The Sadist's Bible (12 page)

while a charred figure used a hot spike to pry out his eyes. On the landing between the

third and fourth flights, a pig-man with tits (or, a pig-woman with a cock?) hung by the neck from a rusty steel chain tethered to a rickety, improvised gallows. Still alive, the creature screamed curses and violently jacked off. Below the gallows, a man-sized worm

wearing an executioner’s hood wriggled on the ground as globs of thick cum rained down

on it.

The last flight of stairs led to a battlement. Here, in the open air, the fire raged as it hadn’t on the stairs. All manner of monsters danced seizure-like jigs on the burning stone floor. “This is truly living!” one of the pig-men said, right before collapsing. When he fell, his back and neck and head caved in, spewing forth cinders and ash. Other creatures leapt from the tower (not so much to escape, Ellie reasoned, as to start the process all over again, to repeat the buffet of gleeful horrors the previous floors offered). Like

children at a swimming pool, they weren’t yet ready to leave.

Ellie’s guides pushed her toward the middle of the battlement, then slunk back

toward the stairs.

“Wait,” she called. “Where’s Lori?”

They pointed upward, at the smoke gusting into the black sky. Was this a trick? Had

Lori been burnt to death? When her guides had pointed skyward, were they implying

she’d been reduced to cinders and ash, and that Ellie would soon meet the same fate?

It was as if the tower was a giant stake at which she was being burned, but she made

no attempt to flee. “Where’s Lori?” she grunted through blistered lips. “Where’s Lori?”

she asked as her skin flaked away into bits of carbon and her knuckles glowed like hot

coals.

A gale swept over the battlement, and she felt wicked stings in her shoulders. She

was kicked roughly up into the air.
I’m no longer a body now
, she thought
. I’m ashes. I’m
fumes
.

But she was mistaken. Her hands were badly burnt, yes, but still whole. She wasn’t

disintegrating, she was being carried off by a legless, emaciated old man with black,

feathered wings. His talons pierced her skin as they held her secure. Together they flew through the black smoke and toward a glaring, cruel light.

Damned with Blessings

The legless angel deposited her on a massive plateau of smoldering ash. Seven suns

ringed a blue sky like jewels in a crown. Seven gleaming white towers of various heights rose from the plateau. She felt a steady tremor beneath her. She heard a steady, feral hum above her.

There was...chanting. Wailing. A multitude of voices – or things
like
voices –

coming from the towers. She looked up and saw thousands of naked, deformed angels

writhing on battlements. They shouted these words with mutilated lips: “Haweh, haweh,

haweh.”

Some of them had four wings and some of them had two wings and some of them

had one wing and some of them only had a half a wing and some of them only had

stubby, barely-noticeable appendages where wings used to be. Some of them had white

wings, some had black wings, some had gray wings, some had purple wings, some had

green wings.

Some seemed to be dead and rotting, but still chanting. Some were pristine, intact,

strong and healthy. As Ellie craned her head farther up, she saw that some of the

creatures were touching each other. Hunching down, presenting themselves. Offering

orifices up to other creatures’ appendages.

Oh yes, that was what was happening: the angels were violently fucking each other.

Wingless angels shoved their stubby, bare former-wing appendages into waiting mouths,

shoved their talons into waiting vaginas. The winged angels were, often but not always,

the passive partners; the ones who were howling, over and over: “Haweh, haweh,

haweh.”

Ellie felt her burnt lips sweetly ache as she sang along. “Holy, holy, holy.”

She focused on a pair of angels standing on a battlement relatively low to the ground.

The female had skin the color of alabaster, but sparkled with the rainbow reflection of

diamond piercings all over her face, nipples, wings, and legs. The male was black with

rot, but this did not prevent him pleasure. He finger-fucked the female from behind, and her breasts jiggled rhythmically in response. Her nipples boasted wide pinkish-brown

areolas that were fun to watch as they jiggled.

Then the male whipped her around and raked her face with his talons. Bits of

diamond-pierced flesh fell from her cheek, kicking up wisps of ash as they landed on the plateau. One of the rotting male’s talons fell off, too.

A meager bit of meat hung between the male angel’s legs, but it grew longer as he

tugged at the diamond piercings in the female’s nipple. Even from her low vantage point, Ellie could see the nipple stretch away from the breast. The female closed her eyes and

bit her lip and whimpered and squirmed. She was gorgeous and helpless and would

never, ever leave her loving torturer.

It was a beautiful moment, and Ellie wept joyfully as she watched. She slipped burnt

fingers through a crusty, scarred layer of burnt clothes-skin and onto her vulva. As she began to stimulate her clit, a giant hand made of flame picked her off the ground and

brought her up to meet a giant face-of-flame. And the Man of Flame opened His mouth,

letting out something like words.

You have questions.

“Where’s Lori?”

You will meet her. You will help me discipline her.

“What is this place? Heaven? Hell?”

Both. “Heaven” and “Hell” are just two names for the same place. They are one

and the same.

“Who are you? God? The Devil?”

I have been called both names. But names are not my concern. Discipline is my

concern. Mating is my concern. Degeneracy is my concern. Worship is my concern.

She didn’t understand everything, but she understood enough. His answers made

more sense than anything she’d learned in Bible study. She felt both holy and wicked

there in His palm, but no longer saw these states as contradictory. Waves of sadistic awe and serene darkness crested in her heart. “I worship You,” Ellie said.

I know. You have worshiped me since you were very young. You worshiped me even

before you knew about me. That is why you shall have a place of honor here, as one of
my angels. One of my demons. I have had you brought here –body and soul intact, not

dead – to become one of my Ambassadors to Earth.

And the Omnipotent tossed two wisps of flame from His hand, and they landed on

Eleanor’s shoulders like hot wax. And they grew into wings the color of bruises. And she fell to her knees and begged the Omnipotent to take her to Lori. And the Omnipotent

granted this prayer, and Lori was revealed to Eleanor.

Had Eleanor not been elevated to the rank of angel, she may not have recognized

Lori. She had lost weight. Her bones had been broken and healed and re-broken several

times. Patches of flesh were missing from her face, her stomach, and her back. But

Eleanor recognized the eyes and the breasts – the same eyes and breasts that had

appeared in her photos.

Torture her
, the Omnipotent commanded.

And the angel Eleanor strode over toward her immobile love and kicked her in the

head. “Tell me you love me,” she commanded.

* * *

Lori’s mind could no longer afford the luxury of memory; in fact the very concept of

memory grew more and more alien to her with each passing hour spent with the

Omnipotent in his Palace of Abominations.

Not only had her body been reshaped, her mind and her will had as well. The

Omnipotent had twisted her brain and wrung all rebellion out of it. She existed only to

suffer and procreate without resistance. Her mind could focus only on the various modes

of pain: burning, cutting, breaking, ramming, blistering. Flogging, fucking, birth.

She did not recognize the voice or its owner. The angel was, judging by the two

swollen mounds on its chest, female. But no other visual cue stood out as unique. She did not, for example, recognize the face. It was burnt, blistered, and snarling – like all the rest of them.

However, what the angel
demanded
was odd.
More
than odd. Downright alarming.

Did the angel not know that she was the exclusive property of the Omnipotent – to

be touched only by Him? Did the angel not see that, even if she
wanted
to utter the unfamiliar sounds demanded of her, she physically couldn’t? Her lips had been fused

together. The upper lip and lower lip were now one burnt, blistered flap of skin.

* * *

Eleanor felt a dull, unfamiliar ache in her fingers. Glancing down, she noticed with

bemusement that they had just changed into talons – knobby, gnarled, and sharp.

Beautifully ugly. She pierced one through Lori’s mouth and proceeded to rip a gash from

left to right.

Eleanor tried to focus enough so that her cut would cleanly separate the two lips

from each other, but she was a novice at using her new anatomy and intensely aroused as

well. The gash ended up running all the way up to Lori’s right cheekbone and down to

the left side of her chin. Blood, at first, oozed out. Then it pulsed out, rhythmically.

Spurt...spurt...spurt. The sight of suffering and its mischievous instigation!

She had freed part of Lori’s mouth, though. Lori had no more excuses for failing to

confess her love. “Tell me you love me,” Eleanor commanded again.

Lori uttered a sound somewhere in between a whimper and a shriek. Blood flooded

her mouth and she began to cough, wheeze, and spit.

Eleanor grabbed on to Lori’s nipples. Despite all Lori had been through, they felt

soft and warm. Eleanor caressed them. She straddled Lori. Bent down and licked a

nipple. It hardened. Even as blood began to drip down Lori’s chin and onto her chest, it hardened.

Eleanor ran her tongue up the breast, into the thickening puddle of blood. Tasted it.

Liked it. Trailed her tongue up Lori’s neck. Nibbled her ear, gently. Whispered to her.

“Tell me you love me.”

* * *

Lori felt like she had sunk deep under a lake, and the angel was on land barking at

her. She felt no closeness to her.

Likewise, she felt no affection for her. (Why should she? A marionette exhibits no

love for its puppeteer.) Her body responded to the angel’s touches strictly out of instinct.

Her nerves were wired in such a way that her nipple hardened when it was licked. That

was that. There was nothing more to it.

Still, the Omnipotent might punish her. Or punish the angel. Or punish both of them.

The angel should know better than to touch her. Only the Omnipotent could do that. She

thrashed her head around, spit out more blood, and let out a guttural livestock sound.

“Nuh-uhh-ghuh-nuh.”

* * *

Was that a “no”? Did Lori still have the will to defy her?

Eleanor had tasted Lori’s blood, and now she decided she wanted to taste her cunt.

She spread Lori’s broken legs (eliciting many howls from the bitch) and tasted the

warmth, the wetness there.
The tastes of suffering and its mischievous instigation!

Tasting wasn’t enough. She had to start chewing. She had to start ripping the meat

away until a piece of outer labia dangled from her mouth. Lori screamed and started to

pass out.

Eleanor slapped her. “Don’t you dare go to sleep on me.” She inserted a talon

between Lori’s legs. It did what talons do. Blood pooled together with her natural

wetness, making the going deliciously slippery. The talon slammed deep and Lori bucked

in rhythm with the penetration. “Tell me you love me,” Eleanor commanded. “Now, you

fuckin’ whore.”

Eleanor felt more alive than she ever had. More aroused than she ever had. She

turned herself around so that she was sitting on Lori’s face while at the same time finger fucking her. She began to grind her vulva into Lori’s mouth-wound. A piece of meat

from Lori’s mouth came up to meet her.

Lori licked her. Tentatively at first, but then more enthusiastically. Even began to

target her efforts on Eleanor’s clit. And Eleanor had increased the rate at which she thrust her talon into Lori’s pussy. And they both let out loud moans and Eleanor felt herself

surging toward climax, but climax wasn’t the most important thing. She pulled herself off Lori and commanded her once again. “Now, tell me that you love me.”

And Lori opened her mouth, but choked on her own blood and couldn’t articulate

words. All that she managed to produce was a groan. A grunting, howling sound.

“Just nod,” Eleanor said through gritted teeth. “Just nod if you love me.”

And, after a long time, Lori’s head shuddered with a tiny twitch. Then she coughed

up more blood, forcing her head into a convulsion not unlike a nod. And Eleanor knew

(finally,
knew
) that a beautiful young woman loved her. It was as though there were a million little windows in her brain. Seeing Lori confess her love made her feel like all of them had been opened to let in fresh air.

Her victory was short-lived, though, as the hand of the Omnipotent suddenly

appeared and picked Lori up from the ground.

How dare my concubine commit adultery in my presence? How dare she declare her

love for another?

And, with that, His hand of flame fell over the gash Eleanor had made in Lori’s face.