Christy's Infero



The girl groaned as she slid the thick, solid shaft of rubber deep, her body trembling from the sensitivity of her well vibrated clit. Her pussy, a moist, pink gash, widened around the massive dildo, her folds stretching as she took the synthetic, monster cock. It was bigger than most men wished to be, and from the way the girl was pumping it, there was little doubt that she’d taken it before - multiple times.

The vibrator in her other hand was still buzzing, pressed to her clit, and the small, rounded head sent her spinning into a vortex of sensual overload. Her toes began to curl, even as her narrow hips pumped wildly. She knew, instinctively, that it was time. She dropped the vibrator, letting it rumble against her hip, ignored and forgotten. Instead she grabbed the leather belt and began to pull, feeling it tighten around her delicate throat. It had been threaded upon itself, so that as she tugged, it closed upon her windpipe. She gasped. She’d timed it right. Orgasm. Asphyxia. Perfect.

Her vision swam as the burst of adrenaline and endorphins surged through her veins and she struggled to suck in more air. But her hand kept a tight grip on the belt and blackness began seeping into the edges of her blurred sight. Her body trembled, the orgasm now enhanced by the lack of air and she began to spasm, one of the most powerful orgasms in her young, sweet life sweeping her from consciousness…

Part One

Christy groaned, but smiled at the same time, the euphoria of her climax was still a solid presence permeating every inch of her lithe, nubile, little body. Her eyes were closed from the powerful climax she’d just given herself and she wanted to stretch out to enjoy the aftermath. It would only be an hour before her mom got home and the last thing she wanted was for either of her parents to find her lying in bed, buck naked, her cum soaked pussy stuffed with a massive dildo, with a makeshift noose around her neck. She could still feel the leather lying across her chest.

It took a moment, and perhaps she would have been a little more aware had she not just cum, but her bed felt wrong. Slowly she put a hand down to feel the sheet, only to touch hard, sandy ground. The discontinuity was enough to make her eyes snap open. She gasped, totally astonished, and sat upright, staring.

She was sitting, still naked apparently, on a plain, like the salt flats she’d heard so much about in New Mexico. The sky was dark gray with white light leaking through low, dark clouds and there wasn’t a bit of color anywhere. The sand she sat upon seemed to reflect the same grayscale hues, and the hills in the distance were only a bit darker. Then she realized that she herself was just as colorless. She lifted a hand, staring at her recently painted fingernails. They too looked gunmetal, a dark stain, rather than the brilliant scarlet she remembered applying. Her skin, normally white, had taken on an even more surreal brilliance and she felt a surge of fear to go with her bewilderment.

She whirled at the sound of a cough, eyes falling on a well-dressed gentleman standing a few feet away. He was slightly overweight, wearing black trousers and a light colored dress shirt, as well as a blazer. He was grinning, though there was a smirk too, as if he expected her to be embarrassed.

“Not that I want to interrupt, but you might want to think about getting in line.”

Christy, suddenly aware of her nudity due to his leering grin, wrapped an arm across her breasts. She felt the leather belt swing from her neck and her other hand came up, trying to undo the latch. Unfortunately, one handed, she couldn’t manage to loosen it. Still, it didn’t seem to impede her breathing, despite the tightness. Nor was it terribly uncomfortable. She stood up, bringing her other hand down between her legs as the dildo she’d thoroughly used a moment before, fell out of her still dripping slit.

The man chuckled warmly. “God, what I wouldn’t do to be that thing,” he said jovially. “I can only imagine what your last moment was like!”

Christy gave him a confused look as she tried to cover herself. “What? What do you mean? Last moment?” Then she eyed his blazer and before he could answer, she grimaced. “Would you mind lending me your coat?” She begged.

The man eyed her for a moment, then sighed. “Well, I suppose one more act of charity before judgement wouldn’t be a bad idea, despite the fact that I’d much rather watch you walk up to the pearly gates in the buff.” He sighed, slipping out of the coat and handing it to her. Christy gave him a grateful look and turned her back to him, giving him another view of her shapely rear end as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. It was big on her, but even buttoned it left quite a bit of her exquisitely white skin visible to the naked eye. The blazer barely came down to her thigh and from the frequent glances he gave her lower half, Christy was sure she was showing just a little bit of pink. It was humiliating.

She held up the wet dildo, trying to decide what to do with it, when he waved his hand. “Oh just stick it in the pocket. Your cum won’t hurt the material at this point,” he insisted. As Christy jammed the rubber cock into the coat pocket, the man held out his hand. “I’m Charlie,” he told her.

Christy looked up at him. “Christy,” she said simply, not bothering to shake the offered hand. “Now can you tell me what’s going on? Where are we?” Charlie let his hand drop but didn’t seem offended. She looked around again, more steady now that she was both dressed and on her feet. She noticed a shuffling line of people behind him, about an eighth of a mile away. It made her gasp, especially since no one seemed to be paying her or Charlie any attention. It appeared everyone was heading toward a bright, white light on the horizon. They came from all walks of life too, every color of skin, and every piece of apparel looked just as white-washed and colorless. Most of them were wearing hospital gowns. Christy, feeling a surge of discomfort, wrapped her arms around herself.

Charlie followed her gaze. “Oh. Right. Yes. Well, when you appeared I’m sure you can understand why I’d notice. I mean, naked girl, masturbating. I’m more of a hedonist than I appear and I didn’t mind giving up my place in line to go have a look. So you might take all that into consideration,” he said, somewhat sadly. “As to where you are, well - that’s more complicated. What’s the last thing you remember doing?” He asked curiously.

Her eyebrow went up. “I was in bed,” she said wryly. She patted the bulging pocket of his blazer where her dildo was resting.

Charlie laughed. “Of course.” He smiled and then pointed at her throat. “Might I inquire as to your single accessory? Is that a belt?” He queried.

Once more her fingers went to her throat. “Yes,” she affirmed, but then she blushed. “It was uh … well, you know.”

Charlie nodded. “Erotic asphyxiation. Yes, I’m familiar with the process, though I’ve never tried it myself, nor inflicted it upon anyone. So I’m guessing you went out with a bang?”

Christy couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “Yeah. Bigger explosion than I’m used to, that’s for sure!”

“Well, that might explain things. See, the last thing I remember was getting struck on the back of the head while standing on a bridge.”

Christy’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! Who hit you?” She demanded.

Charlie laughed. “Former client. I’m a lawyer and he wasn’t thrilled about the outcome of a case I handled.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m just glad it doesn’t hurt,” he added. “But here I am. So I guess that’s that.”

“I still don’t get it,” Christy said. “Where are we?”

Charlie gave her a pained expression. “Oh dear. You aren’t that bright are you?” He laid a hand on her shoulder which then went up to stroke her cheek. “It’s all beauty isn’t it?”  He sighed. “Well, in layman’s terms, your masturbation session went a little awry. What you meant to happen was merely a brief interlude of sexual pleasure, when in fact, you not only managed to choke yourself into unconsciousness, but also denied yourself a restored airflow. I’m guessing you rolled over the end of your belt when you passed out. And since you were alone, no one was there to loosen it.”

Christy blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Charlie leaned forward. “You’re dead, young lady. You died while masturbating and showed up in the afterlife wearing what you went out with. Thus,” he motioned at her body. “Your need for my coat.”

Christy’s eyes widened. “I’m … I’m dead?”

Charlie nodded.

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed, looking around in sudden panic. Her eyes widened. “My parents are going to find my body!”

Charlie grinned. “Yes. That will be an interesting memory. Are they aware of your interest in erotic asphyxiation?”

Christy shook her head. “Oh my God! What am I going to do?” She began walking around in a short circle, almost in a panic. Her hands came up and pulled at her hair.

After just ten seconds Charlie stepped in. He grabbed her arm, pulled her to a stop, and looked her straight in the eye. “That is not helpful,” he said to her. “There is nothing you can do about the situation you left. Right now, your only two options are to remain wandering around in this desert, or you can get in line and go toward the light.” Then he looked thoughtful. “And honestly, if you’d like some company here in the desert, at least for a while, I’d be happy to provide that,” he said mischievously, “as long as you return my coat.”

She gave him a wild-eyed stare, but then gasped and pulled away. “Are you... hitting on me?” She demanded.

Charlie laughed. “Of course I am. I’d be more fun than that stupid dildo. And you’re a scrumptious bit of cock tease. How old are you? Seventeen? Sixteen?”

Christy blushed and looked away, telling him without words that he was right on the money, or maybe even a little too conservative.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t know where I’m going anyway,” he said to himself. “Hell yeah I’d be willing to keep you entertained.” He shrugged. “At least for a while.” He glanced back toward the light.

Christy shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she refused skeptically. Charlie shrugged.

“It was just a suggestion. Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. Then he pointed to the line. “If you’d like, you can stand with me.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Company?” He replied with an honest expression on his face, which then crumbled. “Okay, honestly? I’m just hoping to get another look at your incredible body.”

Christy frowned. Then with a resigned sigh, she started walking toward the line. She was barefoot, so she had to be careful where she stepped. Charlie hurried to catch up with her. For several minutes the two of them walked, Christy in front, Charlie behind a few steps, his eyes glued to the tantalizing glimpses of her buttocks that seemed to dance just on the tail of his blazer. As they approached the line, Christy’s attire did cause some stir, but most of the people in line were disconsolate, or almost catatonic, shuffling forward steadily toward the light.

Christy didn’t know what to do. The line already stretched far into the distance so going to the back wasn’t an option.

“Excuse us,” Charlie suddenly said to an old woman. “I’m sure you won’t mind us stepping in.”

The woman looked at Christy and then Charlie, but eventually shook her head as Charlie squeezed in, pulling Christy along by the sleeve.

“What are you doing?” Hissed Christy. “She said no!”

Charlie laughed. “And you think there are line police?” He glanced back at the old woman who was mumbling to herself. “Thank you very much,” he said brightly. Christy glared at Charlie, but it was clear the old woman no longer cared.

“That is just mean,” Christy said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Charlie grinned as they moved forward. “Well, sometimes you’ve got to look out for yourself.” He shrugged. “That’s sort of my mantra. Look out for yourself because no one is going to do it for you.” He laughed. “Generally. There are exceptions, but usually I find that those cost us something. For example, you paid for my coat by displaying for me your incredibly sexy, teenage body.” He cast another lewd, but clearly appreciative glance at her cleavage. “So, is erotic asphyxiation your only kink, or do you like other deviant acts of sexual depravity?”

Christy gave him an uncertain look. “What?”

He let out a boisterous laugh that even caught their fellow line waiters by surprise. “Please excuse me. Occasionally my pedantic nature gets the best of me.” He gave her a flourished bow of apology. “I am merely curious as to your interests. It’s unusual for a girl your age to be quite so...” he paused dramatically and gestured at the belt still wrapped around Christy’s neck, “sexually advanced.”

Christy blinked. “Oh,” she said, a little less irritated. “Uh. I guess?” 

Charlie smiled. “I see. Well, I suppose that ignorance is truly bliss,” he sighed and shook his head, appreciating the way the front of his blazer looked on her chest. “Those are some mighty fine curves. D cup?”

This time she blushed. “No. Just C’s,” she said, turning her back to him. He hummed behind her and after a moment she felt movement along the back of the coat. He’d closed the distance between them. She looked back and gave him a steely look.

“Touch my ass and I’ll move to the back of the line.”

He considered that for a moment. “I’ll move too,” he replied brightly.

“I’ll run,” she threatened.

Charlie shrugged. “I’ll eventually catch up. There’s no one here to stop me, after all.”

Christy looked around. “I could ask someone for help.”

He gasped loudly. “Really? Oh my! And what could they do to me? They can’t really hurt me, can they?”

She gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Charlie sighed. “You haven’t noticed yet?”

“Noticed what?”

“That you can’t actually be hurt. Oh, you’ll feel it. For example, if I broke your arm right now it would feel like I broke your arm. For a moment. Then the pain would fade, you’d find your arm in exactly the same shape as it is right now. Stasis. No change. You technically left your body back on the bed, legs splayed, stuffed with a massive dildo, with a leather strap around your neck.”  He shook his head. “That is a truly amazing image by the way. I’ll remember that one for the rest of my…” He let out a laugh. “I was about to say life, but that’s no longer an option. Is it?”

She turned away from him and said nothing, but then he glanced around her shoulder. “Hey, are you crying? Oh Christ. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”  

Christy burst into tears, and she had nowhere to go. When Charlie opened his arms she fell into them, sobbing.

“I wanted to do so much! There were so many places to go and party! So many boys!” She blubbered.

Charlie blinked and patted her gently. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

“And my parents will find me like that and think…”

“Yes, yes. That they were right. You are a depraved, fuck slut,” he muttered.

“Now I’m stuck here, with no idea what’s happening, wearing your coat while you want me to,” she hiccupped. “Want me to …”

“Suck my cock,” he added helpfully. “At the least.”

Her wailing increased and she began to tremble. Charlie held her for several minutes until she finally pushed away. Charlie sighed and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at her cheeks. 

“Look. I’m just saying that you’re a sweet little piece of ass candy. I’m not trying to be a lecher or anything,” he added. “But it looks like we aren’t going to have time unless we get out of the line. I can see the light. It’s above some guy at a desk. Looks like he’s sorting people.

Christy’s head popped up. “What? Where?”

Charlie pointed. “There. About a hundred people ahead of us. See? The woman from the line? She’s been sent off to that gate behind the man who is sorting us.”

For another few minutes they watched the line before them shrink and the man behind the desk got bigger and bigger as they approached. Finally, Christy stood in front of the desk and the man looked up. He would have been tall if he’d not been sitting, and his beard was long, white and well-groomed. He had a paper in front of him and he looked up at Christy.

“Ah, Christina Regina Ambalia. Welcome to the afterlife. How are you doing?”

She sniffed sadly, looked down, and shuffled her bare little feet. “Okay I guess.”

The man blinked. “That’s some interesting attire. I’m guessing the circumstances of your passing were difficult?”

She gave him a confused look. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The man gave her an understanding nod. “Of course. One of those. Well, we can get the low down on your situation. So let’s see,” he picked up the paper. Christy watched as his eyes widened and he looked up at her with a darker, more judgmental look. “Damn. You’re fresh,” he said in shock. Then he shook his head. “But not enough to claim a juvenile exemption for ignorance. This isn’t good, young lady. Not good at all,” he told her.

“What do you mean?” She asked in a high pitched, almost panicked voice, as Charlie moved a step closer, concern written on his face.

“Well, it says here that you are promiscuous, a cock-tease, and most importantly, a suicide.”

Christy gasped. “What? I am not!” She declared with a touch of anger.

The man shrugged. “Look, this isn’t about your perceptions. It’s about the Lord’s. I just go by what he writes here.” He pointed at the paper, then read it aloud. “Frequently teases men, but has slept with ninety-three thus far, including all of her teachers.”  

Charlie’s eyes widened at the statistic and he gave Christy an irritated look. “Ninety-three?” He asked in a hurtful tone. Christy didn’t even seem to hear him.

The bearded man shook his head in firm disdain. “But the kicker here is the suicide.” Again he read. “Christy took her own life by choking herself to death.”

“But… but… I didn’t want to die!” Christy wailed.

The bearded man shrugged. “Sorry. Of course that also means automatic condemnation. So as much as I hate to do this to you, there are consequences. So you’ll be going to hell.”

Charlie pushed forward. “Now wait just a minute,” he said firmly. “I believe you aren’t looking at mens rea when it comes to Christy’s crime.”

The bearded man looked up. “And who the hell are you?” He demanded.

Charlie smiled. “Charles Xavier Templeton, attorney-at-law. I represent Ms. Ambalia. And you are?”

The man gave Charlie a hard stare. “Simon Peter. Apostle and Saint. And I don’t like attorneys.”

Charlie laughed politely. “Who does? Hell, I don’t even like them,” he replied in kind. “Be that as it may, I think that sending this scrumptious young vixen into the fiery pits of damnation, for what is clearly an accident, seems rather impudent.”

Peter eyed Charlie dangerously. “How do you know that it was an accident?” He demanded, holding up the paper. “Says here she ‘purposefully made an effort to cut off all air’ to herself.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Well yes. But it was done in the course of self-pleasuring. She was masturbating and when the orgasm hit, she choked herself, not with the intention of dying, but just to make the climax more intense.”

“So you’re saying it was an accident,” declared Peter.

“Exactly!” Charlie said with satisfaction.

Peter nodded. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. By her own hand, she ended her life. It’s a suicide,” he said firmly. Christy just stood there, shocked.

Charlie gave St. Peter a skeptical look. “It was accidental. She didn’t mean to kill herself. Isn’t death itself sufficient punishment for such a twist of faith? Why torment her as well?”

St. Peter gave Charlie a cold stare. “She killed herself. There are rules.” He glanced at the girl and shook her head. “She goes downstairs.”

“I object,” Charlie said in disappointment. “This seems like a miscarriage of justice.”

Peter shrugged. “I could hardly care.”

Christy stared at the two men, too flabbergasted to say anything. Charlie frowned as if considering his options. “What if she recreated the scene for you?” suggested Charlie. “So you could see what I’m talking about.”

“What?” demanded Peter, but with a bit of interest.

“What?” demanded Christy, clearly appalled by the idea.

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “What if she reenacted her death for you? You know, show us all how she was in the middle of …”

“I will not,” Christy declared, “make a spectacle of myself in front of all these people! I wouldn’t be caught dead doing that!”

Both Peter and Charlie flinched at that statement. Then Peter looked up. “In view of your client’s reluctance to demonstrate, I feel that my original judgment stands. She is sentenced to eternal torment in the fiery pits of hell.”

A look of anger crossed Charlie’s face. “Hell? For this sweet, young thing? Are you mad? Can’t we appeal?”

Peter laughed. “To whom? Christ himself? The Lord our God?” He leaned forward. “The Holy Spirit? You’ve lost this one counselor.”

Charlie frowned. “I thought this was supposed to be Heaven. I thought mercy was the Lord’s trademark.”

Peter shook his head and jerked a thumb behind him. “Back there, that’s heaven. This is just the gate, and she isn’t going through it.” He pointed off to the left. “All right, Missy, if you’ll just stand over there while I deal with Charles Xavier Templeton, attorney-at-law.” He glanced down at the next paper and grinned. “Who will be joining you shortly.”

Christy blinked. “Wait. You mean, I’m going to hell?”

Peter nodded. “Of course. Even without the suicide you’d probably be heading in that direction anyway,” Peter assured her. “Don’t worry. I think a few thousand years on your knees giving demons blowjobs will cure your tendency to be flippant toward men’s sexual needs.”

“This is outrageous!” Charlie said.

“And you,” Peter snarled, pointing a finger. “You can go right on with her. See if Lucifer is interested in talking to you about mitigating her punishment.” He laughed. “After he sees to yours.”

Charlie snorted but then took Christy’s arm. “Fine. Come sweetheart, there’s nothing more that we can do with this biased judge. We’ll have to appeal his decision elsewhere.”

Christy stumbled to the side, clinging to Charlie’s arm. “I’m going to hell,” she muttered, clearly in shock. She looked up. “And I’m dragging you with me! I’m so sorry!” She said, again on the verge of tears. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Charlie patted her on the back, resisting the urge to cup her bare bottom.

“Well, in all honesty, I was heading there on my own. So it wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. For me at least,” Charlie said with a sigh.



Part Two

Together they waited for about ten minutes, when a man approached. He had a full head of well-trimmed hair, a dark, black beard, reddish toned skin, and to Christy’s dismay, two small horns sticking up out of his skull on either side of his head.

“Good afternoon,” the man said in a polite and congenial tone, as if he were the concierge at one of New York’s finest hotels. He looked down at a clipboard that appeared out of nowhere into his hand. “I’m here for Christy Ambalia and Charles Templeton.” He looked up with a warm smile. “I’m guessing that’s you two.”

Charles nodded curtly.

The man nodded, clearly pleased. He lowered the clipboard and smiled warmly. “Well, my name is George and I’m here to take you both to hell. There are a few formalities of course.” He held out his hand and a pair of dark metal manacles appeared. “You’ll need to wear these,” he said, holding them out to Charles, who shook his head in defiance.

“I’ll do no such thing,” Charles said in an aggrieved tone. “And more importantly, I need to talk to someone in charge due to…”

George sighed, interrupting Charles. “Yes. That frequently happens,” he said sadly. He snapped his fingers and suddenly Charles was shoved back, his arms outstretched as if he were being held. The iron cuffs flew through the air and latched themselves around his wrists, even as he fought. George gave him a thoughtful look. “Guess we might as well handle the leg irons at the same time.”  He waved his hand and another set of binders appeared, this set with a thick and heavy chain between them. A moment later, Charles was spitting angrily as he was hobbled.

George looked at Christy. “And now you,” he said. “I’m supposed to … wait a minute. What are you wearing?” He demanded, looking at the coat Christy had on.

“It’s … it’s …” she stammered.

“It’s my coat,” Charles said angrily. “I gave it to her.”

The demon’s eyebrow went up. “Why on earth would you do that?” He glanced down at the paper. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are only allowed into hell with the items that belong to you.” He looked up at her. “Please return the coat.”

“But … but … I’ll be naked!”

George snorted. “Young lady, trust me. You’d be stripped naked once you got there anyway. It’s the standard for hell. At least for residents like you. So you can hardly worry about it. Please return Mr. Templeton’s coat.”

“But there are people here! They’ll see me!”

George shrugged. “Too bad. Either remove it or I’ll do it for you.”

Sniffling, she began shrugging out of the coat and handed it back to Charles, placing her arms across both her breasts and loins, trying to hide herself from their eyes.

George gave the girl a through once over and grinned, clearly pleased. Christy blushed crimson and looked away as the demon glanced back down at his paper. “Peter was very specific about … oh my.” George looked up. “You’re in luck.” He grinned with a lecherous look. “You are getting the grade A fetters.” George snapped his fingers again and this time black leather cuffs appeared around both Christy’s wrists and ankles. A black leather belt popped into existence around her waist, steel rings embedded in the material. A loud, loose, slave-anklet with tiny bells began chiming on her leg. “I understand you have a dildo?” He asked the girl expectantly.

She cast a guilty glance at Charles, who drew the massive toy out of his coat pocket. His manacles rattled but he tried to ignore it as the girl took the dildo. George’s eyes widened and the demon let out a low whistle. 

“My goodness! That thing is huge, even by my standards!” He shook his head in amazement. “Well, you won’t have any problem handling some of the cock you’ll be getting in hell! That’s for sure.” He smiled pleasantly. “For now, please stick it in,” he said.

Christy gasped. “What? Here?” 

George snickered. “No. Between your legs. Just jam it in, good and deep. I’ve got a chastity belt that will hold it in.

While Christy blinked, trying to decide what to do, Charles gave the demon a questioning look. “How can you call it a chastity belt when it’s holding in a dildo?”

“What?” George asked, a little taken aback. 

Charles shook his chains. “The word chastity means the state or practice of refraining from sexual intercourse. You are literally asking her to stuff a foot long phallus into her beautiful, slick pussy, and then propose locking it in. That’s hardly chastity. She’ll be cumming in seconds.”

George lowered the clipboard in frustration. “I object to your definition.”

Charles gave the demon a confused look. “Who are you? Webster?”

George shrugged. “In hell, we consider chastity to be the state or practice of preventing a wanton little fuckslut from cumming.”

Charles blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s… rather specific.”

“I’m glad that you agree. Now are you going to shut up, or do you want to do this?” He demanded.

Charles blinked. “Do what?” 

“Process her.”

“What does that entail precisely?” Asked Charles curiously.

George looked at Charles Xavier Templeton in frustration. “Look. Just shut up. Okay?” He looked back at Christy. “And you. Put that thing in.”

“W-w-what if I don’t w-w-want t-t-too?” Sniveled Christy, clearly crying. 

George sighed. “Really? You had it in when you died, didn’t you? You must like the damn thing.” He tried to make it sound encouraging. “Look, if you don’t do it, I’m going to have to take some rather distasteful steps. Right here. And if you thought you were a spectacle before, the method I use to get that thing in your cunt will make stripping naked look like a walk in the park. On top of that, I’ll have to report this. And violations of this nature tend to result in negative consequences. Right now you’re only slated for the first level of hell. If you don’t cooperate, you could end up on level two. Or worse - three.” George shook his head. “You do not want to end up on level three.”

Charles’ eyebrow went up. “Why? What’s on level three?”

The demon gave him a cheerful smile. “It’s where we keep the lawyers.”

Charles frowned. 

George looked back at Christy. “Please? Pretty please? For me?” 

The young girl looked over at Charles helplessly. The lawyer shrugged. “I’m not above resisting rightful authority, but admittedly I would love to see you push that thing back into your sweet little cunt. It would be even better if it were my cock.”

Christy blushed. “I just… I just don’t know what to do.”

George smiled. “Just fuck the thing. Put it in.”

Christy looked around. The entire line was watching from the side and she quivered in shame. But then she turned her back on them, facing George. Charles moved next to the demon, getting a look of irritation. 

“What? I want to see too,” he said easily.

Christy took a deep breath and brought the huge rubber cock down to her pussy. Spreading her legs awkwardly, she began rubbing the tapered tip through her petals and over her clitoris. She began gasping, then moaning lightly, whimpering as the pleasure streamed up through her. Charles smiled.

“That’s it young lady,” the lawyer said encouragingly. “You are a very beautiful girl.”

George stared for a moment. Then he glanced at Charles. “For a girl resisting the request to put that thing in, she’s quick to lube, isn’t she?” 

Charles chuckled as Christy jammed the entire dildo into her cunt, her legs spread wide. Both the demon and the lawyer watched with astonishment as her pussy began to drip goo down on the sand. In seconds she was moaning dramatically, clearly in the throes of sexual abandon. Even multiple folks still in Saint Peter’s line found the energy to look over.

“That’s it,” Charles said brightly to the girl, grinning. “Just relax into it and enjoy it. You’ll be cumming soon enough.”

George snorted skeptically. Charles looked over at the demon. “Oh. Chastity.” He muttered. “I forgot.”

The demon cupped a hand in front of his mouth, covering up his snicker as Christy moaned lustily. Her hand pumped fast and both the demon and lawyer could tell she was getting close. George nodded just as Christy cried out, clearly on the cusp of orgasm, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly a very tight, black leather harness appeared around her loins, holding the dildo in deep. An opening at the front left her swollen clitoris exposed and sticking out. Christy’s arms were drawn behind her back and there was a telltale click as her wrists were secured. It pushed her breasts forward, the belt she was wearing around her neck still lying against her full bosom. George checked his clipboard again.

“Let’s see. Bondage cuffs, bondage belt, slave anklet, no need for a collar and leash obviously, chastity belt…”

Charles snorted. “Chastity belt. More like a stimulation belt.”

“Shut up,” George said idly. “Waist restraint… oh! Right.” He looked up. “Forgot the clamps.”

Christy, eyes somewhat dazed from the now constant stimulation going on between her legs, twitched. “Clamps?” She repeated dumbly.

George reached into his pocket and pulled out three alligator clamps, each sporting tiny bells. He held them up. “These will hurt quite a bit, but it's a requirement for sluts like you.” He stepped forward and grabbed Christy’s belt, the one still wrapped around her neck, tugging her closer. She choked a little, eyes widening, and tongue protruding, as George lifted the first toothed clamp to her nipple. He pinched the metal thing open and set it right down on the pink tip. As it closed, Christy let out a little shriek, her hips pumping wildly. She tried to pull away, but George held on and looked back at Charles, a smirk on his face. 

“The belt around her throat is a nice touch, isn’t it?” The demon asked smugly.

Charles nodded, wincing as the demon set the second clamp on Christy’s other nipple. “It seems to serve a purpose,” he said, feeling a touch of sympathetic pain for the young girl. 

The last clamp went on Christy’s exposed and protruding clit and the girl’s shriek seemed to echo across the landscape. She hopped up and down, making all the various bells ring. Her hips wriggled back and forth and George took a step back, watching as the young girl went into a fit of spasms. Christy cried out, shaking her body lewdly. Charles stepped up next to the demon as Christy stood there, knees knocking together, powerful surges of pain and pleasure running through her.

“Is it possible to have an orgasm here?” Charles asked the demon curiously.

George looked around. “Here?” He considered it. “Don’t know actually. Probably. Maybe. Not very good ones,” he finally said. “Why?”

Charles sighed. “Look at her. She is about to spend the rest of eternity in denial. Let her have just one more.”

George blinked. “Wait. You’re asking for mercy?”

Charles nodded. 

“For her?”

“What harm could it do?” Charles asked. “And you could always ask her for a blowjob in exchange.”

George let out a loud laugh. “That’s funny! Are you kidding me? She’ll be sucking my cock daily for the rest of fucking eternity.”

Charles flinched. “The rest of eternity?”

George laughed. “Yeah, and the real part of the torment is that most demon cum tastes like black licorice. Do you know how many girls hate the taste of black licorice?” George looked back down at his clipboard. “Now stop distracting me.” He studied Christy’s bare feet for a second. “What size are you?” He asked the quivering girl.

Christy was too distracted and didn’t respond, so George snapped his finger in front of her face. Christy gasped, struggling to adjust. “Hey! Fuckslut! What size shoe do you wear?” George demanded loudly.

Christy blinked, still shuddering and clearly suffering from an overload of sexual stimulation. “F-f-fives,” she managed to stammer. George nodded, making a note on the clipboard.

“Thank you,” he said, snapping his fingers again. This time, a pair of extremely high heels appeared on Christy’s feet. She stumbled a bit, trying to get her balance and Charles jumped forward, grabbing her elbow to steady her. The black strap stilettos had six inch heels and the center shank going along her arch was only a half a centimeter wide, leaving her insteps and even most of her arches exposed. Charles stared in awe.

“My goodness. Now those are shoes!” The lawyer exclaimed. “I’m impressed.”

George grinned. “We’ve got Catherine de Medici down on level five designing and testing new ones. They’re agony to walk in of course, but here in Hell, that’s par for the course.” 

Charles nodded in appreciation. “Well, those are the sexiest damn things I’ve ever seen.”

Christy lurched back toward them, a wild look on her flushed face. “Alright,” announced George. “I think we’re ready. Let’s go to hell.” He turned and started walking. Christy followed immediately, the bells on her nipples, clit, and ankle ringing. A second later Charles felt a strange pull, as if an invisible chain had been linked between him and Christy. He fell in behind the bound, suffering girl, his eyes glued to her trembling, cute ass. 

The lawyer sighed. “So much for good intentions,” he muttered. And down the road to hell they went.





Part Three

When the music stopped Charles Xavier Templeton heaved a sigh of relief for the first time in what seemed like ages. He limped over to the door of his cell and looked out. As usual, all he saw were men toiling outside, not a woman to be seen and frankly, if the polka music didn’t drive him mad, the lack of females was certainly going to do it. If he’d known what was in store for him when it came to a trip to hell, he might have tried to be a little more accommodating. Or at least good.

He wondered what had spurred the change. There hadn’t been a moment’s silence in years. He ran a hand through his frazzled hair and stood there. To his surprise he finally saw a familiar face. It was George the Demon, who looked just as frazzled. George stuck his keys in Charles’ cell door and opened it.

“George! A pleasure to see you sir,” Charles exclaimed, just excited to see someone different. “Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”

George eyed Charles from outside the cell. “Actually, you need to come with me. We have a situation involving your client. I need your assistance to talk to the Tribunal. Since she’s not currently capable of speech, much less coherent thought, I decided you can speak for her.”

“Client?” Asked Charles, grabbing his coat and slipping it on. “Who do you mean?”

George gave him a curious look. “Christina Reginia Ambalia. Don’t you remember?”

Charles blinked, running a hand through his hair. It took him a moment but then the memory of the little fuck slut who had accidentally offed herself with a belt around her throat came back with a vengeance. “Oh. The girl. Right. I’d almost completely forgotten her.” He thought back fondly. “My goodness she had a decent body! I wish I’d gotten the opportunity to sample her sweet, little slit.”

George snorted. “She still has a great body,” the demon assured the lawyer. “It hasn’t changed a bit. Nubile, trim and she's constantly wet. But I’m at my wits end with her. I need you to come with me.” He turned and began walking down the hall, gesturing for the counselor to follow. 

Charles fell into step next to the demon and they began walking. It was a blessed relief for Charles, and he reveled in the moment of freedom. Even if it meant he was still in hell. Eternal torment is not pleasant.

“Yes. What seems to be the problem? Did we lose the appeal?” Charles asked.

George shook his head. “There was no appeal. At least, not like you’re talking about. Not exactly. As you know, we mitigated her sentence somewhat due to your actions pointing out she’d only accidentally killed herself. So rather than a trip directly to the ninth circle of hell like most suicides, we put her on the first level, where we put fucksluts and other cock-teases. And because you were absolutely right about her beauty, we figured a girl like Christy would best be tormented by giving blowjobs constantly, along with regular orgasm denial.

Charles’ eyes widened. “Really?”

George nodded. “Absolutely. We have a whole row of girls in similar straits. Naked, bound on their knees, sucking demon cock around the clock. For most of those girls it breaks them. Best punishment ever. But not your client.”

Charles blinked. “Christy refused to suck cock?”

George rolled his eyes. “Hardly. She gobbled them up. Evidently, she likes the taste of licorice,” George said sourly.

Charles snickered. 

George shook his head. “You laugh, but she was actually voracious. Easily one of the best cock-suckers in the row. You should have seen her cute little head bobbing up and down, sucking and slurping. And you should have seen her swallow!” The demon sighed, clearly with a happy memory. “She would literally beg us to jizz all over her and then practically bathe in our cum.” Then he frowned. “But that wasn’t a problem either.

Charles’ eyes narrowed. “So, what, exactly, is the problem?” He asked.

“Was,” said the demon. “As in past tense. The problem was she kept getting herself off. That’s against the rules.”

“Wait. She had an orgasm? I thought that was not permitted in hell.”

“It isn’t,” the demon replied. “And it rarely happens. Normally, when we catch one of the girls masturbating during a blowjob, we put clamps on her breasts and attach her wrist to the clamps via a short chain. That way if she continues to rub, or wants to, it will constantly hurt. We change out clamps depending on the severity of the situation. Christy started with duckbill clamps, then moved to clothespins, then to orchid clamps, then suction clamps, then clover clamps, and finally alligator clamps. They must have been excruciating but she just kept rubbing herself and cumming.” His voice trailed off for a moment.

“That must have been an impressive sight,” Charles said wistfully. George blinked and lifted a tablet. He held it up to Charles and the lawyer looked down.

The picture on the tablet was Christy. The luscious little vixen was on her knees, her skin glistening with oil and reflecting the scarlet light of fire. A red skinned demon was naked in front of her, his huge, inhuman cock buried half-way down the girl’s throat. But what caught Charles’ eye was that her right hand was chained to her breasts, both of which were sporting vicious looking, metal-toothed clamps that pulled her nipples downward. It had to hurt, and hurt badly, but she was clearly busy rubbing her own clit. The picture seemed to radiate the intensity of her sexual need and from the glassy look in her eyes, Charles felt that she was right on the cusp of orgasm. 

Charles stopped and George came to a halt. “This looks like she’s about four seconds away from climax.”

George swiped the screen and a new picture of Christy Ambalia appeared. She was in practically the exact same position, except this time fluids were squirting out of her pussy, splattering the red colored ground between her legs, her calves, and even her shoes. Charles blinked, quite astonished and he had to reach down and adjust the growing bulge at the front of his trousers. 

The demon gave the lawyer an uncomfortable look. “It’s complicated. We can’t really stop them. We just generally don’t let them have orgasms,” he said. “We discourage it.”

“With clamps on their tits?” Charles asked skeptically. “How the hell is that supposed to stop them from cumming? What if she’s a masochist?”

George looked outraged. “For most girls it isn’t an issue. And we use other punishments!”

Charles rolled his eyes but nodded sagely. “I see. And what about Ms. Ambalia?

George tapped the tablet. “See?”

Charles sighed. “Yes. Wonderful picture. Internet worthy. Very telling. But I fail to understand why the problem requires my presence,” Charles said slowly.

“Well obviously,” replied George with frustration. “She was enjoying her eternal torment.”

Charles gave the demon a knowing smirk. “How awful for you.”

George nodded. “Exactly. So, we decided to move her. Not to another level, but to something a little worse than just giving blowjobs.”

“What’s worse?” Charles inquired in a patronizing voice, “than giving blowjobs to licorice flavored demons?” George swiped the tablet, setting a new picture in place, and handed it to the lawyer. In this shot, Christy was on all fours, kneeling on a raised platform, getting fucked from both sides while a third demon stood over her bottom with a wooden paddle.

“Getting fucked by licorice flavored demons,” George retorted. “We spitted her. And by the way, demon spunk in a girl’s cunt is like getting fucked with a freshly peeled ginger root, covered in hot sauce.” 

“Oh. Really?” said Charles, studying the picture. “It’s very... very … BDSM. Heavy on the S and M.” He looked up. “So what’s the problem? She looks like she’s handling it just fine.”

“That was the problem! She orgasmed from having this done to her as well,” George replied, tapping the picture. “So we added clamps to her tits.” The demon produced another shot of Christy, still getting fucked on both ends, her bottom red and inflamed from being spanked, but now a set of steel clover clamps were attached to her breasts, hanging down. “Then we added weights.” Another picture appeared on the screen. Two, very heavy looking, lead balls had been hung on the clamps and poor Christy’s nipples were being stretched.  

“But every time we put cock in her she came. So then we tried caning the bottoms of her feet between fucks. At first we thought we’d found something that could truly torment her. Her soles were gorgeous with all these livid red welts. Then we’d fuck her and bam! Another orgasm.” He slid his finger across the screen and a close up shot of Christy’s feet, bare of the stilettos, came into view. A series of narrow red lines criss crossed her arches and Charles winced. 

“And all you took was a picture?” Charles shook his head. “No wonder some people complain about hell,” He muttered, trying not to sound patronizing. “You need to learn about video files.”

The demon reached over and swiped the tablet again, revealing another still image, ignoring the lawyer. “Then we tried flogging her ass instead of spanking it. No effect. Finally we didn’t know what to do. So we flipped her over, had one demon go down her throat while the other fucked her cunt stupid, all while we beat her breasts with a leather strap.” He showed Charles another photograph and the lawyer’s eyes widened. 

“My goodness,” the lawyer murmured, staring down at the photograph. Christy’s legs were spread wide and tied apart, as were her arms. They hadn’t bothered to give her back the shoes and Charles could still see where the bottoms of her feet had been tortured. There were three demons. Two were fucking her on both ends, while the third wielded a leather strap and was slashing down at her well-marked tits. “I see what you mean. It’s hard to believe anyone but a committed masochist could enjoy such… um… intense sexual activity.” Charles handed the tablet back. 

“And?”

“She came,” George said with disgust.

“You mean orgasmed?” Charles asked, wanting to be clear.

George nodded.

Charlie gave the demon a skeptical look. “Perhaps you shouldn’t base your ‘eternal torments’ on sexual behavior,” he suggested wryly. “I’ve been stuck listening to polka for the last few years and haven’t cum once. I’m surprised I haven't gone nuts.”

George gave him a frustrated look. “You have. Multiple times. We bring you back and lock you up with it again.”

“You - you what?” Charlie said in astonishment. He stared at the demon.

George nodded. “Absolutely.”

Charlie swallowed.

George kept walking down the hallway. “But we aren’t here to discuss your eternal torment. We’re here to discuss hers. Christy.” He gave the lawyer a frustrated look. “Have you been following along?”

Charles blinked. “What? Oh yes. She’s been cumming. Despite being spitted by demons with caustic licorice flavored cum and having her breasts and feet beaten with leather straps.”

“Switches, for her feet. Not straps,” said George absently. “So eventually we decided that we needed to take some of the sexual stimulation out of it. So instead of fucking her pussy, we had the demons take her in the ass.”

Charlie winced. “Not my preferential opening, from either perspective. But considering our present conversation I presume anal sex was about as effective as the other methods you’ve tried?” He asked.

George frowned and held the tablet up again. There was Christy, in all her naked glory, the leather belt still tight around her neck, on her knees again, getting fucked from both ends. One massive demon cock was clearly buried in her rump while another had been forced down her throat. Her face was red and the one demon was holding her by the belt around her neck, clearly choking the hell out of her. Her breasts sported some impressively brutal marks. The expression on her face was both of revulsion and extreme need. “Impressive. Most girls are not into anal sex.”

George snorted disdainfully. “Well, Christy certainly doesn’t mind taking it up the back door. At first she squealed like a stuck pig, but after three or four full speed butt fucks, she was taking it like a pro.”

“Did she cum?” Charles asked curiously.

George sighed. “Not at first, but eventually yes. Which is why we decided to move her from the first level of hell to the second.”

Charlie blinked. “Really? Out of curiosity, how many times was she, you know, used? While on level one.”

The demon walking with Charlie gave him an odd look. “The number would be meaningless to you.”

“I’m a lawyer. Try me,” Charlie said wryly.

George sighed and checked the tablet. “Christine Angelina Ambalia was subjected to nine hundred and seven trillion, seven hundred and sixteen billion, six hundred and forty-three million, three hundred and forty-five thousand, nine hundred and eighty seven sexual penetration events while on level 1.” The demon looked up. “That’s just the vaginal ones. We don’t count oral or anal.”

“Good God,” Charlie said in astonishment. “How long was she there?”

George shrugged. “Time is immaterial here. You and she are both here for …”

“Eternal torment. Yes. I get it.” Charlie said sarcastically. “I withdraw my last question. So, you were about to tell me what you’ve been doing to her on level two?”

“Doing to her? Hardly. I wanted to tell you what we did to her on level two. We can get to the subsequent levels in a moment.

Charlie blinked. “Subsequent?”

George ignored him. “On level two, her circumstances changed dramatically. Level Two focuses on lust. Normally someone subjected to torment on the second level of hell has overriding sexual urges. With Christy, it was like she was already there. So we figured Level Two would reduce her penchant for cumming.”

“It would?” Charlie asked incredulously. “In what way?”

The demon held up the tablet. “There isn’t much to fuck on level two and the few things a girl can fit her pussy around are not exactly…”

“Comfortable,” said Charlie as he looked at the picture on the tablet. In the image, Christy was straddling a massive, black, misshapen phallus that looked like it was plated in bony armor. The glazed look in her eyes and her wet, dark pink labia were hard to miss and it was readily apparent she was about to impale herself. The chastity belt was gone and she was only wearing the bondage cuffs on wrist and ankle, as well as her high heels and leather belt, still around her neck. The demon reached out a hand and dragged his finger across the screen. A new image slid into view. This time Christy was sinking down on a cruel looking spiked thing. Another gesture and Christy was fucking an actual cactus.

“Is that a cactus?” Charlie asked curiously.

George looked down at the picture, then nodded. He looked at the lawyer. “Not much else grows in Hell. Demons aren’t good gardeners.”

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “So, her libido is out of control and even with you people providing only the most horrible of phallic relief, she still managed to sate herself?”

George nodded. “We subjected her to a course on object sex. She was impaled with a long list of uncomfortable items.” He held up the tablet and a spreadsheet appeared. George scrolled through it so fast that Charles wasn’t even able to read the long list of things that Christy was fucked with, but he caught the numbers on the far left. When George passed the one thousandth row the lawyer waved his hand in frustration.

“Yes, yes, you fucked her with a bunch of different objects,” he muttered. “Don’t you know that pictures are worth a thousand words?” 

“Oh. Right,” George said, flicking his finger across the tablet. The spreadsheet fell away and Charles looked on as almost a hundred photographs flashed by. He barely had time to take in the view, but each was of Christy writhing on a leather padded table, her legs spread wide apart in the splits, her bright red pussy stuffed in each shot with something… weird. Baseball bats of different sizes, widths, and materials, zucchini, banister railings, a rubber chicken, beer bottle, stapler, turkey baster, computer mouse, a phone handset, the base of a Christmas tree, a street signpost. Her eyes were closed but the clear and inescapable fact was that she was clearly cumming in all of them. George kept scrolling and Charles blinked. Christy with a corn cob sticking out of her cunt. Christy with a lit and melting candle in her pussy. Christy fucking a banana. A pipe. A demon’s fist. A shoe. The handle of a screwdriver. A frozen popsicle. A horse sized dildo. A whisk. A cylindrical hair brush. A sweet potato. A game console wand. A medicine bottle. A cell phone. Crown Molding. A toy action figure. A television remote. A baster. A gear shift knob on a stick. A jalapeno. The end of a French style rolling pin. 

Charles' eyes started to glaze over, the surge of information too much for him to categorize. He looked away and George stopped the flashing images, freezing the frame on a shot of Christy in the throes of sexual abandon, getting fucked with a cactus. Charles looked at the demon questioningly. 

“What?” Asked George with irritation. “She asked if she could fuck it again.”

Charles shook his head. “I get it. You fucked her stupid with things that shouldn’t have made her cum, and yet she did.”

George shifted uncomfortably. “That’s the problem with Level 2. You can cum and cum and cum and cum and just get sorer, tenderer, and more desperate. It’s pretty bad.” The demon suddenly let out a laugh. “At least I presume it is. Most denizens go mad.”

“She’s gone mad?” Charlie asked in a worried tone.

George continued down the hall and they passed door after door. “What? No. She didn’t go mad, unless her driving sexual need was already a madness she possessed. We left her in there for eons, figuring eventually she’d fuck herself to a point where it hurt too much to cum.”

“Did you damage her?” Charlie asked, putting a hand on the demon’s arm.

George scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Of course, we did! She ended up fucking dildos made of barrel cactus! But you can’t die in Hell. Or even get physically damaged. It just hurt. Though I admit it was a little gory. Still, she just did it, endured the pain and exploded anyway! Who the fuck does that?” He demanded.

Charlie nodded. “Okay. I’m starting to see the problem,” he said. “She’s somewhat immune to the level two punishment.”

“That was our assessment as well,” said George knowingly. “So, we moved her to level three.”

Charles blinked and looked around. “Wait. You mean she’s here? On my level?”

“She was on your level,” George said in frustration. “She isn’t any more. Besides, being on the same level doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone.”

Charlie frowned. “I’m guessing that Polka was not a part of Christy’s punishment.”

George nodded. “Obviously. She was still used as a fuck toy by the various demons on this level, and even some demons from both level one and level two who were enamored with her. It made her a very popular choice for torment sessions.”

Charlie gave George a slightly disgusted look. “Of course. Despicable. You monsters taking advantage of that sweet little thing,” he said sarcastically, shaking his head. George ignored him.

“The first torment prisoners in level three are subjected to is a hot waxing, followed by a thorough whipping. Christy was oiled, bound face up on a curved bench, and then subjected to hot wax being dripped on her body, starting with her breasts and cunt.” The demon held out the tablet again, showing Charles the photographs. The first showed the beautiful teen in situ, bound over an arched bench, wrists and ankles still in the black bondage cuffs. Her feet, encased in the amazing shoes, looked even more attractive. The narrow belt around her throat was delightful. But what really caught the lawyer’s eye was the way her skin glistened. Two red-skinned demons were rubbing it into her. One even had his hand between her legs, clearly finger fucking the girl.” Charles pointed at the shot.

“If this is supposed to be punishment,” Charles asked. “Then why is your colleague diddling his fingers inside her?”

George looked at the photo. “What?” He demanded. His eyes narrowed. “Uh… I think that’s just process. I mean, they have to get her all hot and bothered before they torture her, right?”

Charles snorted. “Sure. And you wonder why she’s still cumming.”

George flipped to the second photograph. In it, Christy was covered in crimson colored wax, both breasts and her pussy were thoroughly coated. A demon loomed over her holding a flogger and it wasn’t hard to tell what was about to happen. “So, then you beat the wax off her tits and cunt?” 

George nodded. “Yes. And when the whip hit her clit…”

“She came,” finished Charles with a grin.

“She came,” agreed George. The demon sighed. “It was awful. And it kept happening! Over and over! We’ve never seen anything like it!” He checked the statistics on the tablet again. “Four hundred and sixty-seven million times! And you know what? She exploded each time!”

Charles crossed his arms. “Look, I’m not sure I understand why Ms. Ambalia’s predicament is my problem. Or how I can help her.” 

George the Demon gave him a frustrated look. “Not her predicament! Ours!” He shook his head and held up the tablet. “After we waxed her a few million times we moved to stretching her on a rack,” he showed the lawyer another picture. There was a demon at the bottom end, holding a vicious looking dildo on a stick. It was clear where the dildo was about to go. But what Charlie noted was the look of utter need on Christy’s face. She wanted to get fucked. Badly.

George showed him another picture. “When that didn’t work, we tried something else! Here is your client walking a knotted rope!” Charles looked. The beautiful girl was on tiptoe, clearly struggling to walk what looked like the longest rope in the universe, thick, rough knots of hemp tied every ten inches. It stretched off into the distance. George flicked through a couple of closeups, showing her rubbing her abraded cunt on each knot and cumming.

“How long was that rope?” Charles asked mindlessly. 

“Forty-two hundred miles long,” George retorted. “And we made her do it eleven hundred times. You should have seen how swollen her clit was!” He showed Charlie another picture. “She rubbed it raw! And we doused every third knot with coldhot cream.”

Charles sighed and looked up. “And it made her cum, didn’t it?”

George, looking defeated, sighed. “Every third of a mile practically. So we moved her.”

Charles looked back up at the demon. “Level four I presume?”

George frowned. “Actually, we skipped level four. That’s for politicians only.”

Charles let out a laugh. “Politicians are in a lower level of hell than lawyers?” He asked cheerfully. “That is truly the best thing I’ve heard yet!” 

The demon gave Charles a frustrated look. “Are you ready to continue the brief, counselor?”

Charles shook his head. “No, actually. You still haven’t explained what is going on, other than the fact that you demons keep fucking her, and then act all surprised when she explodes. What do you expect her to do?”

“Suffer, damn it!” George said. “Look! In Level Five we mounted her on a violently vibrating dildo, pressed a massager to her clit, and whipped her breasts and bottom non-stop for centuries. And she still came!” He lifted the tablet again, showing a shot of Christy bound upright, spread-eagled, jammed down on a vibrating dildo as thick as Charles’ fist. She was quivering, perspiration dripping down her brow. But to Charles' now experienced eye, there was no doubt that she was climaxing. But George wasn’t done. He swiped the screen again. “In level six we bound her in a variety of ways, each terribly uncomfortable, while we pushed freshly peeled ginger in her ass and painted her clit with pepper oil. Then we applied vibrations to her clit and watched her scream.”

“As she came,” Charles added with a nod. George nodded. 

“After that she spent a thousand or so years swimming in one of our tentacle tanks.” He showed an engaging picture of Christy skinnydipping in a dark pool, her white skin pure and glowing. Charles admired her form as George swiped another finger across the tablet. A new picture popped into view, this one of Christy suspended in the air, arms and legs pulled outward, eyes bulging as some sort of octopus-like monster plunged the tips of its tentacles into every hole. Smaller arms were wrapped around her breasts, squeezing them while the suction cup tips pulled at her nipples and clitoris. There was even one tentacle wrapped around her throat. George moved to the next picture and Charles could see Christy’s face turned purple.

“Was it… choking her?” Charles asked curiously.

“What?” George asked. He rotated the tablet around and looked at the picture. “Oh. Um… yes. I guess so.”

“Isn’t that exactly what resulted in her death orgasm in the first place?” Charles asked.

George gave him a defensive look. “Well, yes.”

The lawyer rolled his eyes. “So how is that technically a punishment?” 

The demon gave him a disgusted stare. “Have you ever been fucked in every hole by a giant squid monster, thirty-four million times in a row? After being dragged under water and nearly drowned?”

Charles frowned. “Uh… no.” He acceded. “Still…”

George waved him off. “That’s not the point. She still came. Repeatedly. Constantly. We had to pull her out because she was swimming toward the creature by the end. You should have seen the poor thing! It was trying to get away from her!” 

Charles gave the demon a dry look. “How horrible,” he replied, the sarcasm obvious.

George missed. “I know, right? So, we moved her to Level Seven, which I can tell you, is no picnic.”

Charles nodded. “Do tell,” he said, ruefully.

“In level seven we made her ride the wooden pony. Then the wooden horse,” the George added, showing more photographs. There Christy was, her legs clearly straining as she struggled to keep her abused pussy off the frighteningly sharp ridge of the pony. The next picture had her sitting on a wooden edge much higher, her feet straight down but unable to touch the ground. “You can’t see it with these photographs, but she spent almost the entire time thrusting and rocking and working herself into a froth. On a wooden horse! Can you believe that?” George shook his head. “And we have special horses,” he added. “Like this one is made of ice,” he said, showing Christy straddling a triangular cut piece of frozen iceberg. “And this one, made of stone.” Another shot of Christy straining not to sit on the hard edge. “And this one, which electrifies when her pussy touches the metal strip. And when that didn’t work, we tried tickle torture. She was screaming with laughter, but still managed to explode when we touched the right spots.”

“Enough,” Charles said sternly. “I get it. You tortured her. Sexually.” His mouth was pressed into a firm line.

George gave him a frustrated look. “I know you’re not happy about what we’ve done to Christy, but…”

Charles snorted, his eyes rolling. “I’m not objecting to what you’re doing to the young lady. She was a cock-tease and a slut in life. Why not in the afterlife? And she clearly seems to be enjoying it. Hell, if you gave me the chance, I’d probably help you put her through her paces. But let’s cut to the chase. Exactly what is the problem?”

George blinked. “Oh. She’s about to be kicked out of hell.”





Part Four

“Kicked out of hell?” Charles asked, slightly bewildered. “How the hell does that happen?”

George gave the counselor a grumpy look. “From breaking the rules. Haven’t you been listening? No matter what we do to her, she cums.”

The lawyer blinked in confusion. “Yeah, I get that. But where would she go?”

The demon gave the lawyer a frustrated look. “You haven’t studied up on this, have you?”

Charles’ eyebrow went up. “I was something of an agnostic for most of my life.”

“Really?” Asked the demon curiously. “When did you decide to believe?” 

Charles grinned. “Somewhere between getting hit on the back of the head, and getting dumped in the river.”

George snickered. “Too late, right?” 

Charles waved a hand. “So, presume I am ignorant of the system here.”

“You are ignorant,” the demon accused. “But to put it bluntly, there is heaven and hell. That’s it.”

“Purgatory?” Asked Charles hopefully.

The demon snickered. “Non-existent. It’s heaven and hell. That’s it. And your client is about to get kicked out of the latter.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that Christy can go to Heaven?” 

George nodded unhappily. “Exactly. And I need you to talk to the Tribunal and convince them otherwise.”

“The Tribunal?” Charles inquired.

George shrugged. “Sort of like one of your mortal appeals courts. Three judges who determine her direction. You’ll need to talk fast if you want to keep her here in Hell.”

Charles laughed uproariously. “Why the hell would I want to?” He demanded. He came to a stop, leaning on the wall, still laughing. “The chance to get out of Hell? Are you kidding me?” 

The demon stopped and crossed his arms, giving Charles a disgusted look. “For your information counselor, there is one incredibly good reason why she shouldn’t go to Heaven.”

Charles laughed again. “By all means, elucidate!”

George frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means tell me!” demanded the lawyer.

The demon leaned close. “There are no orgasms in Heaven.” He said it so darkly, so roughly, that Charles stopped laughing.

“What?” He demanded. “What do you mean, no orgasms?”

George sighed. “In Heaven, you are a being of spirit. Pleasure comes from being close to family and friends or being in the presence of the Almighty. Not from physical contact. If you send her to heaven, she’ll never be naked again, or stuffed with that amazing dildo. The belt around her neck will be gone, replaced with a fucking harp and a halo and some stupid wings. Do you get it? The very nature of Christina Regina Ambalia will be gone. She will never again writhe in sexual gratification. Never moan in mindless lust. Never spread her legs wide for another being to stuff her cunt and fuck her hard.”

Charles paused, thinking. “Oh… I see. That would be disappointing. I think.” 

“Think faster,” George retorted, staring down the hall again. Charles hurried to catch up.

“So, you want me to convince these judges to keep her here in Hell?” Asked Charles. George nodded and continued to lead the lawyer down the hall. 

“Yes. And get an exemption.” 

“An exemption?” Charles inquired. George came to a stop and turned toward the lawyer. 

“The entire problem is that Christy is breaking the rules. She keeps cumming.”

Charles laughed. “Of course, she does. You demons are basically fucking this girl non-stop. The fact that she is a masochistic hedonist of gargantuan proportions is mitigating the punishment.” Charles grinned. “In other words, she has survived your worst.”

George snorted. “Hardly. There is still one level of Hell left. Counselor. Number nine.”

“That’s worse than being tentacle fucked by an octopus monster?” 

George waved his hand and started walking down the white, antiseptic hall again. “Absolutely.”

“What more could you possibly do to her?” Charles demanded, catching up quickly.

George gave the lawyer a matching grimace. “Do you have any idea what we do to girls in Level Nine?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “How the hell am I supposed to know what goes on down in Level Nine, for Christ’s sake? I’ve been locked up listening to polka music and forced to write amicus briefs for the last six million years!”

The demon flinched, though whether from the blasphemy, or the accusation, Charles didn’t know. But that didn’t stop the lawyer. “Trust me when I state, for the official record, that I am like a fish out of water here. I am insufficiently prepared to represent Ms. Ambalia, much less talk the Tribunal into anything regarding her official status.”

“How is this complicated?” The demon demanded suddenly, whirling on the lawyer. “You sit at the damn table, we all rise, the Tribunal comes in, Ms. Ambalia is brought forward, the charges and recommendation is read outloud, and then you object. You give some bullshit reason about why she needs to remain in Hell, and more importantly, convince them to allow an exemption.”

“Then what?” Charles asked. “What’s the end game?”

George let out a frustrated breath. “Then I keep her here, on level eight, for all eternity.” 

“Avoiding Level Nine?” Charles asked curiously.



George nodded. “Exactly. If she gets transferred there, they will literally do things to her that would generally be illegal if you were both back on earth, alive.”

Charles snorted. “Most of the stuff you’ve already done to her is illegal, at least where I lived. Besides, do you know how old she is? Everything you’ve done to her is illegal,” he sneered.

George ignored that. “Level Nine is true torment. Imagine her being strapped down to a chair with electrified dildos pumping in and out of her ass and cunt, electric clamps attached to her nipples and clit, electrostim tabs on her thighs, belly, and bottoms of her feet, and then being fried.”

Charles swallowed. “That’s a… that’s a vivid image,” he admitted, feeling his cock grow just a little harder.

“You realize she can’t die, right?” George added. “We will just pour energy through her genitals until she’s screaming.”

“In orgasm,” muttered Charles, feeling a touch left out.

George snorted this time. “No one cums from that,” he said softly, but there was a hint of doubt in his tone. “Besides, that’s not the only torment on Level Nine. There is denial too. That’s the hardest. Can you imagine Christy being brought to the very edge of orgasm, then denied climax, and in the worst way imaginable? A pussy whipping? Then doing it again? Over and over.”

Charles smiled. “I certainly can. And if you need an impartial observer…”

George glared at the lawyer. “You, sir, are a lecher! That’s disgusting!” 

The lawyer put his hand on his heart. “Me? I’m just an innocent wanderer. I’m not the one tying poor young sex hungry damsels down with their legs spread, pretending to give them what they need, and then rewarding them by taking a paddle to their clit.”

George frowned. “Touché. But still…”

Charles put his hand on the demon’s arm. “Okay. Look. I’ll do it. You’ve convinced me. Keep her in Hell and ask for an exemption. Out of curiosity, has an exemption ever been granted?”

“For cumming?” George asked.

Charles shrugged. “Cumming would be most helpful, but an exemption for anything is acceptable.”

“No,” George muttered.

Charles sighed. “Well, so much for that.” The lawyer shook his head. “Alright, well then the first thing to do is to speak to her.”

George blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

Charles shrugged. “I want to speak to her. I want to know what she thinks about these options. What if she really does want out? A break from sexual stimulation and torture? What if she misses her parents?”

“Why the hell are you in Hell?” George asked ludicrously. “What kind of lawyer are you?” The demon tapped Charles’ chest. “You’re supposed to be helping me keep her here. So we can continue to sexually torment her!” 

Charles sighed. “Well, lawyers always get a bad rap.”

George turned away and shook his head. “No. This isn’t a good idea. First, Ms. Ambalia is not exactly in a state to receive visitors, and frankly I’m not sure she is mentally capable of handling the kind of conversation you are suggesting.”

“George,” Charles said softly. “It’s not an option. If you want me to represent her case, I must speak to her.” For a moment, lawyer and demon stared at each other. Then George’s shoulders slumped. He let out a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll take you to her.” He continued just a few feet down the hall and Charles followed, surprised to find the silver doors of an elevator.

“Uh, were these here before?” Charles asked.

George shook his head. “No. Security precaution. Only demons can summon an elevator.” He pushed the down button and the doors opened. “Come on.”

Charles followed George into the elevator and watched as the demon selected the number eight. At the top was the letter G. “Ground floor?” Charles asked curiously.

“Gate,” George said with a shrug. Charles felt the elevator descend, moving down through the various levels of hell. When the doors opened, they stepped out into another white, antiseptic scented hallway filled with closed doors. Except this time, Charles could hear sobbing, cries of agony, and mad ravings. But all muted.

“Lots of people here,” Charles said softly, just a little perturbed.

The demon nodded. “Yes, this is one of the more populous sections of hell.” He began walking. “It’s also rather segmented. We have sections for rapists, pedophiles, scam artists who target the elderly, and cigarette smokers who start large wildfires.” Charles’ eyebrow went up, but George continued. “Of course, we have a sexual punishment section too. Which is where Christy is currently being detained.”

“You mean tortured,” Charles retorted.

George shrugged. “This is Hell. Obviously.”

“Except for the fact she keeps cumming.” George didn’t reply. Charles took a deep breath as they continued down the hallway. “Just how many orgasms has she had?” Charles asked curiously. 

George snorted as they continued walking. “That number would be meaningless to you.”

“I think we’ve discussed that before,” Charles said with a roll of his eyes.

George gave the lawyer a disgusted look. “I’d need to use exponents just to get close. And a lot of them. Why don’t you go count all the stars in your galaxy while you’re at it?” Suddenly he stopped at one of the doors. There were no markings or numbers on the door and Charles had no way of knowing how the demon had sensed Christy’s location “Alright. This is it. Are you ready?”

Charles put a hand on the demon’s arm. “Actually, I do have one more question,” he said seriously. “What’s in this for me?”

George’s eyes narrowed. “Ah. And now we know why you’re in hell,” he retorted. 

Charles laughed. “Well, I’ve got to look out for myself, because no one else is going to do it,” he replied. “I don’t suppose I can arrange to be expelled?”

George rolled his eyes. “You’re a lawyer. You sold your soul to the devil the day you passed the bar. Don’t you remember signing the contract?” He grinned.

“Funny,” Charles replied. “How about a change in music? Light Jazz perhaps?”

This time George laughed. “Sorry Counselor. A great man once said that Polka never dies. And for you, that’s pretty much forever.” 

Charles crossed his arms. “So again, why should I help you?”

George shook his head. “Not me. Her. Help her.” For a moment, the demon and the lawyer stared at each other. Then Charles sighed. 

“Fine,” he said with resignation, shrugging his shoulders. “What’s a little pro bono work in the depths of Hell?” He gestured at the door. “Let me see my client.”

George frowned. “I’m the client.”

Charles Xavier Templeton, attorney-at-law, smiled back at the demon. “No sir, she is the client. You are a governing authority. Think of this as a probation violation hearing. You are the probation officer, whose charge is accused of violating a term of her probation. The court wants to throw the book at her, but you want to argue mitigating circumstances. To assist with that, you contact her attorney, who will support your position.” Charles leaned forward. “I am her attorney.” 

George spluttered a bit, then looked away. “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” He touched the doorknob and it twisted. “The tribunal starts in like five hours and a half hours. Talk to Ms. Ambalia or whatever. Just knock on the door if you want out of the room.” 

No more words were necessary. Charles smiled. “Don’t worry my friend. I’ll do my very best.” He gave George a mocking little bow, then opened the door and marched in.





Part Five

Charles Templeton came to an immediate halt as he looked around the room. It was medicinally clean, tiled in white ceramic, and was well illuminated with fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling. The floor was also tiled and there were a number of iron covered drains located in various places, as if the architect had been worried about a major plumbing leak. A series of cabinets lined one wall and a set of stainless-steel tables were set opposite. The back wall was nothing but a huge mirror, and Charles had seen enough television to know that it was obviously one way. But none of this compared to what was in the very center of the room.

It appeared to be a gynecologist’s examination chair, except designed to strain the occupant to their limits and augmented by a mad, perverted scientist. Christy was mounted in it, her bondage cuffs on wrist and ankle firmly secured, her legs and arms spread so wide that Charles winced. A mechanical arm extended out from under the chair sporting a spinning corkscrew dildo on the end, much of which was already firmly embedded in Christy’s dripping, tender, slit. Another protuberance, mounted above the dildo, was touching her clitoris, and from the way her hips were jerking, it was vibrating intensely. Her fine, full breasts had been bound in what looked like electrical tape, wrapped around the base so that they bulged beautifully. There were marks across the skin, as if she’d been whipped by a fine wire. Both nipples were caught in vacuum clamps, the turgid tips extended into the clear, plastic tubes, but there was some sort of prickly seed pods jammed into the vacuum vials as, and Charles could see that the sharp spines were poking the pink tips of her breasts. Her bottom was stuffed as well, the thick, black rubber cock that she’d brought with her jammed deep into her rump. 

She was both blindfolded and gagged, quivering from the overload of sexual stimulation. 

For a moment, Charles just stood there. For him, it was a truly amazing sight and the fact that his cock had hardened to an uncomfortable stiffness was just part and parcel. Christy’s body rippled and her spine arched, her entire form shuddering. Her feet were bare, the sexy high heels she’d been given up at St. Peter’s gate resting on the floor near the bottom of the chair. Her toes curled as she pumped her hips, clearly frustrated and needy. Then her entire body shuddered, and she squealed into the gag, her back arching. Charles watched as another orgasm hit her like a brick and a splatter of cum exploded out of her cunt, squirting from around the corkscrewing dildo. Girl goo fell to the floor and almost hit Charles’ shoes. He took a step to the side, noting that the spinning dildo didn’t even stop, nor did the vibrator against her clit. Hell, neither toy even slowed down.

“Cumming indeed,” he said to himself.

Christy’s head snapped to the side and she began yelling into the gag. She’d heard him. Charles cursed silently and hurried to her side. The blindfold was merely a slip-on sleeping mask and he yanked it off. Her clear blue eyes found him, only to suddenly alight in desperate hope. She said something again, the thick red rubber ball gag muffling the words, and Charles worked to free her mouth. The buckle was hard to get to, but after a moment he was able to pull the huge, red rubber ball out from between her lips.

“Oh my God!” Christy sobbed. “Please! Please!!” 

Charles dropped the gag and the mask on the floor and looked around the chair. Her cuffs were locked to the frame, padlocks securing her in place. He gave her a frustrated look. “I’m not sure how to let you up,” he said. “Let me look around for a key.” He left her side and went over to the steel tables, only to swallow in surprise. Laid out were over a dozen different kinds of tools, from speculums to catheters. There was also a vicious array of forceps clamps, clit binders, and various alchemical ointments, along with a dizzying array of strangely shaped dildos, vibrators, and inserts. The other table was no better, and held a precise arrangement of spiked wheeled instruments, a collection of more esoteric clamps, strange bulbed hooks, and what looked like a violet wand kit. Lastly, there was a tray of sterile needles. Charles hesitated over those, but then Christy let out a low-throated moan and he turned back to look at the bound girl.

“Uh… maybe in the cabinet,” Charles said, trying to ignore the urge to go over to her and take advantage of her bound body. He checked the tall cabinet, his eyes widening at a stored assortment of mechanical arms, clearly meant for the chair, each sporting an increasingly vicious looking dildo. 

“Yeah. No joy,” he said with a sigh. He returned to Christy. The dildo between her legs was still pumping and spinning and he tugged on the arm. She whimpered, eyes glossed over, her hips still jerking, but Charles couldn’t move the damn thing. He turned and glared at the window, pointing at Christy.

“Stop this thing. How the hell am I supposed to talk to her when she’s in the throes of sexual orgasm?” He demanded.

For a moment, only Christy’s whimpers and the buzzing rotation sound of the dildo filled the room, but then the machines slowed and went still. Christy groaned, a look of pained longing on her face.

“Better?” Charles asked softly, putting his left hand on her head. His right he placed on her thigh, reveling in the softness of her skin. He resisted the urge to move his finger, knowing that her labia was just an inch away. 

Christy’s eyes opened and she suddenly started to sob. “Thank god! Thank god! I thought no one would ever come,” she blubbered, still bound wide in the chair. “They’ve done… the things… done… to me…”

Charles swallowed. “Yes, my dear. I’ve heard… seen actually, some of it.” He let out a soft sigh and put a hand on her forehead, stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” Tears poured down Christina’s cheeks and Charles suddenly wanted to hug her almost as much as he wanted to fuck her. But then she was shaking her head.

“I did…” she cried. “I did. Deserve it.” Then her eyes snapped up to his. “Please?”

Charles frowned. “I’m not sure what…”

“PLEASE! I need to cum!” She groaned. 

Charles blinked. “What?” He asked in confusion.

“I need to cum!” She blurted out, her eyes finally focusing on him with desperate need. Her hips suddenly began to churn, even with the dildo machine off. Charles could hear the squelching, wet mud sound of her cunt as it slipped up and down the currently immobile phallus. 

“But… you just did,” Charles replied, glancing down to see the wet pattern still sticky on the floor. Underneath the fresh cum was a slightly drier spot, and beneath that one, a faint outline of another puddle of girl goo. “Oh,” the lawyer said in understanding. 

Christy became more frantic and pulled against her bonds, half sitting up. “Stick your dick in me?” She begged. “Fuck me?”



Charles hesitated. His raging hard-on certainly would feel a hell of a lot better in her dripping pussy, but he grappled with the ethics behind it. He coughed delicately. “Ms. Ambalia, do you remember me?” He asked instead. She looked at him, her incredibly attractive chest heaving, the vacuum tube clamps quite fetching. For a moment he smiled down at her and put his hand on her thigh, reveling in her soft skin, his pinkie just barely grazing her stretched labia. “Remember how we met? Do you remember the gate?”

She blinked, then licked her lips. “The lawyer. You wanted to fuck me,” she said softly, almost panting as her body seemed to writhe on the chair. “Do it. I want it. Fuck me hard,” she whimpered.

He patted her shoulder. “Yes… well all in good time,” he assured her. “But before we get to that, I need to explain a few things to you.” 

She closed her eyes and looked away. “I need to cum,” she repeated.

Charles frowned. “Hey. Missy. You need to focus here for a moment.” He snapped his fingers above her head. She ignored him and in a moment of pure frustration, he grabbed the vacuum clamp on her left nipple and pulled. Christy surged up in her seat with a gasp, eyes wide, as if he’d just given her a dose of adrenaline. Charles had never seen such a response. In seconds she was panting, her loins thrusting madly. Then the clamp popped off her tit and the spiky seed pod fell out onto her abdomen. 

“Need! P-please! F-f-fuck me!” She begged. 

Charles stared down at her. “What have they done to you?” He said in shock. She looked straight at him, her eyes pleading, and he felt his inhibitions shatter. He moved to the end of the chair and grabbed the motorized dildo arm. This time it moved, and he pulled the thick rubber cock out of Christy’s dripping cunt. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking. Her wet pink slit beckoned, and he began unbuckling his belt. His trousers and boxers dropped, and he stood there, his rock-hard shaft in his hand. Their eyes met and she nodded frantically. He gave her a trusting look and then slid his wick into her swollen, sore, bright pink gash.

“Ohhhh! Yes!” She exclaimed, eyes closing as her back arched again. 

“Oh my God,” Charles whispered as the warm wetness enclosed around him. She was hot and slippery and he had never felt anything as tight and as good as Christina Regina Ambalia’s pussy in his entire life. Or afterlife if he was going to be honest about it. He began pumping his own hips as she squeezed him tight.

“N-not en-en-enough,” the girl gasped. “My breasts! Hurt my breasts!” She gasped. 

“What?” Charles blurted out, his own face starting to get red. The pressure building inside him grew so quickly that he wasn’t sure how long he could hold back. 

“Anything!” Christy cried. “I need… I need! PLEASE OH FUCK, I NEED TO FUCKING CUM!” 

Charles looked around, but he didn’t want to pull out. He was so close! Instead, he reached up and grabbed her other breast, the one that still had the other vacuum clamp on it, twisting as she screamed. Then the vial popped off, the second seed rolling down through Christy’s cleavage to rest in the dip of her navel. Charles tossed the clamp to the side, then leaned forward and grabbed both of her breasts, squeezing and kneading them. Her tits were firm but soft, the nipples hard and raised. She bucked against him, teeth clenched and her eyes closed as her hips pumped desperately. He felt his heartbeat surge and rammed into her deep and hard, feeling her insides quiver and tighten around his member. Pressure and color seemed to flow through him and then, much to his surprise, he let loose with ribbons of cum, spooling off into her depths as he groaned, sighing in much needed relief. Slowly, he pulled out of her, his cock going limp, with white cream dripping from her cunt. “Bet that doesn’t taste like licorice,” he said with a smug look. 

But Christy hadn’t cum and the panicked look on her face made it damn clear that Charles was in trouble. She closed her eyes and banged her head backward against the padded chair itself, whimpering. 

“Sorry,” Charles said quietly, feeling a little ashamed. “A proper gentleman would have had the decency to control himself until after his paramour had been satisfied. But while you’ve evidently been frolicking between one orgasmic episode and another, I’ve been chaste and forced to listen to polka music non-stop for what seems like an eternity.”

Christy didn’t respond. Charles pulled up his trousers and buckled his pants, then walked around to her side. “Ms. Ambalia, we need to talk.”

“Please…” she whimpered. “Please… I need… I need…” 

Charles bit his lip, then looked back down at her gaping sex. Her hips hadn’t stopped pumping and even after having just cum, the overall sexual aura of the young girl called to him. Charles gritted his teeth and then hurried over to the cabinet. He opened the door and pulled one of the huge vibrators out. He held it up and then came back down between her legs. 

“I’m going to satisfy you,” Charles said simply. “But you have to communicate with me too. There are some things going on which you need to be aware of.”

Christy lifted her head to look down at her spread open body and nodded her head. Charles pointed the dildo at her wet, open hole, and pushed it in slowly. Christy groaned, putting her head back as the insanely thick and long phallus slid into her. 

“You’ve created something of a stir,” Charles said, pushing until he felt the rubber strike her cervix. He started to draw the dildo out slowly. “Evidently, cumming isn’t something the demons approve of, especially when the person having the orgasm is here to suffer eternal sexual torment via denial.”

Christy looked up again, her face slightly contorted and a sheen of perspiration glistening on her forehead. “Thrust. It. In. Hard,” she whispered, her voice strained.

Charles gave her a frustrated look but then jammed the dildo back in. It was a quick, violent thrust and she gasped when the rubber phallus was rammed home. “Precisely,” Charles explained, pulling the dildo back out. “You are craving these torments, instead of dreading them. You keep breaking the rules. So, they want to expel you from hell.”

But she didn’t seem to understand him. She panted, heavily, her hips still grinding. “Again! Please! Again!” Charles got frustrated and took the phalus out of her. He came around to her side, holding the dildo in his hand, gesturing. 

“Hey! Focus!” He shouted at her, waving the rubber cock. Her eyes locked onto the dildo, her mouth opening. She even stuck her tongue out, clearly trying to lick the damn thing. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Charles muttered. With his free hand, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Ms. Ambalia! Snap out of it! You’ve set records here. No one has had more orgasms than you. Ever. You’ve broken the mold and frankly, the demons are going to kick you out. You will go to heaven. Do you want that? 

Suddenly her eyes cleared. “Heaven?” She whispered.

Charles nodded. “Heaven. You know? Harps? Singing? The Lord Almighty?” 

Christy sighed. “Yes. Yes. I want that!”

Charles took a deep breath. Thoughts and consequences swirled in his head. An image of St. Peter floated through his consciousness; an accusatory finger pointed at him. Charles Xavier Templeton, attorney-at-law, leaned over, already feeling guilty. 

“Christina, I have to be honest with you. If you go to heaven, you’ll never cum again. No orgasms. Ever. No sex.” Even as Charles said it, he hated himself. But a little voice in his head rationalized it. He had to be honest with his client, didn’t he? 

“What?” She stammered, eyes snapping open. Charles moved the dildo back down between her legs, rubbing the tapered tip through her freshly lubricated petals. She groaned, her hips rotating again, clearly begging him to push the phallus in.

“There is no sex in Heaven,” Charles continued softly. He began sliding the rubber cock into her body, pumping it gently in and out. “No orgasms. No sexual satisfaction. So, I have to ask, are you absolutely sure you want out of Hell? I mean, I’ll work for whatever you want, but I want you to be positive.” He pushed deeper, feeling her body start to tremble. He brought his free hand up to her right nipple, gripping it lightly between thumb and forefinger. She opened her mouth, moaning as he began pinching and twisting lightly, sending ripples of delight through her petite frame. 

“Say the word, Christy, and I’ll yank this dildo out of you and we’ll petition the demons to get you the hell out of here. Straight up to the pearly gate. You’ll never suffer another orgasm. Ever.” 

And he began pumping the dildo rapidly. Christy cried out, teeth clenched and suddenly, Charles knew he was ready again. He moved back around her, one hand still on the dildo, working it in and out, while he struggled with his belt. A moment later his pants fell and his cock, hard and ready, stuck straight out. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered, right before yanking the dildo out of her and thrusting his own engorged penis into her sodden cunt. 







Part Six

Charles Xavier Templeton sat in the wooden chair, his arms folded before him on the table, and he looked around the room. A dais stood in front of them, and a spectator’s gallery was behind. There was no “prosecution” table, since the judges were already inclined toward conviction, or in this case, expulsion. It was up to Charles to make the case against it. He took a deep breath and looked at the demon.

“Now, you’re absolutely sure that we won’t have the opportunity for her to make a statement?” Charles asked. “Because I think that might be helpful in case…”

George gave him a look. “No. I told you. She’ll be here, but won’t be permitted to speak.”

Charles settled back in his seat. “Alright. I suppose that works in our favor,” Charles replied. “Afterall, this isn’t supposed to be about what she wants, right?”

Geroge nodded, but then he looked at Charles. “She really was fine with staying in hell?” He asked for like the fifth time.

Charles turned and gave him a frustrated look. “What did I tell you? Of course, she is.”

George bit his lip. “That’s just… so unusual. Really. I’m shocked.”

Charles snorted. “Look, I was honest with her. Completely. I explained that she had the opportunity to go to heaven, but also told her that there was no sex there. No orgasms. That girl is a masochistic hedonist. A full-fledged nympho humiliation pain slut. How many of those actually exist out there?”

George nodded. “Fair point.” He suddenly stiffened. “Oh boy. Here we go.”

Suddenly another demon walked into the room and stood at attention. “All rise,” he intoned deeply. Charles snickered, recognizing a bailiff when he saw one. George practically leapt to his feet, while Charles stood up a touch more slowly. Three new devils came into the room and silently climbed onto the dais and seated themselves in the three chairs behind the long desk. The one in the center lifted a gavel and hammered it down. The sound made Charles jump; it was so loud.

“You may be seated,” intoned the center judge. 

George pulled Charles down. 

“Bring in the damned.”

The demon that Charles thought of as the Bailiff turned and opened the door behind him. There was a creaking sound and Christy was wheeled into the courtroom. 

“My goodness,” Charles muttered in pleased surprise..

The chair Christy was strapped to was more a frame than a conventional seat. A metal bar had been threaded under her arms, so that she hung upright. Her back was arched thanks to another metal bar positioned in the small of her back, and then bound against a third, which was pressed to her buttocks. Her legs had been cruelly parted, exposing her cunt, while her feet had been tied up behind her, ankle cuffs connected to her wrists. It had to be an extremely uncomfortable position to be in. But how she was bound to the frame wasn’t the only cruelty. An unmoving post stuck up from the base of the rolling frame, positioned directly under her bottom, undoubtedly holding in a thick, uncomfortable anal plug. A spiked dildo, easily as thick as Charles wrist, was pumping in and out of her cunt, dripping with white cream, attached to a motor positioned down between her knees. A clamp was attached to her clitoris and Charles was sure it was vibrating intensely. Two additional clamps, both sporting sharp metal teeth and weights, dangled from her nipples. Her skin had been oiled to the point where she glistened as if soaked and the rubber ball gag she’d been wearing earlier had been shoved back into her mouth. The black leather belt that she died with was around her throat, buckled in place, and hung down loosely between her breasts. Her eyes were wide and for a moment, Charles thought he could see a lucidity that had not been there before.

“Remember,” whispered George. “We don’t want her expelled, but we don’t want her in Level Nine, either.”

Charles nodded as Christy was pushed into position. “I remember,” he muttered. He glanced back at Christy, who was clearly in the throes of another orgasmic episode, trembling violently. “I think she’s close to cumming,” Charles added.

“I hope not. That will not help our case,” George replied.

“Christina Regina Ambalia,” intoned the judge. “You are hereby accused of enjoying your punishment and eternal damnation. Your wanton, slutty nature, inherent masochism, prevalence for humiliation and gross deviant sexual acts, has created an untenable situation. But most of all, your proclivity for orgasm, despite the torments inflicted upon you, violates the very precepts of our institution. It has been submitted for approval that you be expelled from the depths of Hell.”

Charles Xavier Templeton stood up. “Show time,” he whispered to himself. “Your honor, my name is Charles Templeton and I represent Ms. Ambalia. I want to assure you that this is all a mistake. I’ve spoken, at length, with my client, who has assured me that despite the weaknesses of her admittedly beautiful and nubile body, she has had an absolutely miserable time here in Hell.” 

The three judges stared at Charles. Across from them, Christy’s eyes snapped over to Charles, widening. Her head swiveled and she shook her head violently. 

“See?” Said Charles. “She agrees with me.” He came out from around the table and stepped into the center of the courtroom. “I first met Christy ages ago, in fact on her very first day of the afterlife. She was nude, coming into this world with only two possessions, the belt you see around her throat and the thick, black rubber dildo which I only now notice is firmly thrust up her ass.” He gestured at the bound, trembling girl. 

“She died pleasuring herself. Now, I don’t know about you, but the fact that she took her own life, just to get off on it, speaks volumes. It says that she belongs here, in Hell.”

George looked at Charles in astonishment. This was not the strategy the demon had expected the lawyer to take. 

“Now, I know your primary concern is her orgasms. And I admit, I’m shocked that she keeps having them. You would think getting half-drowned by an octopus monster and then getting every hole you have stuffed with those soft, undulating, slimy, suction cup lined appendages would be more than enough to create a negative physical experience, but what I wish to point out is that Christina Regina Ambalia is more than just a sexual fuck slut whose body responds to stimuli. She is a person. A thinking, rational person…” he trailed off for just a second, realizing he had the room. “Who hated every minute of it.”

This time Christy nodded emphatically, agreeing with the counselor. Charles went up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Look at her! While her body responded with mechanical precision, her mind fractured. Her soul was crushed. Fear and self-loathing at what she is fills her poor little mind. And let me remind you, this girl killed herself, just to have a mind-blowing orgasm. Suicide.”

Christina blinked, then stared at the lawyer, making honking noises underneath the ball gag. A flicker of anger crossed her eyes. Charles flicked one of the clamps on her nipples, eliciting a squeal of pain. But then her hips jerked and she groaned, closing her eyes.

“See? It’s a mechanical response. She feels the emotion, the horror, of what she’s done.” He opened his hands wide. “Her punishment is succeeding.” 

The center judge raised an eyebrow. “What is your point, counselor?” 

Charles nodded. “Sending her to Heaven would be a travesty. She deserves to be here, in Hell, regardless of whether her body can handle the sexual torment inflicted upon it. What I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter if her physical form cums, exploding like a water balloon in a cactus garden. What I’m saying is that the torture of her soul, her mind, her emotional state, is actually the metric we should be using to judge our success at punishing her, at tormenting her, at forcing her to accept the consequences of her actions. 

Just then, Christy couldn’t stop herself. The pumping dildo, the clamps, the vibration of her clit, it became too much. She let out a screech, her entire frame shuddering, and she exploded wetly, crying out behind the gag, eyes closed. Her toes curled as her fingers balled into fists and girl goo squirted out from around the embedded phallus to splatter on the floor. Charles danced away, once more unwilling to get her spunk on his patent leather shoes.

The smaller of the three judges leaned forward. “You want us to make an exception for this girl?”

Charles blinked and then shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m not asking for an exception.”

George’s jaw dropped.

“I’m asking for the rule to be changed completely. Updated. Redefined,” Charles said firmly. “Think about it. This girl is a cock-tease, a slut, a masochist, and worst of all, a suicide. If you cast her out of Hell, there is only one place for her to go. Heaven. Does she deserve that sort of… if you’ll excuse the euphemism, heaven? I don’t think so. But her sins are sexual in nature. So must be her punishment. And that goes for any female. Their bodies will respond the way they were designed. But be cognizant that the torments, while maybe resulting in orgasm, do far worse damage to their souls.”

The three judges suddenly leaned towards each other, talking quietly. Charles turned back to George who sat there, still stunned.

“What are you doing?” The demon hissed. 

Charles shrugged. “Winning my case. I’m good at this.”

“I didn’t ask you to have them change the rules!” The demon protested.

“Why? It’s a stupid rule,” Charles replied. 

George spluttered, his eyes still on Christy, who bucked and trembled as round two of “orgasm in the court” played out. Charles nodded at her. “Look at her George.” He let out a sigh. “She can’t help herself. The reality is that you’ve already broken her. You’ve tortured her to the point where this is all there is. Part of her wants to escape. She knows this place is horrible. She knows you are hurting her. You scare her. You tear up her insides. And the only fucking thing she has is the orgasm.” The lawyer said it quietly, so that only George could hear.

“Wait,” the demon hissed. “You mean… she wants to go to Heaven?” 

Charles nodded. “She didn’t say it, but then… I didn’t give her the chance.” The lawyer thought back to the way that he played with her pussy when the question came up, exciting her close to satisfaction and then making her beg for it. Charles Xavier Templeton looked down. “She doesn’t belong here, but I certainly do.”

The center judge cleared his throat and George and Charles turned their attention back to the Tribunal.

“Counselor, you have made a convincing argument. We are willing to consider the possibility that the restriction on orgasm during torment is not viable, though only this condemned subject has made a habit of climax throughout her stay. As you say, perhaps emotional and mental suffering should be the defining metric.”

Charles nodded with a smile. 

Suddenly the bailiff moved forward. “All rise for the findings of this Tribunal.”

George rose and Charles followed. The bailiff moved toward Christy and rotated her chair so that she face the judges. 

“Christina Regina Ambalia, it is found that due to your biology, you cannot help yourself cumming. That said, we recognize that our torments do inflict the necessary suffering on your soul, both emotionally and spiritually. Today we grant an exception to the no-orgasming rule for you specifically.”

Charles’ mouth dropped open as George grinned. But the lawyer’s expression quickly changed to irritation. The center judge noticed and pointed at Charles.

“Counselor, we heard your argument and you have persuaded one member of this Tribunal in your favor, and another who wishes to test your notion. Our order is for Christina Regina Ambalia to be moved to the Ninth Circle of Hell, to be tormented for the remainder of eternity. Should she orgasm, it will not be counted against her, and will indeed prove that other metrics should be utilized on all of the condemned.” The judge leaned forward. “But if she doesn’t cum, if that torment is what she truly needs to suffer, then the rule stands.” 

Then he grabbed the gavel and struck it down. Charles and George stood there as the judges wandered out of the room, followed by the bailiff. Finally, it was just the three of them, George, Charles, and Christy. 

“I wanted her kept out of the Ninth Level,” George muttered. 

Charles shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. At least she wasn’t kicked out of Hell. You are able to go to the Ninth Level, right? It’s not like you won’t have the opportunity to fuck her stupid again?” 

George sighed and sat down, looking across at the bound and suffering girl. “Oh, no. I’ll still get to fuck her. Repeatedly. It’s just… you know… I’ve developed a soft spot for her.”  He let out a breath. “Well, I guess it’s the ninth level regardless.” He stood up, then paused. “You know, you really earned your spurs here. I presume you fucked her good during your little attorney-client meeting?”

Charles laughed. “You know I did.” 

George grinned. “Well, I’m impressed,” he said. “And I have an offer.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket. He held it out to Charles. The lawyer took it and opened up the lid. Inside were two, small, red horns. 

“What’s this?” Charles asked. 

George grinned. “Put them on your head. They will make you a real demon.”

Charles glanced over at Christy who was shaking, more fluid dripping down her thighs. “I’m already a real demon.”

George nodded. “But if you’re wearing these, then you can help me move her to the Ninth Level. You can stick the electrified dildos into her ass and cunt. Hell, I’ll even let you throw the switch. We’ll fry her clit, then bring her right to the edge, over and over, and then paddle her cunt until it’s a swollen, red hot mess.” The demon smiled. “Plus you’ll get to fuck her. Repeatedly. More times than you can count.”

Charles looked at Christy. He noticed the tears on her cheeks. Slowly, he pulled the horns out of the box. “What the hell, if you can’t beat them, join them.” He set the horns on his head, feeling them stick. Slowly, his skin began to turn scarlet, all the way down until he looked like George’s brother. “Alright George my friend. Let’s go and torture this sweet, diminutive, waif of a girl and see if we can make her cum from it.”

George stepped up beside Charles and put a red hand on Christy’s breast. He squeezed it gently, but then shook it so that the alligator clamp chewing on her nipple jiggled. It elicited another muted sob of need from behind her gag. “Absolutely.”