Postscript to Perdition: Part Two (M/MM Intense)
The Infernal Empire's hardly a vacation destination—but if you end up there it's better to be a Trustee than a Damnee!
Postscript to Perdition: Part Two
“But it’s not FAIR—!”
You hear that a lot in my line of work. Honest to—well, honestly—when it comes to whining and crying, nobody beats the Damned! It’s not fair, it’s all a big mistake, they’re in the wrong place, blah, blah, blah. Some lowlife robs a convenience store, some bimbo cheats on her husband—and then when they’re judged for their sins and condemned to eternal torment they have the audacity to complain about it!
The worst ones of all, though, are the Sodomites. Har-de-har, are THEY ever surprised to learn that the sin of unnatural lust is still on the books! “But same-sex marriage has been LEGALIZED!” they sob, as if that makes a particle of difference to you-know-Who! I’ll tell you, if I had a dime for every time a new arrival has called me a homophobe I could take early retirement!
That’s just a figure of speech, of course. Nobody retires from this job. But I do have the ultimate in job security—an eternal contract—and I’ll be slaving away down here long after the heat death of the universe. Hey, but I’m not complaining! When I first arrived in Hell I was just another run-of-the-mill Damnee, condemned to perdition for being bi-curious and acting on it. My only consolation, if you could call it that, was the companionship of the little tramp who’d seduced me. Oh, sure, David insisted that it was ME who’d seduced HIM but the gray man with too many teeth who determined our punishment was uninterested in such fine distinctions. We were summarily consigned to that sector of the Infernal Empire reserved for the torture of Sodomites, and there we met Baktia…
Anyhow. To make a long story short, I lucked out over a technicality and was promoted from Damnee to Trustee. I became one of Baktia’s assistants and now instead of suffering the torments of the Damned I mete them out. But don’t go getting the idea that I have it easy! Baktia’s an extremely demanding boss and if I should fail to meet her high standards—well, let’s just say that twenty-five years in the Rain of Fire is no day at the beach.
Probably by now you’ve built up a mental picture of me: a vicious black-skinned demon, hoofed, horned and fanged, flinging screaming souls into red-hot furnaces and vats of boiling oil. Now of course we do have such demons on the staff, complete with razor-sharp claws, whips, pitchforks and really bad attitudes. And yes, many of the fiendishly inventive punishments described by that old sadist Dante do exist down here. I mentioned the Rain of Fire and we also have rivers of boiling blood, swarms of stinging flies and wasps, canyons infested with serpents and vipers—hey, you name it!
But as for me, though I now possess demonic strength I appear just as I did in life: slender, dark-haired, brown-eyed, silk-skinned, handsome in a girlish sort of way. Nor do I crack a whip or wield a pitchfork. A feather is all I need…
BWAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” the naked stud shrieked. He writhed his torso to and fro as I swirled the feather around his belly button. “OH GAAAAW-HAW-HAW-AAAAAAW-HAW-HAW-HAAAAAAWD!!!”
“He’s not LISTENING, laughing boy!” I snickered.
“IT’S A MIST-HAY-HAY-AAAAAAY-HAY-HAAAAAAKE!!!” he insisted—as they always insist. “OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!! I’M IN THE WROOOOOOG PLAAAAY-HAY-AAAAY-HAY-HAAAACE!!!””
I rolled my eyes at this—and redoubled the intensity of my ticklish assault! The naked stud—he’d been condemned for several masturbatory make-out sessions with his college roomie—made a very credible effort to turn himself inside out! That’s anatomically impossible of course but in Hell such limitations don’t apply and there have been cases…
Now let me set the scene for you. The sector of Hell devoted to the punishment of Sodomites is a vast sandy desert. Everywhere you look there are naked souls, male and female, either being tortured by tickling or fleeing from one punishment to the next. The sand being ankle deep they can’t run very fast, whereas we, their keepers, stride easily over the surface. Such fleeing souls are generally left alone until they begin to hope that they’ve escaped our clutches—whereupon we snatch them up for another round of hellish hilarity!
Now perhaps you’re thinking that tickling is a sissy torture, unworthy of the infernal grandeur of Hell. After all, not everybody’s ticklish! Ah, but the Damnees consigned to Baktia’s care are specially conditioned to render them…extremely sensitive, shall we say. And a further refinement is added: a permanent state of sexual arousal. That’s what got them sent here in the first place, right? Take the naked stud I was torturing…who was sporting a rather impressive erection…
“And you’ll never LOSE that erection, laughing boy, will you?” I emphasized the point by swirling my feather around the base of his tumid tool. This caused the poor bastard to writhe energetically and squeeze out a drop of pre-cum. “No, your pathetic penis will remain in a permanent state of arousal! But of course you’ll never, ever, be permitted to experience the blessed release that you oh, so ardently crave!”
“UGH!!!” he grunted, arching his back and wiggling his curvy derriere. “UGH—UGH—UGH—UUUUUUGGGGGGH!!!”
Did I mention that my current subject was stretched out on a rack? We—those of us charged with the punishment of the Damned—have the power to conjure such devices in and out of existence as required. It was a nice reproduction of the type used by the Spanish Inquisition. My current subject was stretched just tightly enough to reduce his struggles to futile squirming and writhing. I’d been tormenting him for quite some time—longer than I ought to have done, really, but studs like him, handsome and hirsute of torso, had been just my type in life and they still are in the afterlife! It was past time to move on, however, so with a flourish I tossed the feather away. Instantly it transformed itself into a red, buzzing insect the size of a fat bumblebee, with six fuzzy legs and a feathery snout. The creature circled for a moment and then homed in on—
“EEEEEEYAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” my handsome stud screamed. He jerked his head to and fro in a desperate, cross-eyed attempt to dislodge the horrid thing but it clung tenaciously to his nose. “ARRRRGGGGH!!! UUUUGGGH!!! GET IT OFF MEEEEEEEE!!!”
“I have to be on my way, laughing boy—but not to worry! The tickle bug is guaranteed to keep you entertained!” I favored him with an evil smile. “And if you enjoy having your NOSTRILS probed, just wait until it scents that precious bodily essence you’ve been squeezing out!”
I winked and turned away, striding lightly over the sand. I hadn’t gotten far before an ear-piercing shriek of anguished hilarity burst from the stud’s throat. The tickle bug, apparently, had shifted its perch…
“There you are, my sweet boy!”
Though by now I was used to Baktia’s abrupt appearances her voice in my ear still made me start. It was followed immediately by a playful swat to my bare buttocks.
“HIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!” I squealed, going up on my toes and shivering deliciously.
“Have you been keeping yourself busy?” she inquired as I turned and went down on my knees. I should mention that Baktia was a voluptuous, long-legged, crimson-skinned female fiend with the golden yellow eyes of a feline predator. Her curvacious body was completely hairless except for strongly arched eyebrows. All in all she resembled a demonically sexy Angelina Jolie
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied in the servile tone of voice that Baktia demanded of her Trustees. “I just finished up with a new arrival.”
“Another one of those handsome, misbehaving horndogs, knowing you!” Baktia’s laugh was like the sound of silver bells on a winter’s day. “Well, we’ve no shortage of them down here!”
“No indeed, Mistress.”
“Now I have a rather special assignment for you,” the beautiful demoness continued. She smiled in a way that gave me a loose, greasy feeling, low in my belly. “No doubt you remember your former…special friend.”
“Mmmm, yes,” she nodded. “Well, as it turns out he had another special friend, one with whom he dallied on the side.”
“What?!” I cried. “But he told me that I was the only ONE! Oh, that cheating TRAMP—!”
“Yes,” Baktia replied, smiling. “How naughty of him to have deceived you! Another sin to expiate! Anyhow, in view of your past relationship with dear David, and in recognition of your dedication to our infernal mission, I’ve decided to entrust their punishment to you.”
“Really?” This sounded like fun! “Thank you, Mistress!”
“They await you behind that rocky outcropping,” my mistress said, pointing. “Hurry along now!”
I didn’t need to be told twice!
Life—well, the afterlife—was beautiful, I reflected as I jogged over the sand toward one of our desert’s numerous dungeons. Tucked neatly under my arms, limbs pinned to their torsos, were my two charges—who thanks to my demonic strength constituted an easily managed burden. The pair of them were squealing and blubbering but that was merely music to my ears.
“It’s not FAIR!” David cried—sweet, slender, dark-haired, brown-eyed, silk-skinned David! “I shouldn’t even BE here—!”
“It’s YOUR fault that I’M here!” the other yelled. He was a good-looking stud: a well-built brunette with just the right amount of sexy body hair. His name was Rick. What a pleasure, I reflected, it would be to supervise HIS punishment!
“Gentlemen!” I admonished them. “Quiet—please! And instantly there was silence, though from their contorted faces and wide-open mouths it was obvious that David and Rick—for that was the stud’s name—were still screaming and protesting. Honestly, demonic powers are so convenient!
The dungeon’s door creaked open as we approached and I skipped lightly down the stone stairs into a spacious torture chamber. It was but the work of a moment to secure my prisoners. First, I conjured forth a narrow hole in the floor, into which I deposited Rick, head first with his feet protruding. A snap of the finger summoned a pair of buzzing tickle bugs who promptly alighted on his soles and went to work. Rick’s feet began to writhe and kick. Muffled shrieks of hilarity rose from the hole.
As for David, after binding them together I strung him up by his thumbs, high enough so that his big toes, which I also bound together, just barely brushed the floor.
“Well!” I chuckled, treating him to a playful slap on the fanny. “It’s so good to see you again, cutie buns! And what a pleasure to have met your special friend! He’ll be joining us later but first I think that you and I should spend some quality time together…”
“What the fuck is going ON?!” he yelled. “What are you DOING—?!”
“Ah, I don’t suppose you got the memo, cutie buns.” I patted his cheek. “Thanks to a bureaucratic technicality I’ve been promoted to Trustee. It hasn’t gotten me completely off the hook but as long as I obey orders and do a good job I don’t get tortured.”
“A g-g-good job…?” David stammered.
“A good job of torturing the DAMNED!” I amplified—and promptly demonstrated what that meant!
“HIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!” my former bestie shrieked as I stroked with my sharp nails the swollen head of his permanently erect penis. “IT TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HIIIIIIICKLES!!!”
He tried to toe-dance away from me but that, of course, was an exercise in futility. Bound as he was, David could do no more than writhe his torso to and fro anf beg for mercy. Mercy! As if any such thing existed in Hell!
“Now what’s WRONG, cutie buns?” I inquired snidely. “You used to LOVE it when I stroked your boy toy! Or did fucking RICK do it BETTER?!”
“EEEEEE-EEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!” he shrieked, squeezing out several drops of pre-cum.
“No doubt he did! But in those days,” I added, teasing his pee hole, “you knew that eventually you’d get to CUM! Do you want to cum, cutie buns? Do you? DO you?!”
“YEEEEEEE-AAAAAAS!!!” David yowled.
“Then DANCE for me, cutie buns!” I snarled. “And LAUGH for me! If you laugh HARD enough I just might take PITY on you!”
We both knew that I was lying, of course. But encouraging the Damnees to hope against hope was part of their punishment. And they fell for it every time! So David danced on his toes, gyrating his curvy fanny and laughing like a fucking IDIOT as I teased his cock and tickled his balls. His face was twisted into a grimace of anguished hilarity—his silken skin was covered with sweat and goose bumps—the hairs on his arms and legs were stiff and quivering! Soon the head of his member was well-lubricated with pre-cum. The time was right, I decided, to switch my attention to David’s special friend, who was still standing on his head in the hole to which I’d consigned him, laughing himself silly.
“But don’t WORRY, cutie buns!” I snickered. “I’ll see that you’re not neglected while fucking Rick and I get to know one another!”
I snapped my finger and the tickle bugs that had been tormenting the latter’s bare soles arose and buzzed over to David. They hovered for a moment and then…
“HIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!” my former bestie squealed as the vicious little creatures swopped in to the attack! One landed on the head of his cock; the other alighted on his nose. I flourished my hand to silence his cries and turned my attention to Rick, the stud with whom David had two-timed me.
Grasping the bastard’s ankles I lifted him out of the hole, which promptly vanished. With an easy underarm toss, I flung him across the room—and when he came to rest he was neatly secured for our get-acquainted session. The handsome horndog found himself straddling a horizontal wooden pole set between two iron uprights. His arms were bound behind his back and secured to the pole; his legs were widely parted and his ankles were shacked to ringbolts set in the floor. To help him maintain this precarious position, a leather collar around his neck was attached by a chain to the ceiling.
“Comfy?” I inquired, strolling over.
“UGGGGH!!!” he grunted, going up on his toes to relieve the strain on his butt crack. “Get me OFF this fucking thing—!”
“Seriously?” I replied with a snide smile. “You think you’re the one giving orders here, pussy boy?”
“But it’s a MISTAKE!” he cried. “I’m not a fucking FAG—!”
“Maybe not, pussy boy.” I shrugged. “But here you are and here you shall remain, so there’s no point in complaining about it!”
Rick opened his mouth to object but instead he emitted a girlish shriek—I’d forestalled him by sticking a sharp fingernail into his defenseless belly button!
“HEEEEEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” he squealed. “OH PLEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEEEESE DON’T TICK-HICK-HICKLE ME THEEEERE-HAAAARE-HAAAAAARE!!!”
“No? Then how about HERE?” I shot back, scratching his nipples delicately.
“NAAAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAAAR-HAR-AAAAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” the naked stud screamed, shivering energetically as he bounced up and down on his toes.
“I can see that I’m going to have fun with YOU, pussy boy!” I snickered. “Tell me now, did pretty little David ever mention me when the two of you were doing the NASTY together?”
“Tell me and maybe I’ll stop tickling!” I offered, playing the false-hopes card.
He’d tell eventually, of course…even though he knew that the tickling would never, ever end…
(To Be Continued!)
Last edited by ttgore; 03-27-2017 at 10:44 AM.
T. T. Gore