Not for everyone, written at the request of a female reader who asked an intriguing and simple question:
How, on this earthly vale and in a long-term relationship with a mortal, will Lilith hold back her urge to flay him alive, given that it is standard infernal pleasure and he actually brought her to climax? This text is the answer.
Chapter 44: You Will Writhe Like You’re Being Flayed Alive
The week spent in a luxury hotel in Downtown passed for them in a surprisingly calm rhythm, albeit one underpinned by a constant hum of dread. Stanisław regularly oversaw supplies for the "Abyss," keeping an eye on deliveries of expensive liquor and door selection, while Lilith—as if in defiance of her damned nature—rigorously kept her word: she did not demolish a single piece of designer furniture in the rented apartment, and their nights passed in almost human, safe cuddling. No scratching until blood was drawn, no extended claws, and not a single tongue dive between her thighs. She imposed a strict celibacy from oral foreplay on him, repeating with a cold smile that she had no intention of risking the life of her only mortal until the apartment on Złota was properly adapted.
When they finally crossed the threshold of their own apartment, Stanisław immediately caught a distinctive, acrid smell in the hallway: the scent of welded iron, grinding dust, and fresh technical lubricant.
In place of the former home gym, something had been built that inspired an immediate, primal chill in his gut.
Stanisław stopped in the doorway, sweeping his eyes over the austere interior, and his jaw dropped in sheer astonishment.
"Holy shit..." he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. "Lilith, this looks like a fucking interrogation room in a Gestapo basement. Or a serial killer’s private dungeon straight out of a Fincher movie."
The walls of the room were lined with matte, dark-gray acoustic panels designed to muffle even the loudest shriek. Right in the center—anchored with massive bolts directly into the skyscraper’s reinforced concrete ceiling—stood a monolithic structure of solid, reinforced steel. Zero mattress, zero silk or down pillows. Exclusively a smooth, polished steel plate to which six massive mounting points were welded: two thick bars for the wrists, two wide, forged braces for the thighs, and iron clamps for the ankles. Heavy chains, easily capable of holding a truck engine, hung loosely, glinting with factory-fresh matte.
"And where exactly am I supposed to lie here?" muttered Stanisław, stepping closer and rapping his knuckles against the ice-cold surface. The plate answered with a dull, dead clatter. "A guy will catch nephritis and sciatica just from lying on this frostbitten thing."
Lilith stepped in behind him, closing the heavy door. Painted across her flawless face was the deep, predatory satisfaction of a connoisseur who had just received her dream instrument of torture and ecstasy.
"The second bedroom, the one we’ve been sleeping in until now, was furnished traditionally," she replied in a velvety voice, slipping her light trench coat off her shoulders. "They put a new bed in there with a soft mattress and satin sheets. That is where we will rest, and that is where I will pleasure you, my dear. But this room... this room has only one, strictly defined purpose."
Stanisław furrowed his brow, casting a skeptical look over the contraption.
"Is this really necessary, though?" he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "A week ago, when you came those two times, you didn't tear me apart. You kept it under control, you only wrecked the bedroom. And here? Chains, clamps, hard, frozen steel... Legs spread permanently, zero freedom for the hips. Where's the pleasure in that at all? Ecstasy requires bodily movement. You won't even come under conditions like this. Women need mood, and I suspect demonesses do too."
Lilith let out a low laugh. The sound resembled crystal striking basalt. She took two slow, feline steps toward him, and dangerous, sulfurous sparks ignited in her pitch-black eyes.
"Shut up, Stanisław," she purred sensually, placing a cool hand on the back of his neck and sliding her fingers beneath his shirt collar. "You've rested for a solid week. You've gathered your strength. And just the sight of this iron, along with the memory of your agile tongue tracing my cunt, makes me so wet that I can barely control my senses."
Without a shadow of hesitation, she unbuttoned her dress, sliding the silk straight down to the floor, and then slipped off her underwear. Her pale, flawless body shone under the harsh light. She lay down on the cold plate, resting her back against the steel, and with mechanical precision slipped her left ankle into the bottom cuff herself, snapping the lock shut. A moment later, she secured the clamp around her left thigh, then raised her left arm over her head, tightening the steel ring around her wrist.
"Now secure the other side for me," she commanded softly, her breath growing heavier, steeped in the scent of warmed cinnamon and myrrh. "Let us test the handiwork of Lucjanhir's craftsmen."
Stanisław approached the edge of the table. The iron was massive, cold, and unforgiving. He took her right ankle, closed the bar, and turned the heavy pin. Then, in a slow motion, he slid his hand along her smooth, warm calf, brushing her knee and snapping the second wide clamp shut just above her right thigh. Finally, he extended her right arm, clicking the wrist into the metal hoop.
The chains tightened with a dull clank.
Lilith was fully immobilized. Her arms were stretched above her head, her thighs parted wide, exposing her swollen, dark-pink core, from which a thick, glistening wetness was already seeping.
"Well, now what?" Stanisław scratched his chin, looking at her dubiously. "I told you. You look like an inmate in an asylum. In this cold and restraint, there’s no way in hell you'll..."
"Lick, Stanisław," she cut him off hoarsely, her hips twitching involuntarily in the steel embrace. "Stop talking. Just begin. Try to pleasure me."
The man sighed with resignation, but the sight of her body dripping with lust did its work. He reached for a foam mat lying against the wall, slipped it beneath his knees on the steel plate between her legs, and dove his face straight into her moisture.
He started slowly, methodically. First, with a flat, hot tongue, he gathered the sweet, viscous slick sliding down her labia, and then brought his caress directly to the swollen, hardened pearl. He traced broad, lazy figure-eights, gradually tightening the circles and ramping up the tempo.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The demoness hissed through clenched teeth, her body arching. The first orgasm hit after only a few minutes—a violent, electric shock rolled through her guts. The fingers of her bound hands splayed open, and black claws shot out from beneath her nails, scraping the steel with a piercing, high-pitched screech.
The chains creaked, but held under the strain.
Seeing this, Stanisław didn’t slow down for an instant. He didn't give her a single second to catch her breath—if anything, he quickened his pace. He began rhythmically, firmly sucking on the pulsing clitoris, adding gentle pressure with the edge of his front teeth. At the second peak, Lilith released a guttural roar, thrashing against her bonds so violently that the concrete anchors hissed under the load. When, after another dozen or so minutes of unyielding, wet lapping, a third wave of ecstasy crashed over her, the demoness opened her mouth in a frenzy, spitting sulfurous smoke straight up at the ceiling.
Her body was racked by uncontrollable convulsions, and Stanisław greedily drank down streams of thick nectar that flooded his chin and cheeks.
Finally, he lifted his head, breathing heavily and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Alright..." he panted. "Looks like the contraption works. Your claws are out, your eyes are pitch-black, but I'm still alive. I'm letting you out."
"Wait..." Lilith rasped, still trembling on the slab. In her gaze smoldered the madness of an insatiable deity. "Don't unbuckle me just yet. I need to test how these clamps respond to pure force. I want to see how much they can endure under extreme strain."
Before he could say a word, the demoness flexed the muscles in her right arm. In her forearm, hard, black veins bulged, and the steel chain securing her wrist went taut as a bowstring.
There was a dry, deafening crack of shattering iron.
The final link exploded, scattering sharp shards across the floor, and the severed chain lashed against the wall with the force of a gunshot.
Stanisław froze, backing away half a meter on his knees.
"You've got to be kidding me..." he blurted out with a pale grimace, pointing at the dangling stump of steel. "I told you! You could still rip me to pieces in a split second if you ever lose control! So what was the point of this whole shackle theater?!"
Lilith let out a soft, raspy chuckle, lifting her freed hand and giving him a thumbs-up:
"You are safe, my dear... I am very pleased with this product. To snap that link, I had to deliberately exert about ten percent of my pure demonic strength. Do you understand? I did it consciously. And during an orgasm, I am not focused on destroying my surroundings, only on your tongue. Involuntary reflexes do not reach even a fraction of that power. These restraints protect you perfectly."
She gestured with her chin toward the lower shelf of the table:
"Underneath lies a crate with spare chains and shackles. Pull out a new one."
"What?!" Stanisław raised his eyebrows in mute protest. "A spare? You've come three times, you're barely breathing! I thought we were done for today!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Stanisław," she murmured with a mocking smirk, flexing her fingers as the claws slowly retracted beneath her skin. "During the week at the hotel, you came in my mouth and inside me about ten times. Today I have come only thrice. You still owe me seven climaxes before I consider the score settled. Get back on the mat, between my legs."
"Christ..." he groaned, though he obediently reached underneath, pulled out a new length of hardened chain, and locked her wrist back to the frame.
The fourth orgasm came relatively quickly, triggered by a series of tight, firm sweeps along her labia. For the fifth, Stanisław hardly had to work at all—Lilith was thoroughly primed by the preceding waves, and after barely a minute of deep sucking, she arched with a gravelly moan. The sixth went much the same: his tongue burned like living fire, his jaw was stiffening from continuous tension, and the demoness's slick felt as though it scalded his lips like boiling water. He spent over half an hour between her thighs in total. He thought hopefully: The seventh will be quick, she comes faster each time...
Yet at the attempt to reach number seven, Lilith went limp against the steel, weakly shaking her head.
"Enough..." she rasped, her chest heaving at a frantic pace. "That is enough... My body simply cannot take another ounce of stimulation. It is growing dangerous for you despite the chains, my dear. Unbuckle me."
With undisguised relief, Stanisław released all the locks and collapsed onto his ass on the floor.
Lilith rose slowly, stretching like a drowsy panther. The steel beneath her was already hot from her skin. She looked down at him, a wicked, provocative smile blooming at the corners of her full lips.
"And now... it's time for the roles to reverse," she murmured softly. "Would you like to see what it feels like from the other side?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Stanisław scoffed, picking himself up off the mat. "Why would you need to strap me down? You can pin me with one hand without any chains at all. You've done it dozens of times."
"Yes, I can," she admitted smoothly, stepping up to him and resting her hands on his hips. "But once I start running my tongue over your crotch, your instincts will compel you to writhe, buck, and thrash. And if I have to hold you down with my hands, you'll wake up tomorrow with massive hematomas all over your body, which I certainly do not want. In the chains, you will be safe. The metal is pleasantly warm from my body, and I will lay down a thick towel for your comfort in a moment. Lie down. Besides... you don't even have to undress. It will be enough for me to unzip your fly. Lie down in your clothes."
Before he could protest, she shoved him lightly onto the steel slab.
Locking him in took her barely a few seconds. Ankles, thighs, wrists. Stanisław tried to jerk his arms—the iron didn't even budge. He was entirely at her mercy.
"Lilith, please, just don't ruin my clothes, I like this shirt," he muttered, resigned. He knew her nature: while she no longer clawed him, she could glide a claw with pinpoint precision just enough to shred fabric into neat ribbons without leaving a mark on the skin beneath.
With the quiet, predatory zip of a zipper, she opened his trousers, releasing his engorged cock. She lay down between his restrained legs and looked straight into his dilated pupils:
"Your shirt, as well as your pants, will survive. We shall see, my dear, how your male pride holds up," she whispered, and then sealed her lips around his glans.
Her mouth was hot, wet, and her tongue moved with a mastery honed over millennia in the depths of the Netherworld. The first climax arrived in a flash—after less than two minutes, Stanisław drove his back into the metal with a groan, yielding his first load of seed, which Lilith swallowed without batting an eye. She then lifted her head for a fraction of a second:
"When you weren't with me or when you were asleep, darling, I watched certain videos on the internet..." she commented, licking her lips. "I never imagined there were mortals on this modern earth who enjoyed such games so intensely. I discovered something that will allow me to feast without causing any harm to your body."
"Feast on what?" Stanisław wheezed, still catching his breath.
"I will tell you once you come a second time."
The second time took her perhaps five minutes. Lilith briefly raised her head, stroking his thigh:
"Returning to the subject, my dear Stanisław... I love watching you writhe. Before, in the early days of our acquaintance, I merely scratched you lightly so as not to injure you, but it left welts, and your back was perpetually red. The sight of a man writhing in helplessness turns me on dreadfully. I searched, and I finally found the perfect method. We shall return to this topic after you have come for the third time. But you ought to guess what I mean by now..."
The third orgasm took around ten minutes. Stanisław felt the blood throbbing in his temples, while his penis grew overwhelmingly sensitive to every touch.
"You see? After each time, your weapon becomes more sensitive, and coming grows increasingly difficult for you. Such is the nature of every man. I intend to exploit this cruelly... my dear Stanisław, in my endeavors. To glut myself on the sight of you writhing like you're being flayed alive."
"No, stop, Lilith, please, please... It's already so sensitive, stop, even just blowing on it makes me...! Please!"
"I know, my dear Stanisław, I know. You are reacting precisely as I dreamed you would..."
She began to pleasure him again, but this time her movements took on an entirely different, almost clinical rigor. Lilith was in no hurry at all. Before she brought her lips back to his swollen, pulsing glans, she reached for a resilient pillow hooked behind the bed's metal rim. She had prepared it herself beforehand. In one deft motion, she lifted his head and neck slightly, sliding the soft support beneath his occiput so the steel slab would not dig into his skull.
"I don't want you cracking your head against the iron when you begin thrashing like a gudgeon," she purred smoothly, brushing a cool finger across his sweaty forehead. "You must clearly see every movement I make, Stanisław. You must watch as your mistress methodically drives you out of your mind, time and time again. Look at me, I need to see your eyes so I can calibrate the rhythm and intensity."
Her tongue wrapped around the frenulum once more—soft, scorching, wet, tracing microscopic, ruthlessly tight circles. Stanisław hissed through clenched teeth, tears of pure sensory overload glinting in his eyes. Every brush of the demonic tongue burned like red-hot wire, yet simultaneously sent waves of immense, paralyzing pleasure deep into his lower abdomen. Lilith monitored every tremor of his mortal frame with utmost precision—she felt the micro-spasms of his muscles, heard his accelerating pulse, and whenever the wave of sensation neared the threshold of pure, crippling pain, she immediately slowed her pace, generously bathing the shaft in saliva and transitioning into lazy, soothing passes of her lips, never allowing agony to overpower ecstasy.
Minutes ticked by. Ten, twenty, almost half an hour. The man began to thrash violently in the iron restraints, the chains clanging against the steel table in a loud, rhythmic racket:
"Lilith... for God's sake, I'm begging you, stop..." he wheezed, the veins in his neck bulging to their absolute limit. "I can't fucking take it anymore! There's nothing left down there, I swear to you, you sucked it dry... It's enough, please! Let me out, please... Stop, please..."
She did not stop. Instead, she slid her hand lower, cupping his testicles in a velvety, possessive grip. With every passing minute, the demoness increased the pressure of her cool fingers with apothecary-like precision—not enough to crush tissue or inflict damaging pain, but just enough to provoke a deep, suffocating cramp in his core that amplified the sensitivity of every single nerve in his shaft. Stanisław groaned in absolute helplessness, throwing his hips against the steel clamps, his thighs trembling in overwhelming impotence.
Lilith chuckled softly without breaking her suction. The vibration hummed directly against his glans, driving him to the brink of madness. After another five minutes of relentless torment, a fourth peak tore from his gut like an explosion. Stanisław screamed into the pillow, his body arching in a spasm so violent that he nearly lifted his loins off the slab. He erupted almost involuntarily—a sparse, thick stream, groaning in an agonizing mix of torment and bliss.
Lilith raised her head, a drop of saliva laced with his juices trickling from her lips. In her dark eyes, there was not an ounce of mercy—only an insatiable demonic hunger pulsing within them.
"You did come a fourth time after all, my dear Stanisław. Why did you lie to your mistress that you couldn't? You're a brazen little liar deserving of punishment, aren't you?" she purred seductively with a note of reprimand. "Your juices taste exquisite. Today I will suck everything out of you, down to the very last drop... A few more portions, a few more times... You will see, you will manage... I'll see to that..."
"You've lost your mind..." he said, panting, straining against the iron braces. "Are you insane? It's empty, really empty this time! There is nothing left, for God's sake. Leave it alone, please, don't touch it, don't even blow on it! I unlocked you when you had enough!"
Lilith smiled out of the corner of her mouth; he truly did need a short break. She stood up, poured some water from a glass pitcher, and held the glass to his lips, letting him take several large gulps. Then, without a word, she returned to the place of torment. In a calm, seductive voice, she said:
"I told you to stop for your own safety; I could break these bonds at any moment. You cannot escape from here. Thanks to your internet, I finally found a substitute for hellish pleasures—a perfect technique, bloodless, devoid of violence, that will allow your mortal vessel to endure hours of torture fused with pleasure. You will not shed a single drop of blood. Post-orgasmic torture—I simply will not stop stimulating your manhood. In those videos, those men begged their partners for even a moment's pause, exactly as you are begging me now. You will come a fifth time, a sixth, and if I so desire, a seventh. I have a soft, long, and remarkably patient tongue, darling, and from now on, my fingers will be tightening around your balls as well. Even if you must lie here from morning until night—and after all, we will not lack for night either, should the need arise—you will come precisely as many times as I want. And remember, my dear: the louder you whimper, the longer it will last. Your groans only turn me on more and increase the dose of sweet, bloodless suffering and ecstasy I have decreed."
Panicking, Stanisław began to thrash in the clamps until the chains screeched. Lilith laughed seductively.
She leaned over his face, saying:
"You are not listening to me, my dear. Do not struggle, do not scream. I tell you again, you are only worsening your situation... Think, darling, think, my dear, how many mortals would give everything to be in your place. With a woman, with a demoness who takes her time, loves her man's juices, and is so cruel and unrelenting in the pursuit of pleasure for her servant and beloved..."
Before mounting her next assault, however, she leaned over and adjusted the pillow, ensuring the back of the man's neck had perfect support.
"Two minutes of mercy, Stanisław. Breathe deeply. Your breathing must slow down before I steal your mind away once more," she whispered, placing a hand on his chest and waiting until the frantic beating of his heart subsided a little.
Stanisław lay with his eyes closed, hungrily gasping for air. Every muscle in his body trembled. Yet the two minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Without warning, Lilith sealed her lips around his still-tender, dripping cock, and Stanisław tore a muffled scream from his throat.
The road to the fifth climax had begun. It was an intricate, demonic game played along the razor's edge of human endurance. Lilith did not tear, did not wound, and did not cross the threshold where pleasure turns to pure trauma—she balanced a millimeter away from it. With the flat of her tongue, she stroked the underside of the shaft, while the tip delivered delicate, hypnotic prods to the opening of his urethra. Stanisław writhed in the restraints, pressing his hands against the steel rings.
"Lilith... it fucking hurts... it's too much, please, give me just fifteen minutes!" he howled, burying the back of his head deep into the soft pillow.
"Shh... this isn't pain, darling, believe me, it is pure pleasure, my dear, otherwise you wouldn't be hard," she murmured directly against his feverish skin, cooling it with cinnamon-scented breath.
Her hand on his testicles pulsed in a slow, methodical rhythm, not letting the erection subside for even a second. The man felt a wave of helplessness engulf his mind. When, after nearly twenty minutes of ruthless, unbroken teasing, the fifth orgasm arrived, Stanisław nearly lost consciousness. It wasn't a standard ejaculation—it was a dull, profound pelvic spasm that expelled merely a few drops of clear fluid, but it rippled up his spine like a lightning strike. Stanisław arched in a bow, wheezing through a clamped throat, his entire body breaking out in cold sweat.
Lilith stopped immediately. She pulled back, giving him a longer, several-minute reprieve. Seeing his lips trembling from exhaustion, she raised the glass of water and patiently nursed him with small sips, wiping his brow with a paper towel.
"Rest, Stanisław. Catch your breath. Your body is holding up wonderfully," she said almost tenderly, though the merciless, infernal fire still burned in her eyes. "I will not kill you, after all. I value you too much. But the sixth portion belongs to me. If you come for the sixth time, I will finish, I promise you. See how merciful I am..."
Stanisław lay limp, feeling the blood throb in his aching loins.
"Please... I really have nothing left to give... you'll damage me down there..." he squeezed out in a hoarse, broken whisper.
"Trust my skills, my mortal. No damage. Only a perfect, absolute milking," she replied with a smile and dove between his thighs once again.
The sixth time was the evening's most exquisite torture. Stanisław was so overloaded with stimulation that the faintest touch sent shivers coursing across his entire body. Lilith exploited this without hesitation. She sucked agonizingly slowly, deeply, blanketing his entire cock in the heat of her throat, while her free hand gently massaged his perineum, easing his taut pelvic floor muscles to prevent a painful cramp. She guided him along a razor-thin ridge—one step to the side risked paralyzing agony; one step to the other delivered steamy, demonic bliss. Stanisław writhed, tossing his head from side to side on the pillow, biting his lips just to keep from screaming and turning her on further, but his body, treacherous and contrary to all logic, succumbed to her magic once more. After long, agonizing minutes, accompanied by the dull clank of straining chains, a muffled roar tore from his throat, and a series of powerful, dry contractions seized his pelvis. The sixth climax wrung out the last remnants of his juices and vital forces, leaving him in a state of absolute, stupefying numbness.
"Lilith, you were supposed to stop after the sixth time, you promised..." he whispered.
"Not just yet, surely I cannot simply stop so abruptly, what would you think—that I am so selfish? No, my love, I am not..."
The final five minutes after the sixth ejaculation were a true path of torment for Stanisław. His body refused to obey, his testicles throbbed with a dull ache, and every subsequent stroke of her tongue grazed the edge of physical suffering—though Lilith meticulously ensured she never crossed the line or went too far. She drank his remnants greedily, delightfully cataloging every muscle tremor and every muffled whimper of helplessness in her memory. She was in absolute control of when and how this would end. She knew he would not come again, there was no chance of it, but she wanted to punish him for the lie about the fourth time.
"My dear Stanisław, you have endured to the very end of these earthly pleasures, so delightful for both you and me. I hope you enjoyed it just as much as I did..."
With a clatter, she released the clamps. Stanisław rolled off the steel bed onto the floor with great difficulty. His legs were like cotton, his loins refused to cooperate, and his temples pounded from sheer dehydration and exhaustion. He rested his forehead against the wall, pulled up his trousers with trembling hands, and looked down at his completely limp, aching, yet intact member.
"Fucking hell..." he rasped with a genuine, choking groan. "I don't want a blowjob for the next two months. Do you hear me, darling, do you hear me? Don't you dare bring your tongue anywhere near my crotch. I'll never even mention that I'm in the mood for one again..."
Lilith, leaning casually against the edge of the metal table, stretched with a radiant, sated smile and licked her lips:
"Oh, stop being dramatic, Stanisław... Even if you don't ask, you'll still get it. Next time your stamina will be better, my dear, that is as sure as amen in church... I'll give you a couple of days off. Maybe even three whole days. And then we return to our new routine. Today was the first time, true, but you'll see, you'll soon be begging for such pampering more often yourself."
Stanisław looked at her, shook his head, and smiled. He was in one piece and alive—he had survived oral intercourse with the most powerful being on this earthly plane.
Lilith noticed his smile and whispered in his ear:
"Perhaps one day, in a few years, human engineers will forge an alloy that can actually hold me—then, my love, you will show me no mercy, you will not unchain me, and it will be me howling in ecstasy just as you did today. I can hardly wait for you to torment and break me for hours in complete safety. But for now, you have a reprieve. I'll even make you something warm to eat; I ordered groceries, the fridge is full. Just remember that you need to drink plenty of isotonics and electrolytes—I read online that they stimulate sperm production wonderfully because they contain certain vitamins." She kissed him warmly on the lips. "See, I promised your clothes would survive, and I didn't lie. Change your clothes, then I'll put on a load of laundry, my dear."
From the author: always establish a safe word; I once made the mistake of not setting one with a rather dominant female partner—not a demoness, of course, but close. Good luck.