Satan’s Affair

Gary’s awake.

Tears leak from wide eyes as he struggles in his bonds. Blood leaks from where the rope is rubbing his skin raw.

When he lays eyes on me, he screams with all his might. The sound is less significant than a kitten’s cry.

I giggle behind my hand, amused by his distress. Seeing him fight his bonds with renewed tears eases some of the anger in my chest.

His shouting continues, and it sounds like he’s trying to curse at me. Muffled words and empty threats, that’s all I hear.

Despite his girlfriend’s ungratefulness, what he did to her was wrong. Sick. Depraved. Only something someone with a rotten soul would do. And he deserves to die for it.

There’s no redemption for people like Gary. They never learn their lesson. They get a slap on the wrist and then go on with their lives, torturing women for the sake of inflating their self-worth. Truth is, they don’t have any worth, and they know that.

They’re lost souls, wandering the Earth, searching for something they will never find.

I crouch in front of him, cocking my head and giving him a wide smile.

“We are going to have so much fun together,” I say reverently, already picturing all the places I’m going to slice and stab. Maybe I’ll paint a pretty picture with his blood when I’m done.

Oh! I wonder if Jennifer would like that. Maybe then she’ll appreciate what I did for her.

His screams and wriggling intensify. He nearly topples the chair over from his struggles. If he does, I’m going to be really annoyed.

“Do you know Jennifer?” I ask innocently. At the sound of his girlfriend’s name, he stills. His bottomless brown eyes heat as his chest heaves. He says something, and I don’t bother to rip off the tape to hear what he said. I’m not ready for him to talk back yet. “Did you know you hurt her?” I ask.

His brows plunge, and he shoots me a nasty look. I forge on, “She was crying to her friend today. About how you raped her when she was inebriated. Too drunk to stop you. But she said she did try. She told you no and you didn’t listen. That’s called rape, Gary.”

He shouts something again. It sounded like he said something along the lines of, “She’s my girlfriend.”

I nod my head slowly, looking him up and down in disgust. “She is your girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to do what you want to her body without her consent. Last time I checked, it’s not your body.”

More muffles come from his mouth that I don’t care to decipher. I slap his cheek—hard. His eyes widen in shock and rage, looking at me as if he can’t believe I just slapped him.

Oh, Gary. I’m going to do so much worse to you.

“You’re not in the position to argue,” I hiss.

He quiets, the anger receding as fear bleeds back into his irises. Good. That’s what I like to see.

I spin and trek through the hallways, checking each room to make sure they’re empty. The fair shut down for the night, but sometimes employees linger. The last thing I need is to bring Gary out and someone stumble upon him. Then I’d have to commit the ultimate sin and kill an innocent person. I would go to Hell for it, and I’d accept that punishment if it meant I could continue my life’s work.

Once I confirm me and my henchmen are well and truly alone, I calmly walk behind a squirming Gary, press my thumb into the pressure point in his neck and increase the pressure until he’s once more slumping in his seat. After untying his bonds and dragging him out to the middle of the foyer, I walk away.

It’s always my favorite part when they think they have a chance of escape. To see the hope slowly fade out of their eyes when they realize there’s no chance of them getting past my henchmen.

I make my way into my playroom, sit crisscross-applesauce on the floor and wait with a smile on my face. My pretty knife rests loosely in my hand. While I wait, I hold the knife to the light. It glints off my blade, turning the dull metal into a pretty sparkle.

The only thing that would make this prettier is bright red blood dripping off of it.

I giggle to myself. Soon. So, so soon.

It takes all of ten minutes before I hear a thump from somewhere downstairs. Mortis stands in the corner of the room, his face slack and bored as usual. He doesn’t move an inch from where he stands, just like a loyal little henchman. He won’t move until I tell him to.

“Let me out!” comes a muffled shout from below. I’m sure he’s currently shouting in one of my henchmen’s faces. Plenty of the demons try to fight them, but they always ended up getting knocked down anyways. My henchmen don’t kill the demons—they leave that to me. But they do enjoy hurting them.

“Ring a’round the rosies, pocket full of posies,” I sing, making sure my voice is nice and loud. Another thump, followed by a growl of frustration. Eventually, when the demons get tired of trying to make their way through my henchmen, they come to me, pleading for escape. Some try to kill me even.

“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” I end the song on a shout, giddiness taking over.

“You fucking bitch!” Gary shouts again, pounding on something as he does. I hope he doesn’t start destroying shit. It took Mortis all night to repair the wall from the last guy who took an axe to the wall.

Finally, I hear his loud footsteps coming up the stairs. He’ll make his way in and out of the maze of rooms before he finds himself in the hallway outside of my playroom, with Jackal standing at the end of the hall.

And just like the guests, he’ll want to avoid Jackal, so he’ll come into my room. I smile when Gary comes barreling into the room, chest pumping a mile a minute and a pissed off expression on his ugly face.

He’ll look so much prettier after I rip it apart. Maybe peel the nasty flesh from his face.

“What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong with you?!” he shouts, spittle flying from his rotted mouth. My smile grows when I get a glimpse of blackened teeth. Whether it’s from the drugs or his soul doesn’t matter. He’s going to die either way.

I stand slowly, a serene smile plastered on my made-up face.

He charges at me, a loud shout ringing from his mouth. I easily side-step, watching as he catches wind and falls face first onto the ground. I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. He struggles to get back up again, disoriented and probably coming down from his high by now.

Another giggle escapes when he stumbles as he rights himself. Fiery pits full of poison peer up at me. His eyes—they’re forged straight from Hell. I’ve cast my judgement and I’ve made the right call.

“I will fucking kill you,” he fumes, his voice having darkened to a low, deep pitch.

I snicker. “Not if I kill you first,” I sing. He growls and charges again. I time it exactly right, swiping out my hand so the tip of the blade glides across his eye. The cornea of his eye rips away from the pupil, the thin piece dangling on the tip of my knife.

Gary covers his eye, crying out in rage. His voice cracks as blood trails down his cheek. I do love it when they cry blood. Taking advantage of his distraction, I stab the knife into his stomach. He hunches over on a pained yelp, coughing up blood.

Bliss builds in my chest. I retract the knife and plunge into his flesh again, the blade tearing past meat and sinew. The demon gurgles, getting his putrid blood all over me. I push him back, and the pathetic sack of flesh falls backwards. Dropping the blade, I grab my handsaw from the bed.

When he sees what’s in my hand, his eyes widen.

“No, no, no,” he pleads, crawling backwards. I lift my foot and stomp on his ankle. It takes a few more stomps before I hear the bone crack. Screams fill the air. Gary’s hands clutch at his foot, staring at it in disbelief.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I’m sure I only fractured it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts, turning his glare back to me. I kick his head back as a response. When he falls back, I step on his chest, pin one arm down and begin sawing at his flesh. Slicing through skin and meat is easy, it’s when you get to the bone that it gets a little hard.

Gary struggles beneath me, further ripping the tendons and veins apart. I jerk down on the handle, cracking through the bone as I continue to saw. Blood spurts wildly, splattering all over me, the bed and the floor. Good thing haunted houses are filled with fake blood.

Even if my henchmen miss a few spots when they clean up, no one will ever be able to tell the difference.

I twist the limb, detaching it the rest of the way from the tendons.

Gary’s a screamer. I giggle, enjoying the shock and outrage on his face as he stares at his missing arm. I offer the bloody limb to him.

“You want to bite down on it for the next arm?” His eyes slide to me, the pupils nearly gone. Funny how he came in with blown out pupils and now they’re tiny little pinpricks in the whites of his eyes.

“Fuck you,” he pants breathlessly. I smile and chuck the arm to the side.

“Fine,” I chirp, stepping back over him. I grab his hand and saw off each of his fingers. The little demon won’t be able to damage the walls like that last one.

“See, Mortis? I’m learning!” I exclaim, pointing at the chopped-up man.

Mortis offers a small smile and a nod. He doesn’t show emotion much, but the gleam in his eye tells me he’s amused.

“Good job, baby girl,” he murmurs.

With a wide smile, I turn back to Gary. A missing arm, no fingers on his other, and a fractured foot.

I really want to watch him run away. But first, I need to cauterize his wound, otherwise he’ll continue to lose blood too quickly, and then we won’t get to play. I keep a mini blowtorch stashed in one of the end tables for this purpose.

Hurrying over to grab the torch, I snatch it out of the pink drawer and then crouch in front of Gary.

“You ready?” I ask. He looks at me like I’m insane.

That hurts my feelings.

So, I click the button, grinning at the blue fire that erupts from it. When Gary sees the flame, his eyes widen and he goes to get up. I crawl on top of him, sitting on his stomach and quickly bring the flame to where his arm once was attached.

Screams spill from his mouth in piercing waves. The smell of charred human flesh and meat fill the air. I scrunch my nose, repulsed by the smell. Demons smell like shit.

He squirms desperately beneath me as I make quick work of cauterizing the wound.

“There!” I announce proudly, clicking off the flame. “Now we can play a little longer.”

I stand and step back, watching the demon thrash and moan, still riding the waves of his wound being sealed shut. Sweat floods from his pores, stinking up the room even further.

“Quit being a baby,” I whine, exasperated. When he continues to complain, I grit through my teeth, “Get up!”

His eyes snap to me. “Go on,” I urge impatiently. “Try to escape.”

Why do all the demons look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them to run? They always think I’m tricking them when I’m very serious. I love when they run. True, they won’t ever escape. But I’m only telling them to try. Whether they’re successful is totally out of their hands.

With great pain and even greater slowness, Gary rolls to sit up.

“How the fuck do you expect me to run, you crazy ass bitch?” he snarls at me, looking hopelessly at his foot. He looks like he’s on the verge of passing out. A greyish pallor has bleached his skin.

Well. The skin that’s not covered in his blood.

Pretty soon, he’ll pass out. Which is exactly why he needs to run. The hope of escape will get his adrenaline rushing again. It’ll keep him conscious long enough for me to have more fun with him before I end his life.

“Get up!” I screech, stomping my foot. I hate when they don’t listen! He startles, looking at me with the same expression. Like I’m the crazy one when he’s the one with an evil soul.

He maneuvers onto his knee and uses his good foot to push off the ground. Sweat continues to pour from his face and drips into his eye. He squeezes them shut, probably to abate the sting from sweat mixing into an eye with a missing cornea. Gritting his teeth, he takes his first step. And immediately falls back down. Looks like he’s not scared enough.

“If you don’t run in fifteen seconds, I will remove one of your eyeballs,” I threaten.

I’ll do it, too.

He glares at me and spits at my feet.

I gasp and step back. Curling my lip, I consider how to get him up.

“If you can get up and open one of the doors, I’ll let you go.”

Finally, hope trickles back into his eyes. The pain was overbearing, and he started to give up. He just needed a little nudge to get going.

“Ring around the rosies,” I sing, taking on the child-like haunting voice. His movements quicken, and soon enough, he’s back on his feet and limping down the hallway. Broken foot be damned.

Giddiness overtakes me. I bounce on my feet, giving him a good head start. He’ll be laughably easy to catch. I don’t want it to be over too soon.

“Pocket full of posies.”

Several crashes followed by loud cursing. He fell down the stairs. I laugh loudly and run out of the room and make my way to the stairs. He’s at the bottom, groaning in pain as he struggles to get up. When he spots me, his eyes widen and resumes his struggles with renewed energy.

Colorful curses slither from his mouth as he gets back up on his feet and turns towards the front door. Cronus is standing there, completely still as he watches Gary.

“What is wrong with you? I thought you wanted me to run?!” he shouts. Cronus doesn’t react. I tiptoe down the stairs, stopping halfway down.

“I said you have to open the door,” I clarify. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge me, the scary man before him stealing all his attention and fear. But he does listen. He barrels towards Cronus, shoves him aside, bends and bites onto the handle.

I giggle, amused by how cute he looks trying to open a door with his mouth. For a solid minute, I let him struggle to open the door with his teeth. He then switches tactics, balancing on his good foot while using his knee and fingerless hand to clutch the handle. He wobbles and falls before he can make any progress. He’s lost too much blood and is becoming weaker.

“Here I come,” I taunt, coming further down the stairs.

Snarling, he whips away from the door and drags himself down the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the wall for support. Quickly, I descend the rest of the stairs and watch as he painstakingly makes his way into the kitchen. He glances back at me, his eyes rounding when he sees me standing there.

He’ll be sorely disappointed when he finds Baine or Timothy at the other exit point.

Green and purple smoke unfurls from the machines in the corners, thickening in the hallway. Gary disappears, his torn apart body swallowed by the smoke and flashing strobe lights. I can hear his grunts and curses.

At one point, I hear a sharp crack, followed by a loud shout from Gary. I’m pretty sure his foot just broke further. I run through the living room and around to the kitchen, coming through a side entrance. Off to the side of the kitchen is a tiny foyer with a staircase and the only other exit. When guests are finished upstairs, they come down that staircase and exit through the door. Standing guard in front of the foyer is Baine—my little grim reaper.

That’s who he’s dressed up as, with his black hooded cloak and skeletal body. He puts Mortis’s body to shame, with the entirety of his rib cage poking through his grey-painted skin. Along with every other bone in his body. He says he doesn’t like to eat, and I don’t push him to correct his eating disorder. His cock is skinny but is the longest out of the bunch so he always gets to fuck my ass.

“Motherfucking, BITCH!”

I slap a hand over my mouth as more cackles release from my mouth.

Gary’s head drops, hopelessness seeming to consume him. His shoulders shudder as a sob wracks his throat. My hand falls and I walk closer, getting a full view of him. Tears stream down his bloodied face, producing pretty pink tears that drip off his face and onto the floor.

“Just fucking kill me,” he sobs. He sways, losing all fight and nearly collapsing to the floor. His body jolts as he cries, and finally, it folds in on itself and he falls to the ground. His sobs deepen, while Baine and I share a look.

How pathetic. Raping and abusing women and when he’s abused in return, it’s one big pity party.

“Are you going to admit to your sins?” I ask, stepping closer and leaning down, putting my face directly into his.

“What sins?” he blubbers, snot leaking into his mouth.

I slap him, my own hand stinging from the impact. “Don’t play stupid! What did you do to, Jennifer?” I interrogate, curling my lip over my teeth.

“I…I had sex with her.”

Apparently, his ears stopped working. I grip my knife and plunge it into his stomach. He gasps, blood mixing into his saliva as he coughs.

“I’ll ask again,” I say serenely. “What did you do to her?”

He sniffles. “I raped her,” he confesses on a pitiful cry. “She was my girlfriend! I didn’t think it was that big of a deal!”

My eyes widen as a thick film of red-hot rage contorts my vision.

“Not a big deal?” I whisper, shocked by his words.

He stutters, not managing to get a coherent sentence out when he knows he just fucked up. I’m sure he can see it in my face. The absolute stupidity of what he just uttered.

My spine straightens and a calm smile settles on my face.

His words only justify my judgement. Every time I’m proved right, I’m overcome with peace. Breathing out a sigh, I turn and go find my Mace—a long, skinny wooden bat covered in spikes. Normally, it’s used as a prop. Jackal will carry it in his hand sometimes. What no one knows, is that it’s real. The spikes aren’t plastic, but a sharpened metal.

When I return to Gary, he’s still on the floor throwing his pity party. I know it’s going to get uglier once he lays eyes on what’s in my hand. Like clockwork, his eyes bulge and he starts desperately chanting to me.

“No, no, no, please, no,” he wails, tears streaming down his reddened face. I suppose it’s better than the grey.

He still looks like shit, though.

Baine steps closer, his eyes watching intently as I bring the Mace down on his other foot, ensuring no escape from Gary. He screams, his face turning cherry red. His foot is nearly detached from his leg. Blood leaks out in rivulets from the pulpy mess his ankle now is.

Baine fists his cock, the muscle hard and straining beneath his black robe. I smile, feeling my own desire building in the apex of my thighs.

My henchmen were made for me. Each and every one of them.

Deftly, I unbuckle Gary’s belt and pull down his pants. He wriggles, trying his best to dislodge my hands, but he only succeeds in getting them down quicker.

“What are you doing?!” he shouts, panicked.

His boxers come down next, and I nearly gag from the stench.

“Gary. Do you ever wash your ass?” I ask seriously, my face curled with repulsion. I mean, really, when’s the last time this filthy parasite even showered?

I will never understand what Jennifer sees in him. There’s no way she has rose-colored glasses on with him. She has dark, black sunshades on. It’s the only way she can look at Gary and not see something revolting.

Curses are spit at me, but I ignore them. They’re just empty words. How can they mean anything at all when they’re coming from the mouth of a demon?

“You said what you did to Jennifer wasn’t a big deal,” I reiterate. Thrashing desperately, he doesn’t answer. He knows what’s coming.

Baine does, too. His robe has been pulled aside, and in his tightly curled fist, he pumps his cock. Gary pays him no mind, his terror too potent to pay attention to the grim reaper jacking off over his head.

“If you don’t feel raping an innocent flower isn’t a big deal, then I will do you the same honor. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” I say, flipping him on his stomach. He looks like a squirming leech.

I squeal with laughter when he starts hyperventilating. “I take it back! I take it back!”

His ass stinks, but it’s a small price to pay. I don’t even bother spreading his flat cheeks. The business end of the Mace is positioned right at his ass, and I shove upwards.

It doesn’t just slide in, though. It takes work and maneuvering.

“Stop! Please, please stop!” I don’t listen. I keep shoving until the Mace finally slithers into his ass. Blood spurts from the wound as I fuck Gary’s ass with the spiked weapon.

“No big deal, right, Gary?” I scream over his shouting, my voice nearly hysteric. I slide the Mace in and out, shivering in delight from the noises his body makes as its ripped apart.

Baine jerks his dick faster, his chin to his chest as he watches the scene with unveiled enchantment. Groans slip from his throat, and soon, cum spurts from his dick, landing on the floor and mixing it with Gary’s blood.

I laugh, though Gary hasn’t even noticed due to his entrails being dragged out from his ass. I drag the bat out, his intestines wrapped around the spikes, and other parts of his innards.

Gary convulses as his entrails slide out of him. Within seconds, his screaming ceases and silence settles over the house. All that’s left is my heavy breathing.

My eyes land on Baine’s bottomless eyes.

“Get the others over here. Now.”