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Devil's Swing [ Bear & TheDormantDoorman ]

H

HeyThereLittleBear

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At the young age of twenty-one, you never expected to the forced to get your life right. You didn't think about things like religion or morality, didn't ponder about all of the things that could go wrong in your day to lead you to death. But yet here she was, lying on cool concrete as the distant walls of sirens started to grow near and the darkness at the edges of her vision pressed in

Mickey hadn't expected this to happen, hadn't planned her own death. She didn't even think that something could happen to her. She had been overall a good person, a good girl. But lately her life had turned towards the party lifestyle. Each night a different man and each day a new hell to wake up to. She fended off the inevitable hangover with the best cure - a hot cup of coffee.

But that hot cup of coffee lead to this - dying on a street and pinned down by her own vehicle. She had looked away for a moment, just a moment and then it had happened. Her car veered a little to the left. Just a little bit at just the right time and the impact had been disastrous. The seatbelt saved her from hitting the windshield but dkdnt help much when the vehicle titled and then rolled, skidding on its side to a rough stop. A piece of something had come through the glass and pierced her, a fatal wound

And now she debated religion, staring at the last bits of light in her vision as everything else turned black. And then the lights were gone and she took her last breath on earth.

For a few blessed moments, there was nothing. Darkness. Silence. No touch. No smell. The first thing was light - harsh and bright against her eyes, making her squint as she started to smell again. The stench was foul. Burning flesh and roasting brimstone, the belly of hell a hot and reeking mess. Her hand covered her mouth just before she started to feel.

And the only thing she felt now was pain, hot and searing her as she was introduced into her new home. She choked, coughed, then uncovered her mouth and screamed. Screamed even though it was useless.
 
He went by many names: Lucifer, Satan, the Devil. None of these he'd actually given himself, but humans insisted using them. In the end, he grew to like 'the Devil'. There was something sinister, terror-inspiring about it, and he preferred that image they had of him. In reality he wasn't much different from what the humans thought he was, but the one thing they'd always gotten wrong was that he made them do bad or evil things. The truth was that humans did all those things of their own accord, and the only duty belonging to him was to punish those who performed those deeds.

And this was where he did it--his office, his playground. He observed the vast, burning planes of hell from a hole in his tower, crafted of molten rock. He closed his snake-like eyes in pleasure as he listened to the screams and yells of all those unfortunate enough to find themselves here.

Then, suddenly, in through the hole flew a tiny demon. It had bat wings and an enormous head in proportion to its skinny body. The Devil dodged out of the way, his hoofed feet clicking on the floor.

"Vincent!" he thundered, "what is the meaning of this?" The little creature bounced around the room before stabilizing itself before its master.

"Very sorry, sir! Very sorry! But Vincent has information which Your Most Horrible Self might find pleasing!"

"You--you don't mean about...?"

"Yesh! Yesh!"

The Devil's expression softened almost instantaneously. A resemblance of a smile, a few sharp teeth showing, appeared on his bright-crimson face. He was a male, after all, and his favorite type of sinners were women. He took pleasure in torturing them in a wide manner of unthinkably vile ways. But he had been bored lately. He'd been craving young, slender meat, someone with a flaming red head of hair (those just refused to die young). Therefore, it was music to his ears to hear Vincent say how someone like that had just landed down on the plane.

"Fetch me Belial and Orobas," the Devil said, "let's go see this newcomer."

The three descended down to the plane engulfed in hellfire, immune to the heat, even welcoming of it. Orobas was incredibly muscular and had a horse's head. Belial, on the other hand, could pass as a common, bearded human male. When the Devil caught her scent, he rushed in the direction where it came from, his demons in his stride. They found her screaming from the pain of her flesh being seared off, only to heal again. The Devil couldn't believe his eyes. She was just right. He snapped his fingers and the flames pulled away from her, and all of her wounds healed.

"Belial, Orobas," he told them, "take her back to my personal torture cell. We're going to have some fun."

The demons nodded in reply, and approached the naked girl before them.
 
In hell there was no concept of time, not because of the lack of clocks but because seconds seemed to stretch into hours and minutes into years. She didn't know how long she suffered in the hell fire, didn't care either that it had been less than half an hour. It felt like a lifetime of her fatty tissue boiling beneath her skin only to rupture and sizzle down, her screams so agonized that her throat ached.

Her hair would catch flame and devour her head and she lost her vision. Then everything was back - her skin once again flawless and hair lustrous but her body still burning, forever burning. At least, until He came. It was the only He that mattered in a place like this - the undisputed King of hell. Old Scratch himself. He was a handsome man, as far as that could be said, though he looked just as cartoons had always depicted him. Possibly by humans having glimpsed him eons ago, or by personal choice.

And at his command, and his command only, the fires ceased. With the agony gone, she fought for breath through her heat and air tortured throat, her body healing itself as she gained back the oxygen she had lost. Mickey had barely gotten back to a state of normal when she heard his command, the two associates coming in close and grasping her by the arms.

She struggled as much as anyone would, but it was a futile fight against them. This was hell, not a playhouse. And she was now the Devil's bitch.
 
The Devil and his two minions made their way back to his tower over the burning landscape. They passed by many poor souls screaming for help, for death, for anything to set them free from their agony. They didn't even pay attention to the three abominations, clearly preoccupied with their own troubles.

The girl thrashed her milky white legs around and struggled with all her might, but Belial and Orobas made short work of her efforts each time. Humans had always fascinated the Devil, most of all in their refusal to give up against all odds. But he liked watching her. The futility of her efforts would make the ultimate pleasure all the sweeter.

They eventually reached his tower. He purposefully took the long way around, so she could see each of the individual torture cells. In reality there were countless, as the tower went infinitely underground, but he figured the sight of these few was enough. There were both men and women in them, bound and unbound, suffering mutilation, burning, rape, and countless other tortures at the hands of both male and female demons. Some were humanoid, others disfigured monsters.

"This is only a small taste of what we have in store for you, love," Belial whispered into the girl's ear, his steamy breath burning her flesh.

When they finally reached the Devil's personal torture cell, they threw her on the floor, the blackness of which matched the rest of the room. The Devil snapped his fingers again and ropes of fire emerged from the ground and wrapped around her wrists, restraining and burning her.

"What's your name, sinner?" he asked in a deep, thundering voice. He wasn't as fortunate as the Almighty to have the gift of omniscience.
 
If Mickey had believed her situation was grim, she saw different now as she saw the different people she passed enduring different forms of torture in different stages. She watched in horror as she passed rape and torture, mutilation and humiliation. The demons were never the same shape either, most human in shape but others monstrosities that made her shudder.

The whole time she was being dragged she never gave up the fight, no matter how futile of a fight it was. The room they finally took her to was devoid of color or light and seemed to be lit but unlit at the same time. It defies anything her logical brain could explain.

At the corners of her vision she swore she could see the most unholy of things crawling on their bellies and wriggling up from the ground, but if she turned to face them they were gone.

Her captors once again put her in chains, restricting her arms but not her legs. She kicked out at one of them, growling with her teeth bared like an animal. "Fuck off, you cunt." It wasn't much compared to what else she had said in her life, but her brain wasn't working at full capacity.

As Satan entered, he seemed to fill the room with his being. He demanded attention without speaking and he got it from the now grim-lipped girl. "McKayla. I go by Mickey." she said, standing proud though there was nothing to be proud of. "And you are Beelzebub."
 
"Hm," the Devil said when she answered in the defiant way that she did. His lips had the slightest suggestion of a frown. He snapped his hard, red, black-nailed fingers again and flames immediately engulfed the girl. It would be the same thing she'd been suffering for the last half-hour all over again. "You call me that again, and I will hang you by your legs have these two slice you from cunt to brain. Again. And again. And again. Do I make myself clear?"

He turned around and walked a few steps away as she burned, his hooves clicking on the black stone. "Well, do I?!" The Devil suddenly snapped around. "Oh, right..." he feigned ignorance of the fire. His fingers clicked against each other again and at the same moment she was free from the flames. As she lay there, burned and powerless, her body healing itself back to normal, he approached her. He held her up in the air by her cheeks, his searing-hot flesh burning into her young skin. "From now on and forevermore I am the Devil to you, and you're not McKayla or Mickey or whoever else. You're the Devil's whore."

He then threw her against the cell wall. It was tempting to take her now. After all, he'd been lusting for something like this longer than he'd like to admit. But taking his time would been better satisfaction at the end. It's not like he didn't have eternity in front of him. His fingers snapped again and a rope of fire emerged from the ceiling and wrapped itself around her neck, lifting her up off the ground. Like everything in here, it burned into her skin and the tissue beneath. "Now, then," the Devil said, "let's try this again. Who am I, and who are you?"
 
She had fucked up. She knew it the moment that his lips started to frown, her body stiffening as she prepared for the worst. There was no preparing for hellfire, and she couldn't stop the screaming, though she did her best to. Her hands did their best to try and get the fire off of her, though the only thing that happened was her ending up scraping off layers and layers of burnt skin. Her hair had caught fire again and she felt the flames in her throat, the agony of it making her screams turn silent as it robbed her of all of her oxygen.

The suffering didn't end until the beast turned around again and was "reminded" that she had still been burning, though the room smelled of cooked meat and sizzling fat now. With another snap of his fingers, the hellfire was gone and she sagged to the floor, gasping in the air the best she could through her tortured throat. Her skin was already healing itself slowly, stitching back together to allow her to be permitted to suffer far more injustices.

If it wasn't for the fact that she had learned her lesson - in a way - then she wouldn't have heard his words. But she did, and she was now faced with a decision. Mickey let out a grunt as he tossed her back against the wall, rope burning and ensnaring her as it lifted her weakly from the ground. Her legs were trembling and she let out softer noises of pain, her jaw clenching tight.

Mickey might have been defeated, but her spirit wasn't broken. She wasn't the type to be defeated so easily, and she wouldn't let her time in hell be known as "the devil's whore" without a proper fight. "I am McKayla Ann White. And you are Lucifer, petulant fallen angel." She snapped, already flinching to prepare for what was sure to come.
 
For a moment the Devil couldn't believe his ears. Did she just defy him again? After all that? It was the first time someone had suffered so much at his hands and still found the will to be cheeky. Usually they'd be begging for mercy at this point. This McKayla... it seemed she would prove be as troublesome in death as she was in life.

All of this only served to spur him on, though. A low growl issued form jowls. The fallen angel. It was the title he most despised, and she'd used it. It represented the climax of humanity's misunderstanding of his nature to compare him to angels. He looked at her, weak and in pain, desperately making an effort to writhe or scream the rope off of her neck. This wouldn't do... This wouldn't do at all.

He looked at his two demons--surely they were eager to have a go at her. And they would, but not yet. The Devil would be the first to discipline her in his own way. So far, he'd been doing everything from a distance, but not anymore. The corner of his lips curved when he saw her flinch.

He walked over to her and snapped his fingers again, the rope of fire disappearing instantly as she dropped to the floor with a dull thud. "You asked for this, Miss McKayla." His hands found her shoulders and hoisted her up against the wall as he pressed his damned, scorched lips to her soft, young ones. He could feel her gentle skin peeling under the scorching warmth of his own. His tongue now emerged and entered her mouth, bypassing any resistance it might've encountered. But it didn't stay there. It made its way down her throat and esophagus, burning every inch of tissue as it went. He wiggled it inside to maximize the damage. His hands attacked her breasts now, lifting her up even further. The black claws bit into her flesh and sunk deeper and deeper with every moment. Blood was leaking all over her white chest. He could feel her ribs with the tips of his fingers.
 
She had insulted the Devil and she knew that there would be quite literal Hell to pay, and she had expected only the worst. So far, the worst of everything had been for her to be engulfed in those unholy flames that killed her only for her to live again, the process painful and making her ache even in just its memory. But there was no hell fire, there was no pain. Instead, he seemed to be stunned for just a moment, perhaps because no one dared to defy the devil when in his domain.

He was, after all, the one that was in control of anything and everything that happened here, and she was surely only making the situation worse by egging him on. But still, there was something terrible in giving in to him. Something that made her feel like less of a person if she gave in to him with only being here for less than a day.

But still, nothing happened. He closed the distance that was between the two of them, and she visibly jumped as he snapped his fingers. But instead of being consumed, she felt herself be set free, the fire-rope around her throat releasing her and letting her fall into a heap at the ground. She was confused, visibly so as the throbbing pain in her throat subsided, her body going lax as she relaxed, if even for just a moment. He said she asked for it, and maybe she did by defying him, but she didn't see another option that was viable.

His hands grasped her, his flesh burning her on contact and she let out a low groan, doing her best to suppress her cries of pain as he pinned her up against the wall he'd thrown her into just moments before. She tried to stop him from kissing her, but there was nothing she could do. His damned lips pressed against hers and she struggled to turn away, but it was impossible. He burned, burned like acid on her flesh and made her skin bubble, but what was worse was the feeling of his tongue sliding into her mouth, drying the orifice immediately and scorching her most sensitive skin. It hurt more than what she would have ever expected, and she fought against the pain, but ended up screaming into his mouth.

Her scream was muffled by his lips, only helping to open her throat and permit his tongue deeper into her body. He burned all the way down into her chest, her body feeling like it was burning down to the very core of her soul. His hands reached up and grasped at her breasts, causing the soft mounds to burn then bubble as her skin charred away, his hands touching the fatty tissue. As it all burned down, she could feel his fingers touching the ribs beneath them, her body bucking between him and the wall as she struggled against him, hoping for death, or at least some sort of release.
 
Every bit of agony she went through satisfied his sadistic sense of pleasure further. Every muffled scream of hers only served to spur him on as his tongue traced the acidic, dissolving walls of her insides. He knew she wanted to scream, to swear. Humans did that as the most rudimentary form of pain relief. But she couldn't even do that. She'd probably even settle for death at this moment, but that's a luxury not available in Hell. Her breasts were practically nonexistent at the moment as blood poured out of her chest cavity, only to sizzle and evaporate on his infernal hands.

He could hear his snorting accelerate as he opened his eyes to look at her face, contorted with agony he'd never feel or know. A strand of hair fell across her bare, white shoulder, still untouched by his hellish wrath. It was red, the color of fire, the color of him. It might've been the contrast it made with her skin, it might've been her eyeballs rolling up into her head, or it might've been the combined sensation of her breasts and mouth burning, but something snapped inside him.

His phallus fell out of its sheath involuntarily, something which had never happened before. It was thick and gigantic, almost reaching the floor when non-erect. Its surface was scaled and rough and dry, burning hot like everything else on his unholy body. A wild desire overcame him and he slammed the thing into her dry lower lips. It easily pushed past any resistance, tearing, ripping, and burning as it went, probing deep within her womb, deeper than any human ever could. There was no further stimulus necessary. Her thrashing legs provided enough movement. He felt a rush of overwhelming pleasure, born out of the height of her agony. He ejaculated a liquid most similar to molten iron into her over a long, agonizing period of half a minute. It just kept going and going. His right hand stiffened and he broke a few ribs and his tongue went even deeper, into her stomach.

The Devil pulled out after he was done and threw her mangled body to heal itself on the floor. He was done for the moment, but that in no way meant that she was off any sort of hook. "She's all yours," he told Belial and Orobas, who immediately smiled at their master, bowing before him. "Thank you," they said in unison. He exited the cell with one final glance at her, destroyed and discarded on the floor.
 
The agony was beyond unbearable, and should she have been on earth she would have passed out from the pain by now. It was a pain unlike any other to feel ones flesh being burned and bubbled off as if it were nothing more than meat on the grill, but so severe that she hadn't lost sensation yet. Her throat was raw and bleeding from the torture, only to be csuterized by the searing tongue as it delved ever deeper into her body.

Try as she might, Mickey couldn't stop her eyes from rolling back in her head. Her relief was temporary, a few second at most. With the return of her consciousness, she heard the sick sound of his cock dropping from its sheath, the scaly length impressive and as intimidating as was to be expected. Her position didn't allow her to fight more than thrashing, her body jumping as if she had been pressed with an electric jolt as his cock delved itself deep into her unwilling depths.

While she was by no means a virgin, her body was not in any way prepared to take someone so massive so swiftly. Her hips bucked and thighs spasmed as she fought against it, feeling the deepest of pains as he pushed deeper into her by the second. She could feel the head of his cock against her womb, forcing itself in like a knife. The pain of penetration was nothing compared to his orgasm, hot seed spilling from his length in forceful spasms.

The seed was worse than the cock itself, dripping from her ruined sex and burning her tender thighs like hot acid. Blisters formed and burst down her legs as it dripped down to her ankles, her body going lax as he pulled away from her slowly. She was even thankful as he tossed her aside like a used toy, her body limp as it healed itself. Her skin was pink and new, breasts forming back slowly as her inner self healed.

"No... No more." It was almost a plea, her voice cracking and body weak. Her mind was teetering on the edge, her ferocity broken.
 
With their master gone, Belial and Orobas had her all for themselves, and the cell was to be their playground of agony. They looked at each other, and then to her as she trembled on the floor. Here was a girl who'd just moments ago defiantly resisted their master, now lying broken and scared, begging for mercy, for relief of any kind. Shame for her there would be no such thing to come.

Belial, the demon with the bearded humanoid figure dressed in a robe, approached the shivering mess of a girl that was Mickey and knelt in front of her. "You're beginning to see it now, aren't you?" he said in a deep and smooth voice, "the inescapability of the situation you're in. You can beg all you want, but, trust me, it'll only get worse. Me and Orobas there are pretty horrible but you might be able to bear us without completely losing your mind. I can't say the same for when our boss comes back, though." He extended a hand towards the frightened soul, careful as to not spook her. It caught a strand of her crimson hair and then gently descended down her cheek. His eyes were a hellish red as he looked at her blue ones.

"That's why!" the shrill, raspy voice of Orobas cut through the dungeon's stone acoustics, "you might wanna do what we tell you to do!" He started prancing around the room, his two hooves clicking against the floor and his horsehead swinging wildly. Then the beast suddenly stopped and froze his gaze upon the girl. "Perhaps we might be able to soften the master up a bit, you dig?!" He ran over to where his fellow demon and Mickey were, towering over them with his animalistic, muscular stature.

Belial smiled and got up. He knew better than to stand in Orobas' way, at least in the form he was in currently. Orobas stood in front of Mickey and unsheathed his phallus. It wasn't as huge as the Devil's had been, nor was it scaly or burning. In fact, there was little to differentiate it from a horse's cock. He ran his hand over its fully erect length as it twitched with excitement, and presented it in front of Mickey's face. "You know what to do, love."
 
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