The Fetishist Who Went to Hell

"Now, now, Artie," Butterfly cooed in a voice that was sticky sweet (incongruous coming from a hideous demoness), "Come with Daisy and me. You've had a complaint against you and that means we get to play with you before your next torture. Now be a man and just come with us."

Fog suddenly surrounded the exhausted Arthur. It swirled around him and sucked at his naked flesh. He coughed and gagged at its sulfurous smell. For an instant he thought he was back face-first in someone's ass.

"Welcome to our humble home," Daisy said as the mist dissipated. "Mine and Butterfly's. It's not much, but you're not really given much here in Hell if you don't suck the boss's dick a hundred times a year."

"No," Butterfly added, "And Daisy and I would prefer to suck each other. Isn't that right, my sexy little demon?" They kissed, and Arthur wished he was back licking feet.

"Now," Daisy said, sauntering up to Arthur, who eyed her suspiciously, "Butt and I have a surprise for you. Remember we promised to play with you with one of our special toys? Well, we're gonna use two actually. Don't you feel special now?"

"Oh shit," was all Arthur said.

Butterfly went into another room and returned with two black objects, one in each hand. In her left hand was what appeared to be a zippered leather mask with a huge dildo where the nose opening might usually be. Arthur knew instantly who the mask was for.

In her other hand she held the absolutely largest strap-on Arthur had ever seen, even in crudely drawn cartoons. It would easily rip apart an elephant's sphincter. Arthur's previous question of whether or not you could pass out in hell was answered yet again (he might as well stop asking it) - you could. He did.

When he came to, Arthur's eyes opened to the sight of Daisy's rather large ass pistoning up and down on his face. Daisy and Butterfly had obviously already been taking turns on him, not bothering to wait for him to regain conscousness. They'd put the leather mask on him long ago it seemed and laid him on his back on the floor, taking turns sitting on his face and slopping up and down on it with their hellish pussies, and even their asses, grinding on and humping his cock-enhanced face happily four hours on end.

Flopping him on his belly, they then took turns taking that nose-penis in their backsides while the other put the strap-on to good use in Arthur's tight little bum. The switching was so frequent and numerous that they just left the humongous plastic dick in his ass while they switched to save time.

Arthur smelled demon ass for the first time, and it was not a pleasant experience. As each demoness used his dicked-up face for anal pleasure, the scents of demon dung and demon pussy mixed together into a combination that could melt steel girders. And, having to breathe through his mouth, Arthur was afraid something inside him would dissolve from the stench.

But the demoness's favorite activity, by far, was enthusiastically ramming the rhinocerous-sized dildo up Arthur's colon, driving it into him with the force of an out of control locomotive. This they did for days, even after they'd removed his dildo-mask and they just decided to take turns sitting on his horrified face, letting him kiss their buttholes with all due and proper respect. In fact, at one point they'd decided that he should reverently kiss one dark brown, puckered little gem the entire time his own sphincter was being rudely invaded by the mega-dildo.

Several asshole spit shines were likewise in order, though they saved any pussy-munching chores for each other. Arthur got to watch. His eyelids hurt from clamping them so tightly shut, and he would never get the slurping sounds out of his ears and mind... ever.

The demonesses abused his sphincter for days if not weeks (you lose track of time in Hell). Arthur's anus felt as if it was about five times its normal size. His face had a zipper imprint on it on one side and his nose was actually bruised. There was also a brown line down the center of his face which no amount of hosing could remove. It wore off over time.

Arthur was returned to his damnation sentence and was forced to suffer humiliation after humiliation. He ate almost every pussy in Hell. He chowed down on the dirtiest, filthiest body parts Hell had to offer. Armpits, assholes, crotches and feet were on his daily menu - the filthier they were, the more they appeared on his dinner table.

His mouth was used as an ashtray and garbage disposal unit. He had all manner of bodily fluids forced onto and into him. His body, between hosings, was crusted with every form of vile sewage that existed in Hell. He ate anything his captors threw in front of him while they watched, laughing. He was sexually abused on a regular basis, both damned human souls and perverted demonesses jumping at the chance to force themselves upon him. He was pretty much a plaything for the denizens of Hell. All this he endured for what seemed to be decades.

But, in truth, it was only a single year. Just 365 days. His exhaustion was consummate. He could barely move. He lay face down on the searing floor of Hell, his left cheek submerged in a pool of his own drool.

Daisy and Butterfly would have nonetheless picked him up and forced him to endure yet more trials and tribulations, but they had become aware of the date on the calendar. They realized with a certain amount of disappointment that Arthur's first year of suffering was in the books, and that Satan would want to see him before continuing the fun.

And so it came to pass that Backdoor and Precious arrived at Sector Fourteen on that special day to pick him up. It was time for his yearly check-in with Hell's boss, to assess his progress in his first year of damnation, and they wanted to make sure they were prompt with his pickup and delivery. Satan would review all he'd been through and then schedule his next year's suffering schedule, and to delay Satan's joy in doing so would be to risk... terrible things.

This is how it was done in Hell. Satan preferred to keep tabs on every soul to keep the humiliation in full swing and of the highest possible caliber. He took pride in implementing the sickest, most vile and excruciating tortures ever devised, especially with the new "guests" as he called them. And Arthur was no different.

Before they dragged him away for his annual, Precious and Backdoor, ever fearful for their status as trusted demons in good standing asked Butterfly and Daisy how things had gone. The "ladies" too had much riding on the success of Arthur's thorough and painstaking humiliation throughout the past year, and they beamed with pride when they handed the completely spent soul of poor Arthur to Precious and Backdoor.

Actually, "handed" isn't the proper word. Daisy just kicked his limp body over to the two waiting demons. Arthur merely moaned.

"Oh," Butterfly said proudly, "We abused the shit out of the boy. Little limp dick there is pretty resilient, but we fed him enough disgusting shit to last him throughout all eternity, and we look forward to shoving vile things down his throat again when the boss sets up the new schedule. Where is Gash, anyway? I can't stand that whiney little pencil-pusher. He's such an ass-kisser."

"He's gonna meet us at the elevator. Seems he's afraid of you, Butterfly. Go figure."

"Well, if he ever fucks up, make sure the boss sends him to Daisy and me for corrective action, okay? I'd just love to give that boy's ass a good workout."

"Hey, you fight yer own battles. We're just gonna take our boy here back to the boss for his annual. Good to hear you did him up right. Wouldn't wanna piss off the boss. I shudder to think what would happen then. But thanks for your service, ladies, and we'll see you again if Satan decides to send ol' dickwad here back to yas. Play nice, now... but do play."

Handshakes went all around, and the two demons lifted the drooling Arthur from the ground and dragged him off. They met Gash at the elevator and together, the three of them brought Arthur back to Satan's office for his assessment.

Everything on Gash's clipboard list had been checked off, according to Daisy's daily communications with him over the past year. Some items, particularly the Field of Feet (where Arthur had become some sort of reigning champion or even folk hero) and the Den of Dirty Derrieres (where damned women were actually signing up for his services now!), had been checked anywhere from twice to ten times.

Gash raised his eyebrows as he read the list, impressed at Arthur's accomplishments in just a single year. Satan would be very pleased.

Finally they reached the Hell Command Center, where Satan sat contentedly at his computers. Apparently all was going well in Hell, and that bode well for Precious, Backdoor and Gash. They grinned at each other and mentally high-fived. They'd most certainly avoid Satan's rage and come out of this quite well indeed.

"Your Putridness," Gash proclaimed proudly, "Precious, Backdoor and myself, sir, reporting back with one Arthur Grant, soul # 92358106, with his annual torture and humiliation progress report and to receive your wickedly creative and amusing future schedule for him, as per your wise and wonderful rules, Oh Magnificent One."

"Butterfly's right," Precious whispered to Backdoor, "He really is a suckup." Backdoor nodded.

"Yes, yes," Satan replied, "Let me see his last schedule." Gash handed it to him immediately.

"Oh," Satan beamed, "Nice. Oh, yes, absolutely lovely. Oh, my, he did that SEVEN times? Very good. And is this right? He went back for seconds at the Derriere?" Gash nodded. "Oh, my that is impressive.

I've had my doubts about Daisy and Butterfly, but they seem to have carried out my wishes in an exemplary manner. I may have to give them some time off. And maybe you three as well. This is just a delightful report. I might even see fit to hand out a few promotions."

Precious, Backdoor and Gash were beside themselves with both pride and glee.

"And now," Satan said, "His orgasm meter. Has that been checked recently?"

The three demons all gulped. None of them had checked it. Surely, though, Butterfly and Daisy must have been keeping tabs on it. Besides, surely a gay man couldn't have enjoyed any of his humiliations here in Hell, all of them having involved female souls. And even if he did, Arthur was just too exhausted from all his hard work for his pecker to pop. Still, they all looked at each other, sweating profusely.

Satan saw those nervous glances and he bristled. "No one's checked Arthur's orgasm meter?"

"Uh," Gash offered, "I'm sure Daisy and Butterfly must have."

"Fine," Satan answered, "Is it indicated anywhere on his paperwork?"

Gash nervously tried to crane his neck and look at the sheet Satan was holding. But Satan snatched the sheet away, wanting to scan it himself. He saw no notations involving Arthur's orgasm meter. He flipped several pages, anger mounting.

"It would appear the checking of Arthur's orgasm meter has been somewhat overlooked by every one of you. This is very shoddy work on your parts, I must say. However, if his reading now is fine, I'll overlook it with just minor corrective action... this time." Still assuming all must surely be well, Satan turned back to the sweating records keeper, "Gash, take his reading now, for the record. Fill in the sheet with the result and we can move on."

Gash took the cell phone sized Orgasm Meter from his utility belt and flipped the on switch. Lights wlinked on and began flashing rhythmically. He then brought the meter over to Arthur and reached under his genitals, brushing it against the bottom of his scrotum.

"Hey!" Arthur reacted, glaring at Gash.

"Relax, bomb boy," Gash growled, "I'm just checking your orgasm chip. We implant them in every soul who comes here to make sure they don't enjoy themselves at all while they're here. Orgasms are only allowed if Satan gives the okay. And you have not been okayed. In fact, that's why he sent your gay ass to Sector Fourteen, so you'd only have women to service. Too bad, huh?"

The meter wasn't under Arthur's danglies more than ten seconds when bells began clanging and a wail that sounded like a fire station alarm reverberated throughout the entire management sector of Hell. Four pairs of eyes grew wide, three with shock and surprise, and the fourth with rage. Arthur merely smiled sheepishly and looked down at the ground.

"This man had an orgasm?" Satan snarled. "An orgasm!? Orgasms are not allowed here! Not unless I give express permission! Look at the meter's screen. If that screen says he's had an orgasm, someone's head will roll!" Satan paced, his growing agitation glaringly apparent.

Gash checked the screen. His eyes grew even wider, and then he began hyperventilating. Fear was literally palpable on him. He stank of it - well, mixed in with his many other unpleasant emissions. His terrified face turned toward Satan and the clipboard-carrying demon cringed. "Your Vile Disgusting Nastiness, it's not my fault!" the quivering demon sniveled.

"He HAS had an orgasm!" Satan bellowed, "Even one orgasm a year is not allowed! Someone will pay for this! Let me see that meter this instant!"

Gash was in fear for his life, so he held tightly to the meter. "Give that to me NOW!" Satan insisted, "Or I'll saute your spleen in horse manure and make it your staple diet for the next decade."

Trembling, Gash's hand slowly reached out, surrendering the small plastic device to the fuming devil. Satan snatched it from him with anger oozing from every pore of his body. "I'll show you cretins what happens when rules are allowed to be flaunted in MY kingdom!"

When Satan held the meter up and looked into the display screen, his eyes grew round with disbelief... and then smoldered with a rage blacker than anything Precious, Backdoor or Gash had ever seen. For the first time since time began, The Great Deceiver, The King of Lies, The Corruptor of Souls... actually stammered. "ARE... Y...YOU... SH... SHITTIN' ME?!" His body quivered with rage. "ARE... YOU... FUCKING... KIDDING ME?"

Satan walked over to Precious and Backdoor, the two hulks still holding aloft the dumbly grinning Arthur between them. He held up the meter for them to see the number on its screen. Their eyes likewise grew round, with shocked disbelief, but theirs then began to tear, fearing the immediate removal of their testicles and having them ground up and used as seasoning in the food dishes of Satan's favorite pets.

"Read that number for me, Precious Panties, you dick sniffing imbecile... READ IT!"

Precious gulped. "Fo... fourteen... hu... hundred... eighty... two."

"FOURTEEN FUCKIN' HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO ORGASMS!" Satan roared, "This little gay-ass bomb-building sonovabitch had FOURTEEN HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO orgasms in ONE FUCKING YEAR!? If this is true, SOMEONE is going to eat their own colon! Gash, get over here and take another reading. And you had better pray to me really hard that the first reading was a glitch."

Gash again held the meter under Arthur's sack. Again the captive grinned sheepishly. The bells and whistles sounded almost instantly. They all looked at the screen, four hideous faces pressed together trying to see the numbers. Once again, the number 1482 lit up the screen clearly. A low growl climbed up from the pit of Satan's gut. His lips curled into a feral snarl. His eyes became angry slits. Evil dripped from his pores. Precious and Backdoor wet themselves. Gash just passed out, dropping the orgasm meter with a clatter at Satan's hooves.

"AAAAARRRRRRRAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Satan howled, the scream heard throughout all of Hell. Lava pits boiled, mountains crumbled, all of the land quaked and moaned, huge chasms formed where once there'd been solid land. From those chasms fire and steam hissed and spat.

The Jumbo-tron shook in Hell's burning sky, swaying from side to side, nearly dropping from its position high above the Field of Feet. The denizens of Hell, both the damned and the demons, rushed to find whatever cover they could. All feared the apocalypse was coming.

"Gash, you idiot," Satan growled, "Get up!" He kicked the unconscious demon with his cloven hoof. The demon's eyes blinked and he groaned, babbling something about his mama. "Get up, I said!" Satan again put hoof to Gash's hazy noggin. The demon finally pulled himself free of unconsciousness and sat up. "Get Butterfly and Daisy here this instant. If they're not here in two minutes, I'm sending YOU to the Dirty Derriere, but the one in Sector Ten, the men's version. Now get those two muff divers here on the double!"

"Yes, Your Rancidness, immediately," Gash hurried to assure his master.

"And stop sucking up. The time for all that ass-kissing is way past. The five of you are in deep shit right now, depending on what turns up when I check the computer. So stop the sniveling and get those two here now."

"Yes, Your... yes, sir."

"Now, you two dumbasses keep Mr.Grant nice and comfy while I check the computer and find out what the fuck happened here. How could you ass-sniffing mongrels allow something like this to occur under your own noses? How could a damned soul ENJOY his humiliations? If I don't get to the bottom of this, I'm not fit to rule in Hell. SOMEONE has to pay for this!"

Satan took Arthur's torment schedule over to his computer. His sharp yellow-nailed fingers flashed like lightning across the keyboard. He typed in Arthur's guest number - # 92358106. The computer responded immediately. Satan read the screen for less than thirty seconds... then let out a howl that again shook Hell from one end to the other. His head snapped around to look in Gash's direction so fast that a breeze was formed by its movement. Gash dropped a large brown nugget in his pants. Precious and Backdoor moved away from him, dragging the grimacing Arthur with them.

"You fucking dimwitted turd-sucking gob of snot," Satan growled at Gash, "How could you fuck this up? How could you make a huge blunder like this? Did you shit your brains out at some point?"

"But, Your Putrid... "

"Shut the fuck up! You moron, this isn't Arthur Grant, a gay terrorist. This man is Grant Arthur, and he's as straight as they come. He's a Bible salesman from Lofton, Ohio who's only questionable sins are moonlighting at an adult video store and watching his sister undress through a keyhole! He hasn't committed a major sin in almost thirty years. This man doesn't belong here."

Arthur / Grant spoke up, "I've been trying to tell you guys that since day one... but would anyone listen?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Maybe now... "

"Shut up," Satan told him, tapping his fingers on his desk. "We've got to correct all of this immediately. First, you idiots. The three of you need some major corrective action." Just then, Daisy and Butterfly arrived, already fearing the worst. Apparently, Gash's tone when he contacted them gave away the seriousness of the situation. "Correction," the devil sneered, "The FIVE of you need reprimanding."

"First, you two incompetent jackasses," he snarled at Precious and Backdoor, "What should I do to you? Hmmmm?"

"But, sir, all we did was deliver Arthrur... er, Grant... to Daisy and Butterfly."

"Yes, I know, but you still should've at least been curious as to Mr. Arthur's orgasm status, and you weren't. But you are just delivery boys so I'm going to go easier on you than the others. You will both report to Sector Ten as soon as we're finished here. You will both suck a hundred cocks a day for the next two years. And if you have any objections I can always sign you up for a stint at the men's Dirty Derriere. Any objections, gentlemen?"

"No, sir," both demons answered in unison. Grant was amused at the look on their faces. Demons always looked like they were scowling, so to see a scowling face scowl was something rather rib-tickling. And seeing Precious and Backdoor standing there brooding like scolded school boys was amusing to say the least.