Gateway to Hell

by Arthur Saxon
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FRIDAY

It had been a crappy day at the office. Samantha Potter sighed as she opened the door of her apartment and walked in, slipping her bag off her shoulder as the door swung shut behind her. It felt good to kick her shoes off and let her bare feet sink into the carpet. She went through to the kitchen and poured herself a drink.

A cockroach ran over her foot, making her jump. Then she frowned. There had been more of them lately. Complaining did no good. The general manager had told her that the owner was sick of paying for fumigation – the roaches always came back, no matter how thoroughly the job was done. He had said that apartment renters were now responsible for their own pest control.

Samantha grimaced. Like she could afford it! Her job as a clerical assistant paid very little, and she could not drive so was unable to live further out of town where apartments did not cost as much. This place was nice enough, if you could overlook the roaches, and it was convenient.

Two more roaches scuttled for cover as she opened a cupboard. Yuck! She closed it quickly and retreated back to the living room with her drink. Just then, the phone rang. She fetched it from the table.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi Sam! You still up for dinner?”

Samantha’s face fell. She had forgotten about this – she had promised to have dinner with her sister, Andie, who was in town for a couple of days with her company. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll meet you outside the Yun Lam restaurant. You know where it is?”

“That’s in the mall, right?”

“Right. At the beginning of the food court, if you’re coming from the center of the mall.”

“Okay – I’ll see you there at seven?”

“Sure. See you then.”

Samantha hung up, and looked at her watch. It was half past five. Plenty of time for a shower first. She got up and wandered through to the bedroom, taking off her jacket as she went. She hung it up, then removed her matching knee-length work skirt. She took off her blouse next, followed by her bra. Dressed in only her panties, she walked over to the dresser, where a large cardboard box was sitting. She frowned at it. It contained all the presents which Eric, her last boyfriend, had given her during the six months they were together. They had parted three weeks ago on very bad terms, and she had taken the decision this morning to get rid of everything that had anything to do with him – including the presents he had given her. The earrings would be a wrench – those had been a gift for her twenty-first birthday, and she really liked them. Too bad.

Other items she would miss less. He had always pressed her to wear sexier clothes, and to that end had bought her lots of skimpy outfits, none of which she had worn more than once (and sometimes not even once). So most of the space in the box was taken up with tiny little skirts, tank tops, halter tops, see-through panties and bras, microscopic thongs, and dresses that were scandalously revealing in various creative ways. It would be most satisfying to consign that lot to the trash!

She was just slipping out of her panties when she happened to glance out of the window. She was not in the habit of closing her curtains in the daytime (even in order to get changed), but she was shocked to see, in a window of the apartment building on the other side of the street, a pair of binoculars trained on her. And she was naked!

Hurriedly she backed out of the room with one hand across her breasts and the other over her pussy. Closing the door, she scowled and resolved to report the voyeur at the first opportunity. Right now, though, she needed to take her shower.

She pulled the curtain across the bathtub and switched on the shower taps. Adjusting it to her desired temperature, she climbed in and began to wash herself. As she was soaping her breasts, her thoughts turned to the voyeur. ‘I wonder how long he’s been watching me?’ she thought to herself suddenly. ‘That wasn’t the first time I’ve got undressed with the curtains open.’ Suddenly, the thought of being naked and oblivious to being watched by a total stranger seemed somehow arousing. She started in surprise. ‘Where did that thought come from?’ she wondered. ‘As if I could ever enjoy being spied on! That bastard – I’ll make sure he’s thrown in jail!’

Yet a moment later, she found herself stroking her clitoris, imagining that an open window stood in front of her, and the guy with the binoculars was watching… She closed her eyes and turned to face the shower head, allowing the water to drum against her breasts, caressing her skin. Her fingers started to stroke faster, and harder…

Absorbed in her activity, with her eyes shut she did not notice when the water gushing from the shower head began to turn red. Within seconds it was not water cascading over her naked body, but blood. Dark red, and somewhat thicker than water, it poured over her breasts and ran down her torso, through her fingers as they rubbed her clit, and down her legs. To begin with it was pure blood, smooth and completely liquid, but soon small lumps began to shoot out of the shower head along with the blood. After a minute or so, what was emerging was a runny, chum-like substance, semi-liquid and full of little soft squishy bits.

Yet Samantha was so wrapped up in her own world of pleasure that even now she did not realize anything was amiss. As bits of squishy chum began to build up on her breasts, she rubbed them into her nipples with her free hand without noticing that there was anything but water to rub in. Her other hand began to fill with chum, which in turn got mashed into her pussy as she continued to masturbate.

And now something else started coming out of the shower head. Little pale-yellow wriggling maggots, half an inch long, began peppering her upper body and falling down into the tub. Some of them got caught in her hand and were rubbed into her pussy along with the chum. Her excitement intensifying, Samantha moaned softly and started to push one finger inside her cunt. Then she inserted another, along with a maggot that had come to rest on her finger. More fingers were inserted, as were a few more maggots. And then, as her climax came and she cried out aloud with pleasure, the flow of gloopy chum and maggots thinned rapidly and paled, until it was water again.

Samantha’s orgasm lasted almost a minute, by which time all the chum had been washed from her body. By the time she opened her eyes again, with a smile playing about her lips, the last of the blood had been washed out of the tub, and there was no sign that anything but water had ever come out of the shower head. She finished washing herself, then climbed out of the tub and toweled herself dry. Then she wrapped the towel around her head to keep her wet hair off her back, and went back through to her bedroom.

The pervert was still watching her, she noticed with a flash of annoyance. Bastard. She would so call the police on him! She sat down at her dresser and began rubbing moisturizing lotion into her hands. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was almost six o’clock. She would need to catch the bus at twenty to seven if she was to make it to the mall in time to meet her sister, so she would have to hurry. She finished moisturizing her face and hands, then unwrapped her towel and pulled out her hair dryer. As she played the hot blast over her head, she tried not to glance at the window – she refused to give that pervert the satisfaction of knowing she was upset by his invasion of her privacy!

Ten minutes later, her hair was dry. She put some make-up on, then got to her feet and pulled a pair of white silk panties out of her underwear drawer. Finally, she thought to herself with relief, she was going to get some clothing between her naked skin and the pervert across the street. She pulled on the panties, trying hard not to look out of the window in front of her, then paused as she felt a tell-tale cramp in her lower abdomen. She badly needed to defecate. Typical – and when she was in a hurry, too! She turned to go to the bathroom, then staggered and put out one hand to grasp the top of the dresser as the cramp became worse.

She gasped as her anus began to open unbidden. This was a big one – she should really have gone yesterday, when the cramps first hit. The tip of a massive turd started emerging, and it soon touched silk. She gritted her teeth and grunted, pushing down hard so that the experience would be over quickly. A bulge appeared in the back of her panties and rapidly grew, as the soft but dry poo swiftly and steadily slid out of her rectum. As the material tented out further and further, she reached back and cupped the bulge with her hand, squishing it against her bottom to allow more room for the expulsion.

There seemed to be no end to it. Determined to finish what she had started, however, Samantha continued to push long after the cramp had gone away. Finally, having pushed out the last little bit, she stood up and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she caught sight of herself in the dresser mirror and gasped. The back of her panties was sagging low, weighted down by a huge bulge the approximate size of a large grapefruit or a small melon. It did not smell too bad, thankfully, but the horror of what she had done suddenly hit her and she shuddered. She turned around and happened to glance out of the window. Her eyes widening in shock, she saw that not one but two pairs of binoculars were now trained on her! She raised her middle finger at them, to let them know what she thought of them. Feeling better, she went over to her closet.

What, she wondered, would be an appropriate outfit for going out to the mall this evening? She looked at a pair of jeans and shook her head dismissively. Her sister was not the type to dress casually, even for the mall, and when going out to eat she was likely to wear something smart and, no doubt, sexy. Samantha turned to her skirts.

She did not have many. And it suddenly occurred to her that all of them would look rather conservative next to whatever her sister was wearing. Andie would probably be wanting to go clubbing later, and would be wearing a miniskirt and some kind of skimpy top. Well, Samantha did not want to compete with her sister, but neither did she want to look frumpy. She pulled out her shortest skirt and a pink t-shirt.

As she stepped into her skirt and pulled it up, she realized her panties were still full of poo. How had she forgotten to go and empty them? Cursing to herself, she carefully pulled the skirt over the bulge in her panties and fastened it about her waist. Then she went over to look at herself in the mirror.

Frumpy, she decided. It was about three inches shy of the knee, and certainly deserved to be called a miniskirt, yet today, for some reason, it looked unreasonably long. She had never thought so before. Strange.

Taking off the skirt and hanging it back up in the closet, Samantha remembered the box of things she was going to throw out. There were some miniskirts in there – perhaps one of those would be more suitable for this occasion. Wearing just her bulging panties, she walked over to the box and began rummaging through it, still in full view of the window, through which three people could now be seen watching her.

There was a little pleated schoolgirl skirt, which Eric had bought at a costume shop. No real schoolgirl would actually wear such a thing – it was far too short and designed solely for adult women who like to play the schoolgirl for their significant other. Eric had longed for her to wear it outside the house, but she would not dream of it. She tossed it on to the bed.

Next out of the box was a tight black Lycra skirt – the kind of thing porn actresses wear (when they’re wearing anything at all). Oh sure, they could be seen in clubs sometimes – back in the eighties! But nobody in their right mind would wear something like that to the mall these days. Sam threw it on to the bed next to the school skirt.

The next skirt was a thin, flowery skirt, longer than the others but with a tendency to fly up at the slightest breath of wind. So that was no good. After that there was a denim microskirt – Eric had bought it for her after seeing Christina Aguilera at the MTV Video Music Awards. It was not as short as Christina’s, but it wasn’t far off. She found herself considering this one seriously for a moment, then she shook herself. As if!

Then she came to a dress which looked more like a baby-doll nightie. Not a chance! Then there was a blue Lycra dress that had come from the same on-line store as the Lycra skirt. It was longer than the skirt, but she had tried wearing it to a party once, and it had kept riding up as she walked. She had never been so embarrassed!

The next dress was ridiculous – denim, and far too tight, as she recalled … and with a zipper at the front which would not stay where it was put. She had flatly refused to wear that outside the house, and in fact had only worn it for about five minutes indoors.

And that was it. Sighing with frustration, she looked from one to the other, trying to decide which was the least outrageous. Her eyes lit on the denim miniskirt, and she decided to try it on just out of curiosity, to see if it was as short as she remembered.

It was a struggle to get it over the bulge in her panties without making a mess (even with the zipper fully undone), and when she did the zip up it compressed the poo in her panties a bit. She regarded herself in the mirror. It definitely was longer than Christina’s, but not by much – it covered her crotch with maybe three or four inches to spare, and the back… She turned around. The bulge in her panties was not quite visible beneath the hem of the skirt, but it could not be far off. Never mind – once she emptied her panties out it would not look too bad.

She found a bra, put it on, and then donned the t-shirt she had picked out before. Admiring herself in the mirror, she nodded approvingly. “Sexy, but not slutty,” she said to herself. She put some shoes on, then glanced at her watch. “Oh heck – twenty-five to seven!” The bus stop was only just outside the apartment building, but even so it would take her a couple of minutes to get there. Leaving three minutes for … for… She frowned. She was sure that there was something else she needed to do.

Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror again. Of course! The skirt! It was really quite a bit longer than Christina Aguilera’s had been, but a pair of scissors would help. Not that she wanted it to be as short as the one worn by that tramp, but an inch off the hem wouldn’t hurt. And it would give it that ‘cut-off’ look, which would be cool. She hurried through to the kitchen and fetched the scissors from a drawer, then she started cutting through the denim fabric about an inch above the hemline. It was tricky to be accurate about this when she was doing the back (she should really have taken it off to do this, but there simply wasn’t time), but soon she was done.

Of course, the bulge in her panties was now clearly visible, hanging down beneath the hemline. “Damn, I forgot about that!” she moaned. She would have to be quick if she was to empty them out and still catch the bus. She looked at her watch. “Shit!” she exclaimed. It was almost twenty to seven.

Grabbing her purse and hurrying out of the door, she pressed the button for the lift and hopped anxiously from one foot to the other as she waited for it to arrive. A minute later, the doors opened and she dashed in. Soon, she was leaving the building and trotting to the bus-stop. The bus was there already, and it was just pulling away as she got there. She hammered on the doors and it stopped again. The doors opened, and the driver’s eyes widened at the sight of Samantha’s skirt.

“Thank you!” she said to the driver. “The mall, please.”

She took a seat near the back of the bus, but as she sat she jumped up again quickly. ‘Oh my God, I still have a great big shit in my panties!’ she said to herself in a panic. ‘Whatever am I going to do?’

She resolved to make for the ladies’ toilets as soon as she got to the mall. She ought to have a couple of minutes to spare before meeting her sister. In the meantime, she would have to stay on her feet. She realized that some of the other passengers were looking at her oddly, but as she met their eyes they turned to look elsewhere.

The bus got to the mall at ten minutes to seven. Samantha disembarked and walked into the main entrance, followed by the astonished stares of everybody she passed. Embarrassed, she tried to pull the back of her skirt down, but she had accidentally cut it shorter than the front and, try as she might, she could not cover the bottom inch-and-a-half of the bulge.

She headed straight for the restaurant, hoping her sister would be there already. She might as well use the restaurant toilets, she decided. Assuming they let her in!

Andie was not there, so Samantha waited and fidgeted for five, then ten, then fifteen minutes, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and embarrassed with every passing second. A lot of people were looking at her, she realized, but as long as she kept her back to the wall they would not realize that she had messed herself, she hoped.

Finally Andie arrived, wearing a smart trouser suit. “What on Earth??” she exclaimed as she saw Samantha. “Whatever are you wearing?”

Samantha cringed inwardly, but she felt indignant, too. “Well, nice to see you too, sis!” she said in an annoyed tone. “You’re late!”

“Well, sorry about that,” said Andie. “But honestly, what’s got into you? I’ve never seen you in such a … a skimpy skirt.”

“Call it a whim,” said Samantha. “Can we go in now? I’m feeling rather self-conscious.”

“Go ahead!” said Andie.

Samantha turned and walked ahead of her sister into the restaurant, but she stopped abruptly at the other’s loud gasp.

“Sam!” Andie shrieked. “You’ve…”

Samantha spun around and said, “Hush! I need to get to the toilet as quick as possible, so just do your best to cover me, okay?”

Andie nodded, looking stricken. She hurried after Samantha, and somehow the two of them made it to their table without the restaurant staff noticing anything. “Okay, I’m going to the toilet now,” said Samantha. “Order me a rum and coke, will you?”

Turning, she hurried to the restroom, her heavily-sagging panties watched in disbelief by half a dozen other customers. Once inside a toilet stall, she heaved a sigh of relief. She pulled up her skirt and pulled her panties down. She started in surprise at the size of the mound of poo in the back of the garment – it was truly enormous. How had she produced so much?

Wiping her bottom clean with a few sheets of toilet tissue, she sat down and peed. What the hell was wrong with her today? Not only had she crapped herself, but she had left the house with the foul mess still in her panties! And in a skirt so short she would never have dreamed of wearing it outside the house before, even for Eric!

She wiped herself dry and pulled her panties back up. Damn that Eric! If he had not given her those miniskirts, she would not have been tempted into wearing one. She flushed, and pulled the back of her skirt down over the bulge. Well, this was the final straw. Tonight, when she got home, she would throw the entire contents of that damn box into the garbage.

She left the stall, washed her hands, and went to rejoin her sister. When she took her place opposite Andie, the contents of her panties squished out in all directions as she settled her whole weight down. She gasped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Andie.

“I…” began Samantha, and then faltered.

Andie sniffed the air. “You didn’t do a very good job of cleaning yourself up, apparently,” she said.

Samantha’s face paled. “Andie,” she whispered. “I didn’t empty them out!”

Andie’s mouth dropped open. “Whyever not?” she demanded.

“I don’t know!” hissed Samantha back in some distress. “I tried to, back at the apartment … at least I think I tried to … and I tried again here. But for some reason, I can’t seem to keep focused – I suddenly find myself doing something else instead! And not only that…” She paused, frowning. She had been about to say “It feels like there’s something crawling inside my vagina”, but that was just … too bizarre. It must be her imagination.

“Wait,” said Andie, “you mean you crapped yourself back at the apartment … and didn’t clean up then?”

“Yes! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! It’s like I don’t have any control over myself this evening!”

Andie looked grim. “Come on – we’re both going to the restroom,” she said. “I’ll make sure you clean up this time!”

Samantha got up, rather messily, and looked down, appalled, at the big brown smear on the faux leather seat. Andie clicked her tongue in disgust. “Use the paper napkins to wipe it up,” she said. “We’ll dump them in the toilet.”

Samantha wiped up the mess, and the two of them hastened to the restroom.

“When we’re done here,” said Andie, “we’re leaving. Everyone out there must have seen you!”

“I know!” said Samantha miserably.

“Now go in there,” Andie gestured to a stall, “and don’t come out until you’re clean.”

Samantha nodded meekly, entered the stall, and locked it behind her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her skirt up, then pulled her panties down. The mound was now a rather flat wad, spread out halfway along the gusset and almost all the way up the back. With a sigh, she took out a bunch of toilet tissues and cleaned her buttocks again. When she was done, she flushed, pulled her panties back up, pulled her skirt down, and left the toilet stall.

“You done?” asked Andie. Samantha nodded. “Show me,” said Andie firmly.

Samantha turned around and lifted the back of her skirt, realizing at the same time as Andie that her panties were still full of poo. “Oh my God!” she wailed.

“Back you go!” said Andie sternly. “I don’t know what’s got into you, Sam, but this isn’t funny! Now, make sure the first thing you do is empty those panties!”

Samantha re-entered and locked the stall. Once more she pulled her skirt up and her panties down. “Now empty them!” she muttered to herself. Slowly and deliberately, she pulled them down to her feet and stepped out of them. Picking them up, she held them over the toilet, and turned them upside down.

‘Well, that wasn’t so hard!’ she said to herself as she put them back on and pulled them up. She turned and unlocked the door. But then she heard her sister’s voice.

“Are they empty?” asked Andie from the other side of the door.

“Yes,” said Samantha.

“Are you sure? Check!” said Andie.

Reluctantly, Samantha put her hand back, and as it cupped the flattened bulge in her panties she became aware of the sensation of poo against her buttocks and pussy. “Oh no!” she said. “It’s still there!”

She yanked up her skirt again and pulled her panties down. Stepping out of them, she picked them up and flung them into the toilet bowl. Without stopping to think about it, she flushed. Then she heaved a sigh of relief. She wiped her buttocks, yet again, and flushed the paper. Finally, she unlocked the stall door and rejoined her sister.

Andie had her arms folded impatiently. “Well?” she said.

“I couldn’t seem to empty them, so I flushed them away,” said Samantha.

“You’re not wearing your panties?” asked Andie. “In a skirt that short?” Then she shook her head. “I suppose they must have been pretty messy. Come on then.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Wait,” she said. “Show me.”

Samantha laughed and turned around. “Oh thou of little faith,” she said, and pulled her skirt up.

“Good God, Sam!” exclaimed Andie with a pained voice.

Samantha, puzzled, looked down at her panties, which she was still wearing. Then she became aware of the garment sticking to her buttocks. “But I remember flushing them!” she insisted. “I did, I swear!”

“Must I come in there and clean you up myself?” demanded Andie. “Because I have to tell you – I’m not keen on that idea!”

Samantha began to tremble. “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I’ll try again.” Dolefully, she went back into the stall and locked it. Skirt up, panties down. So far, so good. Panties off, panties in toilet bowl. She stared at them. The water was beginning to turn brown, and bits were floating off the main mass of poo. She looked down at her naked pussy. Then she took a deep breath and unlocked the door. Opening it, she said, “Am I or am I not still wearing my panties?”

Andie glanced down. “Yes, you are,” she said.

Samantha shrieked in dismay as she looked down at her panties, which were still on. “Then you’ll have to watch me do it,” she said. “There’s no other way. I swear I took them off – I don’t understand how they can still be on me!” She tucked her thumbs into the waistband of the panties. “Okay?” she said.

Andie grimaced, but nodded.

Samantha lowered her thumbs, dragging her panties down to her knees. “Okay?” she said.

Andie shook her head, frowning. “No!” she said. “You just took your thumbs out and then moved your thumbs down your legs!”

Samantha gasped in shock. Looking down, she saw that it was true – her panties were still up.

“Here,” said Andie firmly. She stepped forward, grasped Samantha’s panties, and pulled them down to her ankles. “Step out of them,” she said.

Strangely reluctant, Sam did so. With an expression of acute distaste, Andie picked up the offending garment and tossed it into the toilet bowl. Having flushed, she said, “Now clean up.”

Samantha finished her clean up, pulled her skirt back down, and then left the stall. “Thank you,” she said in a subdued tone.

“Don’t mention it.” Andie went over to the washbasins and scrubbed her hands.

Samantha did the same. Then, just to be on the safe side, she lifted her skirt. No panties.

Andie noticed her doing this and grunted. “I think you may need help, Sam,” she said. “You’re obviously hallucinating, or something. I don’t know. But I seriously suggest you see someone.”

“Can’t afford it,” said Sam numbly, though she agreed with her sister. There obviously was something very wrong with her.

They left the restaurant in a hurry and with hasty excuses to the staff, then Andie drove her sister back to the apartment. They had both decided that, under the circumstances, dinner in public might not be a great idea.

“Want me to come in?” asked Andie.

Sam shook her head. “I think I’m just going to have an early night,” she said.

“Eat something first,” said Andie. “Got to keep your strength up.”

Sam nodded, and got out of the car. “Thanks for the lift,” she said. “And … sorry about the restaurant.”

Andie brushed it aside with a wave of her hand. “Just make sure you see someone if this sort of thing happens again.”

She drove off, and Sam took the lift back up to her floor. Safely in her apartment, she flopped down on the sofa in the living room and pondered the events of the evening. She had no idea what had been wrong with her, but hopefully it was over now.

It was then that she noticed the cockroaches. They were crawling all over the sofa, and a few of them were now crawling on her. There was one on her chest, there were three on her legs (including one which was even now disappearing under her skirt), and there were at least four others on other parts of her that she could see. She felt a tickling sensation on her naked pussy.

“Ugh!” she shrieked, and leaped to her feet, frantically brushing the insects from her body. A deft swipe up her skirt sent two more flying. ‘That’s it, I’ve had enough,’ she said to herself. ‘I’m going to bed.’

She switched on her bedroom light and closed the curtains, smiling to herself at the thought that those perverts would not be getting their jollies from her any more tonight. Her satisfaction, however, was short-lived. When she flung her bed sheets back a minute later, her bed turned out to be awash with cockroaches. “What the hell?” she exclaimed. “What are you guys finding to eat in there?” She swept them off – fifty or so, she estimated, and watched in despair as they all scuttled under the bed.

She got ready for bed, and stuck a piece of wadded-up cotton wool in each ear to prevent the roaches from entering. Then she undressed down to just her panties, climbed into bed, switched off the lights, and, exhausted as she was, soon fell asleep.

She awoke suddenly, and immediately realized something was wrong. Her arms were stretched out to either side and pinned down somehow. She could move her legs freely, but her arms were immobilized. The room was dark, but a noise made her aware that she was not alone. Her hair prickled in fear. “Hello?” she said in a tremulous voice.

Something – a large, dark shape – approached the bed, and then climbed on top of her. Two red eyes, like glowing coals, stared down at her. Her thighs were gripped by huge hands and forced apart. Samantha screamed.

There was a touch on her pussy and she stiffened in shock. Her panties must have been removed while she slept. Then she felt her vagina forced open, stretched wider than it had ever been before, and a huge something began to slide in. Fortunately it was slippery, otherwise the pain would have been worse, but even so it was intense, and she screamed again.

For two minutes she continued screaming while the monstrous phallus thrust in and out, fucking her with ruthless rhythm. Then she simply broke down and sobbed for a while, trying and failing to blot out the experience from her mind. Fifteen minutes later she had no more tears to cry, and she lay there numbly, waiting for the ordeal to end.

But throughout all this the pace of the thrusting never changed. Half an hour went by, and still the rape continued. Another half hour passed, and then an hour after that. She wished she could fall asleep, and wake up after it was over, but the pain in her pussy was still too intense. Yet another hour passed.

Finally, the pace of the thrusting began to increase, and the girth of whatever was inside her seemed to increase, causing her to cry out with new pain. Abruptly she felt a rush of liquid pour into her womb, and the enormous phallus withdrew.

Then a jagged line of red light appeared in the far wall. It widened, and brightened, and in its light Samantha could see clearly the silhouette of her rapist. She screamed again – the figure was at least eight feet tall and possessed curved horns on its misshapen head. A slender tail lashed from side to side behind it. With a low growl, it turned and ran towards the red light, which had now widened to a crack three feet wide. Through it Samantha could see leaping flames, and other grotesque figures lurching along like zombies through a nightmarish landscape.

The demon – if indeed that’s what it was – dived through the crack, which closed up almost immediately behind it. The room was plunged once more into darkness, and Samantha was left alone with her pain and a pool of wetness around her nether regions. She tugged in vain at her bonds, but to no avail. Worn out by the ordeal, she finally passed out.

Continue to Part 2


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