by Tina Donahue
“Wow, you have real trust issues, don’t you?” MJ asked.
“Do I?” Zoe asked innocently and then growled, “The lovely people of Salem hanged me for selling my soul to Satan for a guy that I didn’t get. Seems I forgot to read the fine print about free will and all that crap. So, yeah, I have a little problem with trust.”
“We’d never hurt you,” Becca said.
Zoe opened her mouth to respond but a loud popping sound stopped her. From experience, she knew to look down and promptly gasped. She was dressed, sort of. Her bra was of black leather with no cups, her boobs exposed. Gold rings hung from her nipples. How, Zoe hadn’t a clue. It didn’t feel as if the metal had pierced her skin. Dangling from the two rings were thin gold chains that snaked down her torso to her panties, if she could call them that. There wasn’t a crotch, no fabric covering her ass either. Just a few pieces of leather that hugged her hips, ran up between her butt cheeks and exhibited her bush. Another gold ring hung from it, seemingly attached to her folds.
She ran her fingers over it to make sure. Yep, the ring was definitely secured to her labia. Around each of her wrists were leather bands with a single gold ring in them. A collar fit her throat so snugly she felt it each time she swallowed. Her hair hung free, not that it covered much except for the hickey Taro had left on her shoulder. The only part of her that was truly clothed was her legs. She wore thigh-high leather boots, also in black, with laces in the front and spike heels. Not bad for footwear. The rest though…
Zoe spoke to the group. “All of you know where the guys are taking me tonight. Even if you don’t want to tell me where that is, please say that it’s going to be dark there.” If it wasn’t, she’d freak looking like this.
Everyone exchanged a glance. “Part of it will be,” Constance said and turned back to the others. “Right?”
They lifted their shoulders. “Never been there,” Becca said.
“Where?” Zoe pressed.
Heather crossed the room and hugged her. “Stop worrying. You look so hot. Better than I did when I wore basically the same thing to Whatever Goes.”
“Anything Goes,” MJ corrected and grinned. “A really cool BDSM club for satyrs and their ladies.”
Zoe frowned. “Is that where the guys are taking me tonight?” How would they get in if they didn’t have hooves, horns and a tail? The horns they could manage, being demons, but the rest could be a problem unless they were going to use their powers to morph into satyrs. Pondering that, she had another thought and made a face at Heather. “You actually dressed like this?”
“Oh, yeah. MJ, Daemon and I go to the club at least once a month. A lot of our friends are there.”
MJ leaned over and whispered, “The guys always get a little rowdy. Heather heals their injuries after the dust settles.”
“How rowdy does it get?” Zoe asked. Worse than the Crucible and her behavior?
“Doesn’t matter,” Constance said. “That’s not where the boys are taking you.”
“Then where?” Zoe tapped her foot, hoping to show her frustration that way rather than smoking and messing up her do. It worked, except no one said a word. Her shoulders sagged, which made her nipple rings shimmy. “Come on, you have to tell—”
“Zoe!” Stefin bellowed.
Constance’s eyes glittered. “Your Master’s voice. A little advice—don’t keep him or the others waiting.”
Before Zoe could respond, MJ shoved her into the hall. Windmilling her arms, Zoe finally steadied herself, looked right and left but didn’t see the guys.
“They’re in the storage closet,” Constance called out.
Why? Zoe turned, surprised to see a hand snaking around the closet door. It was obviously Stefin’s given the tat. He curled his finger, gesturing for her.
She took one last peek at her outfit, swallowed hard and teetered down the hall, unsteady in her heels.
“Wait,” Becca said from behind.
Zoe took two more steps before she could stop. Breathing hard, she looked over, a part of her wanting Becca to order her to get dressed. Another part of her needed this decadence so badly she was ready to slug Becca if she interfered. “Why?”
Becca held up her finger for quiet and then shouted, “Stefin, Anatol, Taro. You take care of Zoe tonight. Do. You. Hear. Me? If you don’t, I’ll have your balls. Understand?”
Dead freaking silence.
Zoe gaped at Becca. Why was she trying to ruin this for her? Why had she said anything at—
“We will,” Stefin called out.
“Promise,” Anatol said.
“You bet,” Taro added.
Becca hugged Zoe even harder than Heather had. “Kick ass,” she whispered. “Show them what you got. What they can’t live without because you are the finest woman and demon they’ve ever known.”
Tears stung Zoe’s eyes. “Thanks.” She embraced Becca and then went down the hall with confidence, totally stoked by Becca’s words and the guys promising to take care of her.
When she reached the closet, Zoe craned her neck to look around the door. The supplies were gone, replaced by a floor carpeted in red velvet and walls that were made of accordion grates, the kind old buildings had in the elevators.
Odd.
Even stranger, Zoe hadn’t been the only one getting dressed, or rather undressed.
Stefin, Anatol and Taro had ditched their shirts and pants for black boots that laced up the front like hers. They wore what looked to be tights, also black, with the part in front cut out, revealing their meaty cocks and pendulous balls. Whips hung from the leather belts around their waists. Each of them sported a red cape that draped their shoulders and backs, leaving their chests bare.
Zoe grabbed the doorknob, needing it for support. “Someone’s been reading Story of O.” Clearly, tonight was about dominance, submission, punishment and pleasure.
None of them commented, their attention on her delicate curls, so blatantly displayed by her crotchless thong. When they stared at her nipples, Zoe knew those babies couldn’t get any tighter. Nor did she believe their cocks could be longer or stiffer.
Her legs threatened to give out at what awaited while her pussy pulsed as if to say, “Oh, yeah.”
Stefin curled his finger again, wanting her inside the remodeled closet.
Surely, they weren’t going to stay in here. It didn’t have enough room to do justice for what Zoe required.
She stepped inside. The door slammed closed on its own, making her flinch. Rather than the overhead light raining its yellowish light on them, the walls and grates glowed red.
Amazing, kind of pretty too. “Where are we go—”
The enclosure plummeted so quickly, it snatched her words and breath. Their hair flew upward with the extreme descent while the space grew warmer.
That meant only one thing. “Are we going to Hell?” she blurted.
Stefin winked. Anatol grinned, making a dimple.
Taro moved closer and whispered, “The second circle.”
Lust.
Chapter Eleven
Zoe shouted, “Stop this thing—now.”
That wasn’t the reaction Stefin had expected. Her soft purr or a coo of thanks was more what he had in mind.
She pushed past him, rattled the grates and hollered, “Stop!”
They dropped faster, the temperature rising quickly. Before she burned herself on the metal, Stefin pried her fingers away and held her hands firmly. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you kidding me?” she yelled. “Have you lost your mind?”
Although she’d directed that question to all of them, no one answered.
Zoe yanked her hands away and smacked Stefin’s chest. “Do you have a death wish?”
He rubbed his slapped pec. “Not since I became supernatural. But if I did want to die, I’m sure you’d be hap
py to finish me off.” He glared at her. “What in the fuck is the matter with you?”
She ground the heel of her hand into her forehead. “We can’t go back to Hell.”
“Why not?”
“Wait.” Taro held up his hand and spoke to her. “Is there a bounty on you?”
Stefin hadn’t considered that. He’d thought Satan had expelled Zoe because she’d been such a pain in the ass, like now. If she’d escaped and had been hiding out, that would present a problem. Leaning closer, he whispered, “What did you do?”
She dropped her hand and gave him a look that said he’d grown two heads with neither of them having a brain. “Nothing. You guys have.” She bounced on her heels. “I saw your files, remember? If you defy Satan by putting as much as a toe into Hell, he’ll lock you up forever. No parole. It’ll be bread and water time. Hard labor. Endless music from the Bieb. Maybe even the Carpenters.” Her lower lip quivered. “I can’t let that happen.”
Well, shit, Stefin didn’t want that either, though her reaction and coming tears did intrigue him. “Why not?”
She shook her head and turned away, her shoulders trembling.
Aw, Zoe. Gathering her to him, Stefin stroked her hair. Damn, it was silky. Her back was too, while her ass was plush and cushiony beyond compare. The skin between her ass cheeks couldn’t have been warmer. Her anus was a delight, her—
“Holy hell,” she cried. “You’re impossible.”
Stefin thought the same about her. She kept squirming in his arms, not at all turned on as he was. Baffled at her reaction, he went for broke. “Why’s that?”
Before he could stroke her clit, she shoved him away. Stefin collided with Taro, who bumped into Anatol.
“You’re all about to fuck yourselves royally,” she said. “And the only thing you can think about is sex.”
“That’s not true,” Anatol said.
Zoe gestured to their rigid cocks.
“They’re always this way,” Stefin informed.
She barked a laugh and then cried, “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Stefin watched, transfixed by her obvious worry and sorrow. When he’d been alive, no one had ever wept over him, not even when he’d been a young boy. Once he’d landed in Hell, everyone had been a hard-ass, the same as him, all of them trying to out macho each other.
During his entire existence, Stefin hadn’t known a kind word, a gentle touch, nor had anyone given a crap about his welfare. He’d been a lost cause from day one. Completely alone.
Zoe continued to weep.
She’d begged him, and the others, not to put themselves at risk. At last, Stefin crossed the space that separated them. “Why?” he asked.
She loved them too much. Zoe knew she’d never recover if they got caught and Satan took them away from her for eternity. She would rather ask MJ for a wish—that the guys fall in love with another demon who’d keep them in New Orleans, far away from Hell. Although Zoe knew their affection for another woman would destroy her, she would prefer to have them safe rather than to risk their futures for one night.
This evening was merely about fun, not commitment. Becca’s pep talk had been nice, but it had been no more than a friend’s affection speaking, not reality.
Zoe hung her head and sniffed.
The guys shifted their weight. Smacking sounds followed as though they were punching each other’s biceps.
“Say something to her,” Taro growled.
“What?” Anatol shot back.
“Zoe.” Stefin lifted her chin so she’d meet his gaze. “We’re not in any danger.”
Tell that to her battered hope and sinking spirit. “Don’t lie to me. I can stand anything but to have you lie.”
“I’m not.” He thumbed away her tears and smiled. “Have you ever been to the second circle?”
Was he serious? The moment she’d realized Satan had tricked her, Zoe had hounded his sorry ass, irritating him like a rash that wouldn’t go away. She’d bitched about everything non-stop to give him a taste of what Hell really was. “No. I’ve heard rumors that it’s hot—figuratively, that is.”
“Has the best hot spots ever,” Anatol said, stroking her hair.
Surprised, she turned to him. “Like places to party?”
“You have no idea,” Taro said. He kissed her knuckles and then kept her hand pressed to his chest.
The heat of his skin drained away her apprehension faster than a gallon of booze. “Doesn’t Satan go to them?”
“He’s special,” Stefin said and rolled his eyes. “Like the politicians, bankers and Wall Streeters who are down there. They have their own places, gated from the rest of us plebs.” He ran his fingers between her cheeks.
Zoe pushed to her toes at the lovely sensations and sighed at him stroking her anus.
“Even if he didn’t stay in the elite spots, the second circle is bigger than this universe,” Anatol said.
“And all of the others combined,” Taro added.
Stefin nodded, his little finger probing her tight ring. “There are places there that Satan has never known about. He’s a busy guy, right? He can’t possibly keep his fingers in everything, no matter what he claims.”
“Claims is right,” Taro said. “Everything that comes out of his mouth is a damn lie.”
Zoe sighed at Stefin’s fingers exploring her. “Tell me about it.”
“We’re all safe,” he assured.
She wanted to believe it but couldn’t help worrying. “What about his spies and his army of snitches?”
“Everyone has a price,” Stefin said. “You just have to know what it is, negotiate it down to prove you’re the man and then pay it.”
“You did that?” She regarded all of them.
They nodded.
Zoe brushed the last of her tears away. She wanted to hug each of them to show her love, but she didn’t dare do so. This was simply about having a good time. “What is this place we’re going to? What’s it like?”
The closet elevator came to an abrupt halt, bouncing gently from its sudden landing. Zoe’s hair fell on her shoulders, Stefin’s and Anatol’s tumbled to theirs, while Taro’s auburn locks grazed his forehead again.
“You’re about to see,” Stefin said, answering her question.
On its own, the door swung open, ushering in a wave of sulfur and musk that was so rich with wickedness, Zoe could barely breathe. Fires flared from the brimstone landscape, the light trying to eat away the shadows that were too numerous to count. Something skittered within those shadows, on two legs at first and then all fours, disappearing before Zoe could get a better look. An orange-reddish glow filled the sky. Silhouetted against it were craggy mountains, lava flowing from their peaks, plumes of smoke rising from it.
She stepped out of the enclosure, eager to see more. Stefin hauled her back in and wagged his finger. “Tonight, we give the orders. You don’t make one move on your own. You submit.”
No way was she going to argue with that. They’d proven themselves by taking care to choose this place and to bribe the snitches. Like most guys, they may have thought about nothing but sex, but they weren’t fools. More importantly, they’d made certain that she’d be safe, even before Becca had issued her warning. Excitement pumped through Zoe, giving her goose bumps, making her pussy wet. “Whatever you say, mister.”
Stefin fought a smile. “Master.”
Charmed by his bold virility, Zoe got all submissive and nodded.
He held out his hand. Taro gave him a long gold chain that Stefin ran through the ring in her collar, those on her nipples, and lastly the one that dangled from her cunt. No one had to tell Zoe that Stefin was going to lead her around like his trophy slave.
She shivered happily just thinking about it.
“We do all the talking
,” he warned her. “You keep quiet.”
Taro came up from behind and ground his erect cock into her ass. “That’s right.” He eased Zoe’s hair from her shoulder and nuzzled her neck.
She sagged against him.
Anatol played with her nipple rings and thumbed the tips, each stroke making her crave more. She pushed away from Taro and slumped into Anatol.
“Make sure you obey our every command,” he warned, “or there will be hell to pay.”
“Oh, yeah?” She grinned. “Tell me.”
“It’s show time,” Stefin said, pushing the others away. With the end of the chain wrapped around his hand, he led Zoe from the closet elevator. “Keep up with me,” he warned, his profile to her. “I don’t want this chain to pull tight.”
“Neither do we,” Taro said. He drew the tip of his whip across her ass, the numerous leather tails dangling over her thighs.
Goosebumps rose on her arms at the coming pleasure. She imagined him and the others punishing her with whips or riding crops, pulling cry after cry from her, pain and pleasure mingling to create one breathtaking sensation. The image was so delightful, a pulse ticked deep within her cunt.
Stefin stepped out onto the landscape. It was eerily quiet for a moment and then the sounds surged toward them with the force of a freight train. Fires sputtered, rocks exploded, something unearthly let out a piercing shriek.
The sudden blare of music drowned it out, a mingling of hard rock and extreme metal, the bass so loud it shook the ground.
All right. Zoe bobbed her shoulders in time with the beat. Stefin turned to her, one eyebrow arched.
She stilled, properly tamed, which clearly pleased him. His cock had plumped up even more, the skin so taut it seemed ready to burst.
Taro strode past to lead the way, his cape flapping in the sweltering breeze. Stefin and Zoe took up the middle with Anatol bringing up the rear. Heated rocks crunched beneath their boots, but the extreme temperature didn’t singe the leather or bother her feet.
With their approach, the bass grew louder. The vocalist shrieked his lyrics like Steven Tyler of Aerosmith, unless it was him. Had he died? He surely looked older than Death.
