Ah, my dear diary… These days I've been so busy I haven't even had the time to give you the attention you deserve. My eternal confidant, thank you for waiting and being patient.
Setting aside the countless sexual encounters with Asmodeus and 'Curious', I want to tell you what I've learned. I discovered that he is the son of the primordial demons Pain and Fear. They call him The Demon of the Blazing Light of Wrath, feared for his ferocity, eccentricity… and popularity. He shared with me a thousand stories, among them his experience as a great ruler of demons.
He spoke of his mastery of games, of how he became eloquent in the thousands of languages he commands. Of what he had to sacrifice to achieve mastery in mathematics, the significance of architecture, the power of seduction. In our study sessions on the forbidden—sex, desire, manipulation, arcane power, and secrets hidden beneath the surface of acceptability—he also told me about his time serving as Solomon's substitute in the material plane. During his brief stay, in just nine months, hundreds of thousands of babies were born.
He wasn't the only one. I learned that there are demons who wander through hell in search of treasures, fortunes, and other sources of human suffering. Others, on the other hand, aspire to power, dreaming of becoming kings like Asmodeus. But he… he is one of the rarest. He lives and acts with a single purpose: to achieve freedom. So much so that many don't hesitate to call him Daddy. Alongside Lilith, he fathered countless firstborns and freed many others from the abyss.
Even among gods, his name commands respect. He is the strongest in hand-to-hand combat. And among humans, few forget his presence: eyes red like burning coals, dusky skin, claws, horns… an impossible size. Those who saw him often fainted. Those who heard him speak… trembled.
He keeps his hordes of mad and enraged demons in check. Though he rarely fights directly, when his army cries for war in hell, he reigns among the flames, roaring with fury, annihilating anyone who dares oppose him.
My admiration for him grew so much that, before long, I too ended up calling him Daddy.
Thanks to him, little by little and with great effort, I managed to summon other commanders of the infernal divisions. Although humans fear demons and our natures clash, I was able to call them. All of them. And, one by one, I came to see them as friends… both in life and in intimacy.
The knowledge they shared, their different perspectives, helped me progress in my experiments, bringing me closer to freeing myself from the prison that was the place they so longed to invade.
There came a point when I could summon the presence of hundreds of demons. Many claimed they could grant wishes, but the moment they manifested before me, they lost nearly all of their greater pact abilities. I kept summoning, and that was when I met Barbatos, recommended by Samael.
Barbatos made the ground tremble with his footsteps. He taught me that mastering human languages was irrelevant when there were so few to talk to. When I didn't feel like summoning demons or copies, instead of speaking to myself, I could communicate with animals. And for that… he was the perfect master.
It took time, but Barbatos taught me the importance of cultivating a connection with nature and the animal kingdom. I gained command over sound, wind, and forests. Along the way, I saw him naked… and couldn't help but compare him to Asmodeus. The latter still remained unmatched in every way.
Over time, the competition among demons to earn my favor grew fierce. Each wanted to be my favorite, to make me feel the urge to summon him. But for me, knowledge was always more valuable. Wishes could never be completely fulfilled, and any blessing they offered faded after sleep.
Sharing knowledge didn't come easily to them. It was the price they had to pay for my attention. And once a copy or I learned to use their blessing, their name and description were inscribed in this diary, to be summoned if ever I was struck by the curse of forgetfulness.
Alchemy, the essential foundation of sorcery, was one of my first lessons. It took me effort to master the language of creation and learn to exert just the right amount of energy without consequences… but I succeeded.
The demons understood my goal, and their attitude toward me never changed. Each and every one of them waited for me to sleep to explore the terrain, conduct experiments, unleash their impulses. They didn't need excuses for my copies and me to carry out our wildest ideas. But of course… eventually, I moved from demons to summoning humans.
I remember one in particular. A man. His name: Abel.
Worthy of having me dissolve into descriptions of our carnal events.
That little mortal, proud of being the first to reach the hell so many end up wishing to flee, was not condemned for killing, but for feeding on the blood and flesh of animals. If I could describe him, I would say: A gentle breeze, a tender flower dissolving in warm air. Even so, in his eyes burned an unshakable faith. He had a purpose. Even if his existence meant living in perpetual pain across the centuries… no one could take that conviction from him.
Setting aside fragmented stories and incoherent chatter about a thousand hells, I motioned with my index finger, decisively beckoning him to come closer. As a man, he understood my intentions… which led him to cover his private parts and move away from me. That gesture of innocence, of choosing pain over me, was what caught my attention. But if pain was what he wanted… why not offer it to him, just as he asked?
Following my command, several of my copies appeared and forcibly stripped him of his garments. His chest, abdomen, and slightly toned legs were exposed, allowing me to freely admire the reproductive features of humanity's firstborn.
"Who said you had to appeal to fidelity?" I asked, still tainted by demonic mentality. "When your mission is to procreate, regardless of with whom… what makes you worthy of rejecting this chance? Is it because I'm not human… that I'm unworthy?"
He didn't answer. But his member swelled, shamelessly and uncontrollably. Maybe his words hadn't come out, but the juices of his nature emerged with frankness.
"If there's a chance someone could give me a child… to seed my womb, to plant new life… it has to be you, your father, or your brother. Right? Don't you like being the first to try?"
He, on the floor. I, with my pelvis at his face level, at no distance at all, spread my legs. I offered him the living essence of my desire, letting the deep scent of my arousal flood his nostrils.
My mind had shifted so much that I no longer saw myself as a servant. If this place was paradise, then I was the queen. And kneeling at my feet was a mere subject, lucky enough to behold every fold of my intimacy, the shine of my bare skin, the scent of my flesh, the fire of my presence.
"With the faith burning in your eyes… are you really going to refuse to make me your woman?"
The trembling of his lips and the wavering of his tongue between my thighs told me how his desires, long held back, were now overflowing. I could have ignored the thirst in his mouth, mounted him right then, buried myself in his thick, eager shaft—so proud, so ready—but acting without savoring the foreplay would've been a crime. And I was already trying not to break certain rules.
Running my fingers through his hair, I kept his head perfectly positioned. My moans matched the rhythm of our merging bodies. As I looked down again and again, I admired the marks that made him one of the great procreators of humanity. His testicles were massive, a full sack of flesh, so generous it took both hands to hold without spilling onto the floor… as it was already starting to.
It's magnificent to see a man having to carefully consider where or how he sits. If I weren't here, surely one of my copies would've devoured him… literally. My constant interaction with demons had also made my other personalities evolve in the complexity of their desires, thoughts, and awareness.
"After I've had my fun with you," I said, glancing around, "I promise I'll let you all play however you please. I hope you don't mind if I help myself to this dish first…"
'Curious', 'Noblemi', 'Sadist', and so many others withdrew into the shadows, into the dim corners where candlelight failed to reach.
Abel shook his head. He couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. And still, he clumsily tried to please me. Procreation isn't designed for pleasure… what could a man like him know about making a woman feel good, when his whole purpose has always been to inseminate and move on?
In this position, I was the dominant one. Just the thought of it ignited in me a growing urgency to subdue him. After all, the target of my desire was his testicles. I felt a tightness in my chest, pulsing strongly and promising to awaken something unknown within me.
With his face pressed firmly against my sex, I reached out to caress the head of his cock. Red, vibrant. At the same time, I rolled my hips forward, letting the tip of his erection kiss my entrance, while my fingers gripped his hair tightly.
I was beginning to resemble 'Sadist'. My grip gave him no room to move.
I turned my face, looking into his eyes with determination. Then I continued lowering my hips. Of all the cocks I'd seen, his had the sharpest tip. I could feel it carving its way inside me. If it weren't so firmly joined to flesh, I'd describe it as a succulent fruit, juicy, delicious.
With every movement of my chest, with every breath, I took a little more of Abel into me. At a certain point, I bit the fingers of my free hand. And then, with all my strength, I clenched the muscles in my hips, as if trying to strangle the head of his cock with my pussy.
"How does it feel?" I asked, light and flirtatious, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "Do you like the feeling when I squeeze you with my insides?"
I had no words to answer. If I hadn't been gripping his hair, I'm sure he would've ended it right then and there.
"You're worse than a demon…" he said, barely audible, but firm.
"A demon?" I echoed, delighted by the comparison. "Then imagine this demon wants to keep enjoying your cock… what would you do?"
"Listening in silence is all that's allowed to you as a woman," he muttered through gritted teeth, gathering the courage to speak back to the one who dominated him. "Prolonging this… is sacrilege."
"If my pleasure is your suffering, then let my heaven be your hell," I moaned through my tongue, reveling in it. "So stay at my feet, don't you dare rob me of the pleasure I so deeply crave."
"Pleasure from sex? What even is that?" he asked, genuinely incredulous.
Ah, the juicy opportunity to corrupt a noble heart… I couldn't help but smile. The influence of my new companions was obvious. So much so that, in a way, I adored when he called me a demon. Even Asmodeus had once named me so: Demon of Light.
"I can let you discover it…"
My purring words only fueled the action further. I pulled out what had taken so much effort to insert, with a wet, dull sound: Poff.
Shifting my hips side to side, I let the imposing head of his cock paint my folds like a delicate brush.
"Abel… I give you permission to enjoy sex with me," I said, watching his face on the brink of release. "The secret of sex is to draw it out as long as you can… and savor it like it's your last chance. Hear me well: after hell, there are no more torments. No immortal body can endure it."
While corrupting his mindset, I realized the true intentions of 'Curious' and Asmodeus: to make me enjoy sex so much that I'd delay surrendering to suffering. Suffering, after all, can take many forms.
With his face twisted between pleasure and confusion, Abel gave in. He opened his mouth, breathing deeply, completely surrendered.
"It felt good… being inside you," he said, breaking the ice with a confession. "What… you did to me… gave me such great pleasure. So much I almost lost my breath. With every new thing you do, I can't stop thinking about the last…"
"Ohhh… did the warmth and wetness of my body fascinate you that much, Abel?" I asked, drawing out the moment's tension.
"But your pussy is small…" he said, in that forced tone of someone trying to do the right thing. "I fear it's not right for this member—mine—to have fun and enter with force. The purpose of a cock like this… is to go as deep into you as possible and inject my nectar… without letting it out until it goes soft."
Those words of concern didn't alarm me—instead, they aroused me even more. Stroking my lower lips with his cock, he let the tip bump against my entrance, more willing and stretched with each pass.
"So that's what worries you?" I replied playfully, teasingly, wetting my lips with my tongue as I pinched my nipples, making them harder. "Poor thing… now I get it. You never enjoyed the act because you never had someone to enjoy it with. You only worked… and work is not the same as pleasure. If pain stopped a woman's pleasure, maybe… she'd reserve the right to expose herself. But in me… it doesn't hurt. On the contrary, I get the feeling you might make me feel better than anyone ever has."
Each whispered word raised the heat of his breath. I saw it in his eyes, I understood it in his gaze: his fantasy was simple, primal, beautiful… he wanted a woman who could enjoy his size. His eyes fogged, his need desperate, his cock throbbing harder. Then, I wrapped my hands around his throat.
"For the first time… it's okay not to be gentle," I murmured, pressing my nose and forehead to his. "Try to break me. Hurt me with that weapon of yours. Abel… in my body, don't be afraid to get violent. Be a wolf in a burning forest. Look at me. Do what you want with me."
Playing with fire, I noticed his cock dripping at my entrance. Our mixed fluids formed a river. The perfect path toward the depths of my insides. Our skin slick with saliva and desire. The cave awaited. The fish, pulsing desperately, trying to dive in.
"No," Abel whispered, still resisting. "I'm afraid of losing my way. Of trying something forbidden and never being able to return to who I was… focusing on pleasure could hurt your… womanhood."
"Don't think like that. Trust me," I said, licking his face. "If it weren't meant for pleasure… why would I be on top and you beneath? My intention is to ride this instrument, to fill my flesh… and lose control so I can start again. But I want more from you: to thrust hard when my legs can't take it. To not let a single drop of your seed escape from me. Make sure the void inside me stretches, twists, and overflows with your sweet nectar."
Abel placed his hands on my hips. He gripped them tightly, trying to sink me down. I closed my eyes, ready to relish every inch of that deep, gentle fall. His member, as thick as an opened umbrella, scraped my inner walls again. And I… surrendered to the descent.
"Aaaah!" I cried in delight. "From the very beginning, I wouldn't have let you put it in if I didn't know just how big it is… or the shape it has…"
He lay there, naked, beneath my feet, his cock nestled tightly against my most intimate place. I let myself sink slowly, joining our bodies. I rested my belly on the flushed skin between his legs and kept pressing his cock between my thighs, feeling it more alive than ever. Hot, firm like a branding iron… driving in, hitting, pushing into the deepest part of my womb like a perfect welding point.
"Ahhh! Magnificent, Abel," I murmured, delighted. "Don't come yet… let me keep feeling you, keep pushing…"
"I'll kill you," he warned.
"Then I'll die of pleasure," I replied with a smile. "In your creator's name… I command you to keep pushing!"
He flinched, startled by my words, and as if responding to a spell, he pressed his hands into my flesh and thrust hard. Glancing down between my breasts, I saw the skin of my belly distort. It might've looked like pregnancy… but no. I knew it was just part of the process. Time stopped as I savored the hardness and virility of a mere mortal blessed with the privilege of procreation.
He, for his part, realized he was becoming a victim of my lust, overwhelmed by the sins of pleasure. Watching him slowly shed the caution he'd once shown me unleashed a euphoric wetness in me, raw and pure.
But having him inside me, all the way, being able to sit on his cock effortlessly, didn't mean I had yet discovered everything that moment could offer.
His testicles tapped softly against my sex, while the tip of his cock released an impatient torrent of fluid into my cervix. His glans pressed, sealed, and filled my cavity like the perfect key to a secret lock.
The best part was when I rose. There, in the flesh, I understood the true purpose of the shape of his glans: as large as an apple, with umbrella-like ridges and as long as a stake. Its function became clear as I felt it scrape my inner walls on the way out, dragging with it every last drop of my lubrication. Impressive. Indescribable. That kind of instrument was carving its way where moisture had nearly vanished.
Nature is wise, but its creator… even more so. That weapon was built to clear out any remnants and fertilize without obstacle. With a single ejaculation, there would be no doubt: the lucky woman would be impregnated, possibly with two children… or more.
Human pregnancy lasts nine months. During that time, such a tool remains unused, for the well-being of the one gestating. As humanity's stud, Abel and his women lived in constant conflict between desire and duty.
After several penetrations—long, gentle, drawn out—I felt him surrender to pleasure. He lifted me into his arms and began to move his hips. He wanted to enjoy sex, setting aside the obligation to procreate.
He laid me gently on the floor, sat up, and knelt at my feet. With wide eyes, he stared at my parts, as if to make sure I wasn't hurt. Also, as if trying to see whether my flesh had endured. But there it was… his cock, massive, still hard, still unsatisfied.
Yes. There it was. That thick, throbbing piece of flesh, red and pulsing, salivating as if starving. Red. Fierce. Resolute. A furious god between a man's legs.
Setting aside all worries and prejudice, without needing me to discipline him further, he firmly gripped the beast between his legs and pointed it where it needed to go. Placing one hand on my chest, he pressed down, seeking balance as he leaned forward on his knees. With the tip of his cock, he set out to part my insides, and with his hips, he spread my thighs like one forcing entry into a forbidden temple.
Not to sound lazy in the words I write in this diary, but lying down and simply spreading my legs, feeling the contact of such an instrument, and letting the other side do all the work… is pure bliss.
I should clarify that in that position, I noticed how his first attempts were clumsy, as if he couldn't find the hole, as if he needed to double-check he was in the right place. His eyes searched mine, pleading for help. But with a smug smile, I refused. He could manage on his own. I knew he could.
His entrance was rough, but not painful. Placing a hand on his face, I gave back the confidence he seemed to be losing.
The head of his potent cock pushed through, sliding in and out between my lower lips, reaching the end… and moving again. The rhythm wasn't quite there yet, but this wasn't a song to dance to—it was a symphony meant to be felt with the skin, to close one's eyes and let go.
Considering he was someone whose role had always been to fertilize with little ceremony, he was doing a good job of holding back. But finally… finally! he found the rhythm. He thrust into my hips with consistency, offering me the pleasure I'd longed for.
I didn't want to hold back my moans, which quickly turned into cries, brought on by the blows of his sword inside me. Each motion drove his flesh through the entire length of my vagina. I feared I'd lose him when he laid over me, mouth open, drooling softly on my neck… but then, from his abdomen and lower back, he pushed even deeper, as if trying to reach beyond the possible.
Thank you for providing this continuation. Here is the complete English translation, preserving the tone, style, and nuance of the original text as you requested:
He gripped my breasts, lifted my legs, moved with force, and gave me everything he had to offer. I, for my part, surrendered to his increasingly brutal, increasingly precise thrusts. He possessed me.
Once he recovered from the urge to ejaculate, he pulled back and looked me in the eyes. I didn't resist. I grabbed him by the hair and pressed my lips to his. At first, I caught him off guard, but soon his tongue slid into my mouth. As he impaled me without mercy, I reveled in the ravenous delight of being possessed, devoured, desecrated.
My hands slid down his back to his waist. Every time he slowed his rhythm, I gave him a good spanking. And when he did it perfectly—when his cock entered just right—my nails raked across his skin in gratitude. Like a fighter, each time he fell, he rose again fiercer, more determined.
Soon, he mastered the art: pulling out completely, then thrusting back in without error. With full penetrations and my screams as tribute, Abel began to lose control. I clung to him even tighter, welcoming his fury. I raised my legs, bent my knees, and wrapped them around his back. There would be no escape.
He licked my neck, kissed my collarbones, pressed his sweaty chest against mine. Climbing to my ear, he reached my cheeks. And once more, with our faces merged, our tongues intertwined.
In a kiss of mingled breaths, amidst rhythmic thrusts, his hips moved back and forth like a hammer forging a blade. Though invisible, I could feel sparks flying through the air. Sparks heralding the imminent release of long and deep pleasure.
With wild slaps of my hand, I closed my eyes, and just as the convulsive ecstasy was about to strike between my legs, I said:
"Don't stop, keep going!... Now harder than ever, no matter how I writhe!"
Obeying my commands, Abel turned his body into a steadfast weapon and his hips into a whip that struck the innocent with greater force. No matter how much I twisted, begged, or pleaded for mercy, he kept punishing me, confident he was meeting my expectations.
As I reached climax, I opened my mouth and screamed with all my strength, amidst the spasms shaking my body. The sensation was so wonderful I felt my vaginal contractions choke his pulsing cock. Like a fire doused by a bucket of water, Abel's face showed the shock of someone who hadn't anticipated what was coming.
Like the reins of a horse fleeing freely into the wind, he could no longer hold back his semen or move with the same intensity. But that wasn't a problem, because I had him trapped, and the involuntary spasms of my body made me buck violently on his hips.
My internal contractions were soon met with his. But unlike anything I'd experienced before, I felt my insides being filled with a high-pressure injection of endless fluid.
With every motion of our bodies, my insides overflowed, and his cock, still rigid, kept pushing more, as if the shape of its head had created a hermetic seal.
My belly swelled, expanded further, and we both stopped moving. He, to finish pouring into me; I, to feel what it was like to be filled to the point of arching my back and losing my breath. I felt that as soon as my insides unclenched, all the injected content would burst out in a pressurized gush, but still, I wasn't satisfied when he stopped cumming.
"Can you keep going?" I asked, breathless, struggling to catch my breath.
"I don't think so," he replied, mouth dry, lips cracked, heart pounding. "Once I come, I can't move anymore… the sensation is too intense. It's part of my nature: I wait for my cock to deflate inside you before pulling out, to ensure conception and… because it hurts less..."
As he spoke those words, Sadist's smiling face was suddenly splattered with blood. The mortal's head rolled beside me, but I paid it no mind. Nor the source of the blood. Why? It's strange, but a specific spinal trauma can trigger a pseudo-orgasm in a man, regardless of the situation.
My rebellious copy—who I'd grown to get along with—had discovered and perfected this technique after strangling and decapitating several test subjects.
Bathed in blood, Abel's cock, still erect, granted me the wish of continuing to inject insemination seed, to the point where I could feel, with blunted intensity, my belly tearing under the pressure. With my hungry senses finally sated, his cock, still twitching in spasms of ejaculation, kept pushing forward with indescribable effort… until his body, rigid and pale, lost all strength and could no longer penetrate me.
Here is the full English translation of your passage, staying true to the tone, imagery, and emotional cadence of the original:
With him out of me, a stream of flowing semen poured from between my legs, leaving my body alongside my content and desperate exhalations.
"Oh, Abel! You didn't disappoint me. You overflowed my body and I felt your cock reach all the way to my soul. Such a shame you can't keep moving so deliciously, gripping my body with the vigor of a first time. Weren't you happy, experiencing the pleasure you never thought possible?"
I spoke to him as I held his head in front of my face, kissed his forehead, and tossed it to Noblemi.
Once he was brought back to life through the resurrection rite, the mortal couldn't speak or respond to what had happened to him. But his eyes were wide as plates, and his chest rose and fell with the agitation of his lungs. From where I lay, still on the floor, making the shape of a butterfly with the movement of my arms and legs, I sensed Abel felt betrayed by me. That emotion resonated through the body of one of my copies, who began to shudder with passion.
His body, no longer confined between my arms and legs, was once again drenched in the warm spray of blood that spread around him. Abel received, across the full breadth of his chest, the arm of one of my copies, piercing through as she trembled between his ribs.
His breath, once fast, became short and shallow. He looked at me, and I—legs wide open—touched myself and came to the rhythm of his death. I felt my libido rise from the ashes, more frequent, more perverse. As he took in a breath, I noticed a pause, as if he were about to speak, even if it took every ounce of his energy, even if it were his final effort.
With a syllable on the tip of his tongue, he chose silence, and then gave me what I so desperately desired. With his fist clenched, he slammed his knuckles into my side and, with his enormous cock, drove deep inside me. There he punished me with his shaft while using his hands to choke me, cutting off my breath. I didn't resist; I kept touching myself between the legs, using the slickness of his seed.
I can't say I'd ever experienced anything like it, but I'm certain it was the first time Abel—a being so good and noble—had been corrupted by the suffering of hell, punishing me as a woman with a third consecutive injection from his cock.
The mortal exceeded my expectations, for each time he thrust into me, he slapped my face with an open palm. He did it out of spite, hoping Sadist would intervene, but she didn't. My second orgasm was at the gates, and it came when he flooded me again with his seed, letting it out with fierce cries.
Then he collapsed onto his own body, and as I drifted into sleep, I didn't know how long I remained under the weight of his choking. But it was enough to intensify my orgasm to the point of hallucination, of distorting reality.
"Why?!" he screamed, furious, baring his teeth, spitting into my face from the force of it.
On the other hand, I confess I felt joyous, delighted… even blessed, if such a word could apply. The energy this mortal displayed as a lover intoxicated me. The pain of dying kept him from thinking clearly, and the tension of it all as well.
"It doesn't matter who you are. Under the right conditions, in that world you come from, anyone can become a saint or a criminal," I answered. "Tell me, Abel… why does hell exist, if mortals are born with qualities that predispose them to imperfection? Don't you get it?"
He certainly looked at me with eyes that didn't understand.
"You're the first to arrive. You are humanity's most innocent soul, the one who did everything with love, faith, determination, and belief. But beyond this place, where souls like yours wander, why must they learn to embrace suffering? Ahh, my dear Abel… because they can suffer, and so they will suffer more."
"I don't understand…" he said, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes.
He was the one who didn't want to understand.
"You will…" I replied. "My copies will explain it to you… that is, if you leave them alone long enough."
"Don't you dare fall asleep!" he yelled.
"I'll fade away… softly, like the wind," I told him, settling onto the floor, while more than two dozen hands held him from behind. "How does it feel to be desperate?"
"How cruel can you be?" he asked, voice trembling like a whisper between quivering lips.
"It's cruel, isn't it?" Sliding into the unconsciousness of sleep, I gave a faint smile. My lips held the calm that comes before the storm. "To make you feel like you were the only one I could ever love, to drown you with my body, to wrap your cock in the heat of my insides… and now that I'm satisfied, to abandon you, leaving you at the mercy of other entities, as if you were nothing. Let me be clear…"
—Taking a breath, I answered in the voice of one who seemed to speak with a demon's words— "Did you really think I'd be like one of your human women? Did a toy like you dare to dream of falling in love with someone like me? How innocent you are… It seems you haven't been in hell long enough."