Hell To Pay: A Diabolical Dilemma

Dare Diabolo Suum, Inc.

To — His Diabolical Majesty Luciferus Bestiæ Æternum, Father of Lies, Lord of the Flies, Prince of Darkness, King of the Bottomless Pit, Archangel of Death, Corrupter of the Innocent, Etc., Etc.

From — Dæmon Devorantem, Satanic Henchman First Class, Special Projects Office

Dear Boss,

First of all, let me offer my hearty congratulations on the anti-vax campaign. It is succeeding beyond our most optimistic projections. The guys and gals in the False Prophets Division really pulled this one out of the fire (if you'll pardon the pun). Recruiting that bimbo was a stroke of genius. I'm told she now has a talk show, so the investment should continue to pay off.

Meanwhile, our latest project has progressed exactly as expected and the results so far have been pleasing; so I propose we move the operation immediately into top gear. (Speaking of... Jeremy's another one that's been well worth the outlay.)

I know you love to read all the gory details, so here goes...

For our test case, I found the perfect pair. Jack and Jane were good-looking, intelligent, well-bred, well-educated... in other words, full of the naïve self-confidence we love down here. I offered them the customary deal (for him wealth immeasurable, for her love everlasting) with the standard price, their immortal souls. They naturally would have no part of it, so as they were applauding themselves on their rectitude I countered with The Wager. That worked like a charm. It always does, of course. Humans rarely disappoint. It's why we're so fond of them. I could just eat them all up... but I've promised to stop doing that ;)

I put Jack and Jane overnight in the Nero Suite. At the risk of repeating myself... humans are so predictable. Instead of getting well-rested, or planning some sort of strategy, or at least getting to know each other's minds better, they rutted like satyrs all night. Their breakfast conversation amused me no end.

"So Jane, what's your reward, if you win?"

"Never-ending passionate love."

"Heh... just like a woman."

"Really? So what's your prize?"

"Inexhaustible riches, of course."

"Just like a man. Don't you know money can't buy happiness?"

"Maybe not... but it can buy everything else."

That's when I knew we'd picked the right couple. I had them brought straight down to the dungeon. The place has been done up nicely, not so intimidating that it puts the new chums off their game, but just enough to keep them jumpy and jittery. (The house must always have the edge, but you don't want to scare away the players.)

I gave them a brief rundown on the three trial options — the rack, the whip or the phallus. "Lady goes first; your choice," I said.

Jane thought for a moment before choosing the rack. The women always go for that one.

"This is a simple test of endurance, nothing complicated." I explained the rules. Jane's eyes were by now the size of dinner plates.

"It's not too late to back out," I said. "An hour is a long time when you're..."

"Let's just get on with it."

As two of the minions wheeled out the rack, Jack's eyes bulged and Jane's lips puckered. I gave them a final chance to back out. Rules are rules. It's that damnable "free will" clause. But in any case, there's no fun if the players are not completely on board. As they both started to waver, I pulled out the usual deal sweetener.

"There is an escape clause."

I paused, purely for the dramatic effect. It's funny to watch the punters' faces as they await the punchline. Jack looked at me with a quizzical squint, Jane with an amusingly pathetic sparkle in her eyes.

"Look, we're not heartless down here. Soulless yes, heartless no." (To prove my point, I thought about showing them my splendid collection of hearts, but decided not to push it.) "Once the game begins, if Jane quits before the hour's up, you both stay down here, with us... with me..." (At this point I winked at Jane, just to see her cringe. I really do enjoy this job.) "...for eternity."

"What sort of concession is that?" Jack demanded.

"I haven't finished. Jack, you have a pity card to play. You can end Jane's suffering and give you both a second chance."

Jack grinned smugly. Jane was suspicious. It must have been my devilish charm.

"I don't understand," the woman said. "So what's the point? What's in this for you?"

"It's all an experiment, my dear. We like to observe you humans in your natural habitat, in competition with each other and with your own true nature."

Well, that was mostly true. Humans never get it when we offer these bargains. They think we're desperate to harvest souls, and they're too arrogant to realize that we get enough in the long run to keep the home fires burning. It's not about the prize, it's about the game. Of course, in telling you this, I'm preaching to the converted. (Home fires... preaching... my talents really belong on stage.)

In the end, I don't think they needed much persuasion. Give humans a conscience alternative and they're suckers every time. Jane would endure her agonizing ordeal, knowing that Jack wouldn't shaft Jane (unlike last night LOL) if it came down to a choice. He could play the self-sacrificing hero and still have a get-out-of-hell-free card to play. So they signed the papers.

To get started, I instructed Jane to take off her clothes.

"Why do I have to be naked?" she objected.

I could have answered, "To make sure you have nothing that can help you." Or I could have been honest and asked, "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Instead I merely replied, "Did you read the fine print?"

She shrugged and sighed and stripped. I was impressed. She had a body that makes men's eyes pop, and legs to kill for. I held back on both; there'd be time enough for that stuff later. The chilled air from the vents flowing across her bare skin made her shiver and shudder. (It's funny how people expect it to be hot everywhere down here... like we can't afford air-conditioning.) She lay on her back upon the rack. As I buckled the straps about her neck, wrists and ankles, Jack was trying to not get aroused by the sight of the beautiful naked woman lying helpless on the wooden frame already squirming in her bonds.

"You can do it, honey" he whispered. He reached out a hand to touch hers.

"Stand back," I said and placed my hand on the lever. I pressed it gently at first, gradually increasing the force.

Jane emitted a plaintive whimper, a startled gasp, a guttural groan, a tremulous squeal, and then a full-throated scream. I played with the controls, eliciting all sorts of comical noises, not just out from those luscious lips. And who doesn't love the sweet sounds of cracking bones, shearing muscles and snapping sinews? Music to stir the savage beast.

As his lady love writhed in exquisite agony, I offered Jack a cigarette. "No thanks, given it up," he declared, but then, "Oh, what the hell?"

"Indeed," I responded, flicking my fingers to produce a flame.

"Nice trick," he said. We looked down at the Jane's delectably nude body wriggling on the rack. She was a tough, brave little thing, no doubt about that. But after a few more minutes of desperation and despair, her contorted face was glistening with sweat and tears.

"Ready to give in, sweetie?" I said in my softest sympathetic tone.

She angrily clenched her jaws and shook her head.

"How much longer?" Jack asked.

"It's only just begun," I replied.

"Let me see that contract again," he snarled.

"Certainly."

He inspected the document carefully, examined every clause, studied every line, scrutinized every phrase, analyzed every word. Prepared for this, I offered him a fine-toothed comb. My finest. Teeth extracted from princes, pontiffs and presidents.

With a jubilant "Aha!" he pointed to the second chance provision, the one I had already described. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I could almost hear the gears working inside his brain. He could score some amatory points by playing the martyr and still get another shot at the untold riches. So he put on a showy charade of going through the anguish of indecision, and then announced in his most heroic voice that he was setting his lady free.

Looking grateful and delightfully dishevelled, Jane staggered to her feet, brushing away offers of assistance and amazed at how, despite the lingering pain, all the physical damage inflicted on the rack had so suddenly vanished. Jack kissed her puffy, sweaty cheeks and neck, stroked her bare back and shoulders, caressed her naked breasts and belly... and as she swooned in his manly clutches I saw the glint in his eye and the curl on his lips.

"Sorry to intrude, folks," I intruded. They both stared at me, with that inimitable combination of frustration and irritation — the look of coitus potentialis interruptus.

"Jack, that was very magnanimous. Now it's time for round two, the deciding round, no third chances. So again it's the lady's choice. What is it to be, the whip or the phallus?"

"Why me again?" she growled.

"Well, Jack did sacrifice..."

"I could have held out."

"Doesn't matter."

"But..."

"No buts... but..."

Jane looked at me with renewed hope.

"That's a fine butt you have."

She glowered.

I showed her my instruments. The whip was your classic nine-tails, with braided leather thongs knotted at the end. The phallus was long and wide and... well, putting aside all false modesty, let's just say it was modelled on yours truly.

Jane stared at both long and hard... just like... okay, no phallus jokes. Still stiff and sore, she winced and wilted as the minions shackled her wrists and ankles to the scaffold.

"This is so unfair," she moaned. "Why is it me again? It's downright sexist!"

"We're in hell, sweet cheeks," I replied. "What did you expect?"

"Deal with it, honey," Jack said.

She gave him a withering look and chose the phallus. Big surprise. I had her suspended in a nice strappado... but this letter is getting too long, so I shall leave the details to your demonic imagination. Let's just say that by the end of the contest Jane had evened the score. Poor Jack did not know whether to be impressed or intimidated by her stamina and her... shall we say her depth of character? When the minions unfettered her, she rubbed her arms and legs where they had been chafed and lacerated by the ropes and chains, and more delicately massaged those parts of her that had borne the brunt of the fun. She managed to walk, albeit with a wobble.

"Well, this is a shock result," I lied. "It seems we need a tie-breaker."

"Tie-breaker???'' they chorused. "There's nothing in the contract about this!"

"I just added it."

"You can't do that. It's a signed contract!"

"So sue me."

"Sue you? How the hell are we going to find a lawyer down here?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Oh, of course. I wasn't thinking."

"Unfortunately for you, their schedules are full for the next few millennia. We have this big racetrack and a fleet of ambulances, and... Okay, I can explain later. Anyway, if you wish you can take the matter upstairs... or downstairs, if we're speaking literally. Of course, if the ruling goes against you..."

"There's hell to pay?"

"Exactly."

"Then let's play."

"That's the spirit. As I was saying, the terms have been modified. Whoever wins this final round gets everything, the immeasurable wealth and the everlasting love. The loser, naturally, forfeits his soul."

"His soul?" Jane's face brightened.

"Sorry, my dear," I said. "Don't get excited. I meant the loser is damned for eternity. Your language really needs gender-neutral pronouns. But this is not the time or place."

"Just get on with it," Jack grumbled.

"Easy for you," Jane growled, as the minions took hold of her arms and dragged her to the scaffold. She grunted and groaned as they strapped her torso to the frame. She kept her lips pursed and her eyes fixed firmly on the man's inscrutable face as her wrists and ankles were once more locked in place. But this time a gag and a blindfold put a quick end to the pout and the gaze.

By the end of the game she was even more flushed and haggard. Gorgeous rose-red stripes and pretty purple ridges criss-crossed her spectacular body. Her face was a superb shade of ashen as she blinked back tears when the blindfold came off. She licked the saliva and sweat from her lips as the gag came out. She glowered at Jack, unmarked and unperturbed and smoking his umpteenth cigarette, as I tallied the final score, adjusting for artistic quality and degree of difficulty.

"Let's start with who's in second place," I finally announced. "And as we know, there are no second prizes. So, without further delay... the loser is..."

They stared at me expectantly as I paused, letting the tension build deliciously, before delivering the verdict.

"Damned... forever?" The woman shrieked. "Oh my God!"

"God has most definitely nothing to do with it, my dear," I said. "But I am no monster. (Don't be fooled by the tail, horns and talons, the green scaly skin, red glowing eyes and fiery breath.) Eternity is a long time. So let's give it a trillion years and see what develops."

She howled in exquisitely excruciating sorrow. I blinked, and in a sulphurous puff of smoke she was gone.

"Such a pity." Our victor leaned back in the vast armchair of baby-skin-soft chamois, sipping 200 year-old brandy. "She was a such a nice girl. Lots of promise." An aromatic whorl of cigar smoke wafted upwards and eddied about the ornate crystal chandelier. "I suppose right now she's hanging upside down screaming in a cave, being flayed with red-hot pincers."

"Something like that," I said. "And, as promised, you get Jane's reward as well as your own."

A silver bell tinkled, and from all parts of the palace came running a hundred naked haremgirls, to sit or kneel or crouch or lie on the marble floor before the throne. Their new owner studied the beautiful forms and lovely, shyly smiling visages, to decide whose delectable body should have the honour of making the night's first submission. The lucky one giggled with gratitude and carefully parted the sides of the silk robe; and as the girl's face pressed into the velvet folds, the recipient of her outstanding oral offering gasped and grinned, but then turned to me with a quizzical frown.

As the slavegirl's head began moving in a steady, gentle rhythm, Jackie sucked in a sharp breath and her new breasts heaved. "This is not exactly what I was expecting," she gasped between sighs of pleasure. "Oh well, I can adjust."

*

Well, Boss, here I must sign off. As we both know, the tortures and torments don't inflict themselves. Please give my regards to Lilith and all the little hellspawn.

Yours in perdition,

D.D.

THE END