fasalza2's Blog

The room was bare rock and rough wood, the floor worn smooth but uneven. Two flickering torches provided the only illumination in the room. An unnatural-looking being, humanoid, but revoltingly so, was straightening the coffin that had been lying on top of the table until mere seconds before. The being, a daemon, appeared irritated.
A man was on the floor, having just been dumped from the coffin-like box he had been laying in, the same coffin that the daemon was still tinkering with. The man just laid there and groaned, naked. The daemon, by this time refilling the coffin with bloody liquid from a barrel next to the table, gave him a kick to the head to get him out of the way.
Another daemon came in, his blue skin in sharp contrast to the rust red belt and club he wore. This new daemon grabbed the still groaning man by the hair and dragged him out of the room. The first daemon continued preparing the coffin, while muttering about not being there when the fun began. He would be particularly vicious, even compared to his own vicious kindred, to the next soul that crossed his path.
The pain of a rapidly stretching scalp finally made the man become aware of his surroundings. He tried to wrest his hair from the daemon's hand, but only succeeded in tearing quite a bit of hair off his own head. The daemon let go of him.
The man stood up, his head and shoulders above the head of the daemon. Before he could get his bearings, the daemon poked him hard on the groin with the tip of the club. The man, still confused and now also in pain, walked wherever the daemon guided him to attempting to avoid another stab from that very sharp and splintered club end.
There were no torches or windows on the hall where they walked. A large number of doorways, always on the left of the corridor, showed him the same vista he had just left. These doors also provided the only illumination on the corridor
More people, all as confused as he was, tumbled out of those rooms. A few more daemons, all wearing nothing but the rust colored belt and club, also came into the hallway, pushing and shoving the variety of people toward the turn at the far end. The man was still so confused that he had not realized the strange appearance of the being prodding him around. One of the people, a dwarven female, seemed to be having trouble walking. A daemon pushed her violently. She fell in a heap. An elven male next to that particular daemon punched the latter. Another daemon clubbed the elf on the head. The elf’s head split like a ripe melon.
At this, all the daemons pushed the people down the hall and turned to feast on the elf. Even with most of his head missing, the elf continued to scream in pain while he was being eaten alive. Many of the people took that chance to run, while a few got so sick to their stomach that they fell to their knees, retching.
There was only one way to run: down the hall. Heavy curtains blocked the left turn at the end of the hall. The man in the lead threw open the curtains and was blinded by the daylight. He was trampled by those behind him.
Those that did not trip on the fallen human were stopped by a set of iron spikes pointed at them, surrounding the doorway. There was just enough space to fit the people that had just come out with some room to move in. Two more daemons, as wide as they were tall, stood on the other side of the spikes.
"Looks like we have a lively bunch here", said one daemon to the other, his purple lips breaking into a sneer that may have been a smile. The daemon that spoke used his club to push the people down a narrow gap in the spikes. The first ten people made it into the gap before the quiet daemon stopped the others.
The first ten followed a low wall that curved to the right, around a fire surrounded by ten daemons. Something that could not be seen from between the spikes blocked their way, so the column stopped.
The ten daemons reached into the fire and grabbed branding irons, which they swiftly jammed against the upper back of the ten.
"Welcome to Hell!” said a voice above and behind the main group. Not everyone heard it over the screaming of the ten and the further retching of some of the ones still in line.
One clear-skinned human, seemingly still in his late twenties, was the first to turn around. The others did the same a few moments later.
On top of the door through which they had just left the building was a humanoid figure, also blue-skinned, but with glowing red eyes. Its voice was like a low thunder. "I am Kankolu, director of the Central Slave Pens of Hell. After you are branded, you will be loaded on carts to take you to your new owners. Hope you like pain; I do!"
One woman fainted. A daemon smiled at that. Before any of the others could react, the daemon jumped and landed on the fainted woman. He promptly grabbed her head and jammed her face between his buttocks. There was a sound like tearing parchment, and a cloud of pale yellow appeared around her head.
The daemon jumped back out of the line while she coughed and retched. The cloud slowly dissipated, leaving the stench of ammonia and brimstone. The line moved again, and ten more were branded. A few minutes later another ten, and then the last nine made their way through the gap on the pikes and to the branding station.
Their backs branded, their situation finally began to sink in. By this time, they were all in a large cell with lots of space to walk, had they been free to do so. Instead, they were all tied, four each around each of the large pillars of salt that stood within the room. Of course, their backs were placed against the salt to ensure that their pain was not diminished. Kankolu wanted to ensure that all his slaves enjoyed their suffering while under his care.

Each of the slaves was slowly recovering their memories of the world before. The young human with the clear skin remembered his life, when he had used his good looks to his advantage. His name was Mahlut. He had been born to a merchant family, and grown up to be a cloth merchant like his father. He had been a charmer since his youth. Soon after he became interested in girls, he noticed that they would give him nearly anything he desired just to have him around, to be with him, to sleep with him.
The young girl that he thought he loved, and that loved him back, never had a chance. He abandoned her to look for the easy life, using his charm and good looks to get what he wanted. He lived well, and became the lover of a queen. She passed him around to the other women that earned her favor. One of those noble women was the reason he had died. Her husband had returned unexpectedly and caught them in his bed. Queen's favorite or not, the husband ran him through. His last living memory was seeing the husband cutting the head of the redheaded woman that had been his wife. His last thought was that she had been such a cold fish in bed.
Mahlut flinched. He had been starting to doze off, but his back touched the salt and the pain woke him up. The door to the cell opened, and three daemons entered. Two were wearing the belt and club. The third one wore a baldric of tarnished silver and crimson with a skull medallion pinned in front of his shoulder.
"Most of the slaves for your master are to the right of the door, but one tried to get out of hand and is getting regenned. The guards had a feast." The one that had been speaking and the other guard untied nine slaves and chained them together. The one with the baldric smiled while looking at the procedure, as if thinking of all the delicious tortures he would inflict on the slaves. When all his slaves have been chained together, he commented: “He’ll probably have a few more hours of painlessness before we get him. Not a problem. He won't be able to stay away." With that, he grabs the chain and drags his slaves.
Mahlut managed to attract the attention of one of the guards. "What did you mean by 'regenned'?"
The guard laughed. "That means he is inside one of the vats like the ones we got your lot out of this morning. He'll go through the whole thing since he was never marked." With this, the guard laughed loudly while closing the door. The laughter echoed for long seconds, the kind of laugh that would freeze the soul of a raging fire.
Time went by and more of the slaves were picked up. Only Mahlut and one other remained when a female daemon came in with the two guards. She wore nothing but a necklace of chicken claws alternated by erect penises, including testicles. Her large breasts stood out stiffly, with the necklace trapped in between.
The talkative guard tells the female daemon: "Here are the two for The Lady. Hope she enjoys them!"
"She'll enjoy them, but not as much as these two will." The words ended with her laughing. Evil dripped from every echo of her laugh. If the laughs before could have frozen the soul of fire, this one would freeze the flames of a volcano solid, then shattered it. The female led the two of them out of the cell and down a narrow corridor. There was no light on the corridor and the floor was covered with fresh, sharp shards of glass. Their feet already cut; they arrived at a small, unmarked door. A small carriage was waiting for them outside. The female daemon hooked their chain to the back of the carriage.
The daemon got in the carriage. Instead of horses or other such animals, dwarves pulled it. The carriage began moving.
This was the first time that Mahlut had a chance to look around. Hell was not much different from what he had known while alive. The sky was a dull red, rather than the bright pink that he had seen when he first came outside and been branded.
He saw no trees, just shrubs. The temperature began going up as soon as they left the area around the Central pens.
A few moments later the carriage got to what seemed to be a thick, bubbling river, which radiated the heat they felt. The road they followed went along the riverbank for a while, and then took a bridge over the river.
As soon as they made the turn onto the bridge the dwarves pulling the carriage began to run as fast as their legs could go. Mahlut was taken by surprise, but was able to keep up. The other man tripped and fell.
The bridge itself was made of metal, apparently bronze, but the heat of the bubbling river had softened the metal so that your feet would sink slightly and leave footprints. The dwarves were only trying to make their way across as fast as possible to avoid serious burns.
It was a long causeway. After nearly ten minutes, Mahlut was winded. He thought his legs were on fire all the way up to his lungs. The other new slave had fallen repeatedly, getting burns on his face, chest, and legs. The cuts on his feet had only made things worse. The metal was repeatedly finding its way into the cuts, cooling down there by burning the feet, and then leaving small slivers that made their way further into the foot.
Just before making it all the way to the other side of the bridge the daemon locked the brake. This caused the dwarves to outrun their harness, falling flat on their backs.
Mahlut did not see the carriage stop; he ran headlong into the back of it. The other slave took the opportunity to find a place to hold on to and not have to run any longer.
Just seconds later, the daemon began lashing away at the dwarves with a cat-o'nine-tails. The carriage quickly picked up speed. In mere moments, they were back on solid, and cooler, ground.
After traveling several more kilometers, Mahlut began to see the first trees in Hell. He could tell it was apple trees.
Without looking, the daemon reached back and threw the other slave out of the niche he had wedged himself into.
At the far side of the orchard, a group of three daemons was chasing one of the slaves tending the trees. The slave, an elven female, had no chance of running away from the daemons. She was trying, but the daemons were just toying around with her. All of a sudden, all three pounced on her. They began to eat her alive, two starting with her breasts, while the third began between her legs.
The other slaves enjoyed their break, ignoring the pleas for help and the screams of pain from the daemon's victim.
The carriage at last crossed the orchard and arrived at a large manor, painted in crimson and gold. Two more daemons came out of the main house. The female daemon turned over the reins to the pair and unhooked the chain holding Mahlut and the other slave.
She dragged them to the backside of the house. There she found another slave. It was the first slave that Mahlut had seen that had any clothes at all. This slave wore a loincloth with what Mahlut had decided to call the livery of the manor's Lady.
This time the slave was an absakani. It was surprised that Mahlut did not react with hatred against him, the usual reaction of most people when meeting someone of his race. The absakani, who introduced himself as Fegelnorsh, took the two new arrivals into the house.
A daemon saw the three of them and stopped them. "That one is not good enough. Send him to the practice field!" With that, another daemon came out of one of the rooms and took the chain of the heavily scarred slave. The two of them disappeared out the door the slaves had just come in through.
Fegelnorsh took Mahlut through several corridors and down to the basement. Just leaving the stairs a bloodcurdling scream could be heard coming from upstairs. "The Lady is not happy", said Fegelnorsh. The two of them walked into a large room, where about a dozen piles of straw lay on the floor. "That's where you will stay for now. Every time you regen, you will take a different spot, depending what's available.” He pointed to one of the piles.
Fegelnorsh unhooked the chain off Mahlut's neck and threw it on a corner. The collar around his neck disappeared in a couple of minutes.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the Lady. She is not happy. Go work on the orchard. You should make it for a couple of days before the daemons go after you."
"Where am I? What's going on here?” Mahlut was still confused, though he did know he was in Hell. That reality had not yet sunk in.
"You are now a slave of Lady Lilith, the first Succubus, or sex devil. Very few are chosen to join her service. She has not been in a good mood as far back as I remember, and I have been here since Absaka was just a small tribe instead of a world-spanning empire. Do not make her mad. Stay away from her!"
Those words had the opposite effect from what Fegelnorsh intended. Mahlut immediately began thinking about making his way into the Lady's bed, and earn a position of privilege where he would not suffer, just like what he had done while alive. Nothing changes, even in Hell. People in power want things, and he could provide what some of them want. Doing it here would have him set for eternity, not just for life. It would be the best thing that could happen to him.
Many other slaves began coming in, many wincing and nursing bruises and other injuries. A few of the piles of hay remain empty. No one speaks; they just lie down and fall asleep.
Mahlut spent the night tossing and turning, dreams of nights of passion and days of leisure going through his mind. Hell did not look like a bad place to be in, if he played his cards right.
The new day dawned. It had been a rather quiet night, only a couple of loud screams when bored daemons got into a room and ate one of the slaves.
Three daemons walked into the room and split up, kicking everyone and yelling at them. The slaves clustered in the middle of the floor.
One of the daemons said he was getting the crew for the orchard. All the slaves rushed to him, but for Mahlut. A second said he was taking the ones going to work for the Lady. Mahlut walked to this latter. The quiet daemon reached into the crowd of slaves and threw two towards Mahlut, then grabbed three more.
The first daemon to speak walked out with six slaves, who laughed in relief. They would probably not suffer much that day.
The quiet daemon finally said some words, which sounded like 'practice'. Mahlut was not certain. The three slaves struggled even more forcefully to get away from him.
Then the last daemon left the room, dragging Mahlut and the other two slaves. They went up the stairs, all the way up to the second floor.
Just off the stairs, they entered a room as big as the cell they had just left. One daemon stood by the far door, while over a dozen slaves sat against the wall obviously wishing they were somewhere else. The door closed behind Mahlut.
"Can you tell me what the lady looks like?” asked Mahlut of one of the other slaves. "She is the most beautiful woman you could ever see. Pity she can never be satisfied so that we can have some peace!" The daemon walked up to the one that answered Mahlut and lifted him by the arm. "Since you want to badmouth the lady, let’s send you in first, unless the new guy wants the honor?" The daemon turned to Mahlut and was surprised to see him stand up and say, "I'll go first."
Mahlut could not believe his luck. All these men must really be bad lovers to be that scared of a raging nymphomaniac. He walked up to the doorway before the daemon stopped him, saying that the Lady was still asleep.
Some time later a small bell that Mahlut had not noticed before tolled once. "The Lady is awake. Go on in.” The daemon opened the door while talking.
Mahlut walked through the doorway and into a beautifully decorated alcove. The colors were crimson and gold. A nice scent wafted around the room. The door closed behind Mahlut.
This is about the same time that Fegelnorsh walked out of the regen chambers with the slave that had shared the ride from Central Pens with Mahlut.
Fegelnorsh showed the new arrival where he would work, and was taking him along the different areas of the house. While walking along a corridor on the third floor another bloodcurdling scream rang down the corridor. The new slave cringed, as the scream seemed to last forever.
Fegelnorsh patted the new slave on the back. "You'll get used to it. That is from the Lady's room. Stay away from her as much as you can. She is a sex fiend. She is not happy because she cannot orgasm. Every time she comes close her vulva dentata bites the man's penis and testicles off, but it seems she did a sloppy job this time." He shrugged his shoulders and motioned the new slave to come along.