A pair of—demons? probably demons—appear out of nowhere. There's a man and a woman, tall and winged and cherry-coloured, with black horns and golden talons. Both of them seem kind of startled and off-balance, like they weren't expecting to be here.

The woman reacts first, lunging for Elodea with a hiss.

--She was not expecting that! The demons were startling, although not really surprising in retrospect, but the woman lunging first is a new one on her.

She was teleported here sans spellbook and currently has no offensive spells. This is probably a good thing, because attempting one against a woman would have worked and that would probably just have pissed the both of them off more. Instead she ducks and rolls out of the way.

The demoness's tail snags Elodea's ankle and pulls, hauling her within reach of a grasping hand. As soon as the golden talons pierce through her clothes and into the flesh beneath, she is abruptly overtaken by sleep.

This is extra surprising! She is normally immune to sleep magic, but there she goes, out like a light. 

When she wakes, she is naked, lying on her back in the grass with her hands and feet encased in stone, and the male demon is sitting between her spread thighs and digging into her midsection with both hands. He is also naked. He's no minotaur, but that still looks like an uncomfortable prospect. At least it's likely to hurt less than being eviscerated, so, in that sense it'll be a step up.

This is the worst wakeup call she's had in well over a century. 

She screams. 

He laughs, and licks blood from his talons, and asks a question in a language she's never heard before.

She does still have a few language-related spells prepared but she's reluctant to use them when she can't prepare any new ones. Instead she says, "I can't understand you," hoping that he will either understand her or get the gist from the fact that he can't. 

He shrugs, in a so-much-for-that sort of way, and leans down to put his mouth between her legs.

His teeth are very sharp.

That's a new one.

She shrieks and attempts to kick him. 

The rock encasing her foot doesn't budge an inch; it's rooted to the ground. The demon makes an amused noise and continues his novel activities.

She swears at him in a variety of languages living and dead. 

This seems to entertain him!

He takes his time, but eventually stops biting sensitive areas and starts fucking her instead. It does not, actually, hurt any less than being eviscerated.

She is honestly kind of impressed under all the pissed-off and in pain. She hopes these two aren't going to go off and terrorize people who aren't cursed to have this shit happen to them anyway, since she's currently impaired by things other than the curse and so will be hindered in thwarting them even after he's done with her. 

Meanwhile she starts crying. 

Oh, he likes the crying. He likes the crying so much.

Her hips crack under the force of his thrusts, and demonic fluids sting her open wounds, and he doesn't stop. He keeps fucking her, until she heals from all her injuries and he has to supply new ones, until the puddle of blood and semen that spreads between her sticky thighs has grown large enough to touch all four of the encircling stones that hold her down. He seems to have an instinctive understanding of all the worst possible places to put his claws.

When he gets bored of ripping her open, he switches to burning her with magic, and when he gets bored of that he switches to using small jolts of lightning, and by that point he's ready to revisit the possibilities of teeth. A full day and night pass like this; he doesn't seem to need to eat, or sleep, or in fact do anything at all other than rape her. He has some favourite tricks: suddenly raising the temperature of his skin to a blistering heat, slashing his claws across her chest and then licking the wounds, casually breaking her bones by being intentionally careless with his immense strength.

Eventually, around midmorning after the second consecutive sunrise that has gone by while he's been fucking her, he disengages and sprawls on the ground outside the range of her puddle.

His companion makes some sort of affectionately chiding remark - clean your toys when you're done with them, perhaps - and approaches within view to turn the assorted messes all over Elodea into pure water with a wave of her hand. She has somehow managed to turn up a change of clothes in this wilderness, probably by magic, and is looking very regal in a long black dress that fastens behind her neck and leaves her back entirely bare.

This is, without a doubt, the worst thing she's experienced since Elexarin.

She does not want this to happen again. 

She restrains herself not at all to reacting negatively to what he's doing to her, and when he's done, she allows herself a few minutes before pulling herself together.

She considers the situation, and casts Comprehend Languages.

"I don't suppose," she says, "that I could be let go to stretch my legs for a bit while you're done with me for the moment?"

"Oh, now she speaks," he says, amused.

"I don't currently have a way to get new spells, I was a little reluctant to burn my penultimate casting of Comprehend Languages!"

"...What?" he says blankly.

"I got stranded without a spellbook."

"That's not—ugh," he says, giving up on the conversation and flopping a wing over his face to block out the sun.

His companion studies Elodea thoughtfully. "Originally we thought you must have brought us here, but that's not true at all, is it?"

"--No, I don't usually solicit my own rapists."