Beautiful Serenity Amid Hell
Time had long since died in this endless violet-black dimension.
There was no rising sun, no setting moon, no turning of seasons—only the sound of spatial gates ripping open the void exactly one hundred times a day, each time spewing forth thousands, tens of thousands of beings from the Nine Realms and worlds even farther away. They were scorched mad by Baldr's aphrodisiac curse: eyes bloodshot, foam at the corners of their mouths, naked bodies lunging at one another like wild beasts, copulating frantically in mid-air before plummeting downward.
Desiccated corpses fell like rain of meat.
Thump… thump… thump…
That sound had become the heartbeat of the death-prison. Millions of enormous dark-purple tentacles rose from the warm, fleshy ground, grinding the life-drained husks into fine violet dust, then inhaling that dust to feed the prison itself. Day by day the abyss swelled larger, sank hundreds of meters deeper, grew blacker, colder—yet paradoxically warmer, for it lived and breathed on the lust of billions of imprisoned souls.
Moans of ecstasy mingled with cries of despair, the tearing of flesh, the pumping and draining of semen, the piercing of wombs, the devouring of souls—all fused into an endless lewd hymn that shook the entire void.
Yet at the very center, upon the living throne hundreds of meters tall woven from millions of intertwined tentacles like a colossal spiderweb, there existed a pocket of gentle silence, almost sacred. A tiny, warm, sweet paradise cradened within an infinite nightmare.
Freya sat there, completely naked.
She was so beautiful that the Nine Realms themselves would have held their breath—though by now the Nine Realms had long forgotten her.
Skin white as porcelain, flawless, shimmering like pearls beneath the lethal violet light. Platinum-blonde hair cascading to her ankles, every strand soaked in sweet viscous fluid, glistening as though molten gold. Full, snow-white breasts, dark-purple nipples perpetually erect, constantly leaking a few drops of sweet white milk from overstimulation. A waist so narrow a single hand could encircle it, a perfectly flat abdomen, a dainty navel like a sunken ruby. Round, plump, peach-pink buttocks that quivered faintly with every breath of the living throne, as though beckoning.
Long, slender legs spread just wide enough to reveal an 18-cm cock at half-mast, the glans violet-pink and glossy, parted like a blooming flower of flesh, dripping silver precum that formed small shimmering pools on the throne.
That silver fluid no longer corroded anything.
Freya had learned to control it since the seventh year.
To those she wished to kill, it remained a lethal poison that incinerated the soul in a single heartbeat.
To the one she wished to protect, it was nothing more than warm, honey-sweet lubricant carrying gentle waves of pleasure through every pore, making the entire body moan in bliss.
In her arms lay Lýsa—the hermaphroditic Vanir girl who had chosen to stay here for nearly a year.
Thanks to ancient Vanir blood and the prison's endless torrent of sexual energy, Lýsa's body had matured dramatically. She now looked like a seventeen-year-old mortal maiden: 168 cm tall, full C-cup breasts round and firm, buttocks like ripe peaches, golden hair flowing to her knees, eyes a clear summer-lake blue from Vanaheim, skin flushed pink like newly blossomed cherry petals, always glowing from constant arousal.
She still possessed both sets of genitals, each more enchanting than the last:
• A small, rosy pussy with tender folds perpetually soaked, the plump lips twitching because Freya deliberately left a tiny fraction of Baldr's lust curse—just enough for endless craving, never enough for the agony suffered by other victims.
• A dainty cock that now reached 11.5 cm when fully erect, the fresh-pink glans glossy, the slit always parted and leaking crystal precum, two swollen balls hanging heavy beneath, forever on the verge of release.
Lýsa lay cradled in Freya's embrace, back pressed tight against her chest, legs spread wide over Freya's thighs, completely naked, no longer the least bit shy. The sweet scent rising from her body—Vanaheim cherry blossoms mixed with thick sexual musk—drove Freya mad with desire.
One of Freya's arms encircled Lýsa's tiny waist, her large hand stroking the flat belly, fingers occasionally brushing the sparse golden pubic hair, then sliding down to the soaked slit, teasing only the outer lips, never penetrating, until Lýsa whimpered and begged.
"Ahh… Sister Freya… stop teasing me… I want you inside me…"
Lýsa's voice trembled, sweet as honey, cheeks flushed crimson, lake-blue eyes brimming with tears, lips parted and panting. Her small body shook with need.
Freya's other hand toyed masterfully with Lýsa's little cock: thumb and forefinger forming a tight ring, slowly circling the slick glans as if petting a beloved animal, then suddenly speeding up until Lýsa screamed. The middle finger occasionally tapped the slit or slipped into the coronal ridge and twisted, making Lýsa's entire body jerk, tears of overwhelming pleasure spilling over.
"Nnh… you're so mean, Sister… I'm… I'm gonna cum…"
"Not yet," Freya whispered into her ear, voice husky and seductive. "Hold it for me. I want you to cum only when I'm buried deepest inside you."
Lýsa sobbed with pleasure, nails digging into Freya's snow-white arms, leaving no mark.
Gently, Freya turned the girl around so they faced each other, Lýsa straddling her lap with legs spread wide. Their breasts pressed together—small pink nipples rubbing against dark-purple ones, sending tingles of pleasure through both bodies.
Freya lifted Lýsa's plump buttocks slightly, then slowly lowered her.
Freya's 18-cm cock was fully erect, burning hot like iron fresh from the dwarven forges of Nidavellir. The massive glans pressed against Lýsa's tiny rear entrance.
Silver fluid instantly transformed into warm, slippery, sweet lubricant, flowing in rivulets down the girl's cleft, soaking both pink cheeks.
With one slow, deliberate motion, the head sank inside.
"Nnh… ahh… Sister… slower… it still hurts…"
Lýsa clung to Freya's neck, eyes glistening, mouth agape and drooling, saliva trailing down her chin and dripping onto Freya's breasts in crystal droplets.
Freya kissed those small lips, tongue entwining with Lýsa's, tasting the girl's innocent sweetness, then gradually lowered her further.
10 cm… 15 cm… 18 cm—fully hilted inside the tight, scorching, spasming passage.
Lýsa arched like a drawn bow, moaning lewdly, her sweet voice echoing through the violet darkness:
"Sister… you're filling me completely… I can feel you throbbing inside my guts… I'm… I'm gonna…"
Before she could finish, Lýsa climaxed for the first time that day.
Her rear passage clenched violently around Freya's shaft, love juices gushing from her pussy down Freya's thighs, her small cock jerking and shooting thick ropes of hot semen across Freya's belly, breasts, and beautiful demonic face.
Freya did not thrust hard.
She only lifted and lowered Lýsa's hips gently, letting the girl control the pace, letting her feel every burning inch buried deep inside her.
All around them, tentacles joined in tenderly, no longer savage as they were with other victims:
• Two small rounded tentacles latched onto Lýsa's pink nipples, hundreds of tiny tongues licking and swirling, secreting warm fluid that made the buds painfully, deliciously hard.
• Another tentacle, wrist-thick, slid into her still-virgin pussy—not thrusting hard, merely rotating gently, sucking lightly at the walls, finding her G-spot and vibrating softly like a loving caress, making Lýsa cry from sheer bliss, legs trembling uncontrollably.
All that day they never parted for even a moment.
Lýsa remained straddled on Freya's lap, rear passage swallowing the full 18 cm, arms wrapped tight around her neck, lips locked in endless kisses, tongues dancing, saliva exchanged and dripping down both chins in lewd streams.
Freya cradled the tiny waist, occasionally lifting and lowering Lýsa's hips slowly—each descent drawing another endless moan, tears of joy rolling down the girl's cheeks, semen and juices splattering everywhere.
"Sister… cum inside me… I want to feel you… I want you to fill me to overflowing… I want you to impregnate me… even though I know it's impossible…"
Lýsa whispered, eyes glazed with ecstasy, voice shaking, utterly depraved, no trace left of the shy girl who had first arrived.
Freya smiled, kissed her forehead, and gently tightened her grip on the slim waist.
She came.
Thick, hot, creamy semen—now completely harmless—shot in powerful spurts deep into Lýsa's bowels.
Spurt after spurt, so forceful that Lýsa felt each jet inside her intestines, like a burning river flooding her body.
It overflowed, filling her colon, leaking out around the shaft, running in thick white rivers down Freya's thighs, forming large glistening pools on the living throne.
Lýsa arched back, screaming sweetly, reaching her 27th orgasm of the day.
Her pussy squirted meters into the air, her small cock firing endless ropes onto Freya's face and hair, tears streaming from overwhelming happiness.
When "night" came—though day and night no longer existed—Freya lay back on the soft living bed formed by hundreds of small tentacles.
Lýsa lay atop her, rear passage still gripping Freya's cock, legs entwined, small hands clutching hers, head resting on Freya's chest, whispering:
"Sister… I love you… I never want to leave you… even if I have to spend my whole life in hell… as long as I have you, it's enough…"
Freya stroked her hair, kissed her closed eyelids:
"I feel the same. You are the only light in my darkness."
All around, the despairing moans of countless beings still echoed.
But at the heart of hell, there were only the two of them, clinging tightly, whispering the most lewdly beautiful words of love hell had ever witnessed.
The days that followed grew even more depraved, sweeter, more passionate.
On the eighth day, Lýsa awoke with unprecedented desire.
She knelt between Freya's legs, lake-blue eyes shining with lust, small lips trembling and drooling.
"Sister… today I want to serve you… I want to drink every drop of you… I want you to fill my mouth…"
Without waiting for an answer, she bent down, small lips enveloping Freya's 18-cm glans, sucking clumsily yet fervently.
Her tongue swirled around the head, lapping up every drop of sweet silver precum, gulping noisily, throat making lewd "glug glug" sounds that made even Freya moan softly.
Freya lay back, stroking Lýsa's hair, letting the girl do as she pleased.
Lýsa sucked until her mouth overflowed with thick white semen, swallowing frantically, excess spilling from the corners, running down her chin, her small breasts, her flat belly.
She looked up, mouth still dripping cum, smiling innocently:
"You taste so good… sweeter than Vanaheim honey… now I want you to cum inside my pussy… fill my womb…"
Freya lay back, legs spread wide, 18-cm cock standing proud, veins pulsing, glans glistening with Lýsa's saliva.
Lýsa climbed atop, stroked her own small cock a few times to full hardness, then slowly sank down onto Freya's shaft—this time into her pussy.
The tender pink folds stretched to their limit, still impossibly tight despite hundreds of prior sessions.
She moaned, tears flowing, yet resolutely lowered herself until all 18 cm were buried inside her womb.
"Ahh… Sister… you're touching my womb… I belong to you… forever… no one else may ever touch me…"
Then she began to ride.
Slowly at first, then faster, faster, until her ass slapped against Freya's thighs with endless "plap plap plap" echoing through the violet void.
Juices sprayed everywhere, leftover semen from previous loads oozing out with every thrust, forming thick white lewd streams down Freya's thighs.
Freya gripped Lýsa's waist, lifting and slamming her down harder, deeper, each impact against her cervix making Lýsa scream in ecstasy, voice hoarse:
"Sister… ruin me… break me… make me yours alone…"
They made love all day. Lýsa came countless times, her semen painting Freya's face, hair, breasts in thick layers.
Freya released five times into her womb, filling her until her belly swelled like a five-month pregnancy, semen pouring out in rivers, forming a massive steaming white pool on the throne.
On the fifteenth night, Freya carried Lýsa to the highest point of the throne, sat her with legs spread wide, back against the soft living surface.
She knelt before the girl and devoured both sets of genitals at once.
Her tongue plunged deep into the pussy, twisting fiercely, drinking the sweet nectar like honey.
One hand stroked the small cock, thumb rubbing the ridge, then took the entire glans into her mouth, sucking like a nursing babe, tongue swirling around the slit until Lýsa screamed.
Lýsa clutched Freya's head, arching and moaning:
"Sister… you're going to kill me with pleasure… I love you… I love you more than anything… I want to be with you forever… I want to bear your children… even if it's impossible…"
Freya looked up, mouth dripping with juices and semen, smiling tenderly:
"I love you most of all. You are everything to me. Even if the Nine Realms collapse, I will keep you by my side."
Then she stood, lifted Lýsa, letting the girl wrap her legs around her waist.
Her 18-cm cock plunged deep into the pussy from the front while a thick arm-sized tentacle rammed into the rear from behind.
Sandwiched between Freya and the tentacle, penetrated from both sides, Lýsa could only scream wordlessly, tears and drool streaming, body trembling from excessive ecstasy.
They made love all night. Lýsa fainted from orgasm several times, woke up only to beg hoarsely: "Harder… deeper… destroy me, Sister… make me nothing but your sex toy…"
Some days they fucked suspended in mid-air, tentacles holding them aloft, Freya taking her from behind while dozens of smaller ones licked every inch of Lýsa's body until she lost consciousness from bliss.
Some days Lýsa knelt at Freya's feet, sucking until her throat was raw and swollen, then climbed atop and rode until her belly bulged with semen.
Some days Freya bound Lýsa face-down with tentacles and made slow, gentle love all day, whispering in her ear:
"Do you see? Out there is hell. In here, there is only you and me. Only our love."
And Lýsa wept, nodding frantically:
"I know… I know… I only need you… you are my hell… and my heaven…"
And so the tenth year passed in endless days of lewd beauty.
They made love in every position, everywhere—on the living throne, the living bed, in mid-air, amid raining corpses.
Rear, pussy, mouth, breasts, thighs, feet, between fingers—every part of Lýsa was loved, licked, filled, marked as Freya's property.
Every one of Freya's orgasms was a declaration of ownership:
"You are mine. Forever. No one else—god, mortal, or demon—may touch you."
Amid the despairing moans of billions,
amid the rain of desiccated flesh,
only the two of them existed—clinging tightly, whispering the most lewdly beautiful words of love hell had ever heard.
The tenth year was still very long.
And they had infinite time to love, to fuck, to live in lewd and beautiful serenity at the heart of hell.
Zetsumyo Freya, for the first time in ten years of imprisonment,
finally understood true happiness.
A happiness sweet, depraved, mad, yet more real than anything she had ever known when she was still the free goddess of Vanaheim.
And she would kill anyone who dared shatter that happiness.
Even Baldr.
Even Odin.
Even the rotting Nine Realms above.
For now, etched into her very bones, only one name remained:
Lýsa.
Her own little hermaphroditic treasure.
The sole light in endless darkness.
And she would protect that light—even if she had to reduce the entire universe to ash.