Tomorrow, Little Devil

It is about ten thousand degrees in this dark confining space. My skin is boiling and blistering. It slides off my body in slippery masses of flesh. I feel as though the heat itself is a knife, cutting into my flesh and separating the skin from the muscle. The burning invades me, deep into the very bones of my body. I trembled and cry out, slamming myself against the hard metal door. There is no solace for whores like me, and the pain continues without answering my screams.

I would have prayed, but prayers to a lesser god are for the weak. I breathe the heat in, letting it seer into my lungs. The contents of my stomach boil and force themselves through my throat. The scent of my own skin burning is almost too much to bear.

Then coolness comes suddenly like a friendly kiss on the cheek. It reminds me of the times, in some long forgotten childhood, when virginal youth would plunge naked into the lake on those hot August afternoons.

I am not a child, and this is Hell, not August. I have to remind myself of that. The failure to recognize my surroundings for the truths they hold, the utter pain and anguish and honest death, is a mistake I refuse to make.

There is a voice in the burning darkness, deep and throaty and…scintillating. I do not know where the voice comes from, it positively emanates from my surroundings.

“Come now, little devil.” The voice says, grating into my ears. “Don’t you want to taste death? Don’t you want to kiss the pain?”

“Oh,” I whisper, my throat still raw from the cleansing fires, “Oh yes.”

I cry out as my skin slithers onto my body. Small monstrosities climb over my body in unknown numbers. The claws and mandibles bite into me, sewing my skin taunt across my pale body.

I lie down. I did not need to be told, for I am a slave to the darkness and thus I know my place. My arms spread out, exposing my small tits and thick red nipples. My legs are forced open by impatient hands. They grasp me, flood my body with desire. The groping is soft at first, almost welcomed. Then the moment of tenderness passes and the devilry begins to dig into my skin. Its claws sink inside of me, ripping across my breasts and thighs. The unseen hands hold my body above the ground. They bite into my arms, pulling me apart with unhindered ferocity. My legs suffer the same fate. I stopped counting the number of sharp fingers that drive deep into my body.
I am spread taunt, held up by the hands I cannot see.

Then death enters me, forcing hard into my cunt.

I cannot scream, my voice has left me. I gasp with the pain as the demon tears into my body, ripping its hard skin across my soft white cunt. I try to pant, to scream, to thrust myself away from the demonic claws that hold me in place. Each time I move, the pain is intensified. I cannot help but move, even though my mind is screaming for me to hold still. My thrashing is involuntary, and the knife-like fingers dig deeper with each move. They are so deep inside my skin that I can hear the nails scraping the bone, and it is enough to push me beyond the brink of sanity. The demon entering my body does so faster, harder. It does not stop.

I feel my legs splitting. My torn, bloody cunt is the line of separation. The demonic phallus thrusting inside tears me asunder. It comes through my body, stabbing so deep inside my vagina that I can feel the tip entering my lung cavity.

My breath is stolen, and there are no words for the pain.

The demon explodes inside of me, mingling its brutish sperm with my intestines. I taste it erupting through my body, a thick spear of death and decay.

Then the dark things laugh. It is a terrible laughter. Their laughter sounds like Hell, it is the screams of a thousand deaths, the blood of a million victims, and the pain of innocence lost.

“Tomorrow, little devil, we shall try again.” The voice says, and I can smell its desire. “And again until you learn to be still, to submit to my will.”

It leaves me, alone in the eternal flames. Deep inside my broken mind, I cannot wait for tomorrow.