled out and sloshed into the mouth ahead with throat-plumbing force, moving deeper than Makima could believe. It felt like it was trying to lick her tonsils. Was that even possible? Makima’s understanding of the female body said no, distinctly – except, it damned well seemed like it.

Quxi’s hand groped her breast, squeezing it hard and eliciting a noise that felt too shameful to admit. Between the kneading hand and the bouncing knee, Quanxi worked on Makima with practiced ease. It was as if she’d done this a thousand and ten times before, so often that it was as natural to her as breathing. The confidence was astounding. The surety was dizzying. Makima knew very little about how sex really went past the teasing point, but this woman knew Makima’s body like the back of her hand – because if one was a practiced womanizer, there would be little difference.

Makima was not sure what to do. For once in her life, she had no clue how to respond to this – had no clue of what to do as that hand left her breast and ran down along her stomach, then to her high-wasted dress pants. Fingers flicked open the front button, and she very distinctly realized what was going on. Quanxi methodically unzipped it from the top, inspiring a burst of confused prickles. Makima could still have stopped this. The woman was, at no point, forcing herself on Makima – because to admit that she was forced upon would be to admit that she did not have control, and that couldn’t happen.

Makima had control. She could kill her. It was that easy. She could push her away. These were known qualities. Makima was in charge. She was. She was. What else could this be? A diversion, merely, yes. It was a diversion. That was why Makima curled her fingers into that tanktop and felt the lines of steel-hard abs beneath. Strong. Taut. Utterly crisp. Defined as could be, like a washboard. Shit. Was that even rational? How did a woman get to such a point?

Wait  - wait . Makima’s mind fizzled as the hand moved down beneath her pants, into her open fly. Makima had not planned for that, either. Hell, no one had ever gotten that far before. She should stop it. She could still stop it. Qianxu was not moving too fast, she was going methodically. There was time to stop – ah, but to stop would be to imply that any of this wasn’t under Makima’s thumb. No, no. She wouldn’t. She – 

Those fingers pushed right down. They hooked their way under her underwear, now. Too fast, too skilled. Quanxi wasn’t just a womanizer. She was a skirt-chasterer. She was a damned Woman Hunter. Her fingers were too far down, her entire hand moving to cup Makma’s sex. Why did it leave her feeling so flustered? She was not sure she enjoyed that sensation. She hissed into the kiss, and felt Quanixi’s head shift again. Her tongue curled across spots of Makima’s mouth that she didn’t even know existed, tracing places that left her taste buds sizzling.

She- 

Quanxi’s fingers curled. They pressed down against a place that was too sensitive, too warm, and made Makims’ knees feel like putty. She gasped, then, and it formed the loudest noise so far. It was utterly undignified and something she would never allow herself to recognize, but it was very dangerously real. She gasped out into the kissing, suckling mouth, as fingers pushed down and shoved in with a grinding touch. It found the bud of her clit in a fraction of an instant, and Mkaima could do nothing but rattle from the very back of her throat.

She’d never felt that before. At least, not from a stranger. Herself, when she was exceedingly aroused and couldn't quite control it. Maybe once or twice, when she fantasized about what it would be like to have a proper family to love. Never with a woman, though, because why would she imagine that? Those weren’t thoughts that were supposed to be in her head, and so she was entirely unprepared for the assault of sensation that followed.

Curling. Pushing. A digging, rubbing stroke, laden with finesse and pressure. Not rough, but overwhelmingly firm. Measured, because Quanxi knew what she was doing. She understood how to push down, how to rub, and the circles to form with her fingertips. Two of them curled from there and slipped around, sending a buzz of sensation that made Makima’s mouth pat wider. Quanxi, without ceasing a beat, suckled hard; she slurped up an unhealthy amount of saliva as if feasting on Makima’s taste.

Makima’s hand curled. She dug into the shirt ahead, now pulling on it. In turn, Quanxi’s hand pulled on her hair, drawing it back. A pleasant ache filled her scalp, and Makima savoured the sanction with unexpected relish. She could stop this. She should stop this. Qianxu pushed closer in those moments of indecision, their breasts now properly squishing in against one another – covering her, proud and dominant. That big, broad bicep slipped along her belly as a hand cupped her sex just that much more, fingers sliding in against the folds of her very much unprotected, unguarded cunt. 

Those fingers pushed harder, digging in firmer. They were in her, now. They were curling into her tunnel, and formed the very first things to do so in Makima’s life. At least, if she wasn’t counting herself, or toys, then this would be her first experience. It sent a shuddering spasm along her spine, prompting hips to jump forward. They curled, then, and Makia aspd into the sloppy kiss – which had been going on for so long that it seemed to defy physical law. They should both need to breathe by now, but neither was. Qianyi seemed to hold no need for oxygen, and Makima surely didn't.

Why is she so good at kissing? Makima’s analytical mind tried to understand. There was nothing she could think up, though, because she sure as hell didn’t know how any of it worked. The shifting rotations, the slimy undulations, the spreading saliva, the squelching – all of it. It was wet and thick and brimming with need, exchanged between sloppy slurps. Lips rolled and rubbed in between tilting mouths, angling in and around to find better, hungrier angles.

The hand between her legs pumped and curled down. It dragged in and around with a curling flick, finding a spot that made Makima’s knees quiver inward. Those fingers dragged down across the tightness of her tunnel, and Makima was not sure what to do about it. She clamped one hand against Quanxi’s shirt. The other one lashed out and slammed against Quanxi’s biceps, curling down into the steely muscle. She felt the muscles flexing, curling, as her wrist rolled and rotated, moving with utter fluidity of motion.

Quanxi knew what she was doing. Makima felt like she had that realization one too many times, but it remained true. She knew. This woman knew. Her every movement, her every measure, was one she’d executed beforehand. How many women had she pinned to walls just like this? It was impossible to say. How many had she pinned and kissed so hard that they felt breathless, all without knowing their true natures? Quanxi was making out with a damned Devil, and she didn’t know it.

Makima was immortal, undefeatable, impossibly potent, and there she was, pressed against a wall, a hand down her pants, a tongue in her mouth, taking hold of her.  Wetness brimmed. It gushed. Makima’s tongue almost felt numb from the repeated contact. Her insides felt like they were watering as Quanxi’s fingers curled and rolled. Makima did not understand this. The Control Devil did not plan for eventualities such as this. Why would she? This was too much vulnerability for one who used her sex appeal as a weapon.

Vulerability - no. That wasn't the case. Makima could not be vulnerable. She couldn’t . And yet, there she was, gripping onto that flexing, curling wrist, feeling strong muscles pull and contort with each rolling push of the wrist. Fingers were dragging in and out of her cunt, stroking walls in ways she'd not felt in far too long. They eased themselves around and curled upward, moving in a’come hither’ gesture; the blooming satisfaction made Makima’s knees feel weak.

What in the world? Makima’s mind thought. You’re not – this is nothing worth noting. You’re letting her drop her guard, Makima. That’s what this is. Tactical.

There was very little that felt tactical in the way that the fingers pushed and pumped, how they dragged and rolled into her sodden core. They were working in a fluid, rolling arc, just beneath the line of her tight pants. Those offered no security here, nothing to guard her chastity. Quanxi was so, so close as she pushed her hand down methodically, as she kissed with such warm, brimming vigour. The way she turned and twisted her tongue around was utterly filled with fines, plain and simple. The curling undulations were beyond satisfying.

Quanxi did not move particularly quickly. It was languid. She was unafraid of being caught. She was not stressed to be fast. Slow, steady, taking her time with Makima. The redhead was not something to be wary of, not for this Hunter-of-women. She was just another target in Quanxi’s womanizing brain. She pumped her hand in and around, wrist curling, and Makima could only withstand it. She hissed and bit, her teeth nipping and drawing blood – thick, rich stuff, the taste of a human and a Devil in the same flesh. Only, it tasted old, unimaginably so. Older, maybe, than Quanxi herself.

Something’s not right, Makima had the good sense to understand. Something’s off. Something’s… ah…

Makima did not want to think. Her body felt hot. So, so hot. She was not sure what to think about it. She wasn’t sure why she was burning up so much. Was it something about Quani? Some Devil ability of hers? It had to be. This had to be some supernatural power meant to afflict women. Or… was it just talent? Was this what it was like to be in the crosshairs of a ladykiller? Was this how it was? 

Makima felt warm, way too warm. Her hips were bucking against Quanxi’s moving wrist, and she was not actively trying to do so. It just felt natural and instinctive. Her fingers curled into that bicep, digging into the iron-hard muscle there. The other twisted into a shirt so that she was downright fondling rocky abdominals, savoring it in a way her mind refused to understand. It was really all too very confusing for her, and Makima just did not know what to do about it.

This was not the plan.

Quanxi was not following the plan.

What in the Hell, then, was she doing?

So hot, Makima’s mind rumbled with mush . Why is she – is this – am I going to claim? That’s not feasible. That’s not – she’s not – 

Her mind was fumbling. 

Makima’s mind was fumbling. 

What the Hell?

And then, when the tempo reached a fever pitch, when the kissing was as heady as the humping, when the pumping was as distinct as the groping, when Quanxi seemed to be working Maima over like a finely-tuned instrument replete with squelches and squeaks, it was done.

Done.

Gone.

Quanxi had pulled back. Her lips were sticky, and her fingers were shiny. She tucked her shirt back into place, easy as could be, while Makima was set against the wall as if glued to it. She looked no worse for wear, not a hair out of place on her stoic face – but her mouth was shiny, her middle button had popped, and her pants were still undone. Her body continued to sizzle with a heat that plagued her in a way too distinct for her muscles to understand.

What? Her mind thought.

Quanxi was a meter away. She slopped those slick, shiny fingers into her mouth, and sucked methodically. At that exact moment, barely a second off, came the reason for Quanxi’s swift departure: Himeno, another Devil Hunter from Division Four. Short of hair, modest of stature, with an eyepatch similar to Quanxi’s and a manner of dress that was the same as any utilitarian Government employee. A good , reliable subordinate that hated Makima’s guts. Small time, really.

“Tastes good,” Quanxi murmured as she suckled on her juice-slathered fingers. Makima stared hard, her golden eyes swirling. No emotion on her face, but she felt the confused riot bumbling around in her head. When entering the room earlier, she had a picture of Quanxi in her mind. That picture now felt like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces clearly misaligned.

“Huh?” Himeno spoke up. She looked at Quanxi, who had mostly blocked any good view of Makima below the collar. “What’s that?”

“The coffee, it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself,” Quanxi said with an agreeable, friendly manner. She half-twisted, body set in profile. Himeno had a better view of Makima, but still nothing below the waist. 

“It’s pretty shitty instant stuff,” Himeno drawled. She moved over to the vending machine with glacial slowness. Or, so it seemed to Makima, who was now processing things at the hyper-focused state of someone with their full attention span running – and oddity for her. 

“I swapped it out for beans,” Quanxi said, and then winked – as if letting her in on a secret. “I felt bad that all you ladies were drinking bad stuff in here.”

Himeno snorted through her nose. “Well, thanks, but I’ll pass. Caffeine doesn’t mix with my diet of alcohol.”

Quanxi laughed in a friendly manner. “You’re a drinker?”

Himeno retrieved whatever she was trying to get from the vending machine. “You could say that. Ah, but don’t tell my boss.”

It was a jab, or a joke, directed at Makima’s expense. The redhead's lips twitched, trying to be friendly. She saw the way that Himeno looked at them both so suspiciously, and Makima was hyper-aware of how compromising this probably seemed.

“Maybe you could show me around to some good places later?” Quanxi suggested in a rumbling drawl. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here; I’d been hankering for a good watering spot and some good drinking company that can handle it.”

She’s… flirting , Makima realized. She just fingerbanged me, and she’s flirting with another woman? 

Somehow, Makima found the thought to be annoying.  

Himeno looked her over. “You seem like you have your hands full.”

“I’ve got more than one,” Quanxi said entirely causally, way too causally for it to be real. It was like something out of a movie, and Makima knew her movies quite well. She watched as Quanxi moved toward Himeno, distracting her attention and giving Maima a moment to fumble with her fly. The way that Quanxi moved, the angle of her body, stopped Himeno from seeing anything too compromising. 

Once more, Makia was struck by how uncanny the precision was.

Himeno snorted. She popped a grape soda open and twisted it apart. “Yeah, I see that.” 

Quanxi, in a friendly gesture, wrapped one of those broad, strong arms over Himeno’s shoulders. “By the way, that Devil of yours? Super cool. Say, what can you do with something like that?”

Himeno and Quanxi walked off, seemingly engaged in a conversation.

Makima found herself pressed against a wall, all alone in the break room. She finished zipping up her pants, then buttoned them back into place. She smoothed out her dress shirt and redid the single popped button there, too. Her tie was fixed. Her bra was adjusted as best as she could under the circumstances. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, then wiped it down for good measure.

And she found herself leaning there for a moment longer than expected, her fingers curling and uncurling. Though she remained calm, cool, and collected on the outside, her heart was now beating far faster than it usually did. Her insides felt like they were soaking wet, enough that it was uncomfortable. Her loins were aching, in fact. She had been close – so close – and that had all been ripped away in a single instant.

Quanxi, her mind mused. Just who are you?

She was not as sure as she had initially been. There was something else about her that bothered Makia. It did not spare her, but it called to her, made her terribly curious. Everything that had just happened filled her with a terrible desire for dominance, a sadistic urge to ensure that such a thing never happened again.

I’ll do more than make you mine, she decided in an instant. I’ll make her less than a dog. 

Makima adjusted her tie once more, despite the utterly perfect angle of it. She then departed from the break room, intent on tracking Quanxi down once again.

She did not find Quanxi.

She was seemingly, apparently, gone. She’d talked with Himeno, who had said that she’d turned down the offer for drinks because she was – quote – ‘pretty sure Quanxi was trying to get in her pants and she was too straight for that’. A talk with Payroll indicated that she’d been paid for the bounty of the Earthquake Devil. That was that. She wasn’t around the area, which Makima confirmed through contacts and Controlled animals. A cursory examination of flight logs the next morning did not confirm any departures, but somehow, Makima just knew that this woman wasn’t in Japan anymore.

Makima was not sure why she cared. She could have left it be; this was a contracted Hunter and a foreign national, there were still some simmering tensions, too, between upper command and the Chinese, as if they had somehow positioned the Earthquake Devil to ‘attack’. Bringing up the Quanxi situation seemed pointless, but it lingered in her mind through the day and into the night, the next morning again.

She tried not to think about it and, instead, kept to her routine. She washed, she showed, and she spent a while in a bath, because it was soothing to her. She submerged herself in liquid and simply enjoyed the pressure of the water on her head, drowning out her thoughts. And yet, by the time she emerged, her mind was back on Quanxi, her face in her thoughts. 

Her mind was stuck on the tongue jammed halfway down her throat.

Methodically, Makima dried herself in front of her mirror. Beyond the basic amenities, her bathroom looked entirely threadbare. There was nothing in it worth thinking about, with walls as polished and clinical as Makima’s outside appearance. There was not a single emotion on her face as she ran the towel around her, nor when she folded the wet thing and dropped it neatly into the hamper. 

Her body presented itself as a thing of symmetrical beauty, well-formed and well-defined in every way that mattered. Her breasts were large and full, her waistline narrow and firm, hips wide as sin - wider almost than her shoulders seemed to be. Flat, smooth skin, pale as porcelain, unblemished as paper, set into curves as rolling as the sea. Dips and valleys and peaks stared back at her from the mirror, presenting herself as an object of near absolute lust.

Makima knew she was beautiful. She tended not to think much of it. It was just a fact of life, and something she used to her advantage. Yet, now, she found herself idly tracing her right breast; her fingers keenly remembering the exact places Quanxi had groped her. She really had made it seem so easy.  

Quanxi, her mind thought. The woman had pushed herself onto her, then finer-fucked her near to completion. That lingered, but it wasn’t the thing that drew Mkaima’s attention most. I ate them , she further considered. So, she’s considerably more powerful than I estimated… and she was the predecessor to the Devil Hunters. And she used to work in Japan. But why did I never hear about her? The origin of Hybrids was erased, but not… Hm.

Makima felt deeply perplexed. It was an interesting puzzle she turned around in her head. First Hunter. Hybrid. Strong enough, evidently, to beat other demons – but also able to eat and consume their powers. And then, she’d dropped that information when Makima was in the middle of her spiel, ready to enthrall her and bind her. It had been a calculated decision on Quanxi’s part, and it was only then, after Makima had begun to repeat herself, that Quanxi had seemed alert to the danger and used the kiss to shut her up. That was obvious.

Makinma considered it. Considered it again. She put it down to a miscalculation on her part, an error in execution. Nothing more. Nothing more. Quanxi had escaped her grip, that was it.

Makima pushed it out of her head. She drew her underwear around her hips, secure and low-slung. Next came her bra, which she tucked around her chest and hooked from the front. She spun it around, then slipped it around. The weight of her ample breasts filled the double-D cups smoothly, quickly stretching out the red lace filling. She slipped the straps over her shoulders, then tugged to draw it up. Her breasts wobbled in the mirror, and for a moment, Makima was able to appreciate the symmetry of it. Clip, snap, pop, and a bounce.

She began to draw on her outfit for the day: the same neat black pants she got from the office, the same standard-issue shirt that seemed a size too small for her chest, a tie, and then a jacket. A normal, average suit, made exceptional around the curves and swells of her body. She fixed it around herself with precision, making sure of every single detail down to the last crease. 

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Quanxi, her mind considered.

For once, Makima felt some urge to scowl. She was not sure what it was about the woman that kept her in Makima's head. Was it the kiss? Was it the curiosity of this strange creature’s existence? Or was it something more primal; the fact that she had simply been outplayed by a lesser foe? Quanxi had slipped out from under her grasp by simply confusing Makima, and then used the presence of another to mask her escape. Then, she was gone, having seemingly fled Makima in her entirety.

Yes, Makima mused. That’s it. She ran away, and I do not take lightly to people fleeing. Especially not when they’re so clearly talented; I can’t allow a tool like that to slip my grasp. She would prove very useful in my plans moving forward. 

Why, then, did it feel as if she was convincing herself?

Makima began to weave her hair around into its usual braid. Swift, crisp, efficient. She tied it up, and then, once satisfied, left the room and moved to put on her dress shoes for the day.

How am I to get to her, though? Makima mused. She might have been the Control Devil, but she was also a salaried Government Employee under Contract to the Prime Minister. She had plans, but those were in their infancy. The logical course of action would be to put in a request for an immediate absence with HR, then take a plane ride over. Finding Quanxi would be easy from there, what with Makima’s powers.

She ran the idea over in her head during the train ride to the office. The logical course she’d discerned was not the fastest one to take. Planes take too long, and could be too much effort to go through - waiting to board, waiting times, and the like. HR won’t authorize a request on the spot either, unless she Commanded them to. Too many moving parts, too much effort, and a substantial delay in time.

Today is Friday, she further mused. I’ll take a leave day tomorrow and find my own way over. They don’t need to know anything. Simple, speedy, efficient. 

Yet, she knew that it would take a few days maximum to get her authorization from HR, and half a day to get a ticket for a plane ride over. She knew that. The time wastage was minimal at best, and would make no tangible difference – Quanxi wasn’t on the run, after all. For some reason, in spite of knowing all of that,  Makima did not want to wait another minute if she did not have to.

No, Makima was, for the first time in a long time, actually, genuinely, impatient . Her heart was beating at a faster rate than she was used to, all for reasons she did not quite fully want to rationalize.

And, like any good Devil, that rushing blood, that steady thump-pump-thud against her ribcage, excited her – had her predatory senses bubbling. It was the thrill of the hunt, an idea as primal and primordial as could be. 

She almost couldn't contain the smile that touched her lips.

The rats bubbled out from the dark corners in an almost liquid-like mass of dark bodies. No two parts were alike, but they were all so close together that one could not pick any single one out of the crowd. They formed something like a living flood as they tumbled and swept over the ground, covering every square inch within their path. Yet, for all that, they maintained an eerie silence. There was not a squeak, not a chitter or a chatter, nothing but the noise of a thousand tiny feet pitter-pattering.

The rats moved with unholy purpose. They collected into the center of the ground and formed something like a moving circle; they then began to climb over one another, so that one circle became two, then three, then a steadily rising column formed of living bodies. Up and up they rose: one foot, two, three, four to five, and then seemed to stop somewhere between five and six feet high.

What happened from there was more difficult to say. If anyone was around to see it, they would be hard-pressed to give an answer as to when the mass of swirling rats congealed together, or at what point their fur and skin ran together like slurry. There was, thankfully, no one around to see the disgusting body horror, and no one to report the moment when Makima stepped out into the middle of the alleyway.

No rats, no fur, no chittering, just Makima. She was dressed immaculately in her jacket and slacks; she elevated corporate businesswear into something exceptional. Idly, she adjusted her cuffs, then pulled her jacket’s arms down until its cuffs were one third of an inch short of the cuffs of her dress suit – just that slip of professional white. She adjusted her hair with a flick and flutter, and then, once satisfied, took a look around.

It was an alleyway. Drab, basic, unimpressive, unimportant. Her eyes panned left, then right, past some dumpsters. She focused her attention ahead, where, across the alleyway and slightly to the left, was a neon sign. It was all in Chinese, in Mandarin, and it was the name of some restaurant or other. Makima did not care much about it, save that it told her she had reached her destination properly.

Makima began to hum to herself as she stepped out of the alleyway and onto the side street. It was not particularly busy, and she had not expected it to be. When she looked to the right, the reason for it was pretty much in her face: the yellow of construction equipment struggling to put together the damage caused by an earthquake. 

There we go, her mind mused in a jovial manner. Now, let’s start looking around.

Makima did not have a direct plan in mind when it came to finding out where Quanxi went, but she was adept at using the information she had on-hand. Quinaxi had said she’d come after responding to the earthquake on China’s seaboard, and so that was where Makima was. If someone asked Quanxi to chase and hunt the Devil down, it would have started here.

And so, Makima began to send you her eyes and ears – animals, birds, rats, and the like, things that were easy to Control. As vermin and pests began to spy for her, she made her way toward the epicenter and began to seek answers. A construction worker here, a manager there, a point toward a commissioned office, a government rep, and then, finally, to something like a prayer shrine – almost Shinto in style, but still very much Chinese.

“I’m looking for Quanxi,” she’d said to the monk there. It seemed as though there were a great many elderly at the shrine-like place, which she supposed was just about par for the course anyhow. Religion thrived in a world where Devils plagued, and this was, after all, a place stricken by a natural disaster and Devil both. It was a safe haven, and it made Makima’s skin crawl.

“And who are you to ask this?” Asked the monk in turn. 

Makima’s smile was easy, but fake. ‘Makima. I’m from Japan’s Public Security Devil Hunter’s association. Quanxi worked with us recently, and we would like to extend another contract her way. However, we’ve been unable to reach her.” Her head cocked, easy and steady. “Would you be so kind as to help?”

The monk did not discern any falsehood in her statement, because of course, he couldn’t. Makima could have forced him to answer anyway, but what was the point in that? This person wasn’t worth the time it took to Control, and would serve no greater purpose than to waste a measure of energy she didn’t want to spare.

“Quanxi was here,” said the Monk. He flicked his hand over to a collection of kinds of ladies praying by some kind of peculiar wall. “She was called upon, and she answered.”

Makima looked over at the elderly ladies, and then back again. “Thank you. I’ll ask them about it.”

She dropped a few coins into an offering box, just because it seemed like the ‘correct’ thing to do. 

Talking to the ladies was not difficult at all, either. Convincing them that she needed Quanxi’s help again made them open up very freely, and they expressed nothing but praise in Quanxi’s name. There was something terribly reverential in the way that they spoke about the woman, as if they were – in some way or manner – paying to her. It was ridiculous, of course. Makima instantly detested it.

Gods were worshipped. Devils were not. It simply was not possible – the more it happened, the weaker one became. 

Better to be feared than loved, Makima mused with something akin to scorn. Her eyes betrayed nothing as she put the full force of her attention on the old ladies. “So where did Quanxi come from?”

“From Quanxi,” said one of the eldest of the women. “She came, but did not take the offerings at all.”

“She left the collection with us,” another woman said with clear thanks in her voice. “She’s so kind.”

“Give it to the people that need it, she said,” spoke another.

Wonderful, an altruist , Makima thought with amusement. Gets paid for a job here, leaves it with the little old ladies, then rakes in a check from the Japanese Government. 

She’d tracked the cheque too, of course. It had been deposited in this very city, right at the bank. They’d had no answers for her, though, and they wouldn’t answer questions unless she went through official channels. 

“That’s very kind of her,” Makima said with a dry drawl. “But where, pray tell, did she go?”

“To Quanxi,” said the elder again.

Makima’s lips twitched. She might well start using her powers if she had to suffer the silliness of age. "Where?"

"Quanxi?"

"...Yes. Her."

“The village she comes from,” said the woman more directly, "is the Village of Quanxi.”

That caused Makima to take pause. “Oh? Oh.” She ran her finger below her lip in thought. “What came first,  I wonder? The village, or the name?”

The ladies looked at her questioningly. 

“A mere thought,” she explained, and dipped forward. “Where is it?”

The women all seemed to hesitate, then.

“It’s difficult to say,” one began to explain to her.

Makima smiled, thin and eager at the same time. “Tell me where she went; that is a Command.”

It was a rural village. True rural in a lot of ways, in fact. On the way in by bus, Makina saw entire rice paddies stretched out along a hillside with people in woven bamboo hats hard at work. Lower they went into the dip of a valley, wherein the trees became more jungle-like and the mountains became taller. Houses were of an older type there, but by no means shabby. Nice enough for a small town, for sure.

The Village of Quanxi. It was another piece of the puzzle in her mind, frankly. Was Quanxi named after the village, or was it the opposite? That seemed unlikely, but if Quanxi was the First Devil Hunter – which by all records in Japan, she was there at the founding of the public office – then she would be old enough to precede the village. Her name itself was very archaic Chinese, helping to add to the theory.

Makima turned the puzzle over as she stepped into the village and began her hunt. Birds and rats began to scurry and flutter, seeking Quanxi out. Much like it was in the city, she began by asking questions of the humans, probing them for sightings of Quanxi and offering up her threadbare explanations.

“Quanxi is where she wills to be,” one had told her in an all too cryptic manner. 

“Quanxi comes and goes,” said another. “You might find me here in the tavern later.”

“She enjoys fishing around noon,” said a third.

And a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, with cryptic but generally normal remarks. None of that paused Makima all that much. What really caused her to almost take pause was the way that not one single person there so much as reacted to her presence: not a shudder, not a comment, not even a flick of fear.

The villagers seemed oddly unafraid of her. Makima was not quite used to that. They seemed to treat her like just another tourist, even when she explained she was a Devil Hunter from Japan. At most, she got a ‘oh, that’s nice’, and then that was it. The indifference was somewhat annoying, in a way.

Even that, though, she could ignore. She did ignore it. It did not change her plans nor her hunt. Yet, it wasn’t the only oddity taking place. Oftentimes, Makima would find her skin begin to crawl; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She would sometimes find herself looking over her shoulder with the odd sensation that she was being followed. Sometimes, she felt a prickle of attention on the edge of her awareness, as if someone was watching her.

She saw nothing. She heard nothing. Her spies - birds in the air - detected nothing. She smelled nothing either, which was annoying. She could track the scent of Devils and their half-breeds easily, Hybrids most certainly included. She detected not a trace of Quanxi, even though no less than five villagers had told her she had ‘come back home’.

Makima remained calm and did not announce her presence any more than she had to. Yet, she felt that shiver-inducing attention upon her at the strangest of times. Once, twice, it could have been her imagination. More than that, and she could only conclude that she was being followed. Yet, no bird in the sky saw anything, and her nose smelled nothing. That scent of Quanxi was absent, and she saw nothing in the dark corners or alleys.

Something’s wrong here, Makima realized. She began to move softly, her gait like that of a prowl; feline and dangerous. She managed to get around town no less than three times before it hit midday, but there was no head nor hair of Quanxi to be found. She circled once, twice, and then twisted. She listed in a breeze that wafted hair against the plane of her face.  

She looked up at the mountains that surrounded the village. They were decently tall and rather square-shaped, like rectangular wedges in the earth. Some of them were longer than others, some narrow as spears. And, as she looked, she noticed what appeared like a building set in the stone face. Black tiled roof, red lacquered wood, a stretch of a balcony, the swell of a shrine; some kind of abode in the mountain. 

Well, now, Makima thought. Who lives up there, I wonder? 

The hairs on Makima’s arms stood up now. She felt an intense prickle wash over her awareness as some primal part of her meat-brain surged with discomfort. You’re being watched, her mind told her. It was an urge so strong that Makima felt a shiver pass along her spine.

She was already turning when she heard Quanxi’s voice right behind her.

“The tea around here is a lot better than the coffee,” Quanxi said to her. “Hope you don’t mind, because that’s what I picked up.”

Quanxi was right behind her. She was very specifically sitting on a wooden fencepost just a few steps higher on the park-like incline. At her side, balanced upon the same fence post, were two basic cups of what was presumably tea. Both still steamed with heat, clearly freshly brewed. Now that Makima was aware of it, the scent of them hit her nose distinctly. There was, however, no scent from Quanxi whatsoever.

She snuck up on me, Makima thought. Was she the one following me? No, that’s not possible. I would have noticed. 

“How did you know I was here?” Makima asked, her voice crisp and polite.

Quanxi hummed. She sat on the fence post, seemingly calm, at ease, unflappable - even as her hair flapped in the wind. She was still wearing a tanktop, but this time with a set of cargo pants. She did look good, in a purely objective sense. Strong, tight, and muscular, with decently wide shoulders and remarkably firm arms. Makima knew they were as strong as they looked, because they had pinned her rather easily against a wall. 

Why would you think of that? Makima’s mind spat at itself.

“Objectively? You stand out like a sore thumb.” Quanxi’s one good eye rolled over Makima, checking her out from head to toe. “But if you're really asking…”

Makima should have tried to control Quanxi already. There was no reason for a song and dance when she could get any answers she wanted by controlling it out of the woman. And yet, she found herself perched there curiously, one arm behind her back and the other at ease by her side. 

Quanxi tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. “I smelled you.”

Makima had not expected those words. She really had not. She felt something like discomfort or distaste settle in her belly; there was a taste of bile in the pit of her throat. “So you knew. ”

“You have a strong smell,” Quanxi told her. Then, she raised her hands almost placatingly. “I don’t mean to be rude. You smell great, but strong. Distinct. ”

“So you decided to kiss a Devil,” Makima mused, "Without any further forethought?”

“I’m a pretty simple woman. I see what I like, and I act out on it.” Quanxi’s smile was almost melancholic. “But if you want an actual answer, I’d say that I didn’t think about that. Easier to ignore it and just… kiss. ”

She knew I was a devil and she shoved her hand down my pants anyhow, Makina considered. But how…? Hybrids can’t smell like that. Only a Fiend could possibly do so, and even currently, Power doesn’t -

Makima let her thoughts still. She was over-thinking things. Even if Quanxi knew she was a Devil, it didn’t mean anything. She did not know who she was or what she could do, which was the important part. “Interesting. You knew I was a Devil, but you made no attempt to hunt me.”

Her lips curled.

“One might almost say you’re a failure of a Hunter,” she continued in a flippant voice, “to make such an error.”

“I think I did pretty well hunting you, actually,” Quanxi replied in an off-handed manner. She flexed her right hand up, fingers curling. “I’d say it takes some skill to get my hands down a woman’s pants that quickly.” 

Makima curled her fingers. “An interesting qualification.”

Quanxi chuckled. She waved her hand at the two cups of tea oh-so-very casually. “Your tea’s getting cold, you know.”

“I’m not here for the tea,” said Makima. 

Quanxi’s head cocked. The way she regarded Makima turned analytical; not just checking her out, but really looking at her. “Alright, shoot. Why are you here, Makima?”

“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you again?” Makima asked with faux innocence. She stepped closer, her shoe neatly pressed against smooth tile. 

“I would, but… that wouldn’t be the whole truth at all,” Quanxi responded. 

Makima’s smile remained affixed in place, almost like it was forcefully pinned in place. “Oh, but I want you, Quanxi. Don’t you see? You and I would make an excellent partnership. ”

Another step, closer still. Quanxi regarded her strangely. “ Mhm. ”

“I’d even make you love me,” Makima cooed, her voice sweet, almost sinful. “No matter what atrocities you commit in my name.”

“ Hmmmm, ” Quanxi hummed.

Makima raised a brow. “Nothing to say?”

“Nah, I just think that’s a lie,” Quanxi replied. She stretched her arms above her head, causing biceps to flex. Her shirt rode an inch above her belted waistband, showing an inch of steely-hard skin. 

Makima resisted the urge to blink. “A lie.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can’t do it,” Quanxi told her. “But, no. I know that look. You can’t get that idea of me out of your head, huh?”

Makima really resisted the urge to blink.  “What are you talking about?”

“You came here because I didn't get you off properly,” Quanxi chuckled. She rubbed the back of her head in a friendly and charming gesture. Makima followed the hand and fingers attached to it. “You followed me like an Ex, looking for another hit. Was it really that good for you?”

“That is not worth dignifying with a response,” Makima told her. She flicked her fingers out, gentle and easy, and began to recite, “I have the power to control anything that I deem a Lesser Rank - ”

“Control, right? Yeah, you said that before.” Quanxi licked her lips. “And yet, you still haven’t figured out why you can’t smell me, can you?”

Makima faltered. Genuinely, properly, faltered. 

“Funny, that,” Quanxi hummed. “But that’s why a Hunter is always upwind of its Prey.”

Hunters. Prey. Upwind. Basic hunting terminology. If a Hunter was upwind of its target, prey could not smell it. If they were downwind, Prey could smell them easily. The wind carried the scent. 

Which way is the wind blowing? Makima mused - but even as she did so, even as she looked at Quanxi for the sign of the wind, she realized the trap she had stepped into. It was the same trap that she set for others, because sometimes, the power of a Devil lay not in physical assertion, but mental fortitude. Her power worked so long as she believed it, irrespective of what reality could dictate. If something happened to be stronger than her, it would ignore her abilities. Otherwise, if her confidence remained, there were few things that could stop her.

And thus, if Quanxi’s powers, whatever they were, operated under a similar set of circumstances, then merely acknowledging oneself as ‘The Prey’ would mean Quanxi was ‘The Hunter’.  Makima did not know what that meant in practical terms, but now that her mind considered the feeling of prickling hair, the feeling of being watched this whole time, the fact that Prey could only smell their Hunter if they were downwind - all things Makima realized applied to herself - put her on the back foot.

Quanxi was staring at her hard. She was the Hunter, and Makima, the Hunted. This whole time - no, even back in Japan - Makima had been in her crosshairs. It was why she hadn’t smelled her in the offices, and not here, after being followed. 

And it should not have mattered, save to infect Makima’s mind with one single thought: who has control of this situation?

“I deem you to be of a Lesser Rank than I,” Makima told Quanxi, finishing her spiel. She wanted to command the woman now, to make her commit terrible atrocities in this village and then wipe those memories away - bind this bitch to her properly. 

But Quanxi smiled lazily from the side of her mouth. “Do you? Do you deem it? Is that why I pinned you halfway against a wall and had you humping into my hand?”

“I was not humping,” Makima said, cool as ice.

But she’d just imagined it, hadn’t she? She’d acknowledged that premise.

“So what is it? Were you just that desperate for me? Or did I force myself on you?” Quanxi’s eye turned dark, somehow. “One or the other.”

“Neither,” Makima almost - almost - hissed.

“Then why are you here, if you’re not desperate for another fuck?” Quanxi asked. “Because if you were trying to put me under your spell, you should have already done it.”

“I -”

“But you can’t, can you? Can you really say that you’re better than me if you couldn’t even tell I was watching you since the second you landed in China? Didn’t notice all those spies of yours I’ve been putting down?” Quanxi slipped off the fence. At her six-foot-one while standing on top of the little staircase, she towered over Makima. “If you want to talk, we’ll talk over tea. If you want to fuck, I’m busy. If you want something else - leave. Otherwise, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

Makima was floored. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to have this woman under her thrall by now. She should have had her under her thrall by now. She’d said the words. She tried to control her. It hadn’t worked. What was it? Was it the fingerbanging that ruined the illusion of control? Was it the fact that she had acknowledged herself as Prey? That had to be it - by putting herself as the Hunted, she’d positioned Quanxi higher in her mind’s mental authority ranking.

“I had hoped to go about this without violence,” Makima said. She diligently removed her jacket, putting herself back into her tucked white shirt and pants. She folded it and handed it to Quanxi, who took it with gentlemanly passion and set it upon the fence. “But I must put you down before taking what is mine, I shall.”

“I honestly, really don’t know who you are, lady, or what your jig is,” Quanxi replied, “but anything past this conversation, I will hold you responsible for. You understand?”

Makima raised her hand with all the smoothness of an American Cowbow-gunslinger. Her thumb raised up, mimicking a revolver’s hammer. Her index finger stretched out, straight and narrow. With deadly intent, she said, “Bang. ”

Quanxi exploded from the neck down. She was hurled backward, away from the town, and down the hill - just out of Makima’s sight. Still, it was a good hit. The pressure-laden strength behind her finger was enough to crunch bone, break bodies, and shatter braincases. It launched Quanxi back like a ragdoll while blood sprayed through the air, only to land in fat droplets. Makima idly caught one of them on her fingertip, then plopped it into her mouth for good measure.

Hm, she mused. She began to hum to herself in a low, trilling tune, while stalking down the hill. She had no weapons in hand, and though she might have wished for one, she should not require it. She was faster than the eye could blink and stronger than any three Hybrids put together, and trained in martial arts combat. She knew what she was doing, and how to do it. If she beat Quanxi, it wouldn’t matter how talented or cryptic the woman was. She would always consider herself superior, no ifs, ands, or buts.

There was no body down the hill. There was a trail of blood, though, and that was something Makima followed carefully. Step by step, down the hillside, following what looked like a crawling body. She was impressed that Quanxi had survived the initial blow enough for this. Most should be broken dead now, but some could heal very fast. It was not ordinary, but it was not out of the ordinary.

The blood ran to a little clearing a ways into the brush, away from the village entrance. It was quiet and calm, and… Makima couldn’t hear anything. Not even a bird. Suddenly, she was aware of a prickling feeling on her nape. Eyes found the trail of blood and noticed how it curved around a fallen log, as if beckoning to Makima.

Trap, her mind pulsated. This is a trap she led you here away from the village she’s -

The Bow Devil’s firepower unleashed itself in a hailstorm. Arrows, flechettes, and bolts emerged from the brush, tearing through leaves and trunks with pinpoint precision. It was a brief fusilade, because a bow and a crossbow could fire once apiece before reloading; as such, even a Devil adhered to that conceptual reality. Still, there was more than enough to tear into Makima, ever-so-briefly killing her.

Briefly. Very briefly. Her Contract meant that any death that occurred to her - or, rather, any damage whatsoever - passed onto a Japanese Citizen. For a few brief seconds, she was slain, and then she was fine. Blood returned to her, flesh regenerated, clothing reknit, and she removed an iron-etched arrow from a bygone age out of her eye-socket with all the impassiveness of flicking a bug off one’s shoulder.

“You’re fast,” she said to no one. “Tell me, how did you regenerate so quickly?”

Another fusilade. There had been just enough time to reload, and more bolts and arrows poured toward her. This time, though, Makima was prepared. She moved to the side, then rushed in a circular motion. As fast as the projectiles should have been, there was a smidge slower than Makima at a full sprint - and thus, so, too, was the Bow Devil.

The Bow Devil reared its way out of the brush to face her. It did not shy away. It attacked, pouncing from a blind spot. It was just as ugly as before: triangular head, arms shaped like crescents, arrows forming a thick quill coat. It launched itself at her too fast to be believed, yet not even near fast enough. Makima intercepted a blow and rammed her forearm into it, breaking an arm. She twisted, pulled, and drew on the fractured limb, dislocating it at the shoulder.

Three strikes to the midsection. Belly. Ribs. Clavicle. She broke bone and skin. She reached forward, ready to go so far as to rip out the Devil’s heart if need be. The Contract, though, should be in the eye, if things were the same as Himeno: sacrifice the Left Eye, and the Demon would reside there. In Quanxi’s human form, that would, or could, be her weakness. Here, she’d have to break the Bow Devil down until her power ran out.

The Bow Devil’s arm sliced down. It cut into Makima’s shoulder, then crunched through a layer of skin. Unphased, Makima lashed out and slammed her palm beneath the Devil’s chin. Something broke, and the head snapped back. Jaws struggled to open; a rattling hiss emerged. Makima felt a sense of vindication fill her as she curled and pulled with her bodyweight, exerting a strength far beyond what her supple limbs would suggest.

The Bow Devil’s head twisted. Makima felt it undulate against her, the skin rippling with caustic motion. Arrows burst through the skin, then stabbed into Makima herself. She was punctured in too many places and almost locked to the porcupine-like Devil, but that did not at all stop her. She slammed her foot down against a knee to try and break it, or at least force Quanxi down; her arm snapped out and locked across a jaw, then pulled.

There was an awful creaking noise as something gave way. Makima felt a sense of triumph in her breast. Quanxi could not keep up with her in this form, and thus, couldn’t keep up with her outside of it. If she drained her energy there and then, or even killed her, she’d have the upper hand. 

The Bow Devil pulled as well. Makima was too stuck on its porcupine-quills of arrows to actually fight it, and unprepared for when the Bow Devil twisted them back. Briefly, Makima felt weightless as she was lifted into the air. She hissed hard when The Bow Devil tossed them both into a tree, knocking it over as if it were a piece of styrofoam. They hit the ground hard, and then began to tumble down a low incline; another hill, a slight slope. 

Their bodies separated. Makima huffed and hissed with a minor note of aggravation, though she kept her face steady. She hit a rock hard enough to bruise bone, but she felt none of it. She sprang up, her finger at the ready for another ‘shot’ - but the Bow Devil was not there to be seen. Makima panned left, then right. She focused her attention down the hill, following a smattering of broken wood, blood, and arrows.

She steadied herself, straightened, and fixed her tie again. As she walked, she called, “You are not the hunter here anymore, Bow Devil. I am coming for you.”

She was not sure if those words meant anything, but she believed them - and that was, hopefully, enough. She inhaled, and her nose was filled with the scent of Devil’s blood. She tracked it down the hill, around a bend, and toward the Bow Devil’s location. She saw it lying supine against a broken tree, which seemed to have punctured into her body. It was hard to say, but Makima wasn’t taking any chances. She raised her hand and ‘fired’ a shot with a declared bang. There was no projectile, but the body ahead burst apart like a wet sack of flesh.

Because it was a wet sack of flesh. She quickly realized it was like a shed skin, a costume, a meat-suit. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how Hybrids existed, period. Unless one somehow, perhaps, ripped a part of it off as some kind of lesser Devil - but that didn’t seem right. Was she really fighting a piece of it? But then, where was Quanxi herself? 

There was a rustle to Makima’s left. She swung her finger around and, without hesitation, banged it in that direction. A tree was compressed under incredible pressure and crunched down into shards, but showed nothing behind it. Another rustle, somewhere five meters to the right of that; again she swung, and again she ‘fired’, sending another tree flying halfway into the stratosphere.

Nothing.

Makima sniffed. She only smelled the blood of the ‘Devil’ corpse there. But, she was downwind of it, so that only made sense. 

Downwind. Upwind? Makima turned in the opposite direction, index finger at the ready. It was still at the ready when an arrow landed straight through the tip of the finger and up into her wrist, effectively holding it down. This time, Makima let out a gasp of something that could have been pain. She still felt hurt by things, and a shot like that was really rather uncomfortable.

She still hadn’t seen Quanxi. She traced the path of the arrow whilst trying to use her hand to snap it. She - 

Quanxi was there. She was just right there, right in the shadow of a tree to her left. Too close. Way too close. The shot hadn’t come from there, it couldn't have. How had she gotten so close, then? Makima didn't know. She saw the longsword in Quanxi’s hand, something round-edged and very Chinese in appearance; watched it slash out, moving toward her throat.

Makima ducked and returned it with a roundhouse kick. But, Quanxi’s immaculate footwork carried her in and around, away from it. Of course, if she’d consumed The Longsword Devil, then she’d have that talent in her. Footwork would be easy for her, but Makima could adjust. She slipped back, avoiding a slice. She rotated, avoiding a cut. The blade moved slowly in her eyes, no different from the time she’d controlled the Katana Devil.

Quanxi rotated as she moved. She swung herself around as Makima ducked. She was maneuvering them both. She was leading Makima backward, and she only realized that when she hit a tree root with her foot. A silly, stupid mistake. She stumbled, and the sword cut down. It hit her across the chest and raked around, slicing a neat line. 

Makima did not even flinch. She braced her foot against the stump and pushed back, capturing the sword against her arm and swinging her palm around - the arrow still protruding, ready to stab Quanxi’s other eye. 

Two things happened at once. 

Quanxi headbutted Makima, breaking her nose. The blow, thus, went off-target, and sank down into the woman’s nape. Makima kicked up, breaking something internally, and then she had enough time to bring her hand around again for another slicing stroke. This time, it sank into the back of Quanxi's neck, almost assuredly severing her spine. The longsword dropped as Quanxi stumbled. Makima danced back and used her foot to kick it up into her palm.

“You’re -” Makima began to say, almost ready to offer a word of praise; Quanxi had proven herself to be a far greater combatant than expected, but still ultimately weaker. 

Except, she did not get that far. She stared and watched as Quanxi rolled her head around, wounds regenerating with awful speed. Too fast. Almost as fast as Makima herself. That was far beyond the capabilities even of a Hybrid. Regeneration was slow, costly, and required something like blood to function right. Yet, Quanxi displayed all the quirks of something more like Makima herself than a mere Weapon-Hybrid, which was all she should have been.

“It’s funny,” Qunaxi said as she wiped her mouth. “You’re better than I expected.”

“I was just about to say that,” Makima replied, her voice tight and controlled. She had the sword now, and she would easily decapitate Quanxi. Then, this would be over and done with.  She - 

Quanxi moved left, and she was gone. It was as if she'd melted right into the shadows by her side. Makima blinked, then slung the sword around into a guard. She did not know where Quanxi had gone, but she would not move from her spot. If this woman was hunting her, then she simply wouldn’t allow her the time to ambush. Makima - 

A whip’s crack echoed through the air. It wrapped around her neck from behind, causing her to briefly gasp. She fumbled with it as she was dragged backward by a strength that seemed to exceed her own, all while being choked out. She stumbled once, twice, before finding purchase; she swung her body around and swept the sword into a decisive cut, slicing straight through the whip that was around her neck.

Another Devil power, her mind thought. Maybe I should have brought out my Servants, first!

But she’d not thought of it. She hadn’t considered the necessity that she’d need her own Contracted slaves for a fight like this. If she wanted the help, she’d need time and space; but just throwing bodies at Quanxi would not prove Makima’s own superiority. She still had to beat her herself. 

Makima spun toward the source of the whip all in the same fluid rotation, sword at the ready. 

Quanxi was there , to her right , so close that Makima smelled her. There was a spear in her hands, and it rammed through her gut in half an instant. Makima doubled over, hissing hard. She did not hesitate to slice at Quanxi’s neck, but she failed to get a good enough hit in. She certainly drew blood, but the blood was ragged and kept at too far a distance because of the spear. 

Because of the spear. It felt like Quanxi was some weapons master, moving through her arsenal to keep Makima at bay. But, still, she had this. She forced herself forward, impaling herself on the spear with the knowledge that the deaths meant nothing and the pain could be transferred elsewhere. She felt, and showed, nothing as she closed the distance, and she struck at Quanxi.

But Quanxi danced back, too. She pulled the spear free, slipped it around, and engaged. She was fast, but not as fast as Makima. Yet, somehow, her spear always seemed to be in the right place, always hitting the right mark, finding the right spot. It was damned preternatural. It was as if she knew exactly where to be to land her blows, even though she wasn’t as fast or as strong as she needed to be for it.

“So,” Quanxi then unexpectedly spoke. “Just what Devil are you?”

Makima said nothing. She blocked the spear by sliding the flat of the sword upward, then brought it down to slice an arm along a bicep. Yet, somehow, Quanxi was able to bring the spear in lengthwise, then use it as almost as a quarterstaff; a bludgeoning blow forced Makima back a step. She was not fast enough to avoid the tip of it licking across her thigh again, drawing blood.

“Your eyes are gorgeous, by the way,” Quanxi said between blows.

“Stop talking,” Makima told her. She cut lengthwise, and -

Quanxi just reappeared to her right and sliced along the ligament of an arm, rendering it useless for a few precious seconds. Quanxi wasn’t just fast, she was damned near teleporting. It seemed that she was almost moving from place to place, slipping in and out of existence as she methodically hunted Makima. 

Hunting, her mind considered. As long as she’s hunting me, she’s hunting me from… hunting places? There’s a reason I’m not in the village right now. I need to get to some place she cannot ambush me from, that must be it.

Her regenerated arm punched Quanxi back. Why had it come to this? Why was she trading blows with a damned human? Makima did not understand. There was zero reason for Quanxi to be this capable. She should have been dead by now. First Devil Hunter or not, Bow Devil or not, this was far beyond those capabilities.

“By the way, you got something else wrong. Back then, you know,” Quanxi hummed conversationally. “I’m not ‘the Bow Devil’.”

Makima fidgeted. A single hesitation, and the spear slammed against the side of Makima’s head, briefly winding her. She almost toppled like a tree before righting herself, because the strength behind that blow was near-blinding. It had hit with so much strength that the material of the spear genuinely snapped, breaking in half.

That did not matter to Quanxi. She rotated the half in her hand, still carrying the spear tip, and again plunged it into Makima’s gut. The redhead wheezed, winded; she stepped back, sword sweeping, and did the same. She, too, impaled Quanxi, and did so with a shocking amount of vitriol. It was more emotion than she’d put into something in a long, long time. 

They were face-to-face now. Makima saw nothing but utter focus in Quanxi’s gaze. “I’m not the Bow Devil, or the Longsword Devil, or the Whip Devil, or any of those things – whatever’s in your pretty head. But you know it. You know what I am, don’t you?”

Quanxi, still wounded, moved like a flickering shadow. She slipped into the blindspot of her prey, and she attacked. Makima found herself on the defensive, trying to block attacks while delivering those of her own. She was faster than Quanxi, stronger too, but this woman was still frightfully powerful. It was not that, though. Sheer power did not matter here. It was the fact that each blow Quanxi did land – one for every three she took – was exactly what it needed to do for Makia to feel neutralized.

“I’m that prickle on your neck when you’re walking down a street, alone,” Quanxi told her. “I’m the reason why you look over your shoulder when you’re in an unfamiliar place. That feeling that you’re being watched? It’s my responsibility. That’s my name.”

Quanxi’s forearm pounded on Makima’s neck, breaking her trachea. It did not matter, because that ‘death’ was passed on to some helpless fool in Japan. Makima returned with a blow of her own, sending Quanxi toppling – but the woman was laughing through a mouthful of blood, regenerating swiftly. Too swiftly, without a need for blood or her Devil Trigger. It didn't make sense. What entity –

The Hunter, and The Hunted. It made sense. It made so much sense it almost physically hurt.

“I’m The Hunting Devil,” Quanxi told her she was behind Makima now, somehow. “You know, that old fear that every living thing has? The fear of being hunted? Tracked? Stalked?”

She didn’t have to explain it. Maima understood what a Primal Fear was, and what a Primordial Devil could be. Some things were so ancient a concept, so rooted in the experience of life, that it was not a mere concept; it was not something that changed and evolved with the times. Oh, its impact was lessened as humanity evolved through societies, but every day, there was a predator and there was its prey.

A Devil so primordial in nature that it had never been ‘killed’, because it could not. Too ancient, too rooted, too powerful. As long as there was something to Hunt, this Devil would be there to Hunt it.

The First Devil Hunter, her mind thought. Oh. Oh... no.

“And as long as I’m your Prey,” Makima whispered for no reason other than that she had to, “You’ll keep coming back.”

Quanxi’s grin was almost sad, in its own way. “Yep.”

Makima had stepped into something far, far worse than she realized. There were some Devils so old, so primal a concept, that they had never died. Quite literally, the idea of them had never died. Maybe they grew weaker as such thoughts came and went in their consciousness, and for certain, one such as this wouldn’t be as strong as others, but it was definitely in a different league from Makima.

She could beat Quanxi up, but until she killed her, or somehow became her Hunter, Quanxi would always regenerate. It was, in a very simple sense, like using light to beat a Devil of Darkness – only in this sense, she had to rapidly figure out a way to be something other than Quanxi’s prey.

“Shoot your shot,” Quanxi teased, low and effortless. She saw the realization upon Makima’s face, and it seemed to amuse her. “Before I shoot mine.”

Makima launched herself at her Hunter. She blitzed the woman. She punched, and she kicked, and she jabbed. Stabbed her, tried to go for the neck, and instead punched the sword straight through her clavicles – surely cutting through her lungs. She whipped her other arm up and around, then brought it down. She punched once. Twice. Her strength was almost fuelled by emotion  - almost by desperation, though such a thing would never appear on her face.

Quanxi twirled. Twisted. Grabbed Makima and bodily hurled her. A blow hit her spine, briefly rendering her inert. Another along the bicep, making it feel numb. A jab, a kick. Hard, thunderous attacks. Makima rocked back, danced out of the way. Quanxi’s perfect precision made sense, now – because a Hunter always hit the mark. There were no second chances. Her attacks might rarely land, but when they did, they were perfect.

Makima turned to lunge at Quanxi, but Quanxi was no longer where she had just been. Like a hunting cat, she stalked from the shadows. The shadows were not, per se, her domain, but everything in the forest was. Any place could be one for a Hunter to hide. 

Makima spat out a globule of bloody saliva. She was already healed back to normal, despite the severity of her damage. It felt like a game of cat and mouse to be sure, but it was not as if Quanxi could ever kill her. 

“So, what?” She called.  If you haven't realized it by now, you can’t kill me. You may as well run with your tail between your legs, Hunter. I am a prey far beyond your capabilities."

Quanxi might be unkillable under these circumstances, but her overall power was relatively ‘weak’. She wouldn’t beat Makima at this rate, and that offered some confidence. She was still too human to best someone who had millions of lives to waste first. One of them would tire and die, and it wouldn’t be her. She had, by her estimation, only ‘died’ about five times so far. 

A crunch of leaves. Makima twisted, and –

“What,” she whispered, “The hell?”

It was a gush of words that she was ashamed to admit she’d ever uttered, but it was all too real. Quanxi was perched on a branch, as if she were a hunter on a treestand. In her arms she held an absolutely oversized crossbow: an arbelast, huge and weighty. It was, perhaps, the first moment in Makima’s waking life where she approached a situation and thought, what the fuck?

Genuine surprise, if brief.

I guess I can add another Devil to the list of consumed, Makima thought in the second before the arbelast’s bolt slammed into her chest. It launched her back, wherein the spike of metal pinned her to a tree. Sixth death, too. 

Quanxi shadow-stepped in front of her. Makima struggled against the bolt, trying to free herself from the tree. She brought her right arm up, only for Quanxi to grab it and twist it aside. 

“No, stay still,” Quanxi told her, head shaking. “You put up a good fight, but that’s that.”

“I am not beaten,” Makima told her with a huff. She knew and understood, though, that she was in a very precarious, dangerous, position. She was impaled on a damned tree. She was captured and pinned. She wasn’t dead, but having that much metal through her, keeping her stuck, was not a place she wanted to be. “You can’t kill me.”

“Who said anything about killing you?” Quanxi asked. “The Cat doesn’t kill The Mouse. It keeps it around for a sport.”

For a moment – a single moment – Makima’s heart throbbed.  She felt a single spike of dread enter her heart for the very first time in her life, all as the importance of Quanxi’s words – and this situation itself – hammered home. Makima did not need to be killed and banished to hell, or reincarnated again, to ‘lose’. She simply needed to be neutralized and unable to call for aid from her Controlled slaves. 

Makima’s tongue fumbled. She watched Quanxi bring that comically huge crossbow upright, then swing it down to slam it across her face.

Everything went blissfully dark.

Makima began to wake when she hit rough, wooden ground. She felt as if her limbs were leaden, her body weighty as a sack of potatoes. It was not a comfortable thing altogether, she could easily acknowledge that. For a moment, she heaved against the floor, trying to blink what seemed like tears out of her eyes. She felt bleary, almost confused, and her head ached something fierce.

Light filtered into her golden eyes slowly. The place she was in was well-lit, but almost too well lit. There was sunlight streaming in from an unfiltered balcony, one which boasted no windows. It hit her right in the eyes, forcing her to avert her gaze. She looked elsewhere, and tried to absorb as much detail as she could. There was a floor of neat, polished wood, and then lots of carpets and rugs that didn’t seem to have much fashion design behind them.

Furniture was all carved, most of it looked hand-made. There was a substantial amount stretched across a room that was palatially large, in the sense that it seemed to be one long hall. It looked very homely, very lived in, at a glance. Lots of wardrobes, clothes on hooks, jackets and shoes; walls were carved wood in some places and actual stone in others, but all had some kind of paraphernalia. A skull from a hunt, Chinese scrollwork, artwork, and the like.

Almost temple-like, she mused. 

She couldn’t make out much, though. She was still blinking the tears from her eyes when she finally saw Quanxi moving away from her, calmly removing an overcoat that Makima had not noticed before. She shuffled her way upright, rolling onto her side in an attempt to lift herself. Her arms, she realized, were bound behind her back from elbow to wrist and down to her fingers. 

Is that the whip? It feels like it, she mused. Her arms were thoroughly tied up, and oddly, she couldn’t easily break out of it. Maybe, she was just too tired and winded from what had gone on. Makima - 

“I’m so sorry about that, girls,” Quanxi said aloud. Makima blinked, then directed her attention back around again. She realized that they were not the only two women in the room, and Quanxi was directing her words to an entire selection of strange, bombastic-looking females crowded upon a bed.

From the smell, they were Fiends. Four in all, each one different to the other. One had shaggy black hair with something like horns jutting out of it; another had a more schoolgirl-like cut of dark, bluish-black hair, with a ponytail that seemed to move like a snake; a third with a head of spikey pink hair and a mass of gelatinous material across the right side of her skull which appeared awfully like brainmatter; and then, finally, a woman that really did just look like a stitched-together frankenstein of a corpse.

Makima was not sure what to even make of that.

“Had to take care of business, you know how it is,” Quanxi said in a warm, almost emotional sort of voice. She moved over to the bed and stretched out her arms, and was instantly embraced by all four Fiends. Makima took notice that each and every one of them was entirely naked, and judging by how slick their skin looked, had clearly not been idle with one another.

What…? 

Her eyes rolled over the sight. Quanxi hugged them all as best as she seemed able to, folding them up in her long, strong arms. One hand cupped an ass rather shamelessly, but the squeeze seemed more fond than rough. The other cradled a head, combing through dark hair. She kissed each girl full on the lips one by one, as if offering them a greeting. 

For a moment, it was just enough to cause Makima to take pause. She stopped trying to lift herself up and instead stared at the very domestic sight in front of her. There was no doubt about it whatsoever: the girls were likely some kind of family to Quanxi, maybe girlfriends, maybe wives, because the intimacy could offer no other explanation. 

It was a very oddly heartwarming intimacy. When Makima returned home after work, there was no one waiting for her in her threadbare apartment. There was no one to hug or embrace. There was no one she wanted to hug and embrace, save, perhaps, the Chainsaw Devil - something to idolize. Makima had always imagined that one day, she’d maybe be able to start a family like this one. She did not, however, imagine such a day to be likely.

She set her jaw, shook the thought, and began to slowly shift her body.

“You made us wait a long time,” the black-haired one with the horns said. Her voice was low and almost draconic, like a thick, throaty growl. “We were getting impatient.”

“Halloween,” said the one with brain matter attached to her head.

Makima almost stopped short when that hit her ears.

“I’m sorry,” Quanxi chuckled again. “Really. Things took longer than expected, but I’m back now, right?”

“Long got so bored she started teething again!” said the one with the weird, snake-like ponytail, some gelatinous mass that seemed to have a mouth and eyes. “We had to tie her up, she was so impatient!”

Slowly, Makima shifted her weight onto her knees, and tried to rise very, very slowly. 

“Sounds kinky,” Quanxi chortled. She ran her hand through the Horned Fiend’s hair, drawing something like a cat’s purr from her mouth. “I’m sorry to miss it.”

Brain Matter Fiend leaned up for a kiss, planting her lips against Quanxi’s in a clearly romantic gesture. At the exact same time, the Horned Fiend grabbed onto Quanxi’s shirt and drew it up over her body. Makima could only see the network of scars and the lines of muscled strength that dominated the Hunting Devil’s backside - thick criss-crosses of both illuminating her sheer power.

The shirt was flicked up and over her head once the kiss broke, earning a chuckle from Quanxi. She was left in just a sports bra, though it seemed pretty basic and not all too ample. Makima doubted it was needed with shoulder muscles like that. She tried not to be impressed by it. She tried not to put any attention on it. She was not sure she quite succeeded.

The zombie-like Fiend twisted her head around, then. She pointed over Quanxi’s shoulder, right at Makima; she'd noticed her attempt to rise up, and directed attention to it.

Quanxi hummed throatily and glanced over her shoulder. “I know. She’s a feisty one.”

Quanxi pulled away from the four naked Fiends on the bed and twisted on her heel. “Girls, this is Makima. She’s a Devil from Japan who thought she’d get to control me.”

The Fiends seemed to erupt into giggles of some kind or other.

For a moment, Makima and Quanxi were again face-to-face. With her shirt off and only a bra on, Quanxi truly looked like a mesmerizing thing. She was the peak of human fitness, with muscles positively chiseled into her skin by hand - like some depraved Adonis. She had the most perfect six pack of abs that Makima had ever seen in person, and the lines of her obliques looked like beautiful, light-catching crevices.

A sharp, muscled V ran down below the waistband of her pants. The thick band of her bra, meanwhile, hooked over a stout ribcage. Her chest was not small whatsoever, even when in the utilitarian support. Between her shoulders and her biceps, she looked like an absolute unit. If this was a racehorse stable, Makima was sure that Quanxi would be considered ‘a stud’. 

Quanxi waved her hand at the four girls, pointing to them each in turn. “Makima, meet my girlfriends. This here’s Long, that’s Pingsti, Cosmo here if she’d let go of my arm, and Tsuhigahi.”

Horn girl, ponytail girl, brain girl, zombie girl, Makima’s mind considered, putting a name to each face. She truly did not care about who was who. These were Fiends, plain and simple. Weak things, barely the Devils they were meant to be, and nothing that could bother her. But, it was the first time she’d ever heard of a Hybrid keeping a harem of Fiends around.

Her attention swept back over to the shirtless Quanxi. Her jaw gritted as she attempted to push herself up, only for Quanxi to step right up to her, grab her by the top of the head, and push her right back down onto her knees. Makima hit the ground and tried not to hiss. She glanced at her body, which was spotless - save for the holes and tears all across her irreparable uniform.

Makima glared up at Quanxi. She was not sure what to do in this kind of situation. She was bound, almost helpless, and staring up at six feet of pure muscle. She said nothing. Neither of them said anything. Makima stared. Quanxi’s face was like butter to the eyes, in the sense that features seemed to blend together. She’d always had trouble telling the faces of humans apart, and always went by scent. But, with Quanxi, she couldn’t. There was no scent. She had to stare, and she found it unnerving. 

“All my girls mean a lot to me,” Quanxi said, as if that somehow mattered to Makima. “I’ve collected them, you know, over the years, after hunting them down. A problem here, a problem there, villagers ask for help, I Hunt. The good ones, I like to take on dates.”

Quanxi’s Fiends slipped off the bed and padded around. The giggling one with the ponytail, Pingsti, got down on her knees beside Quanxi’s legs and began to flick open her belt. The other one, the dutiful Tsuhagahi, curled her fingers into a waistband and tugged.  

“So, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t hate you for doing what you tried to do, because, you know, that’s what Devils tend to do,” Quanxi said, her voice low and throaty. “It is what it is, right? Life goes on. But, you tried to take me, so that means I’m going to take you. It’s what I’m owed as payment.”

“You’re making no sense,” Makima spat. She watched as the two fiends dropped Quanxi’s pants like it was their only role in life. She saw a set of basic, utilitarian briefs around the woman’s waist - and then felt some part of her throat go thick. There was a bulge in those pants. An impossibly large one, in fact, a true hard-on that went from center to right, straining an entire waistband.

Wait, wait, wait, her mind pulsed. Is that what I think it is? That’s not possible. Or…

But she lived in a world where people could have chainsaws for heads. Why was it not possible?

“Sorry, I tend to overexplain shit,” Quanxi remarked. Two Fiends dragged Quanxi’s waistband down, pulling until a hint of hard, throbbing flesh was revealed. “What I’m saying, Makima, is that you owe me for this hunt. I always get paid for my work one way or another, and your body is perfect compensation.”

Makima rattled out a shaky noise. She was very suddenly hyper aware of her own sexuality, and distinctly recalled exactly what had happened back in Japan’s office. Those were things that had never made her nervous before, but now, for a moment, she felt trepidation prickle along her spine.

“What makes you think,” Makima asked, her eyes glued to the rising bulge, "I'd allow that?”

“Babe, you lost, ” Quanxi told her. “This isn’t about allowing or not. This is what happens, plain and simple.”

In the next moment, the Fiends yanked down Quanxi’s briefs. In an instant, the meat of her cock sprung forward - and it was a true-blown dick. It was inches and inches of pale, white cockmeat, bouncing out as if under high pressure. It all but smacked Makima across the face, from chin to nose to forehead. For yet another moment in too short a time span, Makima’s golden eyes went wide. 

It was big, hard, and palpably powerful. It had to be at least nine inches long, if not more than that - maybe ten? She was not sure on the face of it, but the thing was thick. It was at least the girth of her wrist, and she could make out the pulsating veins etched into its surface. The scent of it was intoxicating; Makima was sure she could smell all the hundreds of conquests such a thing had earned over its lifespan.

This happened to be the closest Makima ever got to a real dick before. 

She swallowed hard. “I - I hope you understand this means nothing to me.”

Wait, Makima’s mind thought. Did I just stutter? No. Not possible.

“Sure,” Quanxi drawled. She seemed utterly unpashed, and Makima did not know what to make of it. When Quanxi’s powerful hand grabbed her head and tilted her back, grinding the cock down her cheek, all Makima could do was swallow hard. “Whatever you say, it’s fine by me.”

“This part’s always really fun, ” gushed Pingsti. She shot Makima two thumbs up, to her utter incredulity. “I always like seeing Quanxi shove a dick down a girl’s throat. Oh, oh, did you know she’s nine-point-eight inches? That’s statistically -”

“I think she gets it, babe,” Quanxi chuckled. She used her free hand to briefly lift her dick, then slapped it down against Makima’s face. Her cheek shuddered beneath the blow while her brain struggled with the casual degradation. “Or, she’s about to learn it, either-one.”

The dick rubbed against Makima’s mouth, spreading that flavour around. Some part of her mouth shuddered; maybe the human-eating part, but even she knew that Hybrids had awful flavor. Yet, there was something here that had her jaw quivering. Makima did not know what it was, and she didn’t like it.

Glowering on her hands and knees, arms thoroughly bound behind her back, she genuinely could not stop Quanxi from dragging her head back until the cock’s head was poised against her lips - and couldn’t stop Quanxi from forcing her straight down. 

Makima had plans in her life. She had a great many things she wanted to accomplish and achieve, and she knew she had the power for it. It was something she could achieve, if left to her devices. She could, thus, say with utter sincerity that no single one of her plans had ever accommodated the merest idea of someone pulling on her head and shoving a dick into her damned mouth.

No, that had never been a thought at all. Why would it be? Makima played around with her sexuality to get what she wanted out of people, if need be. It was as impressive a tool as anything else in her arsenal, but going all the way would hardly be necessary. She'd never had anything like a dick in her mouth before, and she was, therefore, entirely on the back foot as Quanxi shoved her shaft inside.

It wasn’t gentle in the slightest. Makima did not expect it to be, not after everything she’d experienced so far. The utterly ludicrous, rock-hard mast was forced past the swell of her lips and onto her tongue in moments. It was thick, meaty, and flavourful, in an odd sort of way. It was a state that was familiar in some ways, yet very much unknown to her. 

Makima recoiled, naturally. She shifted herself left and right, but there was nothing she could do, no purchase that could be found. Her arms were bound behind her by the whip, and it was as secure as could be. She was not sure what she would do even if she did get free, though. Quanxi had beaten her so soundly that escape seemed a bit unlikely – and even if it was, Quanxi was The Hunting Devil.

Where was Makima going to run off to, now? 

Quanxi pulled on the top of Makima’s head and wedged her down onto the big, brutal, bludgeoning sweep of her cock. That thick, meaty thing plunged down home in seconds, filling up lips and jaw and cheeks all at the same time. There was no mercy behind the gesture, and quickly, the bulbous crown was slammed into the very back of Makima’s mouth.

It hit spongy flesh with an almost-audible squelch. Makima instantly gagged, her throat clenching and compressing down as the awe-inspiring sensation passed through her. She choked hard, slobbering far more than she’d ever had in her life. Those were sounds that she’d never heard her mouth utter at any point, and hearing them now, listening to that squelching sputter, almost ashamed here.

“You do have a pretty nice mouth, I gotta admit,” Quanxi said with a hot, pleased breath. Her hand kept on applying pressure to the top of Makima’s head, wedging her down onto the immense slab that was her dick. “But I get the feeling that it’s never done something this dirty before, eh?”

There was a casual crudeness to Quanxi’s voice that made Makima’s spine shiver. She did not like the assumptions and insinuations, and it made her skin crawl – but what was she to do about it? She was not sure. For once in her life, she really did not know what she was going to do about this. None of her life experiences planned for this sort of moment, because why would it? It was ludicrous.

And it was very, very real. Quanxi pushed, applying another ounce of pressure - and Makima coughed around the thick dick. Her mouth offered a hot, wet, salivating lobberr, because fuck if she knew how to handle a dick pressing against the entrance of her throat. She sputtered in a way she’d never done before, and the sound sounded so foreign and perverse to her ears that her mind refused to believe it came from herself.

Quanxi pulled, then. She used her hand and drew on the top of Makima’s head, easily, effortlessly, manhandling her backward. The sheer power behind Quanxi’s muscle-laden arm was incredible. There was no doubt about it: she was an insanely strong person. Maybe, in a world of humans and Weapon Hybrids, Quanxi was, in fact, the strongest of them. She should still have been weaker than Makima, but the evil that inhabited her flesh made sure of the opposite.

Red hair was twisted in Quanxi’s grip. She yanked the Control Devil bodily off of her dick, and Makima could only sputter obscenely as it happened. There was so much saliva in her mouth now that she was not sure what to do about it. Did she swallow? Spit? Where was it supposed to go? She didn't know, and the fact that she did not know bothered her. She should have understood this, but she really, really didn't.

The mechanics of sex were known to her, but this? This wasn’t. Makima gulped back a mouthful of her own drool as she was yanked until only the first few inches of dick were lodged in her mouth, making her lips wrap around them. She looked up at Quanxi, past the washboard of her scar-lined abdominals, and toward her face. She was smug, maybe even gloating, but not angry or upset.

There were no hard feelings there. Quanxi was taking what she had won for herself, what she was owed, as a Hunter. That was it. No sadism there. Makima was prey, simple and easy.

“You’ve got really pretty eyes,” Quanxi told her again. The compliment was so discordant with the current situation that Makima wanted to laugh. All she did, instead, was gurgle, as Quanxi shoved her right back down onto the thick meat of her cock. The wrist-thick mast was too big for Makima’s mouth, too much of the stretch of her jaw, and she felt muscles almost creak as they were used to hold her lips open further than she’d ever needed to before.

The cock rolled forward as Quanxi’s hips aligned. The fat head bounced against the roof of her mouth, and then pushed down across her tongue with a thick,  wet slap. The muscle fluttered and shifted, almost protesting this treatment – but there was no avoiding it. Her tongue was pinned down beneath that remorseless bulk as it pushed down, her head used as a handlebar to force the shaft against the back of her mouth.

She gurgled hard. Sputtered, saliva building up in a thick wave. Makima winced for maybe one of her first times in recent memory as the big dick pounded into a spot that inspired her body’s natural processes to rise up. She sputtered, momentarily breathless, as she choked around the shaft. Quanxi’s cock was as all-conquering as the rest of her.

Makima would not be surprised to know if that was a Devil Contract, too.

Perhaps, Makima wished it was.

One of Quanxi’s Fiends slipped in beside her. It was the fairly human-looking one, Long, with no discernible outside features. She wrapped herself into Quanxi’s flank and huffed her from the side, one hand cradling her obliques, the other moving to cup her abdominal muscles. She pushed in like a living body cushion, squishing soft skin against harder, denser muscle. 

Quanxi similarly wrapped her arm around the woman’s spine, then down around her hip, and hugged her in close. She leaned to the side for just a brief moment and pressed a kiss against the shorter Fiend’s forehead, her manner almost warm – almost husbandly. A strange sense of revulsion filled Makima; the casual PDA always made her feel weird. 

“Wanna watch, baby?” Quanxi murmured, her voice low. The Fiend nodded her assent, but said nothing. “I know, she’s a real pretty one, isn’t she?”

Makima gurgle. She felt utterly, entirely objectified, what with two pairs of eyes on her. The fact that Quanxi could have a woman tucked into her side while casually yanking on Makima’s head, pulling her away from her dick with a mere tug, was aggravating. Makima was not even the full force of Quanxi’s attention at that moment – she was just a toy, something to be used.

Quanxi hugged Long while pulling on Makima’s head, dragging her down until the cock’s head bounced against the back of her throat. Hard. Insistent, and deeper than before. Another inch, another bit of a mouthful, and Maima sputtered harder. She glared up at Quanxi, showing more ire in her gaze than she would ever otherwise allow. She had died before, and shown less. She’d been hurt, and displayed nothing. But this? This was indignity, and this was annoyance.

She watched the way that Long draped herself over Quanxi and stroked her muscles, saw the fascination with which the Fiend treated her lover. Lips pressed against a hard shoulder and kissed it idly, almost showering it with appreciation. Shameless, selfless, appreciation. The kind of wholehearted adoration for another that Makima had never experienced in her life, and was unsure that she would ever be able to.

Another Fiend came crawling around. It was the one with the pinkish hair and the brain matter draped down the half of her head like it was some kind of fashionable hat. She wrapped an arm around Makima’s shoulders, almost friendly-like; naked breasts pushed into her shoulder, drawing a little shiver from her body. A face got in too close, watching her too diligently, as if terribly curious about it all.

“Halloween,” Cosmo whispered sagely, as if reaching some kind of internal accord.

What the fuck, Makima groaned in her head. She felt like she was surrounded by idiots. A mute Fiend and one who only seemed to say ‘halloween’, both adulating Quanxi with silent praise – watching as the Hunter pulled and pushed on Makima’s hair, fingers curled into all that luscious red, using it a a mount ot force her along her fat dick. It was insane, and Makima’s structured, rigid, methodical mind began to squeak under the pressure of it.

It wasn’t right. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Makima was supposed to be in control, not with one lesser Fined warped around her shoulders while another cuddled the First Devil Hunter. Makima wasn’t supposed to have a dick jammed into her mouth, but that was precisely what was happening – and it only got worse. Maimia did not know how to handle herself here, and on a very basic level, she didn’t even know how to breathe around it.

Her throat compressed and squelched. A hot, wet noise echoed up from her throat as she sputtered about the shaft when it pounded in against the entrance of her throat, then pulled away again. Quanxi had not even started moving her hips, but the way that she pulled and pushed on Makiam’s head made her brain feel downright degraded. Skin prickled as hot, wet coughs left her mouth, each one more perverse than anything she could understand.

“I know, she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Quanxi said, speaking right to Long – despite the fact that Long had said nothing at all. It was as if she just knew what her girlfriend was thinking, and that kind of self-assured intimacy made Makima’s spine crawl. “And I'm not the kind of gal that looks a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Halloween,” Cosomo agreed with sage-like assurance. 

Makima gurgled. She slurped hard around the thick, meaty girth, her mouth failing to contain it. Quanxi’s grip on her head was remorseless, but not rough, per se. It was firm. Unyieldingly firm, the grip one might use to hold a sword or a baby bird. No chance of escape, but total control of the hardness. Quanxi did not have to hurt Makima to get what she wanted. She just needed to be in control.

Quanxi had that control, and Makima did not.  She was on her knees while her head was manhandled down for another throat-slapping shove, where she could only wince. She coughed around the mouth-filled cock, then decided to gulp back another mouthful of saliva. There was almost too much there, and she didn't know what to do with it. She barely even knew what to do with her tongue, which was pinned down with each successive, spear-like stroke.

She slobbered hard, wetness glistening across her lips. As she did so, Cosmo reached forward and ran her fingers along Makima’s forehead, curling her hair away from her face. It was a tender gesture that Makima didn't understand, not until the two Fiends started at Quanxi with a sort of intensity that was unnerving.

“I get it, I get it,” Quanxi said with a chuckle. “My bad for trying to ease her in, yeah?”

Makima did not understand. She hated not understanding. She fidgeted, squirming, as if she could somehow fight this off – and that lasted until Quanix’s hips rolled and pumped. For the first time so far, she actually thrust with her waist, her muscles contorting for one awe-inspiring motion.

The cock slammed into Makima's mouth harder than ever before. It slammed through the entirety of the drooling cave and hit the back of her throat with a hot, almost percussive, thud – now some five inches down, more than enough for Maikima to gurgle like some misbegotten whore. It did not end there, though, because Quanxi’s hand adjusted and cupped the side of her head, holding her in a vice-lock of control.

Makima’s head was dragged down the rest of the way, so that the cock scraped against the back of her throat. It went down past her sputtering gag reflex, smothered her uvula, and dredged its way along the textured contours of a throat that ate too little and felt even less. Makima was a Devil; she rarely even needed to eat human food, and only did it to keep up appearances. She never had anything particularly large in there besides rice and popcorn, perhaps.

Now, she had a dick the same size as her damned wrist jamming down, and it made her sputter obscenely. She coughed and gagged as Quanxi forced her down into a fraction of an instant, too fast to stop, too insistent to pull away from. Six, sven, eight, nine, almost up to ten inches of rock-hard, steel-dense girl-dick, plunged down into Makima’s throat, all as if she was some fucking streetslut trying to make a living.

As the entire thing pounded down into her throat, Makima was prompted to gurgle with obscene thickness. She’d never had anything that big inside of her in her entire life; everything felt stretched, everything felt utterly stuffed with a thickness that was both mesmerizing and utterly stressful. Her eyes watered and streamed droplets down her cheeks. She gurgled noises she couldn’t even begin to imagine, all too fast to follow. 

Nine of ten inches of Quanxi’s rock-hard dick was jammed into her throat, stretching out those tight, tense walls about her girth. It was a ridiculous length and size, too much for anyone to handle. At least, too much for Makima to handle, because she felt utterly packed with cock. The taste of it was thicker than ever, but she couldn’t concentrate on that. She could only, instead, focus on how full she felt.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Quanxi murmured. She curled her fingers around and grabbed on hard, making sure that Makima’s head was utterly contained. Makima, in turn, squirmed, unable to actually move her body enough to change anything. All she did was cough and choke there for a moment, her throat stuffed up with so much dick that it seemed to defy reality. Her throat was a sheath for it, little better than a weapon.

“She looks really nice like this!” Said the one called Pingsti. She clapped her hands and gestured fondly. “Her throat’s expanded out, uhm, one-point-three inches from -”

“You’re not going to impress her with something like that, ” Long retorted.

Pingsti puffed out a cheek. “You never know.”

“I think I know.”

The inane discussion didn’t change anything. Quanxi was so deep that Makima couldn’t breathe. Granted, she barely needed to breathe like a human did, but still - she found it distinctly unappealing to have her throat so stuffed out that she couldn’t attempt it. She couldn’t even swallow right. If she moved her throat muscles, all she did was massage the insane dick using them as a comforter.

“Not bad, Makima,” Quanxi mused. “I like that.”

She curled. Her waist rolled. She pulled out of that grasping sheath, yanking inches and inches free in a heartbeat. Makima felt every single bit of it slide against her throat, distending it with awful, eye-watering firmness. It drew up and out with a bubbling well of saliva that dribbled and squelched, rising up across the sweep of Makima’s too-pink lips. They collected a wetness that was downright sloppy, much to her confused distaste.

Makima slobbered indignantly as she watched that shaft retreat, showing off far too much of its utterly obscene length. It was huge, and it was slick with the slop from her own throat. That, itself, was wholly indignifying, and nothing close to the worst that Quanxi could do. No, that came as her hips rolled forward again and roughly, brusquely, speared the thickness of her girth straight back down into the tightness of a throat.

Makima gurgled as the thick thing pounded down, grinding up against the soft lining of her throat with awful ease. She gagged as it plunged in too deep, too far, hitting spots that it really did not make sense to hit. It churned against saliva that Makima could not believe, sending it bubbling up in a hot, squelching wave. She sputtered utterly obscenely as she was dragged down until her nose bashed against Quanxi’s pelvis, smooshed into the flat, taut muscle. There were balls hanging just ahead of Makima’s chin, such was her perverse depths.

“Oh, right,” Quanxi then mused aloud. “You’re probably wondering about this whole Hunt thing, aren’t you?” 

Makima gurgled up at Quanxi. This isn’t the time or place for this, dummy!

But Quanxi seemed unphased. She had likely done this so often that stuff like this was hardly any different from batting an eyelash. She seemed wholly, entirely casual as she whipped back, her cock dragging out of that slurping, overstuffed throat. Her pace was fast and brisk, sending unbearably friction across Makima’s throat and mouth. Everything felt like it was being ground down into paste, and she had no clue how to handle that whatsoever.

“I’ve been hunting Devils for a long time,” Quanxi explained. “Lots of people have, but I was one of the first, you know, back when Devils actually started appearing around these parts. Before it was an actual profession, see?”

Makima only saw a pelvis swinging and bashing into her face, hitting her nose with a stubborn thud. Her head reeled back, only for Quanxi’s impossibly strong hand to yank her right back down. She was sent slurping across the shaft as it drove into her throat, stuffing up the brim. Saliva was dislodged in a hot, gushing slurp, and welled up around her mouth in sticky waves of whiteness.

“And I guess that caught the eye of the Hunting Devil, primal and all,” Quanxi hummed. “We had a bit of a game of chase for a while. It was always there, just kinda… waiting. ”

She drew out of Makima’s throat in a grinding, rolling stroke, pulling it free to the sound of wet slobbers and squelching sputters. As it retracted, it pulled out entire bubbles of saliva that dribbled across Makima’s tight-stretched lips. The stuff drizzled down her chin in sticky lines and ropes, making her skin feel awfully slick. She did not know how to handle any of this, but Quanxi did.

She knew how to use Makima. She knew how to slam right back down, her hips pumping to drive inches and inches of thickness into the depths of a squeezing, rippling throat. It pounded forward too hard, too fast, earning a slobbering gurgle from the very back of Makima’s throat. She slobbered hard, and yet more saliva came bubbling up from her mouth; it was a thick layer of drool that made her lips feel stained and her chin feel soaked.

“But Hunting is a hard life. You know, a Devil like that? When you’re always The Hunter, you’re always unseen, unable to make connections with others. So, one day, it made a deal with me: it would be my Heart, and it would get to experience what human life was really like.” Quanxi’s ability to speak normally and talk business while slamming her cock down to the hilt, balls thudding into Makima’s slime-drenched chin, was insane. “So here I am, The Hunting Devil. Or, the host of it. Hunting Man? Ah,  it doesn’t really matter.”

It should have mattered, because people didn’t often make contracts with Primal Devils like this. Makima did not know how it was still possible. Devils formed in Hell, and when killed, moved to Earth. But, as a rule, Primal Devils were those that hadn’t ever died. They were too strong of a concept, right? That was supposed to be the case. But, the world was varied, and perhaps any act of hunting could summon one up from Hell. 

Those were considerations that Makima could not pay attention to. She could only focus on the massive, wrist-thick dick driving down into the soft lining of her throat, reaming it out as if it was just another hole. Despite her best intentions, in spite of all of Makima’s calculating plans and ideals, she was reduced to a sputtering mess before it. She coughed with sloppy intensity as the thing plowed to the hilt, balls thudding against her chin - holding fast for a moment before whipping back again.

Makima’s eyes watered. Tears made her vision go bleary. Still, she stared up at Quanxi, looking at the way her abs flexed with such impossible intensity. The woman was strong. She was just so damned strong. To be sure, there was something utterly attractive in the way that her body seemed built for this lifestyle: as adept at hunting and fighting as it was for sex. Maybe those two things really did go hand in hand, and Makima had never realized it.

Delicious abs curled as a huge cock cored out Makima’s throat with a brutal, bludgeoning slam. Her head rocked back as a flat pelvis bashed against her face, hitting her nose and sending balls thudding into her chin. But, despite her flinch, Quanxi merely yanked her straight back down with that one strong hand. Her hips curled in tandem, grinding her impossibly thick dick across a sputtering, clenching throat.

Makima slobbered harder. Saliva dripped down her chin like rainfall as it poured from her mouth freely, unable to be controlled in the slightest. That was it: there was just no control as the slime-thick saliva dripped down onto the swell of her chest, staining her ruined tie and her shredded dress shirt. She gagged with each rolling stroke of Quanxi’s dick, the sensations only becoming more and more intense by the moment.

“She looks sooo hot,” Pingsti cooed. “I love the way her mouth looks! By the way, this lip gloss brand is actually -” 

“Halloween,” Cosmo agreed.

The other two Fiends stared with perverse eyes as Makima was thoroughly, utterly throatfucked by Quanxi. Hips swung forward, sweeping the cock down in hungry ruts. It jammed down to the ball-slapoing base, and dredged up thick bubbles of saliva for its efforts. Similarly, it brought tears to Makima’s wincing eyes, the kind that made her cheeks feel sticky and shiny. Wet, bubbling froth spilled down over her chest as the intensity ran rampant, with Quanxi holding nothing back.

She was skullfucking Makima. Her hand grabbed and pulled while her hips thrust and pushed. The combination was utterly deadly to Makima’s experience-lacking body, and kept her on a knife-edge of breathlessness. She’d never been unable to handle something in her entire life. Even the things she couldn’t handle, she could learn. She’d never had control just taken from her, either. All of those were happening now, and they were perfectly highlighted with very slurp, squelch, and slobber.

She coughed and gagged. Her head rolled and twitched. It was shoved down, then bashed, as Quanxi just fucked her throat. She rammed away at it, causing Makima’s throat to bulge. The constant rippling made her collar feel too damned tight, as if the button would snap. Her blouse was drenched with drool and spittle, so that her red bra beneath was almost clearly visible. It was comical, really. She should have been laughing, but instead, she was choking. 

“Quanxi looks intense, ” Long murmured. She kissed along Quanxi’s shoulder and stroked her abs as they flexed and curled, all very romantic-like. That did not bother Makima so much as the fact that this was all happening to her one handed. Quanxi’s attention was split with her lower, whom she cupped tenderly. It only took one single hand to push Makima down until she was only breathing cock.

“She’s definitely close,” Pingsti bubbled. 

Makima gurgled and coughed. Her face felt sore from the constant slamming, her nose aching and her chin tired from the thwapping of balls. Wetness drizzled and gushed down in long, syrupy lines, too sloppy to ever acknowledge. More than that, Makima felt dazed. She was breathless. Her chest was heaving for air that wouldn’t come, despite her minimal need for it. Her throat clenched and unclenched desperately, but instead of drawing on oxygen, it stroked the cock that bit more.

Makima’s eyes began to roll as her windpipe was repeatedly stuffed up. Her sputters and her gurgles gradually wore down as oxygen deprivation settled in. Soon, the only noises were the natural slurps and slobbers of churning drool, and little else besides. The sounds of her own throat getting plowed out of place by some impossible stud was so overpowering that Makima was sure it had imprinted itself upon her brain.

“Yeah, I’m close,” Quanxi breathed out. She did not sound the least bit strained, only a touch winded. She kept on pounding down to the sound of wet glurks and obscene pops, but now her cock throbbed and expanded, swelling out to something more intimidating and more frightening. Makima, however, was far too inexperienced to know what that meant or how it assaulted her. “Guess I shouldn’t have done this with my blood going, huh?”

The words meant nothing to the over-strained, dazed, and near-ditzy Makima. What she did know was that Quanxi rammed her cock down to the hilt, driving it so deep that it seemed like it would never pull out. As saliva poured down Makima’s chin in heaps and tears left her mascara streaky and runny, the cock throbbed hard - a sensation more virile than anything she’d ever felt. Balls pulsated straight against her chin, offering a contraction that made her heart rate spike.

Quanxi growled. She pushed Makima down harder, just a bit deeper, so that she was utterly lodged onto the cock - until every breath, such that it existed, was tinged with the taste of dickflesh itself. That lasted for about a single, treacherous moment, before the cock jumped against the lining of her throat; at the same time, Quanxi tilted her head back and moaned.

Then came the heat. Raw, brimming, unyielding heat, spurting along the soft lining of Makima’s throat in unbearably strings. It was a potent, gooey mixture that slammed across all that quivering pink to smother it in a warmth she’d never before known. It crashed down in a voluminous wave that seemed far beyond any practical load, past anything that a human would conjure up, and into something nearly divine.

Or maybe Makima was just that inexperienced - what would she know? All she could do was gurgle as hot waves of cream spattered down the lining of her throat, drenching it in a thickness that she could scarcely understand. She did not know how anyone could handle something like that. There was just so much cum that it seemed ludicrous: a drowning deluge of the stuff that caused her strained esophagus to ripple and gulp pathetically.

Each swallow was more like a gagging cough. She sputtered obscenely while tears trailed down her cheeks, all as Quanxi unloaded herself down Makima’s throat. Her stomach began to feel full under the weight of it all. Hot, gurgling gushes of cum, spattering her belly in a never-ending deluge. Balls twitched against her chin, a dick shuddered across her neck, and Quanxi’s fingers tightened in her hair.

“Damn!” The woman grunted. “ God-damn, that’s good. Wow, you’ve got a real nice throat, Makima.”

Makima was still gobbling up cum when Quanxi methodically pulled her back, drawing her off the thick dick without a care in the world. The Devil gurgled as her throat was unclogged, but she still felt it. The thing had damn well imprinted itself upon her throat, such that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow straight after all of that. Her neck felt raw, her belly felt too warm, and she was still coughing out mouthfuls of saliva - now tinged with white - after it pulled back.

The obscene popping noise did nothing but make Makima gurgle. Saliva and cum spattered out of her mouth and onto her tattered black pants as she coughed to clear her lungs, such as it was. She felt like a weak, sloppy-faced mess. She’d been facefucked, her throat used as a hole, and she could do nothing about it. She was, for once, almost powerless.

Someone was clapping. There it was - one of the fiends, Tsugihagi, was clapping, perhaps in lieu of a mute mouth. The other three demons were fawning over Quanxi, hands caressing her muscles, bodies squished in so nice and tight that it was almost alluring. They pulled on the rest of her clothing now, drawing a sports bra off with experienced precision.

Quanxi’s chest was no less impressive than the rest of her. Nowhere like Makima’s body, but her bust was a great size. Easy D-cups, which, when compared to the washboard of strength below, and then to the obscenity of her cock, it seemed almost comical. The woman was as well-built as Makima, in her own way. Every ounce of her implied power, and the redhead found it oddly alluring.

She swallowed back a mouthful of cum and drool and spat out the rest. She was still heaving for air that barely came. She needed a moment of respite for once in her life; regenerating from ‘death’ was easier and faster than this, damnit. Even getting her brains blown out wouldn’t take more than, what , five minutes, tops. This made her feel winded. She - 

“That was a good warmup,” Quanxi declared. One powerful hand grabbed hold of Makima’s long, red braid of hair, and yanked her upright. She used her hair as a leash to bring her to her feet, and Makima could do nothing more than scrape the ground with her socks. She did not even know when her shoes had been removed. Was it beforehand? Had the Fiends done it? She really didn’t know, and she hated that she didn’t. “Time for the main event.”

She bodily shoved Makima against the wall. The Devil hit it hard, but did not wince. She hadn’t this entire time, and she would not start now - even if it really did jar her. She hissed, but did nothing more than that. She glared at Quanxi through teary eyes, still panting, still trying to figure out how the hell things had gotten to this stage. 

She still wants to go, Makima groaned in her head. She glanced down at the still-hard cock that poked into her belly and felt a spike of trepidation fill her. It didn’t seem rational, but it was still very, very hard, and still very, very ready. Quanxi was still very ready, because a second later, she used her free hand to grab Makima’s shirt and tear it off.

With this woman’s super-strength, it took nothing at all for her to shred down. Buttons popped and flung everywhere. The tattered cloth tore into strings. White fabric fell to the ground in seconds, and was soon matched by Makima’s pants. Basic government-issued business slacks did not, it seemed, last against the strength of a primordial Hybrid, and the Devil was down to her lingerie in seconds.

“Oh? And you said you didn’t come here just for me,” Quanxi mused, her voice low, throaty, and rolling. Her fingers traced along Makima’s frilly red bra, then playfully pulled at it. The action made her breasts wobble all too appetizingly, in fact. “But you put all this on, all dolled up…”

Why did I put this on? Makina tried to remember. It was just a standard, normal outfit, wasn’t it? But she’d intentionally chosen the finer lingerie in her collection. She’d worn this instead of something simple and athletic, like Quanxi was. Was this subconscious? No, no, that’s not - that’s not possible. ”

“Too bad I’m going to have to get rid of it,” Quanxi chuckled. 

She twisted, and the entire bra snapped. As the loud noise hit the air, so, too, did the sounds of perversion, the giggling of eager Fiends watching along. Makina’s jaw clenched as her breasts almost seemed to flop; their weights shuddered and bounced as the support of her bra went mysteriously absent. Her chest was full and heavy, forming sinful double-D’s that rested oh-so-delectably upon her chest.

“Mhmmmm… you’re gorgeous, ” Quanxi rumbled. She pushed Makina into the wall even harder, causing significant discomfort thanks to her tied-up arms. Lingerie was snapped in a heartbeat, and then her leg was swept up in an all-too-powerful arm. Only one of Makima’s feet actually touched the floor now, and the other hung limp over the stud’s curling forearm. 

“D-do your best,” Makima said, her tongue thick with drool and cum. “A-and make me feel it.”

Qunaxi laughed. “Oh, there won’t be any problems there. ”

Her cock dragged down. It wasn’t her that did it, but one of the Fiends. Tsugihagi, it seemed, pulled on her girlfriend’s dick, and sent the thickness scraping across Makima’s clit. The rubbery head rolled down against her folds, finding purchase in seconds. As Makina looked down, as bodies aligned, she realized that this was about to be the first time she actually got fucked properly - not fingers, not toys, but actual cock.

Oh, her mind thought. Wait. Wait wait wait. All of that is going to go in me?

Tsugihasi offered a thumbs-up.

“Come on, girls,” Quanxi rumbled at the other three clinging, kissing, girlfriends. “Give me some space; it’s time to break Makima in.”

Break me in? Makima swallowed hard, her mouth poised to speak. She still felt breathless from the throatfucking. Speaking was difficult. And yet, Quanxi was ready for more - and Makima could, and would, do nothing to stop it. 

Quanxi slammed up into the tightness of Makima’s cunt. There was no gentleness there in that rough penetration, no sort of tender entry or some kind of calm, relaxing movement. It was not the romance of two lovers, but the passion of two people in heat – Makima was a gasping, sloppy thing, pressed and pinned against the wall by the power behind Quanxi’s body, while the Hunter herself was just a horny beast.

Makina could only gasp in the face of it. She could only groan as that huge, thick thing invaded the tightness of her twat all at once, all too fast to follow, with more power than she could ever hope to understand. She’d never even planned on having sex until, perhaps, she made a family with the object of her affections – but the Shainsaw Devil was quite some ways off, and here and then, she was reduced to taking the dick of the victor.

Makima’s calculations had never allowed for this. She would never ever have imagined it was possible. She had walked into this ‘trap’ herself, been ensnared in a situation she had a while underestimated – and suffered the consequences of it. She could have rejected the idea, but her mind understood it. She knew what she had done wrong, and saw it play out as the huge, thick dick crashed into the molten heat of her puss and filled her up more than she'd ever been in her life.

“ MFGH !” She hissed out as the big, hard dick pounded into her core one inch, two, three, four, five – then six, drilling into her snug snatch in a way that instantly inspired her eyes to roll. The cock was big. It was so big that it was insane. Walls were being stretched like putty around its bludgeoning girth, and insides felt positively smooshed down by its ridiculous haft.

It didn’t seem like something that big could just invade her like that, but it was so wet that it was easy enough to achieve. The glistening shaft, polished by the slop of her throat ,more than effortlessly drilled up into the tight valley of her cunt. Taut walls were separated in seconds, speared apart in moments, her cunt made pliant and pliable around its girth. She was prompted to gurgle with obscenity as the thick thing crashed home, sending a burst of stimulation across her spine that she never dreamed was even possible. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re tight,” Quanxi groaned right against her face. One hand curled into Makima's hip and dragged her an inch away from the wall, so that the swell of her fat ass was not quite pressed to it. “You really haven’t ever been stretched out before, have you?”

Makima wanted to whine. She struggled to keep a tight control over her expression when her pussy felt like it was being damned impaled by a longsword. “Shut – up. Just t-take what you want, and be done with it.”

Quanxi looked into her eyes and grinned. Her smirk was easy, almost charming in its laziness. “You’re acting like you don’t want this, Makima, but don’t pretend like you’re not soaking wet for this.”

“I’m not,” Makima protested – but she knew that wasn’t true. She was sweet. She had been sweet when the dick shoved itself against her folds, and it was still wet now as it drilled up into her hot, tight wait. Wetness brimmed in a way that was surely more than just saliva. She didn't feel dry, after all, but she did not want to acknowledge the idea that this excited her. 

“I don't think your body agrees," Quanxi husked. She was so, so close, practically nose to nose. Makima’s eyes flicked over to her lips, watching them, before moving up again. The hand by her head curled, twisted, and flexed impressively. The other hand gripped Makima’s waist, keeping her in just the right spot – unpraised leg and all. “I think it wants this.”

Quanxi’s rolling hips stole away the possibility for a response. The impressive muscles of her belly flexed in one hard, lewd motion, offering a delicious ripple that was delightful to watch. The cock within Makima ground down against her walls like a stick against butter, churning them up with hot, slick gyrations. Makima opened her mouth in a silent groan, unwilling to release any sound yet almost compelled into it all the same. 

“I think you’ve been craving me since I left Japan,” Quanxi teased her, “And I think that’s why you came all this way. You didn't just want to capture me, right? You wanted me to dick you down.”

Makima hissed through her teeth. “A-absolutey not, that’s ridiculous , you’re ridiculous ”

Makima felt emotional. She felt way too emotional. She quivered against the wall, her big tits almost wobbling, as Quanxi’s hips pulled back and drew out – dragging her big, thick dick free in a single, hearty gesture, swinging it up and around. The thickness rippled free in half an instant, making Makima feel so empty that it drew out a whine from her lips. 

Quanxi’s hips rolled. Her waistline crunched with muscles so impressive that it was almost dizzying. The big dick hammered right back inside, then, drilling straight into the sopping valley of her core all over again. It slammed up into her tight, clenching cunt, ramming walls aside in a single rough shove. She felt stretched and swollen around the brutal, bludgeoning girth, and despite her best intentions, Makima released a yelp of noise.

Just one, but Quanxi heard it. Her fingers curled in Makima’s hair, while the other arm clenched on her hip. She leaned in, forehead to forehead, and smirked triumphantly. “Come on, moan for it. You know you want to.”

“I don’t,” Makima hissed – but she was on the back foot again, defending herself and her choices. She knew that was a mistake, but her life of late seemed filled with them. “This is – nothing, Quanxi.”

“I feel how needy you are for me,” Quanxi rumbled possessively. Her big, powerful body folded over Makima, making her feel entirely contained and somehow totally secure. “You know, back then, you were squeezing on my fingers so tight I almost thought you were a first-timer.”

Her hips rolled, drawing out a pathetic noise from Makima’s tongue. She shut her mouth and cocked her head back, trying to maintain some kind of confidence- but what was there to do? She was positively breathless already from the powerful throatfucking, and she had no stamina for this sort of thing. She'd never taken sick before, let alone anything this big, powerful, or thick.

And it wasn't even the full length. As it drew out, as it pulled back, she felt it stretching at the grasping, putty-like walls of her cunt. It sent a wonderful stimulation across her core, and that only intensified when Quanxi rolled and thrust up again – driving her shaft inside like the spear of hardness that it was, filling up twitching walls with remorseless intensity. 

So big! Her mind gasped out pathetically, eyes watering with unbearable strain. The shaft split her open, driving so deep into her core that it seemed beyond sense itself. Her folds squelched across the hardness, almost slurping it in deeper. The thing was seven or eight inches inside now, and it felt like it was hitting spots so deep that it was beyond sanity itself.

“I can feel just how bad you need it,” Quanxi continued to say. Her voice was filled with utter confidence, and again, Makima could only rationalize the sheer gap of experience between them. It was likely that Quanxii could read her body like an open book. It should have inspired some sort of shame, but all it did was make her feel like whimpering. “Come on, when was the last time you got off right, Makima?”

Makima did not answer. She curled, her face scrunched up, brow struggling as Quanxi rolled and moved her hips around in such a rolling, grinding arc. She wasn’t even moving all that hard, but it felt intense. It was the biggest thing that Makima had ever had inside of her, and the way that the broad girth dragged across the walls of the cunt made her eyes damn well water. 

“Admit it,” she said in hot, husky purr. “You need this. That’s why you’re here."

Makima wanted to deny it, but the seeds of doubt were dangerous things indeed. She tried to understand just why she’d come here in the first place, and how much of it had been inspired by her desire to capture Quanxi for herself – and how much had been because of the way she'd been finger banged in the break room. Was she really that weak? Had she really been that easy?

No, Makima couldn’t believe it. It didn’t matter how good those fingers had felt, or how big that dick was – but it was damned big, indeed. It filled up every nook and cranny of her snatch, grinding into walls with such intensity that it made her knees ache. Or, at least, the one knee that was straightened up, because the other one remained folded halfway over Quanxi’s strong bicep.

She tried not to moan as the huge shaft pounded home, drilling into the depths of her watering pussy. She tried not to show too much on her face as the big dick forced her out, moving some eight inches deep  -still not the full length, but more than enough for her to feel it. Her mouth gasped in a silent noise as the thing drew out of her core, twisting against her walls with such beautiful intensity that it was damn near agonizing.

“I don’t mind, you know,” Quanxi rumbled. Her breath seemed to come from the depths of her chest, offering a deliciously warm sensation. “It’s an honour when a beautiful lady wants me that badly. And you, Makima, really are beautiful.”

Quaxi was so close, but she did not kiss her. Makma was not sure if she wanted her to do that or not. Her jaw quivered, and her tongue seemed to loll as the rock-hard thickness ground against the walls of her snug cunt, dragging across her body. It pushed in deep, so much so that Makmia rose up on her foot, and then back down again. 

Quanxi pushed down. Her lips were almost set over Makima’s. Again, Makima felt a strange compulsion to lean in and kiss the woman. It was almost hard to resist it. She was not sure why she was resisting it. What did it matter at that point? He could only groan as the hard, huge dick dragged and pushed against her core, moving with an ever-increasing force of motion that left her whimpering. Hot breaths left her mouth, something akin to panting, as she was fucked against the wall with mesmerizing power and passion – things so intense they were eye-watering.

Quanxi shoved their lips together, then. She finally captured her up, and did so with a strong, warm press. Makima could do nothing but moan as mouths contacted again, completing what had started mere days ago. Lips pressed together and a tongue plunged into her mouth, sending a delectable shudder down her spine and through her throat. Her breath warbled up as Quanxi kissed her with the same passion as before, but in a new, delicious light.

This time, it came with the grinding rotations of Quanxi’s waist, her dick methodically, steadily, thrusting up into the molten heat of her cunt. That powerful body flexed and curled as it unleashed itself forward. Makima was not even sure if the entirety of that huge cock was inside of her now, but it certainly felt damned overwhelming. It was deeper than it had any right to be, fucking her harder than she could ever imagine.

Sensitive spots were scraped and rubbed down with intense, methodical intent. Sensitive spots felt like putty beneath the rock-hard, bludgeoning girth, which drove damn near to the hilt. Makima yelped, her fingers curling into her palms, her legs like jelly as she was railed. She gasped into the kiss, despite her best intentions. Quanxi purred, her voice throaty and full-bodied.

The woman’s chest wobbled as she arched herself. Her abdominals flexed potently. She curled into Makima. Driving that big, thick dick into her like a spear – but instead of trying to hurt her, she was pleasuring her. Makiam felt her cunt curl deliciously across her broad, thick girth, her cunt almost clawing at its raw bulk. She was positively milking it, with her sensitive, needy pussy using it to get off.

She knew that distinctly. She hated to think it, couldn’t believe she even had to realize it, but it was true. Her insides were savouring this big dick as it plowed into her, fucking her silly. It was more filling than the fingers before it, and it hit spots far more wonderfully. She could gasp and groan in between lustful pushes, her hips bucking up in ragged strokes – humping back against Quanxi’s cock, just as she had against her hand.

There was no stopping it. Makina could pretend all she wanted, but this sinful repetition of what had happened in the break room was very, very real – and so much more visceral than before. Each stroke, each pump, made her walls burn. Quanxi was moving faster than Makima could allow for, but all she cared about in that moment was the stimulating satisfaction. 

She bit down on a lip as her insides tightened. She groaned like she never had as her insides were stroked with pleasurable heat. It felt like she was burning up around the big cock, which hit spots so deliciously deep that they were dizzying. Her body was hot all the way around, as if she’d been dunked into a sauna. She was burning up, and it was all because of the way that dick felt inside of her.

It was hard, it was fast, it was rough, and it was intoxicating. Fingers had been enough to drive her to the edge, but this – this was better. This was so much more potent. It made her head spin around, sending her insides into gushing squelches of stress. She came hard, harder than she’d ever had in her life - if she even had in her life. She wasn’t sure if she had. It wasn't something she wanted to think about, not as she burst into orgasmic glee around that big, thrusting dick.

Quanxi pulled out of the kiss, then, but kept her forehead close. Her hands moved around Makima’s body, drawing on her, getting a better, firmer grip. She did not stop thrusting, not even as Makima came around the bulk of her twitching dick. Somehow, she still had more to go. The angling pushes, the grinding ruts, the way that she scraped across her snatch and then pulled back whilst it twitched in climactic glee, was intoxicating.

“Ah, there we go,” Quanxi rumbled. Her entire chest seemed to vibrate as she spoke. “I knew you needed that - a good fuck to loosen you up a bit.”

Quanxi’s waist rolled. Her thrusting slowed a bit, but not much. Not enough, as it were, to stop her insides from shuddering gleefully around the dick, squirming and milking while juices spurted and gushed. She felt so easy, but it was hard to focus. The climax was good. It made her feel light-headed and airy, as if she was walking on a cloud. Her eyes glazed over, entirely unfocused for brief seconds, while her normally calculating mind went blissfully empty.

“It’s always the girls who play the hardest to get that seem to need it the most,” Quanxi told her. She arched her back, then wrapped her arm around Makima’s other leg. Her posture adjusted, and her muscles seemed to tense with the threat of motion. “But don’t you worry - I know what you need.”

Quanxi’s overwhelming confidence was matched by her overwhelming strength. She bodily yanked Makima up the wall, scraping her skin with uncomfortable firmness, before then dragging her back. She bounced her once, then twice, before getting her in her arms in a powerful grip. Arms were locked beneath her legs and wrapped around her waist, ensuring that she couldn't fall.

Or, at least, Makima hoped she wouldn’t fall, because she still couldn't use her hands. She could not use them to get a good grip at all, and she could only hope that she didn’t get knocked over. She wheezed as Quanxi effortlessly dragged her away from the wall and rotated her around, still in her grip, and then began to carry her - walking with Makima in her arms, on her cock, as if that was as easy as breathing.

“You know, I never told you why you couldn’t smell me, did I?” Quanxi mused.

This isn’t the time! Makima gasped in her head. Only in her head, because outwardly she was left to gasp. Quanxi bucked her waist and used her grip to bounce Makima along her shaft, dragging that impossibly powerful cock across squeezing, fluttering insides. Her hips angled and scraped that fat cock backward, moving to the sound of squelching, dribbling juices, and hot, plentiful release.

“Anything I hunt is prey, and, well, I’m kind-of a womanizer,” Quanxi chuckled, and sounded almost apologetic about it. “So I see a pretty girl, and, well - you know. ”

It was as if Quanxi had no barrier or filter between sex and business. This wasn’t the time to be spelling out all of her secrets, because Makima sure as hell wasn’t considering them. She was only gasping as she was dragged up and around in the woman’s strong grip, bouncing in her arms like only a toy could be. Her strength was immense, truly. Her grip and her handle were incredible, and the way her dick felt against too-soft, too-sore insides was delectable.

“Ah - right. And, see, just in general, when I’m being hunted, or when someone sees me as Prey, I just know it. Hunter, hunted - so when you looked at me, when you tried to do whatever you were doing, I knew it.” Quanxi bucked her waist, grinding that deliciously thick cock across tight, fluttering walls. “Gave me a good excuse to make out with you.”

Makima truly was not in a position to comment on it. She couldn’t do much more than groan as Quanxi bounced her up and down in her arms, taking her with such feral precision. Her grip was tight and intense, so that even if Makima felt like she was going to fall, she couldn’t. She had to put her trust in Quanxi and make sure she didn’t topple over, and that was something she really wasn’t used to. Every instinct screamed at her to hold on, but all she could do was let this powerful stud take control.

“You should have left me well enough alone,” Quanxi murmured as she drew in. Her lips pressed against Makima’s neck, offering hot, wet squelches of passion - rolling touches that were hungry and ferocious and felt oh-so-good. “Oh, well. This is more fun, anyway.”

Makima would not call it fun. She was not sure what to call it, though. Overstimulating, perhaps? Dizzying? Mesmerizing? She didn’t like any of those words, but she was not sure what else to call this. There she was, effortlessly being bounced and carried in Quanxi’s too-strong arms. Her weight was shifted and pulled with the same ease as breathing, sent flicking up, then down, as the powerful cock ground across her quivering cunt.

“And I’ve got to say, you really are just hot, ” Quanxi rumbled. She leaned down as she kissed across Makima’s clavicles, hitting sweet spots that made the redhead quiver. Her toes were curling again, even though her legs were damn well bouncing over scarred forearms. Her weight shifted pathetically as the stud took hold and plowed away, both in bouncing her and fucking away at her.

Makima groaned. She tried not to make too much noise, tried not to give too much away, but it became difficult. Just being wrapped up in someone’s arms like this was a new experience,but being carry-fucked was something else entirely. She did not know what to think, or say, or do, or breathe, not as she underwent all these stimulating experiences. She’d only just cum, and was still too sensitive around it all to boot.

Her body rocked as Quanxi pumped upward. That powerful cock slammed home again, and then again, grinding into her core with immaculate talent. It was only growing more forceful by the moment, and when combined with the way that Quanxi so effortlessly bounced her body, it became mesmerizing. Her eyes winced and her lips parted, saliva still yet dribbling across her chin. 

Juices poured out of her cunt as the big dick crammed forward, easily burying itself inside. Makima felt comfortably stuffed and swollen around that shaft, and paid no heed to the brimming wetness it caused her. Sloppy, merciless squelches continued to assault her ears as Quanxi lifted her by the ass and bounced her around, using her as something like a toy.

“And these tits, ” Quanxi growled, “Are so beautiful. ”

Makima had no words to respond, because she was trying not to moan too loudly. Her breasts, though, were, indeed, wobbling around in gelatinous fits of perfection. Their gorgeous swells were sent into delightful wobbles with each intense slam up into her cunt, and then shaken out of place with each manhandling pull of her body. As she was bounced around, they, too, moved in tandem, quivering like milky sacks upon her chest.

She was always proud of her chest, if only because it offered such an easy route of seduction for men. Otherwise, they were just there. They looked good, they did not cause her any discomfort, and they were not part of combat calculations. Now, though, she felt them for what they were: heavy weights that allured and enticed the gaze of a woman far more powerful than she could have understood.

And, when Quanxi began to kiss along those jiggling slopes, Makina felt some kind of awful appreciation over it. No one had actually ‘sucked’ on her tits before. No one had slurped away on her boobs while bouncing her on a big, thick dick. She’d never been carry-fucked such that her knees felt like jelly or her legs sent bouncing like twigs - all while her hands were helpless to assist. 

Makima moaned as Quanxi’s tongue rolled along the pinkness of her nipple, lapping at it firmly - and then shuddered as that mouth clamped down and captured it inside. She suckled it up with awe-inspiring firmness, applying over-generous pressure that left her skin crawling. Quanxi’s mouth was as hot and fierce as the rest of her, and it wrapped Makima’s nipple up in crushing waves of heat. 

She suckled firmly, her lips taut, her tongue rolling, the pressure mesmerizing. She nuzzled into a fat, wobbling breast, while carrying Makima deeper into the room and toward the bed. Each step was accompanied by a sharp bounce, with strong arms clenching with muscular passion. The cock ground across soft, clenching insides, reaming them out more and more by the moment - leaving Makima so stretched that she was dazed.

She rocked in Quanxi’s arms and shivered against her embrace. Her tits wobbled and bounced with each jerking thrust into her core, which buried the fat cock inside again, and again. It sheathed into her glistening pussy, then pulled back again - and again, and again, working in and out, conjoined with hearty bouncing. Quanxi made it all seem easy, what with the way she nuzzled into a fat titty and suckled away upon it.

Fuck! Makima’s mind gasped. Outwardly, she attempted to remain firm-faced and steely - but with her watering eyes, grimacing lips, and dribbling drool, she was not sure she could maintain it. She hissed and gasped as the cock crammed away, sawing at the glistening expanse of her snatch with angular perfection - hitting the right spots, the right places, as if Quanxi knew all of her. It was dizzying.

It sent pleasure rumbling up and down her spinal column, even though she barely knew what was going on. She groaned and gasped and fluttered around as Quanxi carried her right over to the edge of the bed, all while sheathing nine-and-something inches of dick into the hilt each and every time. Makima was terribly aware that she had not gotten a good, proper breath into her lungs in at least - 

How long has it been? She groaned and realized she did not know the time at all. Fuck, fuck!

Quanxi very suddenly flopped Makima backward onto the bed. The redhead gasped gutturally as her back slapped against the comforter, and then shuddered as she was pushed up inches and inches high across the sheets. Her arms were grabbed, twisted, and pulled. Makima felt something give way, but she was far too busy thinking about how Quanxi so effortlessly dominated her to care. 

Quanxi grabbed her legs, spread them apart, and continued to fold them around her arms. The backs of Makima’s knees were over those impossibly strong biceps, and when spread just wide enough, she almost looked like she was locked up in a mating press. Certainly, with Quanxi set over top of her like some wild animal, it appeared as though Makima was pinned and pressed down like a bitch in heat. 

“S-shit,” Makima gurgled, her eyes wincing. A hot, strained whine left her throat as Quanxi pulled away from her tit, saliva sliding from her mouth. They locked eyes, gold against black, and Makima was intimidated by the sheer depth of passion there. 

It did not seem possible for Quanxi to keep on going. It did not seem rational for her to still have energy after the last two positions, but Makima was also very, very much aware that Quanxi had not yet cum during the sex itself. It seemed like she was indefatigable, her body bearing too much stamina, too much energy, for any singular person to control – much less Makima, who had no clue how sex like this worked.

What was she supposed to say? To do? She could only slap her hands down against Quanxi’s broad shoulders as the impossible stud slammed down and forward again, her cock swinging and her waist curling.  The delicious flexion of her abdominal muscles was clear for all to see – and that included more than just Makima. Four pairs of eyes feasted on the sight, between a silent zombie, a monosyllabic brain-girl, a guttural dragon, and a cooing schoolgirl.

“You’re so strong, Quanxi!” Pingsti cheered. “Hey, hey, did you know that you put thirty-six muscles into each thrust? It's incredible, darling!”

“She’s so strong,” Long murmured in her whining, lusty assent. She groped her chest as she stared, seemingly enthused. “I love this part…”

“You love every part,” Pingsti then replied, to which Long cocked her head and huffed. 

“Well, every part is good…”

The other two silently watched as Quanxi buried herself into the hilt, slamming every last rock-hard, wrist-thick inch of dick into Makima. She’d never felt something quite so intense in her entire life – and she meant more than just the bedroom. Fighting. Living. She had a rough life, yes, she had a bad life, to a point where she wanted to control the world and extinguish all the bad concepts in it – but this? This was just something else.

This wasn’t roughness for the sake of roughness. This was just the primal, basal needs of humanity, all put into a single woman. If there was a Devil for sexual talent, Quanxi might damn well qualify. The way that she thundered down was so blissfully simple that it made Maima’s mind want to capitulate and bend on the waves of pleasure if offered – even if she didn’t understand any of it. Even if, as the dick crashed down so far that it damn near kissed her womb, she felt her soul want to leave her body.

“ Mfgh !” Makima whined. A hot, earnest whine, a noise she couldn’t control. How could she? This was not a matter of control anymore. The air was simply forced out of her lungs as the head of Qanxi’s dick hit her cervix, sending it thudding out of shape. The sheer contraction behind the blow almost made Makima double over, safe from the fact that she couldn’t. Her body was pinned and locked in place, simple as that.

Her soft thighs spread. Her legs kicked out. Quanxi’s rock-hard body aligned itself with feral ease, dominating here without a second thought. Big, strong muscles, and surprisingly womanly curves, all settled down over top of Makima – breast to breast, skin to skin, all alluring, grinding ripples. Quanxi’s waist rolled with unconscious talent, sweeping that turgid prick across the sweep of quivering insides.

“You’re even tighter now, you know," Quanxi teased her, still so close to her face that it was dizzying. Makima did not even want to look at her right then. She just wanted it to end, to save her from this insanity. “I can feel you squeezing my dick off… more or less.”

Her waist pushed, and then pulled back. With uncomfortable ease, Quanxi whipped out of Makima’s clenching tightness. It did not matter how tight she actually was, how narrow her folds were, or anything like it. That big dick going past her defences, stretching her out like putty. Makima gasped. Her hands curled across Quanxi’s strong arms. Her nails pinched into steely muscle, both of which had Makima’s legs curled up.

The pseudo mating press was vicious and virile. It was powerful, intoxicatingly so. That he cock scraped back, and then was sent pounding forward again at the behest of too-strong hips. Quanxi crashed home in a single, frightful second, and Makina felt all of the air leave her lungs in another wheezy stroke. The cock felt like an iron spear inside her body, grinding everything down into mesmerizing paste. She was stretched, and filled, and stuffed, and impossibly overstimulated by it all.

It really did not matter how Quanxi moved, honestly. The fact was, she was so big that she could do anything, and her dick would hit sweep spots Makima did not know existed and sensitive spots that she could scarcely handle. The size of it was immense, and the way that Quanxi used it was utterly blissful besides. It was power, yes, but Quanxi was more than just that power – she was talented, too. 

She had her waist curling around in a way that spoke of nothing but sexual finesse. Her every motion was designed to please the partners she was with, even if she was not trying to make this good for them. She certainly wasn’t trying to blow Makima’s brains out in the carnal sense, but that was what seemed to be happening as her his rolled and pushed, as her dick sank down across fluttering sweet spots and sent them off in a series of toe-curling rotations.

“ Oh , yeah, yeah, move your hips like that,” Pingsti said with excitement. “That always feels really good, Makima would love it, I bet.”

“I’m getting horny,” Long whined, seemingly protestful.

“Halloween,” agreed Cosmo. 

Makima did not notice the exact moment where Tsugihagi pinned down Long, or when the two began to roll around and grate against one another right beside Makima; she doubted it mattered. The two wanted ot fuck, so be it. Her attention span was focused on clawing at Quanix’s impossibly strong arms, shivering as that intoxicatingly powerful dick came slamming down again, and again, in hard, staccato bursts.

“Tight and wet,” Quanxi murmured in that low, throaty voice. “How bad did you end this, Makima?  You can tell me, you know. I don’t mind.”

Makima gasped – and clenched her jaw. She wouldn't let this dominate her. She wouldn’t let this take control. She had none, she knew that, she knew she would not be clawing back her authority from this woman at this point, but fuck it – she would outlast her. Right? That was the least she could do, the least she could achieve as that wicked, thick dick sloshed home and hammered against the molten core of her  cunt

“Or are you going to play hard to get this whole time?" Quanxi chuckled. “I can feel how needy you are, Makima. Are you going to pretend you don’t like this?”

Makima curled her nails into Qiuanxi’s arms and dug down hard. Each battering stroke of the cock left her feeling winded and breathless. That entire parade of muscle in front of her curled and flexed in ways too delicious for her brain to fully understand, pulsating strange, primal sensations up into her thought processes. It was like an injection of alcohol into her brainstem, flooding her with strange hormones she didn’t know how to cope with.

Something between ‘she’s hot’ and ‘this is attractive’ baffled her. All those muscles curling, all those abdominals grinding. The way those breasts bounced  - a parody of reality, but somehow oh-so-deliciously hot. All that pinned Makima down, rendered her more inert than she’d ever been in her life. She should fight back against this. She should attack, or something, or do anything but wheeze as the thick dick blistered down and made her legs feel like jelly.

She didn’t speak. She did not trust herself to speak. She clenched her jaw and hissed out happy, confused breaths, while raking her nails along Quanxi’s body. Smirking, laughing, Quanxi lowered herself down and slammed their lips together with another greedy shove. Her tongue invaded Makima’s mouth, and the woman groaned into the kiss. Her hands latched onto broad shoulders and hooked, curling, and clawing hard.

Makima did not want to think, and she did not want to speak. She did not have the energy for it. It was too much, it was all too much. It was easier to just do nothing at all and trade spit as her body was reamed out more than could ever be believed, could ever seem rationally possible. Hard, fast, and aggressive, Quanxi matted with her, plowing down between her legs to the sounds of slaps and smacks and claps.

That big, hard dick plunged in and out, backward and forward again. It pulled at the soft lining of her cunt, stretching it all out again and again. It drove into the hilt, balls thudding across the sparkling expanse of her folds; the swell of a clit smacked by impossibly taut hips. An angle, a curl, and then Makiam was shivering, her toes curling into the bedsheets. Her nails raked along Quanxi’s back, surely clawing lines.

She gurgled into the kiss, saliva bubbling from her mouth. Quanxi kissed harder, her waist rolling fiercer. Hard, heady claps echoed out as the woman crashed home with delightful intent, skin brutally plapping. It was a steady smack-smack-thud of pure intensity, where one sound blended into the next, and the next, each position rolling together for something utterly dizzying. 

Makima could not move, even if she tried. Her body was, instead, rammed down into the mattress, sinking into a hole shaped like the rest of her body. She thudded and groaned as body met body with sharp, intoxicating impacts, bashing and clapping in an endless cycle of sloppiness. Hard, battering strokes. Weet, meaty thuds. Her breasts were mashed down by Quanxi’s pair as she got in closer, playing out over her like a living statue.

All grinding musculature. All unrepentant firmness. Battle-trained, hunt-hardened, every facet of her body made to be lethal and deadly. Makia should have been stronger than that. She should have been a lot of things, but what she was had turned out to be spread-legged, on her back, desperately crying out as she was fucked hard enough to scramble braincells.

Those arms, that body, were just so strong. It almost made Makima feel secure, in a strange, indistinct sort of way. That was the kind of body, those kinds of arms, you could just fall into and feel safe with. Somehow, she knew that implicitly. Even beneath that unrepentant brutality, there was something in the way that Quanxi fucked her that was almost reassuring.

Makima did not question the violent heat that spilled over her this time around. She didn’t think about how good it felt to have that thing core her out and plow her down into mush. She only gurgled in the throes of utter obscenity, quivering as it stoked her needy, hungry body to another quivering climax. She could not stop it at that point. She did not try to stop it. Just like before, she only felt a need to submit to the overwhelming heat that flooded her brain – nothing else.

She whined into the kiss, saliva bubbling from her mouth. She shuddered as the hard, huge shaft hammered past the orgasmic expanse of her cunt, fucking itself into quivering walls with a care in the world. Quanxi was not yet stopping, even though her pace grew jagged, more pronounced. Her shaft swelled up, throbbing with a life of its own. Makima swore she could almost feel the veins themselves twitching, and she almost wanted to say she enjoyed it.

“You should cum in her, Quanxi,” Pingsti said with urgent desire, apparently intoxicated. She was the only one offering actual words now, what with Tsugihagi and Long rolling around on the bed to Makima's left. “You should fill her, she'd loooove that!”

Makima could not protest it. Quanxi did not try to. Why would she? She was the conquering hunter. She had won, and she would get what she wanted. If she wanted Makima’s body, she would get it. If she wanted Makima’s chastity, if she wanted her womb, she’d get those, too. It was really just that simple. Winner, loser. Conqueror, conquered. 

Makima was almost, maybe, in some way, looking forward to it. 

But, really, she was too dazed, too dizzy and drunk off of her orgasm, to think about much else. When Quanxi crashed down to the hilt again, when she thundered in and buried herself in balls-deep, there was nothing but to let it happen. Quanxi had total control, and she used it to get exactly what she wanted. Skin slapped against skin, thick and heady. That broad weight pinned Makima down into the sheets, smothering her beneath muscles and curves – her own mashed out of place as if they didn't even matter.

And they didn't, not for that moment. Quanxi growled into her mouth and curled her waist. Makima felt her dick torn very, awfully, distinctly. The entire truncheon of a thing twitched across her cunt, offering a single moment of anxious anticipation. Makima knew what was coming. Her body definitely knew it. She did not try to pull away from it.

She did nothing but pinch her fingers down and cry out as Quanxi abruptly began to cum right into her body, just as shameless as that. Hot, wet, powerful strings of it were launched out as fast as could be. It was like the fire of an automatic weapon, bursting in fat droplets of goo-thick cum. Semen as dense as batter sloshed out into her tunnel harder and faster than she could have imagined, almost scorching the tender pink.

Makima gurgled. She gasped. She threw her head back, buried herself into the red of her own hair, and groaned hard as the fire-hot cum spattered her insides and drowned her in rich heat. It was like silk, voluminous as velvet, sweeping and curling and hitting spots so deliciously deep her toes curled. She didn’t know what to do about any of it, and so all she could do was quiver in climactic bliss as she was drowned in spunk.

“Ohhhhh!” Pingsti cooed, hands clapping. “Fill her up, Quanxi!”

“Halloween, Halloween!” Cosmo agreed, similarly clapping.

Makima heard nothing but the blood roaring between her ears as she was creampied by her assailant. Quanxi groaned hard as she let go, dumping the thickest, fattest, gooiest load that Makima had ever felt in her life, right inside. It was a drowning deluge of spunk, bar nothing, fatter and messier than she could possibly imagine. It hit every single part of her insides and flooded them with a heat so rich her belly felt warm.

“ Damn,” Quanxi rumbled powerfully. She seemed to undulate, her hips curling and spearing with each gentle pulsation of cum. She was just about done pouring out her load, but each extra dribble made Makima feel that much more stuffed up. “You take cum like a champ, Makima. For a first timer, you’re a pretty fun lay.”

Makima hadn’t done anything. She felt utterly breathless as she lay there on the bed, heaving in air that barely seemed to want to obey. When Quanxi pulled back and released her legs, they barely wished to respond. They remained off to her sides, still quivering. When Quanxi pulled out, Makina could only groan out a pathetic noise. Her chest heaved with tantalizing jiggles as she panted hard, showing just how winded she truly was.

“Too much, huh?” Quanxi looked down at her and chuckled. She swiped her hand through her white-gray hair, brushing it out of her eye. “I’ll give you a sec.”

Quanxi proudly stood up and moved away from the bed, leaving Makima there on her back, legs spread, hands twitching. The redhead stared up at the ceiling for a moment, taking in all the patterned wood and textured stone. She felt like a sloppy idiot, and there was nothing she could do about it. Was there anything she even wanted to do about it? She doubted that. She was too busy panting to think, anyhow.

She watched Quanxi pull away from a vanity of some kind. She had a stick in her hands - no, a cigarette, that was what it was. She flicked it around very calmly, then moved back over to the bed. Long was still tangling lips and tongues with Tsugihagi while gyrating into her, almost as if scissoring. There was a comical moment, then, when Quanxi rubbed the zombie’s hair, then spanked the dragon’s ass, just to draw their attentions.

“Long,” Quanxi hummed, “Do you mind, just for a sec?”

She flicked the cigarette out with long, woman-pleasing fingers. Long pulled herself up like a puppydog, almost too eager for words to express, and breathed fire upon the cigarette. It wasn't much, something more like a grill lighter than a flamethrower, but all the same, it lit the cigarette. Satisfied, Quanxi raked her fingers through the Fiend’s hair, then plopped the tobacco into her mouth.

She walked around the bed, still naked, and moved to the window. Or, rather, the balcony, because that was what it was. When Makima looked over, she realized that it was indeed the red-lacquered thing she’d seen impaled into the mountain earlier on. It was like a hanging temple, open up to the valley and the mountainside. Greenery and light fluttered through the open space, casting a beautiful illumination - almost picturesque.

As Quanxi rested there, the two other girls of her harem moved to join her. They giggled and wrapped their arms across their stud’s body, and it was eagerly reciprocated with soft kisses and gentle gropes. There was something depraved about it, no doubt. And, yet, that disgust from before welled up in Makima’s breast, made her want to turn away - but she couldn’t, because it wasn’t really disgust.

That was just what she had to call her longing. Though she was the Control Devil, she still thought fondly about things like family. She would have enjoyed having someone there as her equal, or even to be beneath someone as their lesser, if only it allowed her to catch a glimpse of what it was like to have a loving life. The fact was, no one was worth that time. No one was worth that subservience. There was only one person Makima thought she could start a family with, and that person did not - as yet - know she existed.

And there Makima was, watching Quanxi giggle and talk with two girls while smoking a cigarette. It was sexually perverse, yes, but soft, lazy, and homely. This was a Devil Hunter who had made some kind of contract with a Primal Devil, and yet she had a harem of Fiends she’d tamed for herself. No hard feelings. No regrets. Just a soft, sensual, loving atmosphere with each other.

Makima’s disgust might have been jealousy.

She pushed her torso up, breasts wobbling. Quanxi noticed the movement and took a deep puff of her cigarette; she stared at Makima’s naked body and blew out smoke. “I’d offer you one, you know, but I don’t like my girls - or, well, any girl, I guess - picking up bad habits. Smoking is pretty shit on your lungs.”

Pingsti nodded knowingly. “Cigarettes contain over seven-thousand different chemical compounds -”

Cosmo cuffed the girl on the side of the head, earning a help.

“I read it in a book,” Pingsti whined.

Quanxi chuckled. “I know, baby, don’t worry. I like hearing your book facts.”

Pingsti smiled shyly. Cosmo puffed out a cheek, then shrugged.

Quanxi redirected her attention toward Makima. She puffed on the cigarette, low and steady. The light cast a glorious glow over her muscled body, illuminating entire networks of muscle. She was strong, built, and powerful. Every facet of her existence spoke of intimate strength. Makima would have loved to have her under her control, but instead, she was the one under her thumb. 

It was hot.

“The villagers built me this place, you know,” Quanxi said, almost chewing on the words. “Wanted to keep me around, I guess. They come around sometimes, give me nice carpets and trinkets and shit. I think that they think it keeps me calm, or something.”

Another puff. Makima was left to think about villagers treating Quanxi as some sort of entity, some kind of local deity, and it made her skin crawl. Devils weren’t meant to be worshipped or seen as heroes; they lived off of fear, and this was antithetical to them. 

“I know what you’re thinking; if they worship me, how am I so strong? It should weaken me, right?” Quanxi puffed out more smoke. “That’s part of the thing, I guess. People are terrified of being hunted, or stalked, or watched. But… in the past, people deified the act of the Hunt. Right? Two sides of the coin. The Hunting Demon was always weak and strong.”

Makima gulped in a lungful of air. “So the Devil was pathetic enough to want to make human connections, and you decided to womanize your way into a harem.”

For a moment, Quanxi looked surprised. Then, she laughed. “Well, that’s a kind of human connection, ain’t it? Hard to experience love if you’re always on the other side.”

Makima considered that. Really considered it. She found that it was almost exactly what she felt, because that was what it was. She was the one on the other side, unable to feel anything, make any contact or connection she wanted - but she had a ‘human’ form and body. A Devil like this didn't, and needed a host. What, then, made any of them so different?

Quanxi finished her cigarette and calmly put it out. “Ah, well. It’s easier not to think about that kind of stuff, right? Better to just put your head down and live. ”

She moved back over to the bed, slow and steady. Her body was rife with muscular precision. Her breasts bobbed gently, and her dick wobbled mesmerizingly. It was still hard, somehow. Makima knew what was coming, and it made her fidget. She wanted to pull away and run, but she also didn’t. She both did, and did not, want to move. 

“And I think you know exactly what I mean,” Quanxi rumbled. She grabbed Makima by the back of the neck and yanked her up, only to push their lips together in another hot, saliva-gushing kiss. It was all tongue and mouth, lips shoved in tight. It felt good. It made her want to whimper. Her fingers curled along the bedsheets, then rose up to slap against Quanxi’s abs. She felt them curl, and the sensation was almost delicious. 

The kiss separated. Quanxi smirked, lips wet.

“I know you want this, too,” Quanxi told her.

“I don’t,” Makima breathed back. 

“Who are you convincing?” Quanxi chuckled. “I took the whip off, like, five minutes ago. Ten? When I pinned you down.”

Oh.

That’s right.

I can move my hands.

Makima’s wrists flexed. She stared at her very much not-bound fingers sliding against sweat-slicked abs, and then gulped. An actual spike of dread ran down her spine again. Not the dread of failure in combat, but the dread of having missed something so damned obvious that it made her seem stupid. She wasn’t tied up.

“You could have made a break for it, or just gotten up off the bed,” Quanxi told her. “I’m just taking what I’m owed. I’m not owning you, or anything. So… why didn’t you walk away?”

Makima knew that answering the question would be infinitely worse than staying silent. She quivered, though, beneath that dark gaze, shuddered as Quanxi’s hand groped her fat tit with immaculate firmness. Her jaw quivered as the woman’s fingers curled through her hair, tender, yet immeasurably powerful. Those hands had killed Makima just earlier, but now…

Quanxi laughed throatily. “I get it. Oh, I get it.”

She abruptly yanked on Makima and spun her around from back to front, throwing her halfway down onto her face. The redhead groaned and gasped harder when Quanxi’s hand casually swatted her ass. She hit it just right, at just the correct angle to send assmeat thwapping out of place. Makima groaned, her spine instinctively arching - her body submitting faster than her mind could properly process.

Quanxi grabbed her by the hair next, holding onto that chain-like leash of a braid. It was yanked up in a single, mortifying heartbeat, pulling Makima up to her damned knees by the hair alone - a stretching, scalp-stressing rush that really did hurt, but only half as much as it made her groan. The power, the boldness, the sheer confidence, was awfully arousing. Even if, yes, it made her hair ache.

Yanked onto her knees, Makima’s arms began to flounder. She threw them backward, as if to push Quanxi away. Instead, what happened was that they were grabbed, hooked, and pulled around. One arm wrapped around both of hers, locking them up against a strong bicep and an even stronger set of fingers. They now formed a convenient handlebar for Quanxi to pull even harder, until Makima’s spine arched.

“There we go,” Quanxi breathed against her neck. She was so much taller than Makima that she nuzzled near the top of her head. “This is how I like a good girl to be.”

She felt the cock scrape between her legs, then dragged across her slit. It wasn’t Quanxi that aligned it again, but one of the Fiends. They worked in carnal harmony, to Makima’s confusion. There was love as much as perversion, forming a family dynamic she just did not understand. She did not have to understand, then, as the big dick squelched against her dripping, drooling slit, pressure abundant.

And then came the thrust. Quanxi easily, effortlessly, plowed that hard cock up into the wet heat of her cunt, all at once, all so hard and fast that it was dizzying. Inches and inches of wrist-thick meat sloshed through her snatch and crashed along her walls, spearing walls out wide, dragging them across the remorseless, intoxicating, thickness. Despite Makima’s best intentions, she groaned louder than ever to feel it.

“NGH!” She whined, her voice breathless and thick. She shuddered as the inches and inches of Quanxi’s powerful dick slammed up into her snatch, cramming walls with that glorious thickness. Makima’s eyes fluttered and rolled as she felt it stuff her up, hitting sweet spots and pressure points with dizzying simplicity. It hit deep, so deep that it was insane, where the thing practically plowed in against her womb itself.

As it hit, as contact was made, Makima squealed. She made sounds that she would never willingly allow, yet which Quanxi’s cock effortlessly drew out of her. It was too big, too thick, and too powerful. It filled her up just right, and now that she’d been stretched out just enough, it moved more smoothly than ever. Quanxi’s arms tightened, then, pulling Makima back just that bit more, spine curving inward while her stomach pushed outward.

Her body was on her knees in something like a broad ‘C’ shape, sinful and lewd. Her breasts were shoved out, her head pulled back, her arms serving as the only true handhold to keep her there - and that was more than enough for Quanxi. She did not need anything more. Makima knew that. She entirely, implicitly understood just what kind of power disparity they had, and who was in charge here.

“Fuck, you still feel amazing,” Quanxi murmured against her ear, so close that Makima could only shiver. “At this rate, I might get a bit addicted. ”

Maybe she was being playful, maybe she was being serious, and it didn’t matter either way. When Quanxi yanked herself back, that was the only thing that centered in Makima’s brain. She felt the big, thick thing scrape out of her cunt, roll from that slick embrace, and it made her wheeze like a basal gutter-whore. It was a shameful thing indeed, but the burst of sexual stimulation it offered was damn-near delectable.

For a woman who used sex as a way to control others, she found it incredibly ironic that she now had no clue how to handle the feelings of sex. She did not know how to cope with that huge cock grinding across her walls, nor how to handle just how good it felt. Being emptied out of that massive truncheon of a cock sent her into a gasping fit, where all she could do was gurgle on saliva.

“F-fuck!” Makima swore. Genuinely swore. She had nothing else to say or do in the heat of the moment. Her breath came out in a hot, guttural wheeze as Qianxu’s hands so tightly held her, ensuring that she did not fall and simultaneously could not move. Pinned, captured, and stuffed with dick, more than she could ever hope to bear or cope with.

“That’s it, baby,” Quanxi murmured with nothing but throaty pleasure, “Moan for me, yeah? Let me hear that pretty voice.”

Makima shuddered as that huge, thick girth tore out of her cunt, drawing from the grasping seal of her pussy all at once; all easy and fast and viciously hard, almost beautifully so. She wheezed, eyes winced and watering, as the thick thing drew free. She was still somehow breathless from earlier, still somehow too tired to think straight, and this - this was just too much more for her to handle.

But handle, she was. What other option was there? Quanxi did not give her any time to rest as that huge cock crashed home again, driving into the wet, clinging heat of her cunt with reckless ferocity. The thick spear of cockmeat lashed out and crashed into her snatch with brutal simplicity, hilting itself inside too fast, too gloriously, to think straight. She wheezed out a sloppy, slovenly breath, her eyes almost rolling, as the ferocity sent her rocking on her knees.

Of course, that meant very little. Quanxi used Makima’s arms as handlebars to wrench her back, ensuring that any bouncing was temporary at best. All Makima could do was rock pathetically, her hair bouncing and her tits jiggling, as the momentum of the thrust washed over her. It wracked her insides as much as it did her damned brain, leaving her seeing stars. For what it was, it felt beautiful - and overstimulating. 

The hard, huge, thick dick crashed into her core, and it plundered into the depths of her snatch. The taut flatness of muscled hips smashed into the curve of her ass with a resounding thwap, filling the room with unrepentant lewdness. It was an intoxicating noise, plain and simple. Hearing it made Makima’s brain cells shudder. A day ago, she would have scarcely been able to imagine so depraved, but now, it was the norm.

“ Mhm, your ass feels as nice as your tits,” Quanxi chuckled, her voice low. She curled her waist, grinding deep into the wet expanse of pussy, before drawing back - pulling out with an ease that was mesmerizing. This woman knew how to fuck, and she knew how to treat someone like Makima. For her, it was as easy as breathing. For Makima, she could barely breathe.  

She instead choked on air as the dick plowed into her with mesmerizing simplicity, hitting spots of her body that she was continuously surprised by - learning of sensitive spots that she did not know existed. Confusing quivers and mesmerizing surges passed along her spine and into her head, leaving it feeling numb. Blissfully numb, in fact, even though she knew it was fucking her into incoherence. 

Did coherence even matter? Makima was not sure it did anymore. She did not want to think about what was going on, and just had to last. Had to survive, somehow, even though Quanxi made all that feel very, very difficult. That massive truncheon of a dick crashed home and broke her concentration again, and again, and when her thoughts were pathetically wrangled back together, they were slammed into mush for yet another blissful time by that huge and rutting dick. 

“Oh, it claps beautifully," Quanxi groaned. Her hips almost on queue rammed against the fat, fluffy curve of Makima’s ass, hitting it at the right angle to leave it thwapping out of place. Skin hit skin with dizzying, mesmerizing potency, and clapped out of place with laughable ease. Skin rippled like gelatin, with a momentum so hard that Makima’s tits bounced in tandem. “I love that.”

Makima gasped. Feeling her ass clap and smoosh down into nothing more than a cushion of flesh was mesmerizing. The sheer application of force, the raw power of sex, dazed her mind as much as it did her body. The simple brutality of sex had her body burning with heat that she still didn't understand after all that time, and would continue not to understand so long as Quanxi fucked the sense out of her skull.

“You really do have a perfect body, eh?” Quanxi mused. “I love that, Makima.”

Love. Such a silly word. Makima was not loved. She did not know love. Could one love a body like this? It was possible, she supposed. Was it worthy of love? Makima sure as hell didn’t know one way or the other, but with Quanxi moving like this, she could almost believe it. Feeling her whip all those many thick inches free, drawing them around, and then hammering right back into her silken cunt, was mesmerizing. It almost, almost, made Makima believe in it.

“NgH!” She gurgled out a sloppy, whorish gasp. She didn’t want to speak,  didn’t want to admit anything - she did not trust her tongue not to say something foolish. Just speaking, though, would be very hard indeed when that cock lit her body up like a neon sign. Pleasure flooded every line and nerve ending, drowning her with overstimulation.

Skin met skin with loud, dizzying thuds, sounds so loud and so intense that they were outright insane. Her ass clapped powerfully against those moving, rutting hips; the strength knocked her forward, threatened to topple Makima like a tree, except she could not fall. Hands kept her captured, her arms continued to be used as handlebars. He had no control over herself, let alone the insane, brain-fuzzying sex.

“That’s it, that’s it, ” Quanxi continued to rumble. “You’re doing so good, Makima, that’s it…”

Makima was not doing anything. She was rocking in Quanxi’s hands and arms, locked and laced and banged like nothing ever could again. Loud gunfire-claps signified the beating of her ass against those hard, mechanical hips. Her body rocked and shuddered, breasts wobbling relentlessly while hair spilled out around her face in fire-spitting strands. 

“This looks so hot,” Long groaned from somewhere nearby, though Makima was not sure where.

“She’s soooo pretty,” Pingsti cooed in agreement. “And Quanxi is so strong, and so handsome, it’s like, wow. ”

Makima gasped throatily. She felt hands on her chest now, and they did not belong to Quanxi. They belonged to the other Fiends, who were groping and kneading away at the bouncing, fluffy swells. Makima did not even know where they came from, let alone why they were squeezing her boobs or why they were licking them or anything like that - but, hell, when they began to suckle on her nipples, she really didn’t care.

Makima whined. She was surrounded by four Fiends she should have been able to kill with ease and she was being held up and banged by a mere ‘human’, yet she could do nothing. She did not want to do anything. She was dominated, and slamfucked, and railed, and wrapped up in their embraces, and she was enjoying it. Hell, she might even have been loving it.

But her mind was too blank to properly think straight. She gurgled from one moment to the next, gasping the air out of her lungs as strong thrusts wracked her consciousness. Juices were churned up in immeasurable heaps with each plowing thrust whilst cum bubbled and seeped out from within her to ruin the sheets - but that, too, did not matter. 

Hard, crashing thrusts, in conjunction with the suckling of her tits, were almost too much to bear. Makima’s brain got hotter, her body grew warmer, and her core felt tighter. Everything was clenching and curling as she was utterly railed, constantly at risk of collapsing - and yet utterly safe within Quanxi’s strong arms. If it were anyone else, they would have let her fall. Quanxi did not. She did not even fidget.

Makima could let herself go as the woman pounded into her soft glove of a cunt and battered against her doughy ass, sending it into merciless quivers. The moment was so sinful that it was beautiful. It was a purity of motion that left her drooling, and could only beg for more - but she had not the words for it. She merely wheezed in between violent, crashing strokes, only able to savour the way her ass clapped like a damned drum.

“That’s beautiful,” Quanxi growled. Makima did not know what she was talking about. The sex? The way her body looked? How the two Fiends were suckling away on her tits? Makima did not know. She just savoured i t. Her spine arched as meaty plaps of skin contact echoed through her ears, keeping her senses shuddering. It was good. It felt good. It was really, really good. “You’re all such beautiful girls, yeah…”

Even if Makima wanted to chastise Quanxi, she could not. Her tongue lolled pathetically in her mouth while her eyes practically went cross. She gurgled out breaths of strain and pleasure as her insides tightened and rippled, heralding another climax. It swept across her consciousness in a brilliant, blinding wave, drowning out whatever remained of her thoughts and replacing them with white noise. 

“FUCK!” She cried out at her loudest yet. It was a shameful noise, one that should have inspired regret - a sure sign of her lack of control over herself. And yet, she really, really didn’t care. She only savoured the pleasure that came with something as shameless as a good, hard orgasm, a delight that she really didn’t have the capacity to handle. The shivering, the shuddering, the time-lost pleasure, all of it together was stunning.

So what if it was in a situation she couldn’t control? That didn’t make it any less wonderful. It didn’t make it feel any less good. She cried out and savoured it, tongue lolling, while Quanxi kept on rolling her hips. The big shaft scraped across those quivering folds and kneaded them mercilessly, offering yet more generous bursts of pleasure. Generous, that was it - that was what Quanxi offered her.

“Again, huh? You really are needy,” Quanxi teased with a low, throaty breath. “Oh, but I don’t mind. I like it when a girl has a good time, you know? Makes it more fun.”

“You said -” Makima gasped, barely even aware of her own tongue trying to speak. 

“Oh?” Quanxi rumbled. She slowed her movements and curled her arms, pulling Makima up a bit more until her spine formed a sinful C. “What did I say?”

“I - you - “ Makima sputtered. Her tongue fumbled, curling past mouthfuls of drool. “You said I owed you.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that.” Quanxi laughed. “You do. But, hey - I’m not heartless. It’s all about having a good time, right?”

That didn’t make sense. Makima wanted to say that to Quanxi. Instead, she found herself panting, entirely winded, while four Fiends surrounded them both. 

“Don’t you think?” Quanxi asked.

“Y-yes…” Makima murmured.

Quanxi chuckled. “Sometimes, you just don’t gotta think. Easier to just let it go, right?”

Makima was not sure if that was meant to be profound, or just downright stupid. She definitely couldn’t think of it one way or the other. She gurgled, instead, as Quanxi held her there for a moment in that overstimulating pose, her hips gently grinding forward; each push a reminder of how deep that dick was, and just how hard it remained.

“Alright, time for round… whatever it is,” Quanxi murmured. She kissed Makima’s neck, then her cheek, and then abruptly shoved her down. She dropped the redhead’s weight like it was a chopped tree, and Makima was sent slamming straight into the comforter. The Fiends giggled relentlessly as she hit the bed, and seemed to enjoy the sight of Quanxi pinning her down like she was a dead log.

Makima was still too winded from whatever the last position was to focus on what was happening now, but she was distinctly aware of herself being shoved down, stretched out, and laid across her front. Her tits squished rather remorselessly into the bedding, which was both comfortable and annoying; the application of pressure that came with hands groping her skin was equal parts stressful and delightful.

She was in a prone bone. That was it, that’s what it was; she was locked up into a pronebone. Silly, delightful, stupid, intoxicating. She was down on her front, pinned, while Quanxi rose up over her like the conquering stud she was. A powerful arm planted itself down, whilst another shoved Makima deeper into the sheets. They smelled like women; she had no other way to describe this mouthwatering scent of people. 

“There we go,” Quanxi purred. “Nice and comfy…”

Quanxi pounded down again, and dizzied bliss shot up into Makima’s skull. She groaned, a sound that was more like a gurgle of defeat than anything else, and shuddered in the sheets. Her hands curled away at them, bending into the rich Chinese silk that villagers probably gave Quanxi as some thanks or other, and whined. That was all she could do, really, at this point: whine, and whine some more.

She had no other way to contend with that huge, awesome dick sawing across her tight folds. She did not know what else to do as the thickness drew across her sodden expanse of a slit, scraping over the walls of her plush snatch. Quanxi filled her up so perfectly, so beautifully, that it was almost surreal. Her body felt made for this, moulded out into something perfectly fitting for The Hunting Devil.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” Quanxi said in that hot, rolling voice of hers. She rolled over Makima, her waist grinding her big dick forward in a toe-curling sweep. She knew exactly where to put it and how to place it for maximum effect. Dazzling stimulation burst across the already-orgasmic pussy, making it feel better, her body lighter, than ever before. “You’re taking me so well, now. See?”

Quanxi made it seem easy, though logically it should have been anything but that. She should not have been able to take it as she did, but she was. Her inside felt like putty, and she wanted nothing more than that. As Quanxi drew back, her body powerfully whipped away, Makima was prompted to gasp. Her fingers curled into the bed just above her head, tense and taut, as she savored every single grinding inch within her.

A backward roll. A shift. And then, powerfully, a forward descent, hot and heady. The thick spear of meat crashed home into the sodden expanse of her snatch again, hammering home with a meaty, satisfying plap – the curve of Makima’s ass pounded beneath the remorseless weight of powerful, taut hips. The flesh of her ass compressed for that beautiful moment of contact, where her curves served as nothing more than a pillow.

All of her beauty, all of her physical perfection, seemed almost designed for this kind of rampant lewdness. The fact of the matter was that Makima’s ass was perfectly designed for clapping, and Quanxi was exactly the kind of student to do that. She was merciless in her sexual prowess, and she certainly held no punches back when she dropped her weight. Skin met skin how nature designed it to be, heedless of their infernal origins.

“ Mfgh !” Makima groaned into the bed sheets. She shuddered there, hands clawing – and Quanxi noticed. She noticed everything. Every bit of Makima’s body was an open book to her, whether it was in combat or in the bedroom. The redhead was not sure how she ever imagined otherwise, because really and honestly, who else would know to grab her hands and pin them both down? Who else would thread their fingers together and hold them, palm to back, like some feral lovers?

“That’s a good girl,” Quanxi rumbled.  She kissed the top of Makima's head, then rolled her waist around harder, faster, with grinding perfection. “Let me hear that voice.”

Makima did not have anything to say. If she did, she was not sure what she would say if she could spare the breath. She couldn’t, and so she only groaned into the sheets with a sound awfully akin to a sloppy gurgle. Wetness spilled up from her mouth as the big truncheon of a cock slammed down into the gushing embrace of her pussy, filling her up again. Nine and something inches down the thing went, reaming out every taut fold and soft, pink lining. 

The bulbous crown slammed damn near against her cervix. It should have inspired pain, and maybe it did, but Makima was a devil and not a human. She had very different limits and tolerances, and right then, she was only capable of moaning the air out of her lungs again. She cried out into the sheets as the impossible stimulation of sex wracked her, sending her into trembling shudders of sexual satisfaction. It was so hard, so fast, so perfect, that it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Quanxi rolled again. He pulled back, moving her body like the finely-honed tool it was. Whether it was hunting or war or sex, Quanxi was built for this. Her cock whipped back with perfect precision, drawing out to a scraping slosh of inner folds. Wetness brimmed in thick heaps, pulling wetness and cum back with it. It was a truly sloppy and depraved mixture, and somehow, it felt just perfect for what Makima craved.

“I love how tight you are around me,” Quanxi praised. Her body just about caressed Makima as she pushed down, not quite pinning her, but more hunched over her. Her body was more than long enough or something as dominant as that. Makia was the one who was helplessly pinned down like a mere bitch in heat, unable to do anything more than moan. “I love how much you want my cock, Makima.”

Makima bit her lip and whined. “I don’t- you don't – I can’t –“

She was not sure why she bothered speaking. Her internal thought process had no answer, because they were being scrambled with each thrust of that powerful cock. She did have plans in her life, she knew that. Now, though, they just didn’t seem to matter. For the moment, there was nothing but a blissful, jumbled silence in her head. She did not have to think about anything more, or less, than this moment.

“Don’t worry,” Quanxi husked. “I’ve got you.”

“She does,’ Pingist gushed. “She really does. She’s the best at this sort  of thing!”

“Why don’t you pin her head down?” Long asked. “That’s always the hottest.”

Pingsti narrowed her eyes. “Don’t put your kinks on Makima, she might like it differently.”

Makima groaned. She was crowded by those four Fiends, each of whom watched in their own ways: fondling themselves, one another, or draping themselves halfway across Quanxi just to feel her move. It was all so easy, so homely, that it felt like some kind of perverse family. Makima did not know what to make of it, and she didn’t try to. She only moaned as she was taken again, hard, fast, and fierce.

Skin beat against skin. Powerful hips hammered against the fat, doughy curve of her ass, compressing it down into a squishy cushion. More moments, that copious flesh was squashed down into a malleable heap of Quanxi’s powerful ips to rest against. Makima almost swore that she could feel the lines of muscle carved into it; the V of the hips, the smoothness of obliques, pressed against the pillowy backside.

And then it rolled away as Quanxi pulled out and pumped back down again. She powered down hard and fast, her cock sawing in and through the glistening chasm of Makima's cunt. Each stroke used the usefulness of her cock, treating it as if it were half the size. It was dizzying to feel it, to experience something so damned good that Makima could not comprehend it. She just wasn’t meant for this. She just did not know how to cope with it.

She moaned about it, too. She gasped and clawed at the sheets, at the hands that pinned hers down. She quivered beneath Quanxxi, who pounded away with hard, meaty thumps, and rolling, grinding squelches. Juices churned up in slick heaps, offering lewd, perverse noises. Hearing herself getting fucked was almost as intense as the sensations themselves, which assailed her with brain-scrambling power.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” Quanxi husked against her hairline, kissing again – and then rolling down, hard, hot, and possessive. Her strong arms were visibly to either side of Makima’s head, and they curled deliciously as they adjusted for Quanxi’s bodyweight. “I love that in a girl.”

There was no equality here. No one in that room was the match of Quanxi in bed. Everyone was just there to help her and serve her, to pleasure and be pleasured in turn. That was it. Makima was just as subservient to her as any of those other Fiends. She was, for all the world, weaker than this woman – and she didn't mind it. It simply felt too good to consider any sort of consequence.

“You’re so – fucking – big,” Makima spat out, speaking the first coherent words so far. Between bitter remarks and scathing retorts, this might have been the first, genuine thing she’d said. “You’re so big!”

Saying the words felt like an awful acknowledgement in and of themselves, as if they somehow made reality more ‘real’. It was a silly thing, though. Was she not getting slamfucked by that huge cock? Was it not rearranging her insides? It was. There was no reason to play it down – it was simple reality. She cried out again, and again, as Quanxi swung forward and cored her out, plundering her orgasmic tunnel for all it was worth and then some besides.

“I know, babe,” Quanxi breathed huskily. “But you’re taking it perfectly, just how I like it.”

She leaned in more. Her breasts pushed down against Makima’s shoulders, offering strange notes of softness to the feral fucking. One of those thickly corded arms pulled away from her hand and moved to curl around Makia’s head, almost headlocking her form below. It pressed against her neck as if it was going to choke her out, but there was no such ferocity. 

Instead, she was pulled up so that lips could dust her temple with kisses, so that Quanxi could nuzzle down against her head whilst those powerful hips sawed in and out, again and again. Hard, heavy, grinding strokes, working the magnificent thickness across her cunt’s soft, fertile lining. Pink walls flexed and shuddered around the awe-inspiring thickness, which stretched and swelled with each mesmerizing push and shove. 

“You make the cutest sounds, Makima,” Quanxi purred. She held her hands down by the wrists, effortlessly pinning them; she captured Makima’s neck, keeping it contained; that strong, broad body pushed down from above, sliding breasts against skin, abs across whiteness, sweat against sweat. Makima was sticky with strain , more sweat than she’d ever felt in her life, while Quanxi seemed barely winded. “I like them a lot.”

Skin clapped and beat like a damned drum. Hard, heavy plaps filled the air, drowning out all other noise. The cock’s depth, the way that it kissed her womb, kept Makiam’s attention span on a knife’s edge, stopping her from thinking straight. She was not even sure what the word ‘straight’ meant anymore, honestly. It certainly did not apply to anything that was happening there, which involved her brain melting between her ears.

Makima felt fuzzy and confused. She felt contained, safe, and secure. She felt utterly overwhelmed. Too many sensations to possibly think about, too much to consider.  Her eyes watered, and her tongue lolled in between gasping pants, which accompanied every hard push and shove. Thick, turgid cock-meat ground down across her sloppy, shivering core, which gushed out its pleasure without stopping. 

“You’re tightening up again,” Quanxi said. “You’re close, huh? Gonna cum for me again, babe?”

“MFgh!” Makima whined. Fingers curled into the sheets as best as they could, considering the hand pinning them down. “Y-yes – yes!”

Quanxi hummed deeply. “I like it when a girl tells me that. Tell me I’m doing a good job, eh?”

Maybe it was meant to be a joke, maybe it wasn’t. In both instances, the result was the same. Makima was fucked to a steady climax, yet another one in too short a span of time. She had gone years without getting a good one in, even when she was truly and honestly horny enough to bother with it. Now, she was getting them all at once, rapid-fire, one after the other, too much to handle.

It was too good, too fantastic, too dizzying. It burned through her in heaps, leaving her insensate. When it crashed over her again, she simply embraced it – opened her mind to the honest pleasure and let it drown out her thoughts themselves. She wheezed with hot, whorish desire, saliva dribbling from her mouth to soak the sheets. Maybe, she soaked Quanxi’s forearm, too. What did she know?

None of that mattered. She groaned and whimpered into the sheets, drooling and sputtering, as she came for yet another magnificent time. Her eyes rolled halfway up into her head as Quanxi brought it out of her with seemingly effortless ease, with a combination of skill, talent, and warm words. Dirty words, perhaps, but this woman was good, too good for her to easily cope with. 

And she didn’t want to cope with it. She just wanted to enjoy it, she realized. She just wanted it to keep on going, to keep on drowning out her thoughts, so she didn't have to think about it anymore. That would make it easier. Why did she have to think, anyway? If something felt good, why couldn’t she embrace it? Why did she – or anyone – have to fight against satisfaction, personal or otherwise?

And so she came around Quanxi’s cock whilst the woman’s hips rolled and pumped, getting in nice and deep. Grinding, rolling strokes, sawing across the soft lining of her cunt without mercy. It was blissful. It was torrid. It made her cum perfectly hard, and she loved every last second of it.  

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” Quaxi groaned. “That’s my good girl.”

Quanxi’s hips rolled, arching and pushing, grinding into the wet, quivering chasm of her cunt. She ground across her wet walls, pushing along those squelching insides. Makima was quite simply winded. More winded than ever before, utterly breathless, her mind sizzling and her brain spinning around. It was just too much. Everything together was just too damned much. How could anyone stand this? Why wouldn't they?

“I like feeling you cum for me, baby girl, ” Quanxi murmured. She kissed Makima’s temple, then used her powerful arms to grasp her and swing her around. The redhead was rolled over onto her side, shoulder pinned beneath her. Her leg was grabbed with smooth efficiency and yanked skyward, until it was lodged straight against an immeasurably strong shoulder. Bodies pushed, shoving them into sinful alignment.

When Makima turned and looked, she was able to feast her eyes on the glorious sight of Quanxi’s sweaty, muscled body. Every line of power, every curve, was highlighted by that slickness. It was delectable. Makima was sure it might well have been the hottest thing she’d ever seen before. The mixture of strength, the feminine curves, breasts and abs and biceps and that giant dick just grinding forward - 

“Oh, shit!” Makima swore. She curled her hands into the sheets as best as she could, because that was all she could do. Quanxi still held total control here. She’d never lost it. Makima was not in charge. Hell, she was simply this woman’s lesser. She was her bitch, and it felt good. It felt stupidly, insanely, good. “Fuck!”

Quanxi laughed throatily. “I know, baby, I know.”

What did she know? It didn’t matter. Makima groaned as that hard, powerful shaft pumped forward, dragging itself across the squelching heap of orgasmic insides. By that point, Makima was so insanely sensitive that anything felt good - including this. As the shaft dragged free of her squelching pussy, she only felt joy. Her mouth parted in a hot, happy moan, one which Quanxi clearly indulged in.

But Makima was indulging too. At that point, there was nothing but that indulgence to savour. She cried out as the cock swung right back down, effortlessly spearing into the redhead’s tightness again. The thing crashed home with devastating ease, offering another burst of pleasure that caused Makima’s eyes to roll up - because that was all she could do. Nothing else, not her strength, not her powers, meant anything.

“It’s so big!’ Makima groaned, her voice little more than a gurgle. “And you’re so deep, it’s so deep, ah - !”

Quanxi laughed. “Ah, I like hearing your voice, babe. It’s nice, it’s real nice.”

This woman was taking her and dominating her, controlling her body as if it were a toy. That was reality, but it did not feel like it. It felt like they were just two people enjoying one another’s bodies. The way that Quanxi angled forward and rolled, how she pushed, was amazing. Makima was filled with delicious delight that she knew had its roots in pure overstimulation, but she didn’t care.

She just savoured it. She moaned in pleasure as that big dick drew back, loving the way that Quanxi held her leg down so easily, how her hand pushed into her hair, how the other groped and grabbed her breast like it was a mere toy. Her fingers were powerful, and her calloused hands were immensely reassuring. It did not make sense, and Makima did not care. She just enjoyed it for all it was worth.

“Oh, shit, oh, fuck, ” Makima whimpered as she pulled on the sheets. “You’re so - it’s just so - Shit!”

“It’s just so shit? ” Quanxi teased. “Considering how you’re moaning…”

“It’s too much, you’re so deep, ” Makima groaned. “Oh, oh, oh - ”

Her voice felt scratchy. She spoke often, but not like this. She never had to raise her voice. She never even had to swear. But, there she was, almost cursing like a sailor, as the ridiculously huge cock pounded down into the delicious tract of insides; coring her out, scraping into her, plowing in to the hilt. Skin clapped against skin, thighs collecting the marvelous strength behind Quanxi’s body. Better yet, Makima could see it, and she savoured the flexing parade of muscles that greeted her dizzy, watery eyes.

Why are you so hot? Makima thought.

“I really don’t know why!” Quanxi laughed. “Guess I’m just built like that? Gotta be some reason why a Devil thought a womanizer like me would be a good choice, right?”

Apparently, that hadn’t been a thought at all. She’s just said the words aloud without realizing it. That lack of self-control, combined with her own sloppiness, was astounding. She’d never been so out of it, nor so vulnerable, in her entire life. She wanted to hate it, and yet there she was, moaning her lungs out with each fierce push into her cunt. Each slam made her head spin more and more, until it was a delectable fog.

Makima wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel lighthearted. Or, something like it. She gasped and wheezed as Quanxi pounded down, pumping into her cunt in ways that left toes curling. Fingers grasped at the sheets, barely able to handle any of it. The way that Quanxi moved her hips was forcing hot breaths to Makima’s mouth, and she was unfortunately loving every lewd second of it. 

Skin crashed against skin in a beautiful symphony of lewdness. It hit just right, making Makima’s ass shudder and her tits rock. Her body was shoved across the sheets, and she enjoyed how that felt, too. She enjoyed everything about it. It was so powerfully indulgent that she had nothing to do but soak it in, enjoy the clapping of her ass, the smacking of her skin, the sheer, undiluted lewdness of it all.

“How do you like that, Makima?” Quanxi husked. “How do you like my cock, hm?”

“It’s good, ” Makima whined. She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn't have said it. She didn’t care. She wasn’t in any position to do anything other than comply. Quanxi had no supernatural powers of Control, but she damned well fucking controlled her now. “It’s so good! ”

Quanxi chuckled. “Mhm, I know, baby, oh, I know.”

Her body curled and thrust, hammering deep into Makima. Over, and over, fucking her with gorgeous shoves and delightful presses. There was not a hint of protest in Makima’s body now. She simply relished it all, shivering and quivering as Quanxi fucked her as if she owned her. It felt good. It was good. She gasped and shuddered as Quanxi leaned over her, bending and curling to proudly dominate whatever remained of Makima’s sanity. 

Quanxi proudly, eagerly, pressed kisses along the contours of Makima’s face, dusting it with warmth. She felt a surprising amount of emotion in each wet touch; whether that was lust, or arousal, or depravity, or something else didn’t matter. What mattered was that Makima felt it. She felt all of it. It washed over her in a pleasant, curling heap, the kind of thing that made her quiver from head to toe. As kisses ran down her neck and along her collar, Makina was only able to experience pleasure.

“That’s a good girl,” Quanxi murmured, her lips rising back up to nip at an ear. “That’s my good girl.”

Was it stupid that Makima enjoyed it so much? Probably, but those words are like a fire in her. She wanted this. She wanted this feeling of safety, security, and pleasure. There was no need to think about anything else in life. There was nothing she had to focus on beyond this moment. Maybe she had plans in her life, but they didn’t matter - not with Quanxi kissing her and holding onto her so firmly.

“Yes,” Makima mewled whorishly, tears dribbling over her cheeks, “ Mfgh , yes! ” 

The big dick cored her out with hard, stubborn, beautiful impacts. It filled her right up and left Makima dazed and dizzy. She cried out with each stroke, with each furious stroke of passion, to her utter glee. She mewled and cried out, her tongue lolling, her lips parting, with glee. The hard dick sawed in and out, coring her, slamming and thrusting before drawing back again with lavish intent.

“Are you going ot cum again?” Quanxi purred. “I feel how wet and tight you are again. Tell me, Makima.”

“Y-yes,” Makima moaned. “Yes, I am, I am, I really am!”

“That’s good,” Quannxi husked. She arched her waist down and thundered down with those sawing, glorious impacts, each one more than enough to make a girl’s head go numb. Makina was well past that point, though. She had gone through a full cycle of grief, and she was at a stage of honest, wholehearted acceptance. Some part of her mind could still acknowledge that. The rest, though, just savoured the sex. “Because I’m close, too.”

After all that fucking, hearing that Quanxi was still human and still had stamina limits was almost baffling. Makima did not think it could end at la, and she almost did not want to. But, she remembered the feeling of all that sticky cum in her before, and she wanted to feel it again. She wanted to get off on it, wanted to savour and enjoy it. It would be amazing, she knew. It would be total fulfillment, plain and simple. She just needed a bit more.

“Yes, yes,” Makima whined. “Yeah, let’s – let’s cum together…”

She trailed off in a hot gasp as Quanxi bit her ear, then moved down to bite her neck. Her touches were fire against the skin, delicious, delectable, and insistent. Makima quivered beneath her grip. It didn’t matter if she was on her side with her legs stretched out. Nothing mattered but the glorious intensity of the moment, which fucked her on waves of pleasure she could never hope to handle -  and so, instead, embraced.

“Yeah? Want me to cum in you?” Quanxi murmured. “Is that what you want?”

“Yesssss,” Makia groaned. Maybe, even drooled. At that point, she didn’t care. She was a mess, but she was Quanxi’s mess. For all that, she might as well take responsibility. “Please!”

“I love a girl that asks nicely,” Quanxii seemed to groan. The impossibly powerful woman arched her waist and dug it down. Her cock really was throbbing now, Makima realized. She felt each insistent thrust into her wet, glistening core, and felt it take her away on clouds of dizzied pleasure. “Ah – alright, just a bit – a bit more…”

The woman offered a half-feral growl of pleasure. She arched her waist and pushed it around in a strong, sweeping, bucking movement. She ground down into the wet chasm of a cunt, her hilting touches knocking up against Makima’s cervix each time. The steady thumps sent pleasure sparking across her core and up into her head; just another burst of utter satisfaction that left Makima’s senses ringing.

“Fuck,” Quanxi breathed with strain. “Ah – fuck!”

She slammed down, then, for the final time. One hard, hilting thrust, and then she was balls-deep – her huge balls themselves thudding against Makima’s clit. It was a joyous moment of penetration, the kind that made Makima’s breath gasp out in exultation. She squealed out a noise more shameful and more blissful than she could believe, and with it came the first jets of that warm, bubbling baby-batter.

It was the same as before. A hot, churning, squelching load that bombarded her cunt in heat. Silken heat, the best kind of it, where voluminous haps of whiteness curled and swept and utterly stained her up. Babyabatter crashed across her molten core in seconds, drowning her in spunk. A flood of the stuff crashed against her cervix to stain it in a white so intense that it could be a colour swatch all of its own, she was sure.

“ Ngh , shit, there we go,” Quanxi groaned against her neck. “Take my cum, baby girl, ah –“

Makima kept on whining, her eyes now squeezed shut. As cum blasted her depths, as the thick stuff lashed out and unfurled into her womb itself, she simply collapsed into pleasure. She hit another orgasm then, and it was even more powerful than the last. This one was not one of the confused pleasures of simple overstimulation, but also one of acceptance – a true, honest thing with all her heart put into it.

She came harder than she’d ever had before. Her mind fell away from her for brief moments, where time and space just failed to have meaning. It was, for a single second in time, beautifully blissful. There was nothing else to it. No thoughts, no considerations, no world-dominating plans, nothing but honest pleasure of the flesh. Carnal sin, turned into something heavenly.

Makima squeaked and squealed, eyes watering and tensing up, her jaw quivering and her fingers curling recklessly. Her body quivered and twitched, her knees bending and her toes shivering inward. She savoured that burning orgasm, enjoying that delicious, crazy pleasure. She dribbled saliva, trailed over her tight jaw, and simply basked in the unyielding bliss.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it, that’s a good girl,” Quanxi purred. She was right behind her now, leg down, cradling and sliding against her. Hands cradled tenderly, stroking her skin. She warmly caressed her, almost snuggling into her – acting as the big spoon to her small spoon. As Makima shivered in toe-curling pleasure, she could only bask in the satisfaction. 

She’d never felt so warm at that moment. She’d never felt safer. The muscles, the hardness, the fitness, it was beautiful. For those seconds, she simply basked in it, letting her mind come off her unyielding high. Saliva dribbled from her lips and her tongue mashed around in her mouth uselessly. She smacked her mouth and gulped hard, barely able to breathe.

“I think she needs some water,” Quanxi chuckled. She gently pulled out of Makima, but that was still enough to make her mewl. “Cosmo, do you mind for a sec?”

A moment of scrambling around later, there was water positioned in front of Makima's face. Realizing she was, in fact, absolutely parched, she took it and drank it down greedily, - hot gulpfuls that left her throat partially soothed, but still sore. 

She continued to pant as Quannxi stroked her skin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re good. You’re good.”

Makima breathed hard, panting and heaving. She did not know what to say or what to do. She could only swallow and gulp, barely feeling like her normal self. Everything in her head felt dazed and dizzy, intoxicated and confused. She let Quanxi push her down, and watched Quanxi roll over. She sat down and slipped back to lean against the wood of the headboard, casual as could be.

In an instant, her Fiends were all over her again. 

“You were so cool, Quanxi!” Pingsti cooed.

“Your technique was amazing,” Long gushed. “Next time, pin her down face-first, though.”

“Halloween, Halloween!” Cosmo cheered.

Tsugihagi shoved two thumbs up and nodded earnestly.

Quanxi chuckled. “Aw, thanks, girls. Sorry for not giving you enough attention, though, but I’ll make up for it.”

Makima looked at her through watery eyes. She saw how two of them hung around Quanxi’s shoulders and exchanged soft little kisses with her; saw how Long went right down and began to clean Makima's release off her huge, cock, which still remained at half-mast. Tsuhihasi seemed content to buzz into Quaxi’s abs and cuddle her with her arms, all romantic and loving.

All of it was romantic. Homely, family-like, and soothing. Qanxi seemed to be gentle with them all too, a clear dom to their submissiveness, but not rough. They were her harem, but also her girls. A soft, earnest thing. Makia was certainly jealous of it. It was everything she lacked in her life, and it played out in front of her so close that she could touch it.

Quanxi noticed her staring. She pulled out her kiss and looked over with a kind, but firm, look. “Hey, Makima. You’re free to rest up here if you want, ok? But you’re free to go.”

Makima blinked. “Eh?”

“You’re free to go,” Quanxi repeated. “I think  I got what  I was owed. If you want to leave now, you can. But, I expect you to never come back.”

Makima kept on staring. 

“The door’s that way,” Quanxi recalled. “There’s a staircase down the mountainside, it’s pretty easy.”

“Or,” Pingsti hummed coquettishly, “You could stick around.”

Quanxi huffed. “Pingsti.”

“Just saying!” The girl chided. Her ponytail of a snake swivelled above her head, moving eerily.

Quanxi chuckled. “Well, yeah. You could leave. Or, you could come over here and help Long clean me up.”

She gestured at the cock-slupring dragoness-Fiend.

“I don’t mind if you do, but…” Quanxi smiled. It was the smile of a womanizer, a predator, and just as charming as it had been back in the break room. “…Well, I don’t think I could let you go after that. You’d be one of my girls, for sure.”

Makima wiped her mouth with her hand. “You have high opinions of yourself, Quanxi.”

“I do, I guess,” Quanxi chuckled. “Are you complaining anymore?”

“I’m really not,” Makima admitted. She looked at the vague direction of a door, and then back at the four girls and Quanxi – and at the dick that had fucked her silly, and realized she had a choice to make.  Both of them would lead to the rest of her life, in one way or another. She simply had to decide what that meant for her. “Do you… even have room for one more?"

Quanxi’s smile was a brilliant, dangerous thing. “Trust me, my heart's got plenty of room.”

Makima’s own heart lurched for the first time in – well, since watching a good movie, actually. “Let’s see about that.”

She had some appearance to maintain, after all.

Seven Months Later.

The mountainside was really beautiful at that time of the evening. The falling sun illuminated everything in a reddish glow that made the rocks look molten and the shrubbery look like it was the middle of the fall season. It wasn’t, and they were still coming off the cold season. It was a bit of a hurdle to get used to this sort of climate, but Makima didn’t mind it too much. There were plenty of opportunities to come and go, because there was no leash around her neck.

That was what it was like to live in the Village of Quanxi, such as it was. Makima could come, and go, however she wanted. Nothing stopped her from walking out in her dress clothes any day. She could go as far as she wanted. She could even go back to Japan, if so inclined. Sometimes she did, because work took them all over the place. Every time, though, she found herself back in the mountains, back at the cave-home, sitting around.

It wasn’t as if she could just go and walk out. Not anymore, at least. No doors, no leashes, nothing to keep her around in place - except that she had a jutting baby-belly that was seven months along, and that was quite inconvenient. She certainly wasn’t fitting into her skintight dress shirt and pants anymore, and moving around as she used to was a difficult thing indeed.

She hadn’t even been aware that she could get pregnant, but she could. She was. She had been knocked up on that first day with Quanxi, apparently, and they’d only learned that after the fact. Makima had been beyond baffled, since she wasn’t aware herself that she could get knocked up. The Fiends couldn’t, which put a distinct air of confusion over them. Quanxi, though, had been ecstatic, apparently happy as could be that she’d done it.

Or something like that. Makima found it amusing, honestly. Quanxi was like an open book, but also totally laid back. Ignorance is bliss, she liked to say, which normally meant that she took things in stride without focusing too hard. She was totally, entirely happy to live every day however suited her best, which could involve working, or hunting, or just lazing around - oftentimes, with sex. 

It was a constant part of their lives, and near-daily, but not always. Makima had plenty of time to get used to her new abode and the area around it, to start crunching down and reading through books in foreign languages, and just learn about the Fiends and their history with Quanxi - as well as listen to stories of hunts. It was fascinating, really. It was a life that Makima had always stared at on the outside, and never on the inside. 

She’d never imagined a family for herself. She had never thought that she’d have a partner. Now she had what seemed like five. Now, she was pregnant. It was a baffling, but happy, thing. She barely even thought about leaving it behind anymore. She knew she had plans in her life, but one mistake had led her here - and now those plans didn’t seem to matter. Her Contract seemed at threat on occasion, but as long as she kept fulfilling it - or had Quanxi do it, since her Shadowstep let her travel considerable distances - things were fine.

Just fine.

And so Makima sat on the balcony, legs up, while reading a book. She had a loose top on, allowing her to cradle her baby-belly. No one else was around at the moment, but she didn’t mind it. She felt perfectly at peace and entirely at ease. There was nothing to think about at all, nothing to consider beyond the simple indulgence of a nice view and the life growing within her. Devil, Hybrid, it didn't matter.

Makima was happy.

I understand why The Hunting Devil would want to experience life on this side, Makima mused. I would make the same choice, in its shoes. This is… much better than being slaved to one’s inner nature. 

She smelled the moment that Quanxi returned home. There was no Predator or Prey anymore. Quanxi had claimed her, so she did not hunt her. Maybe that allowed Makima some kind of advantage, but she didn’t think in terms of advantages any longer. Instead, she savoured the scent, let it fill her nose, and hummed. Seconds later, she felt Quanxi behind her, hugging her seated body and placing hands upon her bulging baby-belly.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” Quanxi hummed. She kissed the back of Makima’s neck, then the side, and leaned in warmly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re back,” Makima replied in a sappy way she’d read in a romance novel. “But you’re late.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Quanxi laughed. “It was a bit of a longer trip than usual. Had to go out further.”

“Did you bring that takeout I like?” Makima mused.

“You girls will bankrupt me one day with all this takeout,” Quanxi laughed. “But yeah. I can prepare it in a bit.”

“Thank you, honey,” Makima hummed. The word tasted like genuine honey on her lips, and she liked it. She leaned into Quanxi’s touch, sharing a sweet kiss with her; lip to lip, honest and earnest - regardless of where else her lips might be that night. Hands cradled her belly, stroking the pregnancy from below in a way that made her purr. 

“And how is little Nayuta doing?” Quanxi asked as she fondled the belly-bump. 

Makima chuckled. “Still cooking away, I would assume.”

“Not too long now, though,” Quanxi remarked. She leaned into Makima’s shoulder and used it to rest her chin; Makima leaned into her and felt warm, safe, and relaxed. The baby was cooking, and it would come out relatively soon. She had decided on the name herself, and her baby-daddy went along with it happily. She just seemed content, and so, too, was Makima.

“Soon enough,” Makima replied.

“I’ve got more books on babies, you know, so I do it right. It’ll be good, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Makima said for perhaps the tenth time that week, because Quanxi kept on bringing stuff up like this. It delighted her. The care Quanxi had, combined with the earnestness of their words, pleased her.

“Mhm.” For a moment, Quanxi rested there - and then started up. “Oh, right. I come bearing gifts.”

Makima blinked. “Oh?”

Quanxi held up a plastic bag she pulled from somewhere out of view. It was filled with discs and cassettes that made Makima frown before the realization set in. “Got a shit ton of movies. American ones, the ones you like.”

Makima laughed in delight. “You did, did you?”

“Yeah. Uh - hope you haven’t seen them before. We can do a movie night thing again?”

Makima leaned back and purred. “You’re almost too good for me, Quanxi.”

She meant it, too. It was thrilling just how happy those words made her feel. 

“Nah, there’s no such thing,” Quanxi rumbled. She kept on leaning into Makima, then, after a pause, kissed the top of her head. “One thing, though, something that, uh, I was thinking about earlier. Kinda realized something.”

“How vague.”

“I mean - I don't know everything about you, and I felt weird about it,” Quanxi said. She flicked herself around and moved to settle just in front of Makima. In her overcoat, she really did look like a true Devil Hunter - powerful and deadly. “I don’t even know what kind of Devil you are, you know? We never even talked about that.”

Makima blinked - and threw her head back and laughed. She realized that after all this time, all those months, after knocking her up and keeping her as a girlfriend, Quanxi had never realized or known who she was. She didn’t know that Makima was The Control Devil, that she was the Horseman of Conquest, or any of it. She knew nothing about Makima’s past, or life, or plans, and still, had made a family with what she did know.

With glee, Makima replied, “Trust me, it really, really doesn't matter.”

Quanxi raised a brow, then raised her hands. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

“Ignorance is bliss?” Makima mused slyly.

“Sure, that,” Quanxi chuckled throatily. “But, I respect that. Whatever, whenever, you want to say it, you say it, if not, it doesn’t matter.” She patted Makima’s belly, then stood up straight. “So, let’s get some food into both of you, then get all of us on the couch for some movies?”

“With the expectation that Long doesn’t set my hair on fire again, yes.”

“She was - she was nuzzling, that’s just a thing, she doesn’t mean it -”

“She chewed on the bedpost again…”

“Okay, well, that’s just -you know, she gets excited - ”

Her current life might have been a result of a stupid miscalculation and a terrible overestimation, but if push came to shove, Makima would make that same mistake all over again.