The last conscious memory I have was sitting there, strapped to that wooden chair, my girlfriend in the arms of a tattooed convict, laughing at me. The fear was rising as the warden put his hand up to the large switch sitting on the wall. My forehead was soaking wet from the sponge they had so gracefully wet me down with. The stinging metallic taste overwhelmed me and I felt the surging, burning pain course through my body. It was more pain than I had ever felt. Then, everything went black.
Little did I expect to awake again, fully aware of my surroundings. It took more than a moment to convince myself this was not a hallucination, that it was not a mere altered state of consciousness. There was a dark, encompassing shroud around me. No matter how hard I tried to shake this feeling of being surrounded I could not. I felt as though there was someone watching me through the darkness, or more specifically many people watching me. This made me feel even more uneasy than the shroud of darkness.
I was dragged by my hair to a small dungeon like room deep within the bowels of this subterranean lair. The creature that was dragging me had scales on it’s legs that ran up towards its crotch, I could see it had a large and swollen cock, with the same scaly flesh that covered its lower body. Its formidable height kept me from seeing its face unless it took the time to lean down out of the darkness and lick my face with a rough calloused tongue. I felt a coldness emanating from its legs and arms, however the center of its body was painfully hot to touch, and I could only imagine how its cock would feel. I knew that sooner or later I would have to accept it into me, if I had learned nothing during my time on earth in that cursed prison it was that I was not in control of my own body, that those larger and stronger than me could use it to satisfy their own desires. The room it dragged me to was horrible, there were blood stains on the wall, and screams could be heard down the pitch black hallway that led to it. Saws, drills and pinchers hung from hooks on the wall. There was a small cage in the corner, obscured by the darkness, but I could make out a young man, quite like myself, who I had served time with back on Earth. He was a punk like myself, and looked like his skin had been shorn from him recently. Whimpering came from the cage, and the creature in charge of me would occasionally throw a handful of salt or acid in his direction, just to hear the fresh screams from the poor tormented boy. There was a spiked dildo embedded in his pussy, and it looked as if it was connected to some manner of electrical generator that would deliver shocks of varying intensity into him on a rotating schedule. It seemed to trouble him greatly that he never knew when one was coming, or how powerful it would be and how much pain would course through his used up and battered pussy. I could hear him softly begging for it all to stop, that he just wanted it to end. Once in a while, a creature even more hideous than the one that had control of me would come in and drag the screaming boy out of the cage, digging its claws into his red skinless body. The boy would then be roughly thrown over the cage and savagely raped by the creature’s serrated penis, then once it had deposited a load of acidic semen into his ass it would shove the electric dildo into him again and throw him back into the cage, crying and screaming.
I was thrown down on the blood stained table and strapped to it. The memory of being strapped into the electric chair overwhelmed me and I broke down in tears, which greatly pleased my tormentor.
They left us alone for a while, and I went over to the cage in a vain attempt to comfort the poor boy contained within. He was softly sobbing, and jumped a little each time the dildo in his pussy shocked him. He was quietly repeating…get me out of here, I dont’ want to be here anymore. He kept telling me about not wanting to go to the oven room. Apparently the creatures have been taking him at random times to a large cavernous room deeper within this place, and throwing him into an oven, he says that they can hear his screams all over their lair. A few of the more insect like among them are seemingly immune to the heat, and make a habit of raping him as he suffers, tied over a makeshift rack. He also told me of a dental room, which is actually brightly lit unlike most of the areas of this place. There is a gurney with thick leather straps. He says the common procedure is for the creatures to come in and get you, drag you to the chair and strap you in. They then put a spreader in your mouth and delight in working for hours drilling, pulling, and digging at your teeth. He said that they have been looking forward to my arrival for a while, as they want to make me spend seventy years undergoing this torture non-stop. He told me that any part of your body will grow back quickly here, as was evidenced by the fact that his skin was almost back to its original condition. He mentioned that although it looks the same, it hurts much more as it grows back than even having it taken off. Just then, an obese slug like creature entered the room, and the boys fear was more heightened than I had seen yet. When I saw the creature holding what looked like a vegetable peeler, I knew why.
The boy was inconsolable as the creature opened the cage and dragged him out. The slug wrapped itself around him, and I saw its huge penis slowly sliding into the boy’s pussy, which caused his sobs to increase in volume. The slug itself however displayed the pleasure it felt from the boy by groaning loudly and hideously. Its large purple tongue started to roughly lick the punk’s back, which to my horror began to strip the skin from his back once again. He bawled even louder as the slug’s incredibly acidic saliva further irritated the nerve endings that were more raw than they had ever been. The creature’s groaning and moans of pleasure increased as its penis slid even further into the boy’s backside. Screams came from the tortured boy as he was raped. The slug thrusted deeper into the boy’s pussy, and I knew that he was rupturing his insides, as a long drawn out scream emerged from his mouth. He begged for the creature to stop, which merely elicited a guttural laugh. To my surprise the rape did not last long, as the slug moaned with a horrible sound and shot acidic semen deep into the bawling punk. As he withdrew I could see his cock was covered in tiny razor sharp spikes that tore the punks pussy open as he continued to scream. The creature slithered away back into the dark caverns and the boy was thrown into the cave where I was being kept. He was inconsolable and bleeding, I felt very fortunate that the creature had chosen that punk instead of me, and hoped that that continued. I would rather that boy have to take a fucking like that a thousand times than face it once myself.
It became clear, that he was here for an eternity. An eternity as a Silas’ companion…
I saw the punk, flayed and screaming, pulled apart by white hot chains and hanging over a chasm. Small stinging insects crawled all over his raw red flesh, and he wept endlessly for the unending pain he felt. His mind was occupied with constant images of his rapes and the abuse he suffered in his past life. His eternal Master sat on a throne on a ledge high above the chasm. He delighted in the ever-increasing suffering of his human property. I was given forbidden knowledge of the Demon’s exquisite experience of the punk’s suffering. It was a pleasure unknown to any other creature in the universe, something so sweet and so delectable it was like a drug. The Master sat on His throne, sucking the suffering out of the Slave, like a fine wine. The punk’s screams and his despair kept growing, and his experience of the passage of time slowed down to a crawl. In fact time meant nothing to the slave now…his entire existence from this moment on stretched in front of him like an endless tunnel of ever increasing pain. Occasionally the punk would sob and beg for his mother, for rescue, for just one kind and caring face. This amused and aroused his Master, who would descend from His throne and take advantage of the punk’s well used backside. Releasing his hatred and malice into the whimpering punk, leaving a thick trail of burning hot cum leaking from his pussy. He was so fearful of his Master’s cock in fact, that the mere sight of it was enough to send him into a deep psychological regression, feeling nothing but fear and terror deep in his soul. After being violated, the punk is obliged to thank his Master. The boy lives in a thick soup of terror and pain, every single moment of his existence serves to feed the Master’s insatiable desire for the nectar of his Slave’s suffering. The punk is rotated slowly on his wire framed rack, his agonized screams echoing down the pitch black and flaming hot chasm he is suspended over. His Master has forged an alliance with one of the most hideous creatures in hell. A being of pure and unyielding evil. He lives deep within the chasm the punk is hanging over, sliding out of his cave only to torture his favorite victim. His skin is deep black like charred oak, and he slithers in his movements, long bony fingers stretching out from his skinny skeletal arms. The punk has been used by him enough times to show Him the proper respect He commands from such a lowly slave. The ceremony of submission is ordained by his Master, it’s a humiliating display for the punk. He must prostrate himself on the burning floor of the cave, and present his ass to be abused. The visitor has a special and horrible talent, he can condense a soul’s suffering into an infinitely small and dense point. The punk would give anything for this ceremony to merely end with a rape, but something so much worse is in store for him. The visitor slides a bony leathery finger across the punk’s open skin. The scream delights the Master. The visitor’s tendrils sink into the punk’s soul, a horrible experience. He pulls the pain, the sorrow, the despair the punk’s very essence out. A small glowing red ball, the entire existence of this slave, all the pain and suffering from his birth until the end of time, contained in an infinite point. The Master exhales with pure excitement as he sees his property’s suffering condensed so immaculately. One touch of this glowing orb would be His greatest triumph, and is the entire reason he made an alliance with this hideous creature. The punk’s terror and pain is magnified infinitely, he never knew such pain was possible. The visitor asks the most terrible question ever uttered in hell. He asks the Master if he wants this exquisite gift to be permanent. The punk’s very soul screams in terror as the Master affirms his desire. The punk now exists solely as that point. The greatest suffering any soul has ever endured, condensed into a beautiful and eternal ball. His Master treasures the gift the visitor gave him, and inhales its essence every hour. An intoxicating blend of pure fear and pure pain, and a trapped punk slave, providing that nectar forever.
The visitor returns to his cave, and to his own punk. A boy named Sam who lived as a pass around punk in the 1970s in the South. After being repeatedly gang raped and murdered during a prison riot he descended to Hell and was immediately claimed by his Eternal Master. He is kept in a small roasting oven in the visitor’s cave. His skin regrows constantly as it burns off. His screams are muffled by the oven but still echo around the cave. Every few hours he is dragged out of the oven and raped by the visitor. He has become so well trained that after his pussy is violated and the burning cum is shot into him, he will obediently crawl back into the red hot oven that is his new home. The submission displayed is unlike that of any other slaves in hell. This punk will do literally anything he is commanded, no matter how painful or dreadful. From time to time, the Visitor even impregnates his punk. It’s rare for a punk slave down here to be able to bear children for his infernal owner, but this punk is very fertile. The Visitor often rapes the punk, shooting a large load of burning cum into the punk’s pussy. A few hours later, the punk is wracked with severe nausea, puking and dry heaving in his burning cage. He feels the insect like young writhing around in his stomach, feeding on his putrid guts. Weeks pass as the creatures grow within him, making him weak as he feeds and nurtures them with his very existence. They eat his organs and eventually, after much suffering he crawls to the back of his oven and bends over in horrible pain. The foul creatures dig their way out of his stomach, their beaks poking through his burning flesh. They bite and tear their way out as their mother screams in agony. He must nurture them and care for them like a mother does. Letting them suckle at his teet and eat his flesh to sustain themselves.For years at a time they hang like bats on the ceiling of the punk’s oven cage, watching their suffering mother as he burns in agony and is occasionally dragged out of the cage to be raped by their father again. Each one of the Visitors’ spawn increases his formidable power in hell, and the punk Sam provides him with an always open and willing womb waiting for him to spread his seed. In those long pauses between rapes you can sometimes see Sam sobbing in pain and despair in the oven. He hates being hell’s breeding mare, and the overwhelming pain of giving birth to the Visitor’s hideous offspring. But the cruelest joke played on this suffering human slave, is the fact that he feels maternal instincts towards the creatures he has given birth to. The burning seed the visitor injects into him with such glee carries hormones that increase the mother’s desire to care for her young.
Once one of his children, a horrible and twisted cockroach like creature was injured in a battle deep in hell’s caverns. The punk, the sad, defeated and tortured slave…nurtured the poor thing…suckling its wounds and rocking it to sleep as it healed over months that felt like decades. And by the time the demon had regained its strength, it violently raped its screaming mother, the punk feeling betrayed as his own demon son’s cock tore into his tight and succulent punk pussy. But he didn’t dare resist or do anything at all about being raped by his own offspring. He had to bend over and take it, take every spiked burning inch of the cock, and receive his own demon son’s load. As the insect demon’s cock was pulled roughly from its mother’s torn and bleeding cunt the punk assumed his natural position, kneeling and awaiting his superior’s cock. His tongue sticking out, anticipating the barbed cock, covered in blood and shit and cum, the punk pussy juice he had gotten so used to swallowing. The demon that had beaten the son in combat later came to claim his prize. As the victor, the son’s spoils were now his. And the ever suffering mother merely bent over her rape table and presented her swollen and torn punk pussy. The snorting black leathery bat-like demon readied its cock and slid it inside his vanquished enemy’s crying mother. Enjoying the spoils of war in hell. An ear piercing scream emerged from the bat as it shot a load of burning cum into the punk. The sobs of the tortured slave echoed off the cave’s walls for hours as another young one was growing inside the punk’s guts. The vanquished foe shrieks in acknowledgement and despair due to his loss and scurries away. The victor stands menacingly over his suffering conquest. Watching as the seeds of his young take hold inside the warm and fertile plains of the punk’s pussy. It’s been three centuries since this prince of hell has had a womb to deposit his burning load into. His pleasure is overwhelming. He spreads his leathery wings and digs his claws into his prize’s flesh and carries her off to his own cave. Once there he chains his new punk breeding mare onto his rape rack and relishes watching his sons grow inside the punk’s fertile pussy.
“Please..please master….take them out…they’re hurting me” The boy is sobbing and wracked with pain as he struggles against the burning hot chains of the rape rack. The tiny but growing demons inside him begin clawing at his insides, but they have many months until they are ready to hatch. So they will bite and chew at the punk’s flesh from inside for months on end, sending waves of agony through the poor boy. The Father’s burning semen has stimulated a growth hormone deep inside the punk’s cavity that will cause his flesh to regenerate at an astonishing speed, giving his young all the sustenance they need to grow within their mother. The punk, for his trouble, will suffer extreme pain deep within his bowels each time his children bite off and eat a part of him and it instantly grows back. The young will grow like a black and all consuming cancer, he will be too weak and sick to move but will still be expected to take his new owner’s cock deep within his soft and willing pussy. The bat Demon will not cease in the enjoyment of his conquest just because the punk’s entire soul is consumed by his offspring. In fact, the Bat Demon delights in making his punk conquests prepare for their own rape, by crawling to the rape rack and bending over it, presenting for their violation. For a punk in hell the depths of pain and suffering know no bounds. Nor does his newfound maternal instinct, but it is warped and perverted. He hates the things growing inside him, hates the pain they inflict and the symbolism of his rape and conquest. But he knows that he is nothing but a vessel through which they are given life. A fertile field for his Master’s seed to grow in. He whines as the bat demon sniffs a vial of another punk slave’s essence. He can feel the pain and desperation and hopelessness distilled into a fine liquor. In hell there is a farm of punk slaves, stretched onto large drying racks and with tubes stuck into their sides, their suffering being milked out of them and bottled as a fine drug.
The Bat’s allies in hell patiently await the moment that his slave brings forth his young. They are ready to induct them into their armies, training them in the ways of combat and trickery. And of course in the carnal pleasures that a new king of hell can enjoy with suffering human slaves like their own mother. Being captured by a warring party is one of the truest and deepest fears a slave in hell carries at all times. The sheer cruelty and bloodlust of the warriors is hard to comprehend, and they love nothing more than the sweet prize of punk pussy. The sound of a punk sobbing in despair and fear as their Master’s cave gets sacked is a rare and beautiful sound in hell. Occasionally one can see a sobbing or resigned punk slave, with a thick steel collar around their neck attached by a steel chain to the back of the victorious warring caravan contemplating the immense amounts of pain they are facing as they march to their new home surrounded by gloating and snorting demons. One was even forced to carry a sharp three foot long blade, as they traversed the burning sands of the outer reaches knowing full well that as soon as he arrived at the party’s base, he would be flayed constantly. But like all broken and tamed punks, he carried it dutifully, careful to never let the sharp edge touch the burning sand or the jagged rocks. On other occasions, the party will stop to rest, during their decades-long march over millions of miles. In those camps, the punk is expected to provide sexual release for his victorious masters. Raped violently by hundreds of demons, they will cry out, beg for it to end, proclaim their suffering is unbearable but be ignored by the horny demons that desire nothing more than to sink their cocks into the welcoming tight and soft confines of the punk’s pussy.
Fights often break out among ten foot tall demons, exhausted from battle but desperate for the release of the punk slave’s cunt. Many of the creatures are awake for centuries and the only true rest, the most exquisite rest and peace they will ever know, is when they’ve unloaded their burning semen deep inside the tender womb of a screaming punk. There are virtually no warring caravans that do not also include a special wagon with a rough wooden or steel rack. It is the punk’s new home, a rape rack. When the caravan stops, the punk slave is expected to climb onto the rack and a lesser demon will strap them in, announcing to the entire party that the slave is ready to be raped, often with a shrieking mating call. There are also slaves that are so broken and obedient that they can be found simply bent over a rock, offering no resistance as hordes of demons rape them. The sobbing boy awaits the first spiked demon cock that will be shoved into him, and the party cheers their victory and their spoils. A warrior in hell rarely sleeps, but that valuable prize is available to him if he is able to rape one of the mewling slaves. So it is little wonder why a punk is so desired by a warring party, and why they are so fearful of being captured by one. The slaves often go mad, muttering nonsense as they roam, chained to a post in the party’s camp. They cry, mumble, beg for the people they knew on earth. Laying down on the sand they swat at the scorpions and centipedes that sting them constantly. Many a punk slave has had to contend with swarms of giant centipedes climbing over their soft flesh and biting and stinging them. The demon rapists are completely immune to the venom of the stinging insects, but the punks are obliged to suffer greatly. There are even punk slaves who have had these hideous insects crawl inside their worn out and raped little pussies. The agony of a burrowing insect deep inside them causes the punk to scream out, their anguished cries echoing down the caves of hell.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/usnbgt/a_prison_bitch_goes_to_hell