The Devil's Slave

Phillip unbound her ankles and wrists from the bed post. Mona fell slack onto the bed, exhausted and sweaty. Phillip lay next to her. He kissed her on the cheek.

"You were a good girl." He said with a smile.

She returned the smile and watched as he left the bed and the room.

She glanced over at her closet. The door was closed. She couldn't make sense of what was happening. Was she going crazy? Did she imagine the whole thing? Was it Phillip getting into her head?

She stood up and approached the closet without even getting dressed. She stood at the closed closet, afraid to open the door. Finally, she slid it open and switched on the light. The talisman was in its usual spot, as was the chain, the white powder, the felt walls and upside crucifixes.

The closet didn't smell different. It didn't look different. It was just as she had set it up. Not a single thing was out of place.

"It had to be my imagination." She whispered to herself.

She reached out and touched the talisman. She giggled to herself and turned around.

Phillip stood in front of her. His eyes were empty black sockets. The talisman grew behind her. The shackle at the end of the chain grew to full size and clamped around her neck from behind. The chain raised, suspending her in the air. Four more shackles emerged from the talisman and locked over both wrists and both ankles. Slowly, the shackles pulled her arms and legs and opposite directions, bounding her spread eagled.

The snake-like member slithered up her leg and inner thighs, reaching her now, open sex. Without warning, it shot upward and into her.

The closet echoed with the familiar demonic laugh and the door slammed shut.