SirMGBZ
Onlooker
Greetings, all! I am posting a story here that I think is related to @Loinclothslave 's Forever Slavery story. This was something I wrote half-a-dozen years ago, and I hope you like it.
By way of a disclaimer: My stories always feature female slaves, since that is how I am kinked. They rarely have complex character development or large story arcs. They tend to be the kinds of stories that get me off. If you like them, great. If not, well, "No harm, no foul!" My stories all feature highly trained fictional characters, who are capable of feats of endurance that would leave Olympic athletes stunned. The women never have periods, and the men can get hard at a moment's notice. Needless to say, anyone who thinks that these are even close to reality, or constitute guidelines on how to behave in real life should seek psychiatric assistance.
But for the rest of you pervs, I hope you enjoy!
Marie in Hell
***
"...And I, Marie Yvette Bouvier, summon you, The Lord of Evil, to hear my plea, and bargain with me." Marie finished the ritual. She was naked, her ample breasts heaving from exertion. She collapsed to the floor, spent.
She had spent months preparing for this. Researching the steps of the summoning, getting all the ingredients, waiting for the right night, but at last, it was done. She was prepared to make a deal with the Devil himself, to find her perfect life mate, the person who would give her everything she needed, for the rest of her life.
She looked in the pentagram, but it remained empty. Had the ritual failed? That shouldn't be. She had followed all the steps, quite carefully. She cried out in despair, "No!"
"No, what?" said a calm and cultured male voice, from behind her.
She whirled. Standing now in front of her was a man, average height, with short brown hair, and plain brown eyes. He was neither very skinny nor very fat. He wore a brown pinstripe suit. He was average. Forgettable. Boring.
"Who...what...I mean, who are you? How did you get in here? I know I locked the house before I began..." she responded.
"How did I get here, Marie Yvette Bouvier? You summoned me, of course," he replied.
"Wait, you mean you are..." she faltered.
"Would you prefer it if I wore this appearance?" Suddenly he was a seven foot tall red skinned demon, naked and aroused. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and a tail twitched behind his back. "Is this what you expected?"
Marie just goggled.
He switched back to Mr. Boring.
"Okay, you wanted to make a deal, is that right?"
"Yes," she replied. "I want to meet my perfect man, and have my perfect relationship, for the rest of my life."
"A reasonable request," he said. "What are you offering?"
"The usual," she answered. "My soul."
"Ah, we have a bit of a problem there, I'm afraid."
"Problem? What kind of problem? People have been selling their souls for ages to get what they wanted."
"The problem is this. You are female, which means you are already destined to go straight to Hell when you die, for an eternity of torment."
"What the fuck?"
"It's simple. All the stories you ever heard were about men selling their souls. The destination of their souls in the afterlife is negotiable. The destination of yours, or of any female's, is not. All female souls go to Hell when they die. There is no redemption or salvation for them. It was part of the peace treaty between The Other Side and Myself, ages back."
"Fuck that!"
"Say what you will, young lady, but the facts are the facts. However, just because you can't offer your soul doesn't mean we can't make a deal."
"Okay, what kind of deal?"
"I give you your heart's desire, after you agree to spend one month in Hell."
"A month?"
"Don't worry, I'll arrange things so you won't be missed, won't lose your job or your house, or anything else. And in exchange, I'll grant you your perfect relationship, for the rest of your life. I can see deep into your heart, and I know exactly what you need, and I promise you'll get it." He smiled, though it was more of a leer than a smile.
"No tricks," she said. "I've read about your deals. You'll give me the perfect man, and the perfect relationship, and two weeks later, we're both killed in car wreck."
"No tricks," he promised. "In fact, I'll even promise you at least sixty more very healthy years here on Earth with your perfect man in your perfect relationship. He'll be the perfect man for you, able to give you everything you need in a relationship, even the things you're afraid to think about, let alone mention. And your lifetime with him will be every bit as perfect. Everything you really need, every single day. That's a promise."
Marie thought about it. She could manage a month of just about anything. After all, hadn't she spent an entire summer at Uncle Harvey and Aunt Peggy's a few years ago? Talk about miserable. And she couldn't see any obvious loopholes in his promise. A perfect relationship with a perfect man. It sounded, well, perfect.
"Very well, Lord, we have a deal."
***
Marie found herself standing in what could only be described as a very large torture chamber. She didn't recognise many of the implements hanging on the walls, or the pieces of torture furniture scattered around, but those she did recognise made her very nervous.
The Devil was standing there, and beside him was another man, or so he appeared to be. He was perhaps six foot two or so, and maybe two-hundred and fifty pounds. He looked to be in his forties, with a large bald spot on the top of his head.
The Devil said, "Marie, I'd like to introduce you to Gerard. He'll be supervising your visit to Hell. Well, I'll leave you to it." And with that, he vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Hello, Marie," Gerard said. He had a deep voice, gravelly and rough. "Welcome to Hell!"
***
Marie learned that no matter how badly she was tortured in Hell, she would instantly be healed. Even when she was killed, it was only a moment before she was back to life, ready to suffer and die again. She never slept, never ate, drank only what he gave her, which was only his piss and come.
She was tortured most inventively by Gerard. She was made to cut off her nipples and eat them. To press her tits on to a hot griddle and cook them. She stuck them in a breast guillotine and had them chopped off. She had them skewered, or nailed to planks. They were used as punching bags, pin cushions, soup bowls.
She lost count of the number of ways her clit was destroyed. She'd had it ground off with an electric sander, snipped off with scissors, pulled off via rings embedded in it. She'd had to remove and eat her clit and her pussy lips, raw, deep-fried, baked.
She shuddered to remember all the ways she'd been tortured to death. She'd been electrocuted, garroted, hung, drowned, decapitated, immolated, skinned, baked, spit-roasted.
And all the time, there was Gerard. He was enjoying her torment. He spoke often of how beautifully she suffered. He told her how he had been bringing his sister for visits to Hell for decades. How he had once spent an entire year torturing her in Hell. And before that, how he had accompanied his Father and mother to Hell. Apparently the men of his family had some sort of deal with the Devil that allowed them to bring their women to Hell whenever they wanted.
"And do you know what the best part is, bitch?" Gerard asked her once, while she was being electrocuted. "The best part is, you will never forget any of this, ever. Should you live to be 100, you will still recall every moment spent in Hell with perfect clarity. You will never go insane, you will never escape this. Every time you are reminded of your time in Hell, you will remember and re-experience it completely."
***
Marie awoke on the floor of her garage, naked and cold. The ritual pentagram was laid out before her. She checked her phone. It was only about ten minutes since she had started the ritual. Had anything really happened? Or had the mushrooms she had taken as part of the ceremony induced a really strange series of hallucinations?
She looked herself over. No signs that she had spent a month being tortured. She'd imagined the whole thing, apparently.
She got up, put a bathrobe on, and went to bed. She'd been invited to a Memorial Day picnic at her friend Collette's place the next day.
Collette was a good friend, but was always trying to fix Marie up with somebody. Marie tolerated it, because of their friendship. In fact, Collette had promised that she'd be inviting her brother, who "is absolutely perfect for you, Marie, I just know it."
***
Marie arrived at Collette's, nicely turned out. A slinky little red dress, curve-hugging but not too formal, some black stockings, red four inch heels. She was looking good, and figured that if, as was almost certain, Collette's brother was a complete doofus, that she was dressed to go find someone she was into.
"Marie," Collette said. "It's so good of you to come. Have you met the Morrison's? This is Jim and Jill Morrison. Jim, Jill, this is my dear friend, Marie. Jill and I work together, don't you know." Collette said all this in one more or less continuous sentence.
Marie nodded as she was introduced around. She knew she'd never remember any of their names, and few of their faces, come morning. But she was a polite guest.
She had a great time. The food was excellent, and so was the company.
Late in the evening, Collette went to admit a late-arriving guest. Most of the other guests had trundled off, and Marie herself was thinking about heading, but waited for Collette to return.
Collette entered the living room, followed by a large, and familiar-looking man.
"Marie," Collette said, "I believe you already know my brother Gerard?"
Marie just stared.
"Hello, bitch," he said. "I can't wait to take both of you back to Hell!"
"What the fuck?" Marie said. "That's not the relationship I wanted."
"My Lord Satan never promised you the relationship you wanted, bitch. He promised you the relationship you needed. And you need to be tortured, a bunch. Fortunately for you, no matter how long you spend in Hell, no time passes here on Earth. And doubly fortunately, you were promised at least 60 years of healthy life here on Earth. Sixty more Earth years to suffer, before you go to Hell full time. But I think we should begin with a year long visit, don't you?"
The End
By way of a disclaimer: My stories always feature female slaves, since that is how I am kinked. They rarely have complex character development or large story arcs. They tend to be the kinds of stories that get me off. If you like them, great. If not, well, "No harm, no foul!" My stories all feature highly trained fictional characters, who are capable of feats of endurance that would leave Olympic athletes stunned. The women never have periods, and the men can get hard at a moment's notice. Needless to say, anyone who thinks that these are even close to reality, or constitute guidelines on how to behave in real life should seek psychiatric assistance.
But for the rest of you pervs, I hope you enjoy!
Marie in Hell
***
"...And I, Marie Yvette Bouvier, summon you, The Lord of Evil, to hear my plea, and bargain with me." Marie finished the ritual. She was naked, her ample breasts heaving from exertion. She collapsed to the floor, spent.
She had spent months preparing for this. Researching the steps of the summoning, getting all the ingredients, waiting for the right night, but at last, it was done. She was prepared to make a deal with the Devil himself, to find her perfect life mate, the person who would give her everything she needed, for the rest of her life.
She looked in the pentagram, but it remained empty. Had the ritual failed? That shouldn't be. She had followed all the steps, quite carefully. She cried out in despair, "No!"
"No, what?" said a calm and cultured male voice, from behind her.
She whirled. Standing now in front of her was a man, average height, with short brown hair, and plain brown eyes. He was neither very skinny nor very fat. He wore a brown pinstripe suit. He was average. Forgettable. Boring.
"Who...what...I mean, who are you? How did you get in here? I know I locked the house before I began..." she responded.
"How did I get here, Marie Yvette Bouvier? You summoned me, of course," he replied.
"Wait, you mean you are..." she faltered.
"Would you prefer it if I wore this appearance?" Suddenly he was a seven foot tall red skinned demon, naked and aroused. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and a tail twitched behind his back. "Is this what you expected?"
Marie just goggled.
He switched back to Mr. Boring.
"Okay, you wanted to make a deal, is that right?"
"Yes," she replied. "I want to meet my perfect man, and have my perfect relationship, for the rest of my life."
"A reasonable request," he said. "What are you offering?"
"The usual," she answered. "My soul."
"Ah, we have a bit of a problem there, I'm afraid."
"Problem? What kind of problem? People have been selling their souls for ages to get what they wanted."
"The problem is this. You are female, which means you are already destined to go straight to Hell when you die, for an eternity of torment."
"What the fuck?"
"It's simple. All the stories you ever heard were about men selling their souls. The destination of their souls in the afterlife is negotiable. The destination of yours, or of any female's, is not. All female souls go to Hell when they die. There is no redemption or salvation for them. It was part of the peace treaty between The Other Side and Myself, ages back."
"Fuck that!"
"Say what you will, young lady, but the facts are the facts. However, just because you can't offer your soul doesn't mean we can't make a deal."
"Okay, what kind of deal?"
"I give you your heart's desire, after you agree to spend one month in Hell."
"A month?"
"Don't worry, I'll arrange things so you won't be missed, won't lose your job or your house, or anything else. And in exchange, I'll grant you your perfect relationship, for the rest of your life. I can see deep into your heart, and I know exactly what you need, and I promise you'll get it." He smiled, though it was more of a leer than a smile.
"No tricks," she said. "I've read about your deals. You'll give me the perfect man, and the perfect relationship, and two weeks later, we're both killed in car wreck."
"No tricks," he promised. "In fact, I'll even promise you at least sixty more very healthy years here on Earth with your perfect man in your perfect relationship. He'll be the perfect man for you, able to give you everything you need in a relationship, even the things you're afraid to think about, let alone mention. And your lifetime with him will be every bit as perfect. Everything you really need, every single day. That's a promise."
Marie thought about it. She could manage a month of just about anything. After all, hadn't she spent an entire summer at Uncle Harvey and Aunt Peggy's a few years ago? Talk about miserable. And she couldn't see any obvious loopholes in his promise. A perfect relationship with a perfect man. It sounded, well, perfect.
"Very well, Lord, we have a deal."
***
Marie found herself standing in what could only be described as a very large torture chamber. She didn't recognise many of the implements hanging on the walls, or the pieces of torture furniture scattered around, but those she did recognise made her very nervous.
The Devil was standing there, and beside him was another man, or so he appeared to be. He was perhaps six foot two or so, and maybe two-hundred and fifty pounds. He looked to be in his forties, with a large bald spot on the top of his head.
The Devil said, "Marie, I'd like to introduce you to Gerard. He'll be supervising your visit to Hell. Well, I'll leave you to it." And with that, he vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Hello, Marie," Gerard said. He had a deep voice, gravelly and rough. "Welcome to Hell!"
***
Marie learned that no matter how badly she was tortured in Hell, she would instantly be healed. Even when she was killed, it was only a moment before she was back to life, ready to suffer and die again. She never slept, never ate, drank only what he gave her, which was only his piss and come.
She was tortured most inventively by Gerard. She was made to cut off her nipples and eat them. To press her tits on to a hot griddle and cook them. She stuck them in a breast guillotine and had them chopped off. She had them skewered, or nailed to planks. They were used as punching bags, pin cushions, soup bowls.
She lost count of the number of ways her clit was destroyed. She'd had it ground off with an electric sander, snipped off with scissors, pulled off via rings embedded in it. She'd had to remove and eat her clit and her pussy lips, raw, deep-fried, baked.
She shuddered to remember all the ways she'd been tortured to death. She'd been electrocuted, garroted, hung, drowned, decapitated, immolated, skinned, baked, spit-roasted.
And all the time, there was Gerard. He was enjoying her torment. He spoke often of how beautifully she suffered. He told her how he had been bringing his sister for visits to Hell for decades. How he had once spent an entire year torturing her in Hell. And before that, how he had accompanied his Father and mother to Hell. Apparently the men of his family had some sort of deal with the Devil that allowed them to bring their women to Hell whenever they wanted.
"And do you know what the best part is, bitch?" Gerard asked her once, while she was being electrocuted. "The best part is, you will never forget any of this, ever. Should you live to be 100, you will still recall every moment spent in Hell with perfect clarity. You will never go insane, you will never escape this. Every time you are reminded of your time in Hell, you will remember and re-experience it completely."
***
Marie awoke on the floor of her garage, naked and cold. The ritual pentagram was laid out before her. She checked her phone. It was only about ten minutes since she had started the ritual. Had anything really happened? Or had the mushrooms she had taken as part of the ceremony induced a really strange series of hallucinations?
She looked herself over. No signs that she had spent a month being tortured. She'd imagined the whole thing, apparently.
She got up, put a bathrobe on, and went to bed. She'd been invited to a Memorial Day picnic at her friend Collette's place the next day.
Collette was a good friend, but was always trying to fix Marie up with somebody. Marie tolerated it, because of their friendship. In fact, Collette had promised that she'd be inviting her brother, who "is absolutely perfect for you, Marie, I just know it."
***
Marie arrived at Collette's, nicely turned out. A slinky little red dress, curve-hugging but not too formal, some black stockings, red four inch heels. She was looking good, and figured that if, as was almost certain, Collette's brother was a complete doofus, that she was dressed to go find someone she was into.
"Marie," Collette said. "It's so good of you to come. Have you met the Morrison's? This is Jim and Jill Morrison. Jim, Jill, this is my dear friend, Marie. Jill and I work together, don't you know." Collette said all this in one more or less continuous sentence.
Marie nodded as she was introduced around. She knew she'd never remember any of their names, and few of their faces, come morning. But she was a polite guest.
She had a great time. The food was excellent, and so was the company.
Late in the evening, Collette went to admit a late-arriving guest. Most of the other guests had trundled off, and Marie herself was thinking about heading, but waited for Collette to return.
Collette entered the living room, followed by a large, and familiar-looking man.
"Marie," Collette said, "I believe you already know my brother Gerard?"
Marie just stared.
"Hello, bitch," he said. "I can't wait to take both of you back to Hell!"
"What the fuck?" Marie said. "That's not the relationship I wanted."
"My Lord Satan never promised you the relationship you wanted, bitch. He promised you the relationship you needed. And you need to be tortured, a bunch. Fortunately for you, no matter how long you spend in Hell, no time passes here on Earth. And doubly fortunately, you were promised at least 60 years of healthy life here on Earth. Sixty more Earth years to suffer, before you go to Hell full time. But I think we should begin with a year long visit, don't you?"
The End
