The abyss had no horizon, no ceiling, no mercy. Only the platform—her eternal cradle of torment—and the endless cycle of cock, cum, pain, and surrender. The red veins in the obsidian walls throbbed faster now, as if the cavern itself had learned to breathe in rhythm with her screams. The air was heavier, saturated with the musk of a thousand demonic orgasms layered over centuries, yet always fresh with her own fresh filth. She no longer counted climaxes. She no longer counted invasions. She simply existed as a vessel—gaping, leaking, bleeding, begging.

Her body had changed irreversibly under the eternal breeding.