Feature Writer: Knorg
Feature Title: Hellish Reward II / Part 6 / Cats-eye Jenny and Dave: Love is all you need
Contact Address: [email protected]
Author’s Notes: A year after the disappearance of the dude from Hellish Reward, three old friends quest to find him. He probably owes them money. Meanwhile, he’s in Hell.
Story Codes: The End, Plot, Noodles, Occasional attempts at humor, and: Cat-girl/M, FF/f, F/f, F/m, Demoness/F/m parings with hand job, demonic possession, Femdom, Boot licking, Strap-on sex, Strap-on forced oral, male humiliation, Watersports, paranormal-branding, a kitchen sink…

 

Hellish Reward II / Part 6

Cats-eye Jenny and Dave: Love is all you need

“I guess I was expecting more in the way of flames and burning fiery torment, not…” Jenny waved a hand vaguely towards the ‘No Smoking’ sign on the wall. Dave was a life long non-smoker only… right then he had the urge to light up. He was impressed. It took quite a lot to impress sober Dave. Drunken Dave, well, he’d hand out awards for walking in a straight line or belching amusingly.

Having been impressed he went back to worrying. Building on his earlier worries over manipulation, Dave was starting to come to some unpleasant conclusions about their trip to Hell. The corridor ran on into the distance; the end never seemed to grow any closer. There were no doors, no paths off, and behind them the lights blinked out after they passed, leaving only darkness. Dave had had some good times in corridors, and Dave had had some bad times. Most recently, he’d claimed that “they’re just not my scene anymore,” though nobody was really sure why.

Jenny and he had been walking hand in hand down the corridor for about fifteen minutes. It was hard to tell the time because his watch was running backwards. He wasn’t sure if this was an effect of Hell, or because it had been made in England. The initial Adrenalin and fear had died away as nothing else happened. Dave had started to wonder if they were godot-damned.

“Until this sign I had the idea we were walking down the same stretch of corridor over, and over, and over again.” Jenny chewed upon a strand of her red hair that’d fallen loose from her soft fabric hat. Dave knew how she felt. The same thing, over and over… But this wasn’t an REM album. Dave turned toward the cat-girl and gave voice to his thoughts, “Jenny, they were ready for us to come to Hell. They killed Pete last night, then split us up with Jim-Bob quickly. Everything to do with this could all have been part of it; even him going missing a year ago. I mean, that demonic possession… If that hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t be here. That only guaranteed to get me interested though…”

Dave was a man of fair sized ego, so it was no stretch for him to see the world revolving around himself. That didn’t make him a bad guy, especially as it seemed there was a fair chance he was right.

“I think we’ve been manipulated into a trap. I’ve been a complete fool. I’ve…”

Dave banged broke his grip with Jenny’s hand and lightly punched himself in the forehead to emphasize his stupidity. Time seemed to slow for a second as darkness washed over his vision, a heavy blow landed on the back of his legs a good few inches from where a heavy blow might be appreciated. It was instantly utterly dark and growing very cold. There were no sounds, no signs of life. Dave wished he had a Norwegian phrase book.  He sat up and nearly bit his tongue as someone pushed him back down. He could feel something like a breeze rubbing over him, around him, gently. It was warm. Dave tried to sit back up. He was pushed back down. Goose pimples were forming on his arms, and he could feel his hot breath hanging in front his chilled face. The ground underneath him was soft, yielding and cold. He thought a necrophile would be having a lot more fun than him on it.

“Whatever happened to eternal torment and torture and so on? Don’t tell me that was all medieval bullshit? Hello? Anyone? Anything? Is this it? Darkness and cold? So, what, is northern Scandinavia a franchise operation?”

His voice sounded wavered and sounded very small. Time passed in the traditional manner. He tried to stand. Cold hands pushed him down. It grew even colder as Dave wrapped his arms around his legs and shivered. Warm over his mouth for a moment, then the strange warm breeze sensation centered around his crotch. He started to feel his cock stiffen in his trousers.

He was in the darkness of the pit. Alone. And someone was playing with him. He thought of Jenny, of his friends and family, of Jenny, of his religious faith and of Jenny. He’d had enough of this shit. He stood sharply; ready to grab at anything that pushed him back down. He spoke with new strength of purpose.

“I should never have brought you here. I’m coming for you Jenny.”

“She’s not coming for you. Nothing can reach you here.”

The voice came from all around. It sounded like teeth on tinfoil. Dave winced.

“Get thee where I can see you, cunt. Can you smell what The Dave is cooking?” Dave reached for the cross about his neck, only to find it gone.

“You’re in me, boy. I am the darkness children fear. I am loneliness. I…”

“Wait. You have a live journal right? Call yourself darkness666 and…”

A cold fist hammered into Dave’s stomach. He folded up on his knees as his lungs burned for air. He’d just been beaten by the darkness. Didn’t even ask for permission to land the punch.

“Can’t… take a joke… eh? Me and Jenny and the others… are going to walk out of here just like we walked in. The Good Guys always wins in the end.” He spat. He was embarrassed to realize his dick was fully hard and leaking pre-cum inside his trousers. Most of his back was warm now and the warmth in his groin had intensified. It felt like a really good hand job and seemed truly out of place among the taunting of the darkness. Dave enjoyed the growing erotic sensations in his meat as his hairy balls tightened up against his body.

Seemingly unaware of Dave’s pleasure the grating voice of the darkness spitefully responded to the student’s bravado, “You think? Your scientist friend would say Entropy.”

‘Damn. They’ve got Jim-Bob’ Dave thought, but mostly he was thinking about the exquisite feeling in his crotch. No masturbation had ever felt so good. He realized he was close to climax as he humped air.

“What do you want?” he asked the darkness, a tremor in his voice from his approaching climax, “Why are you…UUGGGHHH!”

He heard a scream of confused frustration. Instantly he was back in corridor. Jenny was crouched behind him with her breasts pressed tightly into his back through her top. The cat-girls long fingers were wrapped around his spurting shaft as he sprayed his load; she nibbled on his ear and continued jerking him as he shot more wads of cum onto the floor. He realized his trousers were unzipped with his prick poking above his boxers, as Jenny’s warm spare hand cupped his balls. Dave panted lightly as he finished firing his sticky blasts.

“Dave?”

“That… that was amazing…Your hands… you..” he panted.

The relieved cat-girl rushed to explain, “Your eyes went totally black and you started talking nonsense… You were as cold as a metal dildo in midwi…”

Jenny coughed, suddenly embarrassed and then continued speaking in more careful tones.

“I didn’t know what to do, Dave. Then… I remembered the fairy tales my mum used to tell me. I tried to kiss you and you bit my tongue… I thought you’d been possessed…But it worked!”

Steam was rising off of Dave’s chilled body as he warmed up in the corridor and in Jenny’s arms. Dave found himself with the obvious question to ask, but Jenny beat him to it.

“Kissing didn’t work so I went to the next stage. I guess fairy tales are outdated.” Jenny wasn’t aware that most of the old fairy tales had been cleaned up considerably, and that a simple hand-job to wake a sleeping lover was almost nothing. There’s no truth in the rumor that the German version of little red riding hood had scat scenes though. Probably. Dave twisted in her arms and kissed her passionately, pushing his cold lips against her warm smile. Jenny responded enthusiastically as they tongue wrestled with love and lust on the floor. It seemed as if the darkness behind them was falling back as lights flickered back on.

Slowly, they broke the kiss and stood up. Jenny laid a hand on the student’s neck as turned his attention to zipping up his trousers. She didn’t want to let him go. Jenny tasted a cooling splash of cum from her hand, swirling the liquid up into her mouth with a sly lick. It was the first time she’d ever tasted sperm, and she decided she didn’t dislike it, at least from Dave.

“I want to have your litter” she blurted out, and the smooth skin of her face blushed darkly beneath the red hair poking out beneath her hat. Dave laid a gentle hand up on hers, by his neck, and then turned around to hug the cat-girl tightly, shaking with the emotion. They’d known each other bare hours, yet Dave loved her with all his heart and all his soul. The thought that he’d lost her for good had him on the edge of tears. Jenny could tell just how emotional her lover was, as he didn’t even cup her ass while holding her to him.

“This is the end! I won’t play your games anymore! I WON’T!” Dave shouted, squeezing his teary eyes closed, quoting the letter he’d written to Eidos after Angel of Darkness sucked so bad. Cat-eye winched slightly as Dave shouted next to her ear, and held him tightly to her until the muscles bulged on her arms, only lessening the grip when she realized Dave was having problems breathing.

He turned, pulling away from the cat-girl, and shouted in the other direction, “FUCK YOU!” which was pretty strong language for him. This is the kind of guy who, when sober, stubs his toe and says “Darn!”

“Ooorrr… Fuck me? Purrrrr…” He turned to see Jenny leaning against the wall, eyes closed. She had her left hand in her panties, clearly playing with herself. The other was pushed up under her top. Dave could see her fingers moving under the fabric, grasping, feeling, stroking.

“J…Jenny?”

The cat-girl’s eyes flicked open; a maelstrom of black in the center of each. Jenny was possessed but fighting back hard inside. She was finding ways to hurt the darkness, fighting feral and wild and powered by love. Dave knew none of this; he only saw the cat-girl’s eyes.

“Mmmmmoooooowwwrrr… It’s me Dave… I want you inside of me Dave.”

He tried desperately to think of a way to save the girl he loved; since the darkness was talking through her it seemed Jenny’s trick wouldn’t work twice, especially as she now seemed to be seeking sex. Dave didn’t want this evil horny cat-girl! That wasn’t the horny cat-girl he fell in love with.

“Can you smell what The Jenny is cooking?” The possessed cat-girl tore Jenny’s top from her evil infused body, dropped the rag to the floor. Dave – being an average male student – found himself momentarily unable to remove his eyes from the beautiful bared breasts.

“I’ll beat you, you and all your kind.” Dave was starting to form quite the personal hatred for hell spawn; the kind of hatred he normally reserved for people who didn’t instantly agree that The Sims was the finest game ever made.

“ooooooh, MEOW! A spanking! Take me! Take me hard!” the cat-girl turned around and pushed her pants and panties down to the floor. She looked at Dave over her shoulder, the darkness in her eyes, and winked at him. Inside Jenny was starting to lose her temper.

“Ahhhh come on lover! Hurt me! Give it to me hard like the slut I need to be for a grey archive story!”

Dave calmed himself mentally and felt deep inside himself for the deep, essential Dave-ness. Unfortunately, it was leching and saying “Go nuts!” He walked forward and took the cat-girl’s face in his hands, searching the darkness in her eyes. Whipsnake fast, she clawed great gashes down his chest, laughing hysterically.

“ARRRRRGHHH!” he raised fists in defence, and then stopped. Whatever was moving her body it was Jenny inside. The possessed cat-girl swished her tail in a disappointed fashion. Blood dripped down Dave’s front like a giantess’ menses as he tried to recollect his thoughts. It seemed like the darkness was re-infecting his mind; making it hard to think straight.

“Won’t make me hurt you. I love you Jenny.”

“That’s soooo sweet!” she licked Dave’s blood from her claws, “but it’s far to late for me!. You should never have brought me to Hell, Dave! It’s all your fault!”

Stabs of guilt; fire and ice; gut writhing like week old puppies in a kebab shop basement. Dave felt weak at the knees. Only one thing for it, then. He pulled the possessed girl’s face to his, looking directly into her eyes, and soul kissed her. Literally pulling her too him, joining their souls for a moment.

Casting out the darkness in the burning fire of love. Howling dark winds filled the corridor as the twice-beaten creature battered and buffeted them with its essence.

“Dave… I love you Dave.”

“We’re not going anywhere else. Whatever’s behind all this can show itself. Now.”

“Aye, and get the ass kicking of a thousand lifetimes.”

The floor dissolved and they dropped into new darkness.

 

Lilith’s Sanctum

Six loud splashes sounded in quick succession. Ten feet wide pits of molten earth lined the room, bubbling and churning with volcanic heat. They lit the area a dull-reddish orange, casting their light over the deep pool of warm blood in which five naked figures were finding their feet and a sixth was gamely dog paddling. They cast their light everywhere save over the great throne-like chair sat against the back wall, lit from above with pure white light. The business suited Lilith sat forward on her chair, resting her chin on her hands as she gazed upon the figures in the blood. Lilith had no problem looking into the ill-lit space outside of her pool of light. Her black boots shone, and her black hair was free of it’s sometime ponytail, styled around her shoulders and back. She seemed both at ease and attentive; a woman of contradictions.

In the pool, surprises were piling up as they fought to clear their eyes of sticky and stinging blood. Their problems were compounded by the smell of the large amount of warm blood, but their noses had already adjusted to Hell’s air – and Dave had even visited Paris once – so they weren’t reacting as badly as some did.

“Dave? Jim-Bob? Some dog… Wait! That’s Minty Foo Foo from The Thin Cat!”

“See? I told you he was down here.” That was Dave, tired but smug, to the others.

“WRAF!”

“You came to hell looking for me! Holy hell, that’s some scabbing on your chest!”

“No, Pete, I came looking for him.”

Pete let the insult wash over him, glad to at last be freed from the tentacle beast that had deliciously tormented him so. The warm blood was somehow soothing against his tender parts. Jenny wrapped her arms around Dave from behind and hugged his bloody body close to her blood-soaked naked form, gently pressing her breasts into his back. She knew that with her blood slicked hair hanging flat against her hair and her hat lost, her ears were on show to the others; that in the semi-darkness her eyes wouldn’t look human. The cat-girl considered this and more as she wrapped her long tail around in front of Dave as well and said,

“I love you” in his ear.

“WRAF!”

Jim-Bob looked guiltily down at the dog, still gamely dog paddling in the waist deep blood pool. The biochemist was amazed at the dog’s energy, he felt aching and tired; particularly sore in the crotch area. He was also wondering how they hadn’t suffered injuries falling into only waist deep liquid from what had seemed like a great height. He resolved to stay quietly at the back while still holding on to the vague hope that it was all some fever-dream.

Jenny, meanwhile, had recognized the man in the pet collar. She snarled with anger and Dave felt claws prick into his shoulders.

“YOU NEVER PAID YOUR TAB! THAT’S TWELVE PINTS YOU OWE ME FOR! BACK THE NEXT NIGHT, MY ARSE!” she shouted, at the same time gaining some small measure of unintended vengeance on Dave, who now had a ringing noise in his ear. Jenny’s tail was swishing around, even slicked down with blood. The object of her ire backed away quickly, hands raised. As a former regular in The Thin Cat Free House, He knew all about her knob kerrie and her normally fierce eyes scared him a lot more now than he remembered. He started to stammer his defense

“I was just on my way to pay off the tab when I was taken to hell! Honest! Look at this collar! Property of Ashlee Rothea!”

Jenny just hissed at him, as Pete tried sneakily to catch a glimpse of one of the cat-girl’s blood-slicked nipples as she leaned around Dave.

“Good morning. Welcome to My Place, my Inner Sanctum.” Lilith finally spoke, immediately drawing all attention to her. There was a moment’s silence until Minty Foo Foo turned her attention back to the dog paddling. Since they had left for Hell in the morning, Jim-Bob thought it ought to be late afternoon or evening easily by then. It never even occurred to him that even Time could move differently in Hell, or seem to. Jim-Bob’s personal theory of relativity was that his little brother was adopted.

“Who’s that?” Pete whispered to The Narrator.

“Lilith. She raped me…” he whispered back, still more scared of Jenny. That girl had a reputation back in Norwich. Dragons had reputedly donned dark glasses and hid rather than try to chain her to a rock, and face her wrath.

“Tentacles?”

“No.”

“Stand aside!” Pete said loudly, “I’ll handle this!”

“Shut up Pete. Handle yourself quietly in the corner or something,” Dave’s voice was weary. The blood soaked student wanted to be happy that they’d found Him, even if it meant finding Pete too. He could just tell that this wasn’t the end of it all though, and he hadn’t even read the script.

“I’m sure you’re all dying to know why I’ve brought you here,” Lilith sighed. The sentence almost becoming her catchphrase – one of the downsides of having far-reaching plans achieved through masterful manipulations was that they could sometimes be a bit samey. James Bond villains know what I mean.

“I couldn’t give a flying fuck“ Jenny’s bored voice summed up the feelings of all the readers scrolling through for another sex scene. Lilith angrily leapt up from her chair and raised her arms towards Dave and Jenny. Pete was hopefully of seeing a hot cat-fight between the women, but with an effort of will Lilith regained control of herself and waved dismissively as she re-seated herself.

“Dave, I have watched you and seen the true and deep love you feel for that… girl. I wanted to see that love; to see it hold through those trials, to see you walk arm in arm into Hell for a friend. To see that you possess all that is pure and good about humanity.”

The Narrator noticed Pete was gingerly rubbing his ass under the surface of the blood, and turned his attention away. Pete’s ass was not something he wished to dwell on further and anyway, he thought, it was probably just sore from pillar friction. Jim-Bob was thinking about how Dave had only met Jenny after they had decided to go to Hell. He assumed there was more they weren’t being told.

“So, all this stuff we’ve been through was down to you?” Jenny asked, and the anger was building in her voice.

“Yes, girl. My pets and allies entertained your friends and tested your love for each other.”

“Ah, so that female tentacle demon was yours then?” The Narrator broke in, suddenly angry himself. He hadn’t mentally enjoyed being used without his Mistress’ consent. It was much the feeling a stolen vibrator felt.

“Argyria The Silver? Yes, it’s a servant of mine, A Hermaphrodite.” Jim-Bob, who’d been staying silent and avoiding any attention, looked up and rolled his eyes at the name. Minty Foo Foo contrived to look jealous, misunderstanding Jim-Bob’s expression as him knowing the ‘female tentacle demon.’

“Eh? That’s… both sets of sexual organs, right? I only saw this vaginal tentacle th…”

He turned to look at Pete, who looked back with an expression that said ‘Mine eyes have NOT seen the glory’. His mouth dropped wide and throwing mental caution to the wind he found himself in the Scary Visual Place™ popular with Sunnydale High students. Stingers in the balls suddenly didn’t seem all that bad. Lilith had resumed talking about Dave.

“Dave, you have grown to be a loving and considerate human being, despite your mother’s influence…”

Dave wasn’t the sort to let that kind of comment pass, “Don’t you DARE insult my mum – I don’t care who you are!”

“Dave, I AM your Mother.”

Lilith changed, suddenly becoming Dave’s much loved and well respected maternal parent, and when she spoke again it was in a voice Dave knew well.

“I know you think this is a demonic trick, but it isn’t. You are the first entirely human son I’ve had in centuries, Dave, and I was sure you’d be as evil as any of the Lilim born of demon fathers. But you’re not; you’re a good man.”

Silence reined in Lilith’s Sanctum as Minty Foo Foo had finally climbed out of the blood pit. Dave did think it was a trick, but Lilith now looked and sounded just like his dear old mum and part of him was starting to believe.

“Uh…” The Narrator began, suddenly hideously embarrassed, “Dave…”

“Yes?”

“Oh… never-mind… you don’t need to know.”

“I have enemies, my son, old and powerful. I needed to make sure you would be safe; I birthed and raised you in this form,” Lilith ran her hands down her stomach and continued, “More than two decades ago. My belly will soon swell as the soul captured in my womb grows into a babe.”

“Uh…” The Narrator began again, as a second thought occurred to him, “Does that mean when you…?”

“Yes.”

The Narrator started breathing deeply; he couldn’t have stopped himself for all the T in Mister:

“Dave… I am your father…Hey! I guess that spunk in the bath thing was co-incidence after all” he said, mixing the famed Darth Vader quote with the less well known Luke-to-Han aside from the Welsh Dub of the film.

“So what happens now?” That was Dave, whose voice had moved through weary to resigned. He clearly didn’t want to pursue the idea of his parentage any further; something that’s also a good idea whenever you’re born with fifteen toes in Consang, Idaho.

“I’m sending you all back to Earth and traveling into the past; avoiding any contact with the other me, my past self…” Everyone brightened up at that – Especially the readers. It seemed the quest was over without further hardship, stress, strain and tentacle rape.

“But…” The Narrator trailed off and raised a bloody hand to his collar; the length of broken chain still hung from it. He didn’t need words. He was thinking of how he was property, how he’d decided hanging in the tentacles of Lilith’s pet that he would return to his post; to take his Mistress punishment. He felt a sense of guilt at running away, even to help Pete, was on a par with the pained conscious of a guy who introduced Courtney Love to, well, anyone. Lilith, as ever, had her own idea;

“My son has quested through Hell to find you, to take you back to Earth. He shall. Beyond that, I really couldn’t care less – I’ve taken what I need from you. Anyway, you did run away so don’t go getting high and mighty with me. I’ve had enough of that from him upstairs.” She spoke with a disdainful sneer, different to the smile she wore speaking to Dave.

“Goodbye, my son.” Lilith clapped her hands. There was a minimum of showy special effects, beyond a rather nice glowing pentagram that formed in the blood, and they stood cleaned and clothed in Pete’s room. A whole shitload of unanswered questions fermented in the minds of the group. Like, if Dave’s father was The Narrator, who fathered his older brother? Just what was Preeti’s terrible crime? And what did Tyler Durden have against women?

“That’s it?” Jenny snapped, “Clap the hands, abracadabra, and we’re back here, all clothed, as if nothing bloody happened?”

“I’M ALIVE!” Pete shouted as he wrapped his quilt tightly around his cold body. His ego was instantly crushed as this was met with general apathy, “Hello? Anyone?”

“WRAF!”

“Oh come on!” Jenny still ranted, annoyed she’d been sent back minus her hat, “All this pointless nonsense… Just an excuse for kinky sex!”

Jim-Bob shrugged, “Life is a lemon,” he quoted, “Well. Pete’s Alive, He’s back from hell, Dave’s found true love and I have a biochemistry degree to get back to at Oxford.” Everything sounded a lot simpler when Jim-Bob put it like that. Wielding magic swords and fighting demons is all well and good, but when was the last time you met a hero who could summarize?

“You’ve taken the revelation that Hell exists remarkably well.”

Jim-Bob shook his head, “I’m sorry? Can you prove that?”

“But we all just got back!”

“Unreliably anecdotal evidence isn’t proof I’m afraid. Nor is his return.” Jim-Bob was rafting down denial, avoiding the crocodiles of proof and the foaming Osiris-phallus of Dave’s unshakable faith. The Narrator decided to break in before a religious discussion broke out.

“Well, son…” he began, putting a companionable hand on Dave’s shoulder. Dave’s face twisted in displeasure; not because the hand had just been used to adjust a crotch that hadn’t worn clothes in a year of Earth time, but because Dave didn’t want to believe anything Lilith had said.

“Don’t give me that. She was a demon, right? She was obviously lying because she wants me to go to hell.”

“Dude; that was Lilith, the first woman. Not a demon. Anyway, a lot of demons tell the truth – they just twist it so people can get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah? Well then she’s a woman and woman…” Dave felt claws press out ever so gently near his groin, and gulped, “Good point. Right… Dad.” Even so, it was clear from the expressions Dave was tossing at the itchingly-clothed sometime narrator that he didn’t believe Lilith.

“This sort of things keeps happening to us,” Pete muttered from the depths of his quilt, “but at least there’s usually science involved. Remember that Time Machine Adventure? Or the dimension crossing, or the Dive Iscariot Vs The Narrator wars we got stuck in?”

Dave turned to Jenny, “Don’t mind Pete. He’s a continuity nut,” Jenny smiled seductively at him. The cat-girl pushed her hands gently up his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck; as she did so her warm hand brushed across his crotch with no hint of claws.

“I like nuts, Dave.” The combined sleazy presences of Jim-Bob and Pete had obviously been rubbing off on Jenny. No, not like that. The cat-girl was also making the most of having a lover for the first time in years; a lonely period in which she’d gone through more dildos than Lysistrata on a peace protest “Let’s go have a lie down?” she finished.

And they did.

The End of Hellish Reward II!

Except, of course, for The Epilogue, which is below. Some questions to consider:

Given that Angels are sterile, why do they say the Anti-Christ has to be the son of Satan?

If shepherds are so great, why do the sheep mostly end up slaughtered?

If someone wants to have a belief system that has nothing to do with Satan, why call it Satanism?

Why did a car hit that old lady selling lucky heather?

And finally, why the fuck does my sister’s cat howl at the moon?

 

Hellish Reward II: The Epilogue

Less Humor. Less Plot. More Sex.

His friends went to Hell to find him, to bring him home. Was he grateful? Was he fuck!

Norwich: A winter’s morning

“Yeah, all well and good for Dave and Jenny, and Jim-Bob and Pete, but nobody cared what I wanted! I wasn’t surprised though – If Lilith had given a damn she wouldn’t have used me.” He kept up a low grade mumbling as he wandered the roads back to his old student digs. It was a beautiful cold winter’s morn with a good layer of snow wherever cars hadn’t turned it to slush. The mumbler wasn’t in the best position to enjoy the weather, wearing only a thin t-shirt over itching jeans. Hell, he thought, had better weather than England.

“Well…” He stopped at the gateway and looked down at the student house. There was a downstairs front bedroom, but unlike at Pete’s place the front door opened into a narrow hallway. A box of pot noodles sat under the phone table. There was less sign of life than at an Amish Disco. Pete had wanted to turf him out so he could get back to living; fortunately he had remembered that his old room should still be in his name, and set out into the cold without so much as a loaned coat from the tight formerly-dead git (After Argyria’s attentions Pete was probably formerly tight as well). Jim-Bob had pissed off back to Oxford and nobody could understand why the dog seemed so depressed as Jenny and Dave had returned to the upper rooms of Pete’s place. Turning his mind back to the present, he was amazed to find his housemates were still using the same rusted lager can in the flowerbed for a spare key, and fed the freezing metal into the door lock.

“I’m back…” he called, “Just uh… nipped down the shop… you know what the queues are like…” They’d never believe a whole year in a queue. Six months at most. Nobody replied. He walked into the house and swung the door shut behind him. The note board above the telephone table showed that the expected four were still in residence and, to his disappointment, Mr Pizza takeaway had put prices up.

A loud groan of pleasure sounded through the lounge door. He looked incredulous – it was not a room that tended towards pleasurable experiences. It was depressing; an ill-furnished fleapit with curry stains on the wall. At least, everyone hoped it was curry.

“Drew must be watching a porno… That fricking pervert… wouldn’t catch me jerking off in the living room” he muttered, truthfully. Up in the privacy of his bedroom was another matter. He pushed open the living room door and stepped in.

The curtains were drawn with stacks of candles providing light. There is nothing out of the ordinary in this for student houses. Drew wasn’t watching a porno. The student was bound naked to a chair, blindfolded, with a red-ball gag in his mouth, and heavy red welts and blood leaking wounds across his bare sweaty back. He was lying limply, clearly unconscious.

The other three third year students – the girls – were in the very center of the small room. Astrid, the 6’4 muscular rugby-playing student from Denmark; Ros, the deeply Christian conservative-minded petite blonde whose head barely reached Astrid’s breasts; Jemma, the brunette favored the grungy look, who joined every protest going and has piercings in her nipples, ears, bottom lift, left eyebrow, bellybutton and labia. The girls. As he had never seen them before, save in the depths of the horniest fevered fantasy. They ignored him.

Straps fit snugly around the flesh of brunette and blonde as Astrid wrestled tongues with Jemma over Ros’s shoulder. The petite girl’s shapely legs were hanging inches off the floor as she weakly kicked sweaty feet in the air. Astrid looked as if every fantasy she’d ever secretly had about her housemates had come true; buried to the strap-on hilt in a cute girl who never seemed to know just how hot she was. She was easily supporting Ros’s small frame with one hand on her hot little ass, and gently playing with the tight anal ring stretched wide around Jemma’s dildo with the other. Pubic hair from Jemma’s untamed bush splayed around the leather straps, soaked and shining from Jemma’s juices.

They broke the kiss as Jemma took good handfuls of Ros’s perky breasts and slowly slid the slick dildo from the moaning student’s sucking ass, until only the head remained inside. Grinning lustfully, Astrid mimicked the maneuver, bringing her own girl cum slicked rod out of Ros’s tight pussy, causing love-juice to slick down into her own blonde bush. The sweat-soaked girl’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Astrid with mute pleading as Jemma massaged her breasts and playfully pinched her nipples.

“Do you want some more?” Astrid asked, her Danish accent thicker than usual; Her hair hung in plaits and her skin seemed very pale against Ros’s recent winter holiday tan. She brought to mind images of Viking pillagers. Ros could only nod weakly in reply, driven to exhaustion by pleasures she’d never imagined; her soul and faith traded for lust.

“Then what do you say?” Jemma sighed into Ros’s sweet ear, as she trailed a hand down and danced her fingers around the girl’s slippery button. Her pierced nipples were tingling and swollen; sticky with Astrid’s saliva. Ros drew on reserves of strength she never knew she had to gasp out a desperate “P…p..p..lease… P…please… more…”

“Good girl!” Astrid told her, not unkindly. With a mighty thrust of her wide strong hips she sank the entire length of hot plastic into Ros’s stretched pussy; Jemma gently pinched the girls swollen erect clit as she pushed her own length up into the shuddering petite girl’s bowels. Consumed with raw, animal need the girls concentrated on finding a matching rhythm in their bouncing lover.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened – and a good thing too as Jim-Bob had already left for Oxford, complaining about petrol costs. There was movement behind him, something being lifted from the side table. Cold sweat broke out over him as he trembled. He felt the tails of what felt very much like a leather Cat rub across his t-shirted back and hoped Drew didn’t have any unpleasant blood diseases.

“Look at you, pet, wearing clothes, reeking of sex, standing proudly before me. What am I going to do with you?”

He dropped to his knees so fast dust was knocked up from the carpet; there were carpets in crypts kept in better condition than the ugly, fag-butt burned mess that covered the student living room. He felt his head being pushed forward from behind, and found he was being held face down against the foul carpet. The demon girl crouched beside him and he saw dirty black leather boots out of the side of his eye. She was wearing the same form as when he’d first… saved her. Fresh snow was melting on the boots; she’d come in from outside. He’d never even heard the door, so closely was he watching the girls. Hell, even superman wouldn’t have heard it. He’d have been too busy trying to do something to cover the boner tenting his costume.

The demon girl ran her fingers through his hair so that it fell down his face and prevented him seeing to the side. She pressed down on a metal link of the broken chain, and snapped it from the collar. The familiar mixture of fear and arousal was flowing with the blood of his veins as he shivered with anticipation. Her lightest touch on his neck caused pre-cum to dribble wetly from his piss-slit as Astrid and Jemma reached a rhythm of thrusting and rubbing and Ros really began to squeal.

When the demoness had come to the house, she’d worn sensible winter clothes. Removing them had revealed a black leather catsuit, with a zip running from crotch to just below her breasts. There the material curved around, showing her cleavage, just covering her nipples, and was buttoned up about her throat. The boots had high heals and were an integral and sexy part of the catsuit. Whether in demon or human form, Ashlee Rothea enjoyed the feel of leather against her body. The demoness’ Jet-black main hung down her back as far as her waist, as thick, luscious and dark as she wore it in Hell.

“Well? Haven’t you got anything to say for yourself?” raising her voice slightly to be heard over the enraptured cries of Ros. His mouth was dry; he couldn’t form words. Ashlee Rothea enjoyed his fear as she rested a warm hand on the back of his neck, beneath his hair. Her nails were long, but not the talons of the pit. He’d always been afraid of her and yet he’d worshiped her as if she were a goddess. Now she could smell the powerful arousal coming off him as if it were steam. She sampled the surface images of his mind; she saw him imagining many painful deaths at her hand, punishments to scare even demons. The cat-suited demoness felt her lightly furred slit growing wet as she sampled the vibrant imagination of her wayward pet. She drank his mind like a fine wine, and there were many who’d call him a fine whiner.

“You’ve seen what I’ve made of your friends, haven’t you? Their souls are mine. Ros would have been a true saint, as honest and pure and good as Francis of Assisi, Julian of Norwich or Big Marge of Brooklyn. Now look at her; she’s my creature as you are. They’ll live their lives spreading my influence; finding me fresh meat, until they are useless and drained… and then I shall fly their souls to Hell on wings of darkness. But you?”

He moaned, wordless and animal. His dick was almost painfully hard in the jeans he wore. The demoness moved and stood, standing with her feet to either side of his head. She dropped the blood-wet cat upon the TV-times, which, by curious co-incidence, showed a bloody hot Kat Slater.

“You’ve been a pawn in Mother’s game. I’ve seen enough in your mind, my pet, to know that you’ve had no real control over your actions. Without free will you’re barely human… Like people who watch Jerry Springer.”

Her voice lacked the inhuman harmonics it had in Hell, and now it sounded like there was regret in her voice. She had realized Lilith wanted him on Earth and she would not work against her mother’s aims. He had to stay behind; he would no longer wait for her at the gates of Hell like a commuters faithful Labrador. She knew for certain her pet would not be happy either. She’d asked him, once, to compare his life in Hell to his life on Earth. He’d said he’d visited much worse places on Earth, and named Liverpool.

“Pet?

“Mistress!” Finally the words came in a flood, “Please! Give me the death I deserve! Let me satisfy you one last time with my blood and my suffering!”

‘Typical masochist,’ she thought, knowing full well that there were demons in Hell who would have done so like that. She was a succubus and there were those who said she was not as cruel as others, well, they’d never been in unrequited lust. She liked inflicting the pains of rough sex, not of torture for torture’s sake.

“Your housemate struck me, so I flogged the consciousness from him, sent him to roam Morpheus’ realm. Would you feel my tails against your skin? Ahh, sweet pet, to lap the blood from your wounds… I should do it now, swift and merciless, when you leave me standing in filthy boots!”

He recognized her voice lose it’s regretful edge and take on a harsher, yet more playful tone. He lifted his head as the demoness balanced perfectly on one leg and pushed her left boot to his mouth. He began to lick the leather around the toes, tasting the mud and snow, and the filth of the road. Ashlee Rothea looked down with dominating glee as he worked his tongue on her boot, though head and hair obscured her view. She unbuttoned the catsuit about her neck, and zipped it down to her crotch. The demoness’ breasts were smaller in human form, but no less inviting. Perky nipples poked from dark brown aureole, damp with leather sweat. Spicy demonic honey was shining on the lips of her black furred snatch; the scent spread down to his nose. He moaned and kissed her left ankle through the boot leather, licked down to her spiked heel.

“That’s good pet, nice and…ah… clean just the way it should be. Now clean the other one.”

He hoped the shoeshine union didn’t hear about this, and send round the heavies with pick axe handles. The leather-clad demoness adjusted her footing on the filthy carpet. She closed her eyes and listened to Julia and Astrid fucking Ros towards yet another climax. The muscular Astrid still held Ros tightly in her arms, working her wide hips with the strength and stamina of years of training. The grungy brunette was on her knees, sticky dildo still sprouting from her hips, kissing the bouncing blonde’s buttocks, licking her sweaty dirt-star and even French-kissing the girl’s butt hole whenever she could. The petite blonde sounded absolutely exhausted, barely able to plead for more.

Ashlee Rothea’s belly was filled with the warmth of a hard job done well. She raised her other boot to his mouth and started to work sticky fingers into her snatch; the fleshy folds of her inhuman sex were ever snug around her probing fingers. She fed him the heel of her boot; the sole of the leather foot-ware was pushed between his eyes as tongued the hard heel. He was close to blowing a load in his pants, so incredibly horny and so elated that nothing had changed between them.

“Enough, pet.” The demoness licked the pussy juice from her fingers. She stripped quickly from her leather catsuit as he remained face down on the floor. Her naturally warm flesh was shining with salty sweat as she stood naked in the candlelight. The scent of her sex was very strong now, overpowering even the heady mixture of sweat and multiple orgasms rising from the girls. Juice left her thighs sticky as she bent for a handful of his hair and pulled him, pained but unresistant, to the nearest wall.

“Wash the road dirt from your mouth…” she needed say no more. He rose on his knees and kissed her gently on the belly, as she gently pushed hair back from around his face, “Pleasure me now, pet! Don’t make me fetch the peanut butter!” He grinned, as the shadows hid her eyes, and ran his hands up her naked legs. The name tag on his collar jingled quietly as he blew air across her inhuman pussy. Ashlee Rothea’s back arched against the wall and she gasped as he ran his hands over the hot, smooth, skin of her naked gleaming thighs. He licked the length of her spiced demon lips from base to top, moaning as he did so. It had been too long since he’d tasted her. The demoness’ eyes rolled back as he went to work, feasting on the juice of her sex as if it were nectar.

“Oh yeaah! That’s it pet! More! MORE!”

He pushed his tongue inside her pussy as far as he could, the slick walls gripped the tip of his tongue as he pushed a finger into her snatch and thrust the squeezed digit inside, followed by another. The hot wet heat tightly massaged his fingers and he thought of his cock sheathed in there, as the straining tool leaked pre-cum, jutting out between his knelt legs. He turned his tongue to the skin around her swollen button, licking around it as he finger-fucked her pussy. Pleasure was arcing like lightning through the demoness’ belly, and even in human form her nails were leaving grooves in the wall behind her. He pulled his fingers out from her pussy as she wrapped her other leg over her neck, humping her streaming pussy on his sticky upturned face.

“OooooohhhhhhhhhOOOHHHHHHHHHH!” One long syllabic wail escaped her lips as he suddenly sucked her clit and flicked his tongue against it. Glass smashed and the wall cracked under her hands as she came over his face, spicy-sweet juice gushing into his mouth, his eyes. Her whole body spasm-ed against the wall, supported on his shoulders as still she climaxed, riding the rushing torrent of an inhuman orgasm. The pain in his ears was eclipsed by the greatest unselfish pleasure of all; that of bringing his mistress to a screaming, gushing explosion of release and pleasure.

As she finally stated to come down, her limp body dipped down the wall. He gently allowed her to drop down onto his knees, his cock thrust up between them, and held her shaking form in his arms. He took pleasure from the closeness of her body to his, the hot skin of her legs wrapped around his waist, the hard, sweaty nipples against his chest and the feel of her dark hair down his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Time passed in the little room; candlelight fell on the cracked TV screen, the shards from the often-unused light bulbs and it fell on the three girls, who were still locked in passionate play.

“Pet… I’m not giving you up. If Mother wants you on Earth, then on Earth you shall be. But you’ll still be mine.”

“I live for you. I would kill myself to return to Hell for you, Mistress.”

“I know it, pet. I know it.” She hugged him; it was very rare for a demon to trust anyone implicitly, yet he had saved her of his own free will that night in Norwich, he’d given himself to her with no need for the subtleties of the succubus; he’d never once appeared to regret anything he’d done for her. It is said that demons are incapable of love, but Ashlee Rothea would have said she felt something akin to it for her pet.

She pushed her feet against the floor, and lifted herself off his thighs. Understanding her unspoken intent, he reached down and shredded his jeans – getting involved with demons can be hell on the wardrobe budget – and took a grip on his straining cock, positioning it so she could ‘rest’ her red parted nether lips on the crown. He was breathing deeply, his attention and eyes between his legs as the demoness slowly impaled herself on his meat. Adamantium self-control, learned during his year in hell, prevented him coming instantly as he entered. She impaled herself fully as wet juice soaked his bush, dribbling down around his balls.

There was no need for words, for anything so human and civilized as language as she pulled his hands onto her hips and wordlessly encouraged him to lift her up his shaft again. He began to fuck her up and down the length of his shaft, as she gripped her legs about his body. The demoness held his head in her hands and licked his face as she slithered up and down his sticky shaft, the hot long tongue left trails of saliva on his face.

He was fucking her tight inhuman snatch with all the strength in his arms, driven by lust and need. Ashlee Rothea was already close to a new orgasm and squealing in time with the pounding. She gripped his cock tight on every inward thrust, squeezing and massaging him. Skin tore from his back as she raked it with nails, blood dripping and dribbling down the skin as salty sweat stung the wounds. His eyes were wide as the pleasure-pain consumed him. Ashlee Rothea sucked a bloody finger into her mouth and screamed again as she came anew. On cue he held her screaming, climaxing body against his crotch and fired he first blast of pet-spunk inside her, followed by another, and another. Hot seed pumped into her demonic womb, squished back down his cock, nearly firing back out from her shuddering, squeezing pussy.

“Haaaaa….ahhhaa…ha” groaned he, coming, as the cracked windows dropped from their frames into the street. The kitchen sink was entirely unaffected. It was becoming increasingly doubtful that the students would regain their damage deposits. The cold air from outside started to flow into the room, making the candle flames flicker.

AshleeRothea lifted her shaking, sticky body from his. He looked up into her eyes as the strong smell of her cum and juice streaming pussy filled his nostrils. He saw sadness in the woman’s eyes as she reached down and detached the collar from his neck. Tears appeared in his eyes; he felt abandoned, alone.

“I… must.. put my mark on you, pet.” Her voice still sounded weakened, shudderly, after her powerful orgasms, “It will hurt.”

He nodded, unafraid, as he tried to wipe the tear streaks from his cheeks.

“ASTRID! Attend me!” The Dane quickly pulled her large plastic shaft from Ros’s clammy, sore pussy and unceremoniously dropped her onto Jemma. She walked across the room, narrowly avoiding the broken glass on the floor. Ros was almost limp, driven to exhaustion from incredibly multiple orgasms. Jemma laid the girl on the floor and turned her pierced tongue to the splayed, flushed sex of her housemate. After the pounding and fucking of Astrid’s lust, the soft attentions of Jemma on her pussy was more relaxing than Ros could bare.

A hot stream of yellow piss burst from her urethra, straight into the surprised Grunge-chick’s mouth. Unperturbed, she thirstily drank the acrid waste water, pushing her own fingers under the strap on dildo that still hung from her hips. Embarrassment flushed Ros’s face as it came to her she was urinating into Jemma’s mouth. She pushed her long fingers into the unkempt brunette hair, as Jemma swallowed the last bursts of piss. The blonde gasped as new pleasure began to flow through her, as the studded tongue was swirled around her clit. She gripped hair and tried to pull Jemma’s face further into her pussy. The brunette lapped hungrily at Jemma’s pussy while finger fucking her own unsatisfied snatch towards a dripping climax.

Astrid stopped before the standing demoness, and the kneeling pet. Her large strap-on dildo was at eye-level, seeming far too huge to have been easily accommodated by the smaller girl’s frame. Her eyes flitted across the naked bodies before her, lingering on the demoness’ bare breasts and the sticky mess of cum-leaking pussy. She bowed her head before Ashlee Rothea and asked deferentially,

“Mistress?” she asked, resting sticky hands on her strap-bound meaty hips.

“Kneel!” Astrid did so, sitting before him. Ashlee Rothea slinked around behind him, and pushed his head forwards towards Astrid’s lap. He leaned forward and began to hesitantly lick Ros’ juices from the strap-on, embarrassed to be licking such a phallic object. He’d done a lot that he might once have considered humiliating as Ashlee Rothea’s pet, but this was new. Astrid took his head in her hands, and looked up at their mistress. The demoness read the intent in her eyes, and nodded.

“Ha!” Astrid held his head in place and pushed the juice-slicked plastic “cock head” into his mouth. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, begging her not to do what he suspected she was gonna. The Danish girl spat in his face and forced his head down the shaft, as his eyes bulged.

“Worthless male bitch!” she taunted him, as he gagged. His jaw ached from the size of the dildo almost instantly, and he coughed and spluttered, trying to take whatever air he could, “fuckin’ look at you! You expect girls to do this for you, you piece of shit? You fucking enjoy doing that fucker?” Astrid’s thick Danish accent somehow added a greater air of threat to her voice as she forced the dildo down into his throat, stretching his neck. The pain and humiliation were incredible, and grew as he realized he was getting hard again. He gripped the carpet, unwilling to try and push Astrid away and anger her further.

Ashlee Rothea was holding her hand out, starting at the palm. The breeze dropped from outside as a red glow began, forming a hellish, dancing design on the palm of her hand.

“Hold him still.”

Astrid forced the suffering man’s face down to her crotch, so the entire plastic length was buried in his spasming gullet, then held him hard with her other hand. Ashlee Rothea placed her palm flat against his trembling shoulder blade, above the scratches and bleeding, and incredible searing pain shot through him. He screamed around the dildo gagging him, a throaty moaning cry of agony and pleading. The demoness held her hand in place for a full ten seconds as he moaned and cried, gagged into a softer, quieter burbling.

Finally, she removed her hand and pulled him up by the hair. Light shone from his back, red and hateful, before fading to a vivid red scar. Looking into his purple, gasping, tear stained face Ashlee Rothea spoke solemnly.

“You bear my mark always and forever. ”

All he could do was try and nod, despite his hair gripped in her hand “…y..y.ess mistress! Thank you mistress!” he finally managed.

THE END

 

Until Hellish Reward III: Return of The Jenny

If you have enjoyed this story and sit now with a sticky keyboard, or a damp chair, or just split sides… please email me to tell me. You can be mean if you want; I’ll get off on it. How does that song go? “Torture me… I’m just an animal, you see…” given a different band, that could have been a hymn. I guess Thalia was not impressed with my last sacrifice for the comedy has not flowed with ease this time.