Wrath James White presents Poisoning Eros I & II (10 page)

Gloria’s astral body seemed to feel pain so much
more intensely than her flesh ever had. This she hadn’t expected.
No nerves, no skin, no muscle, yet still pain. All her senses in
fact seemed to be heightened in this place. The smell of burning
souls scalded her nostrils. The screams and prayers and curses were
almost deafening. The taste of demon sweat and semen made her
retch. And her own agony and fatigue was like nothing she’d ever
experienced on earth.

It was as if her flesh had formed a protective
cushion around her, dulling her perceptions and now, without it,
she was exposed and vulnerable, a raw naked nerve screaming out
beneath the assault of myriad sensations. The sensation of that
yard long cock drilling up inside her, piercing and tearing deep
into her soul. The sensation of the monster’s acidic breath and
saliva steaming in her face, sizzling on her skin as it slathered
her face and body in thick pus-like saliva, tasting her terror.
Gloria had been screaming for what seemed like years. The thing
never seemed to stop fucking her, and no matter how many cocks
she’d taken in life, not one of them had ever burrowed deep enough
inside of her to touch her immortal spirit. No matter how much
she’d thought she’d loved Ryan, he hadn’t touched her soul. Her
spirit had been a virgin when she’d come spinning into hell. It had
been pure and untouched when the demon had split it wide with its
enormous cock. Now it was completely tainted. Its light, soiled and
muddied, tacky with the monster’s semen.

There were souls burning in the lake of fire that
still believed they had a chance for forgiveness, that they might
one day enter heaven. Gloria had no such delusions. She looked at
herself in the mirror through a dripping mask of black demon seed
and knew that no God would ever take her now. She was a slut
straight through to her eternal soul.

The demon was waking again. She could tell because
his cock was stiffening even before his eyes fluttered open. Its
urethra yawned wide like the mouth of a sleeping baby. Gloria began
to whimper at the very sight of it. The pain was about to start
again.

“No. Oh God, please don’t hurt me again.”

The soul did not acquire a tolerance for suffering
the way the flesh could. Physical pain was something the spirit had
never been meant to experience. Once liberated from the body, the
spirit was supposed to ascend to paradise where all pain would
forever be forgotten. The agonies of hell had not been incorporated
into its design.

This fragility was the very thing that made eternal
torment possible. Each new intrusion of the demon’s megalomorphic
penis into one of Gloria’s bleeding orifices was like the first
time for her. The rape of a near virgin. Like a donkey fucking a
ten-year-old … or a giraffe for that matter. Gloria grimaced. That
was her one regret in life: not fucking that giraffe. If she had
just fucked the animal, none of this would have happened. But then
again, if she had never taken that first snort of cocaine or that
first shot of heroin…. If she’d never taken that first job when
they’d said all she’d have to do is have sex with this gorgeous man
that she’d have probably dropped her panties for anyway if she had
just met him in a nightclub or a bar somewhere only this would be
on camera and she would be getting paid. If she had never moved to
Hollywood in the first place. If she had just stayed in her little
town flipping burgers and sucking off the occasional truck driver
in the hopes that he’d stay and marry her, none of this would have
happened. But now the demon was rising and his cock looked more
threatening and more lethal than the twin barrels of a shotgun.

The already massive organ swelled as the demon
stroked itself. It gave the iron ring pierced through its urethra a
tug, and it shivered in some sensation between pain and ecstasy.
Its cock gleamed with steel and iron, like a piece of battlefield
artillery.

“Please, don’t. Don’t hurt me again. I can’t take
anymore. Please, no more.” Gloria sobbed, her eyes fixed on its
hideous phallus.

The pierced, perforated, surgically altered and
tattooed penis was as long as the arm of a basketball player. The
head of its cock was as fat as a child’s skull and encircled just
beneath the mushroom cap with sharp barbs, so that once inserted,
withdrawing it resulted in shredded tissue. Iron rings hung from
the underside, and a chain ran through it down to a steel rod
pierced through the demon’s perineum. At the base of the shaft, two
more rods had been run clean through at an angle so that they
criss-crossed in the shape of an X. It was lumpy with little iron
balls that had been inserted beneath the skin. Gloria had never
seen anything so ghastly.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he approached and
prayed that all her tormentor wanted was a simple blowjob. She
could manipulate her mouth to avoid the barbs as long as he didn’t
thrust too deeply into her throat. However, the taste of his molten
black seed was worse than the taste of worm semen, and it burned
like battery acid as it went down or splattered her face and
breasts.

The barbs at the end of the thing’s cock and the
sharp horn-like protuberances of bone that lined the length of the
shaft like a French tickler had shredded her lips and tongue like
fajita meat as the beast had raped her throat just hours ago. She
could still feel the thick caustic sperm boiling in the pit of her
stomach, causing her intestines to cramp. She had swallowed as
ordered, chugging half a gallon of the vile ebon effluence as it
spurted into her gullet. To spit it out would have meant a severe
beating, and if she dared to regurgitate she’d only be forced to
lick it up off the cave floor.

The demon stood above her now, carrying a cat o’
nine tails made out of thick chain and tipped with dog skulls.
Gripped tightly in his other hand was a smaller one, made of chains
that ended in nearly a dozen tiny rat skulls. He had used it once
before to whip her breasts and clitoris. The miniature skulls had
beaten against her vagina like clubs and occasionally one of the
rodent’s long front teeth would gouge a chunk out of her labia.
Once her vagina had been beaten bloody, her clitoris a swollen and
bloodied ruin, he had introduced his brutal phallus into it,
further lacerating her already injured sex, matching his violent
thrusts to her shrill cries for mercy.

There was already a sheen of oily black cum
glistening on the head of the monster’s thick pulsating organ. It
dripped from the bulbous glans onto the volcanic rock floor and
sizzled there like oil in a skillet. Gloria licked her lips
enticingly but the demon was not interested in her mouth anymore.
He ordered her to turn around. Gloria tried to scream but could
only emit a helpless whimper.

Her new master was an arch demon, one of the
original fallen angels, tossed into the lake of fire by the hand of
the Almighty back when mankind was first summoned from the
protoplasmic stew to walk upright across the earth. At times Gloria
imagined she could see glimpses of the radiant angel he had been
beneath the self-inflicted scars, burns, piercings, tattoos, and
other body manipulations. The ram’s horns grafted onto the side of
his head. The rhinoceros horns that formed a neat row down the
center of his spine along his coccyx. The gruesome smile that
dominated his face where his lips and cheeks had been first cut
away and then singed until they curled up tight around his gums,
revealing a gleaming row of shark’s teeth and wolf fangs. The
bisected nose that splayed across his face, one nostril pinned to
each cheek with a silver ring. Even his titanic sex organ was a bit
of the demon’s own artistry, the cock and balls of some antelope, a
moose or a bull, with animal horns and spines embedded into it to
further increase its capacity to injure. None of the creature’s
horrifying features were original. They had all been modifications
inspired by eons in hell as the torturer of sinful souls. Form
followed function and his hulking form had taken on the shape of
man’s fears.

The demon reached out for Gloria with one massive
hand. Each finger ended in a long claw or talon stolen from an
alligator, large jungle cat, or some bird of prey. There was dried
blood, some of it perhaps several centuries old, caked beneath the
nails.

Her body shook when she felt the creature’s touch. A
hand clamped down on the back of her neck and bent her over until
her head touched the cave floor. The first crack of the cat o’ nine
tails felt as if she had been kicked by a small crowd of people.
The dog heads punched into her back with enough force to break ribs
or shatter vertebrae. The chains raked her skin, tearing at her,
drawing blood.

She landed face-first on the gravelly floor, the
skin on her palms and knees and chin abraded raw. She tried to
crawl away, to pull herself along on her fingertips but was crushed
to the ground under another blow from the cat o’ nine tails.

The gravel punched into her skin, left a trackwork
of scars. “Please!” she shrieked.

The demon remained silent as he flailed at her with
the dog heads.

“God please help me!”

God apparently wasn’t listening.

The demon grabbed her ankles and dragged her back
along the floor until she was beneath him. His cock pushed against
her ass. His clawed hands raked her back, grating the skin,
exposing her spine. Massive fists crashed down on her, and she felt
the vertebrae crunch, bits of bone exploding, crumbling down her
sides. The pain was immeasurable, and to her horror she realized
she was paralyzed. Every nerve ending was alive, sizzling like
hornet stings, but now she couldn’t get away.

He lifted her legs and forced her into a squatting
position, her ass pointed up, exposed, her forehead crushed into
the gravel floor. Lungs frozen … unable to scream, unable to beg
for mercy that never came anyway. Tears dripped onto the floor.

Hands on her hips. Cock pushed into her cunt, slowly
at first, and she knew he was toying with her, prolonging her
agony. Entering wasn’t the problem … the barbs decorating the base
of the glans was the problem. He gripped her sides tighter, claws
slicing her flesh. Drool dripped onto her back, searing the already
tortured flesh.

He pushed harder, his twenty-two-inch cock digging
deep, filling her cunt. She screamed, her already-damaged throat
and lungs searching for more. As he pulled out, her cunt was
stripped raw; she felt the skin flay, her insides burning like a
sea of fire.

And he repeated this, slowly, slowly, until his
motions increased in speed, until finally he came, his thick,
viscous semen like battery acid. When he withdrew, he wiped his cum
on her back, fingered her crushed spine, licked at the blood and
shattered bone.

He dragged her back to her cage. She was an
unrecognizable lump of mutilated flesh, a pile of pulverized bones.
Unable to move, he tucked her into an awkward, bent shape and
slammed the door shut.

*

This time they let her sleep, though she didn’t know
why—there wasn’t any compassion here.

Several feet below her cage the demon slept, its
massive chest rising and falling with breath that she imagined
didn’t really exist. If she wasn’t breathing, why would it?
Probably the same as her—habit.

Her body was restored again; she was able to move.
She couldn’t imagine an eternity of this … the nonstop assault, the
repeated agony. She knew she deserved to be punished, but hell—she
hadn’t done anything so horrible to deserve this. Had she? Even her
suicide had saved another life. Surely there had to be some
forgiveness …

But the demon wasn’t talking. Refused to answer her
questions, refused her mercy when she begged until her throat was
screamed raw. Yet there had to be a way out of this.

The demon stirred, and her bowels cramped, her heart
dropping into her stomach. But it didn’t wake, and she sighed
relief, her body trembling.

The bars of the cage singed her skin, no matter what
her position. Kneeling left grooves like barbecue tracks in her
knees and calves, her forehead seared by the bars.

She tried to reshift her position in the cramped
cage, at the same time avoiding contact with the cage, but movement
was impossible. The thick iron collar around her neck weighed her
head down, and she tried to ignore the needy, rotting fetus corpses
that reached out to her. Her shoulder bumped into the bars and
scorched her skin, and she covered her mouth to keep from
screaming. Leaning back, trying to stretch her aching spine, she
bumped into the cage door. It creaked open, the rusty hinges
screaming. Gloria glanced over her shoulder, shocked.

The door was unlocked.

But why would it have been locked? The demon slept
right below—why would anyone even think of trying to escape?

But Gloria thought of escape. The idea of it
actually made her salivate.

She glanced down. The floor was several feet away.
Not an impossible distance, but she was squashed in that cage,
unable to maneuver, unable to gain the leverage she needed. And if
she fell the wrong way, she’d land on top of the demon. The only
way to do this was to grab hold of the scorching bars. But a few
moments of pain would be worth it if it meant freedom from this
hellhole.

Gloria moved backward until she was at the edge of
the cage, until her ass hung out the door. Now squatting on her
feet, the tender flesh there in agony. Leaned forward and gripped
the bars on the floor, and swung her body out of the cage. Legs
dangled in midair until she lowered herself, her feet scrabbling
for purchase. A bit lower and she found the ground, and let go of
the bars. Her fingers were unrecognizably mashed and bloodied
stumps, burned nearly to the bone.

She didn’t care. She knew she would heal, the pain
would eventually subside.