The devil did not know her time would come as soon as it had. He was shocked when he returned from hunting to find that her scent had filled the cave; he could have scented her from down the mountain, if he came from the right direction. There was a hare clasped between his teeth, and he hurried himself upward to where they had hidden their cave. The length of his limbs allowed him to move over space that would have easily caused others to stumble or even plummet to their death. It had been precarious to lead the girl upward, but he was pleased with having accomplished it. She was well trapped by land and air. One missed step and she would have dropped to a steep death. Ithrik planned to lead her down once he’d finished with her. The devil knew that they could not remain in one place for very long.
 
Reaching the mouth of the cave, he dropped his kill in the corner and rasped a greeting, should Iliksis have been there. Her scent filled his nostrils and the piebald fiend moved toward her with a hungry expression on his dark face. The tangerine of his gaze danced along her shape, and then the shriveled holes where her eyes had been. Ithrik was starting to understand that he would not want to be her babysitter for very much longer. It was time to make his move and then leave her. With a few short sniffs, he approached her and pressed his nose into the fur at the base of her tail.

The girl learned, and she quickly complies with his wishes. Her tail was swept aside and Ithrik stared at her longingly until he could no longer hold himself from it. Rearing back on his hind limbs, the devil gripped her tightly with his forelegs and moved to grip her nape in his fangs. While not surprised, Ithrik is pleased that she had found a way to understand what he desired. His gnarled yellow teeth sought the flesh along her back, seeking to latch to the scruff of her, wanting that ground with which to hold her to his form. A guttural growl stirred from within his throat, echoing through the cave and falling back on them. Along his flesh, goosebumps formed, and the vile hound felt a need rise within him. Another growl and the devil snapped his teeth sharply on the nearest piece of her skin, running his tongue along her pelt hair in his mouth.

The girl arches her back and he sinks himself into her with a low and rumbling growl. His eyes darted up toward the ceiling of their cave and into the back of his head. The fire in the pit of his stomach was urging him forward, and he tore at her with nothing holding him back. Still, he wanted to feel her squirm beneath his hold, and as he worked his way with her, Ithrik demanded that she illicit something of a response. Releasing his grip on her shoulder, he parted his lips and drew his tongue along the back of her neck. Thick swaths of drool stuck to her pelt as he did so. He slid his tongue to her other shoulder before yanking her closer with his arms.

It did not take long for him to finish. Once had had, the slick creature pulled himself from her back and breathed heavily against the exertion of his body. With her heat, he knew that his actions would lead to her delivering young. The thought of fresh whelps had torn through his mind like a searing flame, and he did not regret the actions he had taken to obtain them. The mother would likely protest to the thought – or so he imagined – of giving birth to his kind, but he did not care much for her opinions on the matter. She was playing her part; she was being useful. As long as the red girl stood relatively well, he would use her and leave her when she was close to death. Before any of that, he wanted to devour the children that she would birth; he wanted her to know that her survival was temporary – that at any moment, he could change his mind and grip her throat between his fangs until she stopped struggling. That time had not yet come, so he continued to use her as he pleased and kept her alive enough to stand so that he did not have to strain himself when he climbed upon her. It was an ideal contract for the devil.

Ithrik had spent himself on her, but that did not mean that his mind was not wired and prepared for more. The cogs within his brain turned carefully as he calculated her weak form on the floor of the cave. The girl was noisy when he finished with her. He didn’t like it. The devil circled around her once with a cold frown and a watchful eye. The scent of her heat still filled the cave, and he moved toward it with a hungry growl in the back of his throat. There was no regard for her personal space; Ithrik pressed his nose to her back end roughly and inhaled before pulling back and waiting for her to react. Surely, she desired more from him, but it would take him a short while longer before he could fuck her again. As long as she knew he would not let her rest that day, that was all he wished to convey. With rasping breaths and a swift flash of his tongue across his muzzle, Ithrik approached her again and clutched at her warmth with his teeth. He bit down against her and shuddered.

The girl did not want him, and she instinctually tucked her tail close to her rear to signal this. Ithrik grew impatient with her and growled coldly. The burning in his gut was rising again, and he would need to release himself before too much longer. With a demanding snap of his teeth, the devil warned her to allow him close to her. “The pups you have will be much easier to fuck,” he snarled at her, already having grown tired of her body and the way her empty sockets stared at him. The vile hound wanted to be free of the vacant stare that met him, but he imagined that he could fuck it out of her.
 
“My whole cock will fit inside them. Then I won’t need you anymore,” the piebald male hissed to her, followed by a wet slurping sound as his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. He moved to wrap his forearms around her again and pull her closer to him.

The devil did not care if she believed she could withstand the assault against her torn body. Ithrik wanted to sink himself into her and spill her over with cum. His arms were strong and capable, but she had found a more reasonable place of comfort on the cave floor, and her weight offered her an advantage against his attempt at restraint. The piebald man bucked his hips threateningly but met only air and he grew frustrated with the lack of a presence. His hips longed to be pressed to hers and to feel the spill of her blood against his loins. All he wanted was to breach that gap and close the space between them, but she was struggling against him and she was succeeding with her efforts. This was something that rattled both his pride and his mood; Ithrik growled sharply.
 
“You quit that bitching and moaning, or I’ll come around and fuck every hole you’ve got in your face, you useless little twat,” he warned her, and it was a warning that would stand only once. If she did not allow him to mount her, Ithrik would not hesitate to move his position to one of more ease. He did not mind where he was to stick himself, only that it was in her body.

So, it was that she complied with him, and Ithrik reveled in defiling her body again and again until she could not stand to hold his frame. He played with her until he thought it might drive her mad. No matter how resilient she was, he was quick to quell the attempts each and every time. The fire in his gaze did not leave, not even when he could no longer break her. Instead, he lay sprawled across the cave floor with his eyes glued to her shattered figure and a twisted grin adorning his dark muzzle. The days after were a series of the same sad images. Ithrik relished in each thrust he invaded her with. Even the sound of her whimper and whine was enough to swell his ego. All of it was worth every square inch of his sanity that it occupied. He had very little left, after all.