Somewhere in the dark he heard the faint sound of a door opening and closing and he immediately wrestled against his restraints. The thick rope wrapped around his chest rubbed his underarms painfully, and it had not slackened any in the time since he had regained consciousness shortly before. Twisting behind his back the rope soared into the rafters and ensured that he remained standing. He was stood on a large wooden block to which he was chained by his ankles and wrists, the leather shackles that his chains were attached to uncomfortably tight.
He could not have been awake more than ten minutes or so, and though he had quickly established that escape seemed impossible that had not stopped him from trying. He had woken up sweaty given the surprising heat of the cavernous space. It seemed to be an old warehouse or storage facility – long since abandoned if the dilapidated state was anything to go by – and yet despite the fact the only discernible source of heat were the many candles littered around the room and lining the long red carpet laid out before him the place was swelteringly hot. It was coming from the candles, he knew that much based on the way the heat reacted to their flickering burn: if they flitted away from him he would be washed with a satisfying cool, and the longer they burned the more oppressive the heat became. Already his head was throbbing and his throat was dry, while every inch of his naked body was glistening with sweat. Beyond the light of the candles, the room was illuminated by a single window set in the ceiling that shafted moonlight down onto his predicament.
Though he was not a man who allowed himself to fall victim to fear, there was an atmosphere to the room that unnerved him. It was as though things had been prepared for him. The layout of the room was oddly particular: the plinth on which he stood, the rolled out carpet, the meticulously organised candles. Not to mention the cage to the side and the large wrought iron triangle he had glimpsed behind him, complete with a large monochrome eye in the centre. It was as though he was part of some sort of bizarre ritual.
As he rattled his chains and scoured the darkness unlit by candle or moon he could only mumble and spit muffled insults around the ball-gag stuffed between his teeth. His jaw ached as he did so, but his natural fury would need more than that to be silenced.
Nevertheless, the two figures who emerged from the shadows did shock him into silence briefly.
Based on the strong grip he could recall clamped over his mouth before he had fallen unconscious, and the knowledge that his unconscious, muscular body would have been a heavy deadweight he had expected his captors to be men. He had also expected them to be clothed. Neither of these assumptions were met.
The women were stark naked save for their boots and stockings, their breasts exposed and their pussies bare. They strode toward him with an intimidating confidence, and their attire seemed specifically selected to contrast their skin tone, with one woman marching forward in tall white platform heels and snow-white stockings that stood out against her ebony skin, while her pale companion wore similar heels that did not rise so far up her calves and lace stockings, both jet black. The black woman’s hair – dyed red and worn in tight curls – bounced gently as she walked and she sported a number of tattoos over her person with a set of glittering golden earrings completing her look. Her friend, on the other hand, had her blonde hair pulled back and held in a tight bun by black flowery bows, her own earrings similarly dark.
Both women were deeply attractive, and he felt part of him yearn for them, yet he was acutely aware of his predicament and he renewed his efforts, thrashing against his bonds until the rope began to cut and his hands and feet began to numb. His screamed protests were rendered unintelligible by the gag, yet he spat them regardless.
Stepping up onto the plinth, the women stood before him and regarded him with vague amusement, smirking as he strained to attack and continued his muffled tirade.
Holding out an open palm in his direction the blonde woman glared at him. ‘Be still.’
Controlled by a power he could not resist, his body obeyed and no matter how hard he tried he could not move anything save his head so much as a centimetre. His body no longer listened to his commands, and though he could feel the strain he was placing in his limbs to try and move them he was firmly frozen in place. Staring down at his body frantically, chest rising and falling softly, his eyes bulged with confusion.
The black woman giggled. ‘Doesn’t he look funny, sister?’
‘And helpless,’ grinned her companion. To his horror her lips peeled back to reveal sharp triangular teeth, between which darted a long serpentine tongue. At the same time a cloud of shadow plunged through her eyes until they were fully black, endless and crushing. His stare snapping across to the first woman as she laughed, he saw that she bore all the same features.
This time when he fought his restraints, he tried to scramble away from the two creatures before him, but of course his body would not obey him and he remained at their mercy.
‘Makes a nice change doesn’t it?’ said the black woman. ‘You being the helpless one, that is. Usually it is women who are at your mercy, not the other way around. I think it’s long since time you took a dose of your own medicine.’
His eyes grew with shock and the blonde woman laughed. ‘Oh yes, we know who you are. What you are. Rico Rodriguez: serial rapist. Tell me, Rico, do the screams of those girls you used like meat haunt you at night, or do you sleep soundly in the knowledge that you stalk their nightmares?’
‘We’re here to serve up a little justice,’ her companion went on. ‘You see, you might not have taken the time to think about it while you were fucking those innocent women, but there is a place in Hell for men like you. Fortunately for all the other victims you could have abused, Lucifer is nothing if not a keen businessman so here we are, collecting the product as it were.’
‘As far as we’re concerned it’s best to pick a soul when it is ripe. But you’re not the only sort of soul Lucifer happens to do business with. There are others out there who will willingly sell their souls for wealth or success or longevity. Short-sighted fools, obviously, but they keep business going and in return we provide them with anything they could desire.’
‘And that, Rico, is where you come in. We demons, we’re not like you. Contrary to what you might believe, we don’t go around preying on innocent souls. No, it’s the damned ones we go for, and yours is as damned as they come. So since you belong to Hell, we’re going to use you to help us with our business and save the women of the world from another monster all at the same time. Efficient, aren’t we?’
As the red-haired woman dug her fingernails into his back painfully, the blonde leaned heavily onto his shoulder and spoke into his ear. ‘So here’s what’s going to happen.’ Looking back down the red carpet she nodded to the flickering candles. ‘As I’m sure you’ve already figured out these aren’t your ordinary candle. They burn with a very particular fire born in the pits of Hell, and they’re going to make a few changes to you. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt rather a lot, but don’t worry, you won’t remember it. In fact, you won’t remember anything because today is the day Rico Rodriguez dies. Your soul is going to burn, but your body is going to become something far better than you could ever hope to be without us.’
‘Those people we talked about,’ hissed the one with red hair, ‘the ones who sell their souls. It might not surprise you to know that a lot of them trade it for sex. Prowess between the sheets, personal whores, all that stuff. One of our customers just so happens to be the leader of a Satanist cult and in exchange for his soul, the cult gets its own supply of obedient, devilish slaves.’ She grinned triangular teeth again. ‘The whole using rapists to satisfy their needs was our idea. Poetic, wouldn’t you say?’
Unlike the incomprehensible rant he had subjected them to before, his words now were understandable even around his gag. ‘No, no, please, no.’
‘Yes. You did this to yourself. This is your penance. Now, let’s begin.’
Leaning down, they both took up two candles from around the base of the plinth and held them out at arm’s length, cupping them by their base in each hand. With the candles so close the heat was unbearable and he felt as though his skull was about to fracture, his temples burst. The hair of his body began to wither and shrivel as the tiny flames burned impossibly hot. Throwing back their heads they chanted something in a language he had never heard before, their voices at once both distant and seemingly in his head. Though no word that they spoke had ever passed his ears, gusts of air whispered through the air in time to their chanting, taunting him with hissing words.
Let the spirit of the Fallen One burn through these flames and deliver the sinful their rightful destruction. Let the spirit of the Fallen One burn through these flames and deliver the sinful their rightful destruction. Let the spirit of the Fallen One burn through these flames and deliver the sinful their rightful destruction.
Returning their attention to him, they advanced. With a flick of her head, the blonde unbuckled the gag and threw it aside with her mind. Before it could even hit the floor the redhead had barked her command. ‘Be silent.’ Then, with a sadistic grin and a voice dripping with malice, ‘But we will let you scream.’
As one they leaned in and poured boiling wax over him, and no sooner had it touched his skin than he let out an ear-splitting scream. It felt more like acid than wax and the pain was immediately unbearable. It was like it was burning through him, seeping into his muscles and bones and reducing them to ash. Though he had never been heavily involved in gang warfare he had been stabbed on a few occasions, even shot in the leg one time, but never had he experienced agony like the touch of the wax.
When he looked down he expected to see his skin bubbling or his intestines having spilled out through a hole burned in his stomach, but somehow the infinite pain did not correlate with the look of his relatively unscathed body.
At first he tried to restrain his screams, maintain as much dignity as he could. But that did not last long. Soon he was wailing, screeching in desperate anguish, filling the enormous room with his cries. On occasion he tried to plead with his torturers, but the words would not form and just as the demoness had commanded, he was silent save for his screams.
Finally they placed the candles back where they had found them and he was left sagging in the rope sling sobbing and snivelling pitifully.
Together they stared at him with wide grins that split their beautiful features with horrid sharp teeth. Malice and sadistic glee swirled in their black eyes and their forked tongues darted out to lick their teeth.
‘You shouldn’t have hurt those women, Rico,’ said the blonde.
‘You’re going to burn for what you did to them,’ added the redhead.
As one they raised their hands once more and held them out towards him. Again they chanted and the whispering wind returned.
Let the Fallen One take this soul and use this body as he wills it.
All at once a great gust of wind tore through the room. Rather than extinguish the candles, however, it plucked the flames from their wicks and lifted them into the air where they were whisked into one spot over the carpet. As they moved they grew, burning brighter and hotter until they collected into a towering pillar of flame that spat out waves of choking heat. The airborne fire was taller than a man and just as wide and Rico could feel it singeing his hair even from where it burned halfway across the room.
Then in a blur of motion it moved, streaking across the room like a falling comet and crashing into Rico’s chest, washing over him like a breaking wave. The flames engulfed him immediately and as they stepped back to admire the spectacle the demonesses could no longer see him. The flames concealed him completely and if somebody had walked in at that moment they might have been able to convince themselves they were looking at an enormous bonfire. That is, if it hadn’t been for the screams. Rico screamed so hard and loud that it was a wonder his lungs did not shatter his ribs, but no matter how horrific his wails they could not come close to conveying the impossible agony tearing through his body. Not only was he burning alive, but his body was changing as he burned. Muscles shifting, bones snapping and resetting, organs mutating. All the while his skin was blackening and peeling before flaking away to reveal sallow new flesh beneath.
In short order the flames melted his chains and burned away the rope, and he crumpled to the floor still screaming. Even as he curled up on the plinth – warded, like the rest of the building, to resist the effects of Hellfire – the flames rose higher and higher until they licked the ceiling.
Then with a final roar the towering inferno retreated with astonishing speed. As though dragged down by invisible hands it was sucked into the hunched figure, plunging through the skin until it was snuffed out like the very candles it had been born of.
Without the blinding light and terrific roar the room seemed a great deal emptier. The only light to illuminate the place now came from the window high above and the moonlight shafted down onto the plinth. Slowly stepping up, the two creatures looked down at the naked figure lying unconscious at their feet. Fine curls of smoke rose from their skin and their breathing, though laboured, was peaceful.
Leaning down, they took the sleeping figure between them and then, abruptly, there was nobody in the cavernous room…
Waking up slowly, she found herself lying on a luxurious bed with soft black sheets. Rubbing her head she ran her fingers through silky hair and, pulling it down into view, admired the red dye that gave a beautiful sheen to her dark natural locks.
Sitting up she took in the room with wide eyes and smiled. She felt so comfortable in here, like she belonged in this place and nowhere else. The wooden walls were decorated with hanging curtains and though it was not a large space the most had been made of it. Opposite her position on the towering four-poster bed she sat on, a low fireplace burned glowing embers behind a glass pane and above it hung a detailed false skull. To one side was a heavy-looking leather armchair sat in an alcove of red, black and white curtains. To the other stood a black and white panelled partition. In front of that partition there was also a small desk with a plush stool tucked beneath, on which sat an empty glass and a bottle of blood red wine. Finally, a wide, wooden door of a type she might have expected to find in an old church or castle of some sort stood adjacent to her bed.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she stood, and it was only then that she noticed her attire: shiny red latex dress with matching thigh-high booted heels.
As soon as she saw it, she could not keep her hands off of herself. Leaping up she strode into the centre of the room and began to grope her body sensually. Swaying her hips as she did so, she ran her manicured fingers over the sleek rubber and moaned softly. She felt her wonderful breasts, pulled into tight, erotic cleavage by the cling of the dress and she traced their shape with her fingertips, sending shivers up her spine. She caressed the curves of her abdomen and waist, curves that seemed to go on forever, snaking down her soft, perfect legs. Then her hands came around behind her and she clutched her plump ass with white-knuckled ferocity.
She could not stop her roving hands. Everything about her felt so perfect. In her mind she was the most beautiful, arousing, sexy woman on the planet and in this little room she was a goddess. A spark of horniness flickered into flame within her and the more she caressed herself the more it grew until she was moaning long and low and her head was swimming with naughty ideas.
Unable to control herself, she was just about to drop down into the armchair, peel back her dress and sink her fingers into her naked pussy when she heard a bolt scrape aside on the outside of the door. A moment later it swung open and a handsome man entered her room.
The sight of him froze her where she stood and silent arousal crashed through her. He was dressed in a red button shirt and black jeans and he walked barefoot. His smile carried a note of sinister intent and she realised with a start that it only made her hotter inside and wetter outside to try and imagine what he wanted to do to her. There was lust in his eyes and a sharp edge to his features that wordlessly informed her he was not a man to be crossed. Fortunately, crossing him was not what she had in mind and she returned his smile with a mischievous smirk of her own.
‘Hello, Rhiannon, I see you are making yourself comfortable in your new room.’ For all his formality, the professionalism to his tone was barely maintained. The primal desire that raged through his eyes and across his face was all she could see in him and she wanted it.
‘I would be much more comfortable if you used my body properly. You know I live to be a horny cock sleeve, sir, so come and satisfy me.’
The professional demeanour melted away and the man grinned coldly. ‘Ah, those Hellish women never cease to please. I’m glad you’re here to be our newest fuck toy, my dear. Fortunately the deal I made has its perks. I can assure you that once we get started we won’t finish for a good long while.’
Her smile widened. ‘I don’t want to, sir. I just want you to fuck me like you hate me.’
Striding up to her he came to a halt less than an inch in front of her. He was close enough to kiss and her insides burned with desire for him. ‘Be careful what you wish for, slut. Behind that partition is a walk-in wardrobe. How about you slip into something even more alluring? I’ll be waiting for you on the bed.’
Giggling with delight she scampered behind the partition and into the wardrobe while he reclined onto the black sheets. This new one was certainly a stunning addition to the droves of whores the demonesses had created for him and his followers, and he could not wait to introduce her to her new sisters and their owners. Still, he could wait even less to repay her for the sins of her former self. Sure, the soul of Rico Rodriguez may have been burning eternally in fires of Hell, but it made him feel even better that the man’s former body was about to be abused far more than he had ever been able to abuse in life.
When Rhiannon emerged from behind the partition his grin almost split his face. ‘You devilish slut,’ he growled. ‘Get over here and serve your new god…’
Thanks for reading!
The idea for this story actually came about when I was looking up supporting images for a different one. In the process of doing so I found both the ritualistic image gallery I used for the first half of this, and I also found the videos that I used to create the gifs for the second half. Those gifs come from the videos of excellent cam model FetishGirlLover and I highly recommend you check her out. Her work is amazing and super sexy, and I certainly hope to use more of her work to support my stories on this blog. Obviously, all credit goes to her and you can find everything on her Pornhub profile here: https://www.pornhub.com/users/fetishgirllover. So if you are interested, definitely go and support her over there.
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