Tormented

You sit atop your gilded throne, surveying the new arrivals. Each damned soul bearing the same bewildered expression of loss and fear. All except one.

He stands erect, defiantly poised against the flames of your Hell. His eyes scour the infinite hellscape to come to rest on you.

You feel his gaze appraise the value of you, weighing and measuring your body as if considering you as an equal. You steel yourself against his gaze and peer back into his eyes. For a moment, the desolate backdrop falls away and you are lifted, buoyed by his unyielding attention.

Bound as he is, he still carries himself a free soul, unbroken by the torment. His gaze roams your body, giving every inch of you a longing pause of contemplation. He does not flinch or shy away from your scars, the badges you wear from your suffering. Instead, he nods and seems to accept them as part of the whole.

As the rest of the souls are shuffled off to their individual torments, he remains, positioned near the entrance to the Pit of Carnal Lust. It seems his sin was his sexual appetite.

Curiosity and an underlying desire make you step down from your throne. You float on leather wings, gliding towards the Pit. You want to watch his sin played in full; carnal lust always one of your favorite sins.

Just before entering the Pit, the man turns his head towards you as if feeling your watchful eye. A smile plays on his lips, mischievous and triumphant. With that, he strides into the Pit, a man confident and determined.

You watch through the portal of the viewscreen as his personal Hell plays out. The image of his naked form, rugged features chiseled into the perfect specimen of a man, eyes blue blazing with a supernatural lust, flaxen hair draped to his shoulders; all give you pause to wonder what life this man must have had.

Opposite him is a woman, breathlessly beautiful, crimson hair marking long locks down her back, pale skin, stark against the dark background, eyes shimmering emeralds, lips and nails painted with dark cherry.

She stands apprehensive in his gaze, the feel of flight emanating from her in waves, his confidence a stark counterpoint. He strides to her drawing her into his powerful arms.

There is a token resistance in her, a longing, a desire, kept suppressed. He boldly thrusts his head forward and pins his lips to hers; her resistance melts as she pulls herself closer to him.

You feel him, his tongue vibrating along yours, his firm body skin-on-skin with yours.

They kiss, passion rivaling the fires of your Hell. He lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bed. Gently guiding her down, still raining kiss after passionate kiss on her lips, neck, and shoulders.

His eyes drink in her naked form, pride beaming from them. He climbs atop her, pinning her arms with one hand; she is willing and playfully teases back, teeth nipping at his neck and shoulder.

With his free hand, he slides it down her body, caressing her skin, before resting on her breast. There he teasingly kneads, with a gentle firmness, softly rotating his hand around one then the other. He draws lazy circles around each nipple, playfully watching them become erect.

You can feel his hand, soft, strong fingers playing against you. For a moment, you and the woman are one, both drawing a shuddered breath.

His lips sink to the nipples, kissing, tasting flesh, and sucking. Her breathing draws deeper as her eyes close and her lust takes over. He sucks each breast, giving it tender attention before blowing softly across the nipples. The air from his breath causes her nipples to stretch and strain against the confines of her skin.

His free hand now roams to her soft, moist mound, sweat beginning to glisten against her skin. He rubs carefully along her slit, slow, methodical traces along her folds. Two fingers flank her clit and with a firm hand, he rotates them in tight circles around it.

She draws her hips up to meet his hands, grinding herself into them. With slow, deliberate arcs, she counters his fingers as they massage her.

Your own hands involuntarily glide down to your clit, the image playing out so vividly in your mind, your own lust drawing off theirs. You can feel him, his eyes as he watches her, his hands as they play inside her; you are one with the scene.

He positions himself to her and she willingly spreads before him. His erection, full and firm, stands out before her entrance. Easing himself into her, slowly letting her adjust to him, he pushes in until his hips meet hers. There he pauses; she closes her eyes with a sigh and nods.

He starts with a slow, steady, and insistent pace, building pressure against her with each drive. She pushes back, hips driving against his. Their breathing becomes more labored as they press on.

You feel him inside you, pulsing with every heartbeat, each stroke deep and penetrating. You gleam with sweat as your fingers desperately try to replicate his power.

He moves faster now, powerful thrusts, each one to the hilt. She bucks with wild abandon, breath coming in gasps between moans of pleasure and screams of passion.

Time hangs for a moment for all three of you; your world shudders to darkness as they climax together.

From the void, you can barely see him; his eyes fixed on hers, his hands cupping her face, his lips tasting hers; all played out in your mind. The viewscreen goes black; his Hell played out this session.

You compose yourself and watch him lead out of the Pit. Before he is filed to his quarters, he looks to you; his eyes fill yours, and you know he knows.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p7u9xa/tormented