Warning: Adult content! Sex and extreme violence.


The sound of approaching voices beyond the door alerted me. I detected the reptilian aura of two figures different to any I had encountered previously. Disappointment grew as I realized Cervilon was not with them. As they opened the door I understood why they were different. These two were female, although, from my view, there was little difference between the two sexes; neither had any noticeable identification other than the pitch of their voices. If I had been unable to read their minds I would not have known.

Like the guards, they wore black uniforms with the double S insignia on the chest. They had the same lizard slit maw through which flicked the black forked tongue and large amber-tinted eyes with horizontally expanding irises.

“Come on then! Hurry along!” The first one spoke as if I should know where we were going.

I stood, still holding the blanket around me. “You mean I am free to go?” I was wondering where the clothes I wore when I arrived with Bran had been taken.

The cackle from the second held a tone of malicious amusement as the first replied, “Free to go? It’s been demanded that you go. Your attendance is required for the pleasure of the great Lord Bazial himself.”

I felt confusion knotting in my stomach. “Who is Lord Bazial? My attendance to what?”

The high pitched squeal of amusement from both creatures was even more disturbing. “Where are you from that you don’t know of Lord Bazial? He is only The High Emissary to Earth from the nine worlds of Sibalbá, and answers directly to our rulers, Vucub Caquix and Hun-Came.”

The names meant nothing to me other than an assumption that Sibalbá was where the reptilian demons originated. She continued, “Tonight, a party will be held to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of our involvement with this world, at which you will be presented to him as a gift. It seems you have a reputation for providing great sexual entertainment, although I can’t see what pleasure anyone would get from fucking an ugly fragile little thing like you. Typical males, wanting to show their dominant side.”

Although I usually had no concerns about inter-species sex, the thought of a lizard inside me was not something that filled me with excitement. If the two that took delight in abusing me while I was in the cage were typical of their race, it could be a painful experience.

The two females came to stand either side of me pulling the blanket away.

“Look Megliba, hasn’t she got pretty skin.”

Megliba stroked the back of a scaly hand across my stomach. “It might look pretty, but it’s not going to give much protection. I could rip it with my nails. The long fur on top of her head looks fragile and as for the feathers…”

I squealed at the sharp pain as she plucked one. Spreading the wings in an arc, I beat the air catching both reptiles across the face with the thrashing flight feathers. Perhaps the sense of security that flesh protected by scales made them invulnerable had slowed their reactions, as my sudden motions seemed to take them by surprise. One sat on the bed while the other staggered against the door frame. If her bulk had not obstructed the only exit, I might have had more chance to escape. I tried to kick her in the stomach, using my foot to push her out through the doorway. Before I could step over her, a pair of brawny, throttling arms wrapped around my neck, dragging me down onto my back. As I lay gasping for breath, the heavy boot of the one called Megliba caught me below the ribs.

“Teach you to kick me in the belly!” Her voice was a spitting snarl making the sounds almost unrecognizable, but I picked up the meaning from her thoughts. “Don’t mark her. There will be hell to pay if she’s delivered damaged.”

The voice of reason gave Megliba cause to think rather than kick me again. “Get up if you know what’s good for you. We’ve got to get you cleaned up for the show.”

Between them, they dragged me to my feet and frog-marched me along the corridor to a washroom where I was forced into a shower cubicle. The jet of water that hit me was ice-cold, ripping the breath from my lungs. They actually held me down and scrubbed me with stiff-bristled brush and soap as if I were an animal. Being none too particular about the more sensitive areas of my body, I was sore all over before they finished. The final indignity was being hosed down with the freezing water as I crouched over the drainage channel in the stone floor.

They threw a harsh towel over me as if I was expected to dry myself. Shuddering so violently from the cold, the act was a near impossibility for me, but I had no desire to allow them the chance of further damaging my wing feathers. It may have been a good thing that they seemed to wish for as little physical contact of me as possible.

In another room they made me don a gown of a white, filmy silk fabric which clung to the contours of my body. The cloth was almost transparent and left little to any voyeur’s imagination. I asked for a brush or a comb to disentangle the locks of hair falling around my shoulders which, with no hair of their own, they seemed to have not the sense to comprehend. Eventually they gave me something that looked as if it had more recently been employed for scrubbing floors. With no alternative, I had to make the best use I could of the item.

The smell of the soap they had used on me was more like disinfectant than the flowery aromas I expected. They provided no makeup or perfume, although, if the tart aroma of their bodies was an indication of what they saw as fashionable, I had few misgivings.

Having done the best I could with limited resources I assumed I was ready to go, but Megliba was not finished. She produced a broad studded leather collar of the sort used to restrain a large dog. She fitted it herself, tightening the buckle so that I could hardly breathe. It was not until I began choking that she relented enough to loosen it a notch, and yet it still felt harsh and irritated the skin on my neck. The apparel was completed with a heavy chain leash attached to the collar which she used to jerk my head at the slightest opportunity.

In this ungainly manner, she led me along several narrow tunnels or caves to a flight of stone steps leading down into an immense cavern. The air throbbed with the pounding beat of musical instruments amplified far in excess of the volume to make a melody distinguishable.

At the far end of the grotto on a dais, was a group of the reptilian demons from where the performance originated. There were four playing guitars, the musicians’ fingers thrashing the strings so viciously I was amazed they did not snap. The rhythm was produced on two sets of drums the players of which seemed to be in competition as to who could play at the fastest tempo and both completely out of sync with the other instruments. The two guitarists in the center of the stage wailed and shrieked in different keys and probably with different words into microphones, while the sound thundered from a wall of speakers on each side of the stage, the vibrations of which I could feel through the soles of my feet, even from here.

The revelers were of mixed races and seemed to be representative of all those who now inhabited this world. Many were dancing in groups, weaving their bodies in a rhythm that could have no correlation with the timing of the music, while a pall of smoke hung from the ceiling as if from a huge industrial steel and iron smelting complex. I assume someone on the floor was watching for us to appear at the top of the stairs. A figure leapt on to the stage with arms waving at the musicians. Within seconds the cacophony of sound died to near silence, and he took one of the microphones from its stand. Megliba held me at the top of the staircase while, with a cough to clear his throat, he spoke to the crowd. The amplification was too high for me to recognize every word he said. He appeared to be addressing someone below where I stood.

The gist of his words went something along the lines of, “Lord Bazial! Ambassador of the nine worlds of Sibalbá! I am honored to be allowed to join you in celebration of twenty-five years of peaceful co-operation between our races. In respect of this, I am pleased to present for your entertainment and your amusement, the angel Loriel.”

As he began to make the speech, Megliba pushed me forward but restraining me on the chain so that I descended the stairs at a slow pace to match her own. Reaching the level of the announcer on the dais, I recognized him as having been one of those who had been part of a birthday celebration a few weeks previously. It took few guesses to suspect that he was a member of the government as Bran had mentioned. There was no sign of recognition in his eyes or his mind as he took the leash from Megliba.

I was forced to follow him through the dancers toward a group of tables at the back of the room. The large reptilian in the group on the central table, I assumed, was the guest of honor to whom I was to be presented. As we made our way toward them, one of the guitarists picked out the melody of Happy Birthday and people began to clap.

Lord Bazial stood and sauntered to meet us. He was by far the largest of the race I had seen so far, standing around seven feet in height. Other than that, he looked the same as all the others. Perhaps there are small differences in appearance that allow one individual to recognize another, but to me, those differences were not noticeable.

“Thank you Mr. Carleton.” His voice boomed and resonated from the stone walls. “I very much appreciate this kind gesture from your government.” He took the chain dragging me to him. “Can I unwrap her now?”

I thought from the raucous chuckle that he was joking, until he reached to lift and lay me on the table. Gripping the hem of the gown in both hands, he ripped the garment, shredding it into two pieces. I lay still - there was little point in my trying to protest, and it was not as if being naked in front of a crowd would cause me any embarrassment. The golden orbs of his eyes traversed my body while the black fork of his tongue flicked through the slit-maw mouth. It felt as if he was considering which part of my flesh was most succulent on which to feast. He lowered one hand to force my legs apart as one finger slid into my vaginal cavity. I closed my eyes. He might think this meant I was enjoying his groping, but in reality I was clenching my teeth in revulsion, concerned that the nails on his fingers, almost like talons, would lacerate the recently healed organs.

Removing the finger, he raised it to his mouth where the black tongue licked at the moisture. “Nice, Mr. Carleton. Very nice.” He nodded his head at me. “Can she sing?”

“Course she can my lord.” I wondered how he reached that conclusion. “And with the right sort of encouragement, she is quite a dancer too.”

“Looks like we have a night of fun ahead of us then boys.” Lord Bazial spoke to the six of his race sitting around the table on which I lay. Turning to the audience watching from the dance floor, he continued, “I was told this presentation would be made, and so, we have something planned for your entertainment later which I think you will find amusing. But first. Musicians! Something please, to which an angel can dance.”