Title: Hellish Reward II Part 3

Category: Paranormal
Author Pen name : Knorg
Email: paxgronk@hotmail.com
Description: A year after the disappearance of the dude from Hellish Reward, three old friends quest to find him. He probably owes them money. Meanwhile, he’s in Hell.

Part 3 contains: Catgirl-F/M sex, Demon-F/M oral sex, M-F-dog licking. The sex is briefer here, which is a shame I feel. It’s just the way this part came out. Have to send it into overdrive for part 4.

Pete’s Student House

“SCHLURP SCHLURP SCHLURP!”

Jim-Bob awoke with a killer hangover by the backdoor to Pete’s student house. Someone was licking his morning wood, as he struggled to open his eyes. The sensual tongue was the only thing that felt good for Jim-Bob that morning, so he lay there without moving, until it stopped. He started to open his eyes, when a warm long tongue liked his mouth, a warm body over him. He kissed back, noting something odd about the tongue. Jim-Bob’s brain offered up a poorly lit memory of Minty Foo Foo and his’ coupling from the night before. ‘OH SHIT!’ he thought, ‘SARAH-LOU’S GONNA KILL ME’

He tried to find an excuse to give his fiancé as to why he’d tried pulling a blonde in the first place, and pushed up to shove Minty Foo Foo off of him, she moved to the side as he sat up and then tried licking at his crotch again. Jim-Bob had major morning wood, and was getting horny with it. He stroked Minty Foo Foo’s head as she licked, before suddenly deciding that it was just too nasty. Once again white middle class inhibitions got in the way of fun consentual sex. He stood up, yanking his trousers up to the dog’s whined disappointment, and stumbled for Pete’s room.

“So… do you have any plans for today?” Jenny had woken to find herself still lying beside Dave, and done a Buffylike double-take. He’d greeted her wakefulness with a kiss, before she spoke. He was thinking ‘I’m sober and she’s still beautiful. Result! What’re the odds? God, this is Love.’

“We’re going to hell,” he told her, suddenly realising that he didn’t want to lie to her (lying with her was another matter entirely), “Pete and Me and Jim.”

“It’s a long drive to Hull,” the cat-girl replied, yawning in a catlike fashion Dave found most arousing.

“Nah, not Hull. Hell.”

Dave didn’t much care for the look that Jenny gave him, as she didn’t seem to believe him; true neither Jim-Bob nor Pete had believed him either, but they didn’t have tails or cat ears. He felt that with that in mind, he was entitled to a little extra belief from Jenny.

“We had a friend who was at university here, with Pete, and he disappeared last year. Then this witch found out he was in Hell, but still alive. So we’re going to go pull him out because he’s a mate, and I don’t care to leave mates in hell if I can avoid it.”

“You… would risk going to Hell… for a friend?” Jenny asked, beginning to believe simply from the conviction with which Dave spoke. He’d once used the same conviction to hoax the BBC into playing the four-minute warning, but that’s also another story and a much less interesting one.

Dave kissed Jenny on the forehead, reached up to scratch gently between her ears, and climbed out of the bed. Jenny watched Dave start to dress in the cold morning air, and decided she did not want to be separated from him. She’d only known him but a single night, yet she’d fallen as hard for him as he had for her.

“I’m going with you.”

“Hell’s dangerous, we might not survive,. Dave won the understatement of the day award.

Jenny pushed out of bed, and walked over to him, tail swishing. “I don’t want to lose you Dave… I love you.”

“oh, Jenny… I love you too… But it’s far too dangerous for you to go.”

Jenny ran her hands down Dave’s arms, before flicking out her claws by his crotch.

“Treating my like a little girl is far by dangerous, Dave.”

Dave gulped, and nodded.

Jenny began to re-undress Dave, as both their hearts fluttered like a pissed off chaos butterfly trying to destroy San Francisco. Once both naked, they simply held each other and kissed, moving quickly back over to the bed.

Dave reached down to root in his trousers pocket for another condom, while Jenny began to stroke his cock. He gasped, finding the condom but keeping rooting in the pocket for a few seconds longer, before reluctantly pulling it out and ripping the packet open. He rolled it onto his precum dripping cock as the cat-girl reluctantly let go, before sitting down next to her and stroking and rubbing her breasts.

Jenny pulled him down onto the bed, and straddled him as he humped up into her ready pussy.

“Love you… god..love you…” she said, beginning to ride the student’s willing body as he groped her breasts, ass, stroked her face, before she gasped for him to rub her breasts more.

Quicker, harder than the night before Dave managed to hold off until Jenny claimed her triumphant climax before exploding into her. The white heat of their groins their whole world.

Seconds past, as she sat on top of Dave, before he slipped out and she moved off to the side as Dave pulled the bulging rubber from his wilting meat and tied a knot in it. Jenny leaned over his shoulder and kissed him as he turned back towards her, tail swishing happily about the bed.

“DAVE! DAVE!” Jim-Bob’s voice, followed up the stairs by Jim-Bob, and Minty Foo Foo’s own voice “whuf! whuf!”

“Not NOW Jim-bob!”

Jim-Bob burst the door open, took one look and turned around. Minty Foo Foo Stuck her head around the door and Dave found something disturbing in her gaze. Jenny dived under the bed covers to hide her ears, tail and general nakedness from Jim-Bob.

“SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR, JIM-BOB!” Dave jumped off the bed and began to dress.

“DAVE! PETE’S DEAD!”

“Wha…what? Pete? Dead?”

“YES! PETE’S DEAD?”

“Pete’s dead?”

“YES! I went in to ask him something and he’s…”

“Pete’s dead?”

Jim-Bob realised he’d need to pull himself together. He’d first been confronted with death at an early age as his uncle had had a white farm house dropped on him during high winds, and even the horrific sight downstairs was nothing compared to the night his Dad caught the ramblers in the big field.

“Dave… Listen you…” He stopped… “Who’s that?” He was pointing at the bed, and Dave recalled that by the time he’d invited Jenny back, Jim’d already gone off with… a… blonde… Dave met the golden furred dog’s happy gaze again, and shuddered.

Jenny had found a baseball cap down the side of the bed, and forced it on her head and was now peaking out through the quilt.

“Minty?”

“Whuf!”

“What’s the pub’s dog doing here?” she asked. Not Jim-Bob, in case any misogynist readers were in the mood to be cruel.

Desperately Jim-Bob thought of an excuse that wouldn’t leave him needing to either spend the rest of his life as a hermit, or move to Wolverhampton.

“She uh… got locked out in the street… I couldn’t leave her out in that weather last night…”

Dave and Jenny glanced at each other, and both instantly decided they were better off leaving it at that.

“Sure.”

“Indeed.”

“Right.

“Pete’s dead?”

“Come and see!”

Dave closed the door so Jim-Bob was out of the room, and he and Jenny dressed slowly. Dave was hoping it was merely a hoax, a prank, but primarily he was wondering on the co-incidence of Pete dying just after they were planning to rescue the guy from Hell. It seemed like someone was intent on stopping them; someone or something.

“Could use a shower,” he muttered, but Jenny kissed him on the cheek, squeezed his hand, and together they went out and followed Jim-Bob and Minty Foo Foo downstairs to Pete’s room.

“Jenny? Do you want to wait out here?”

The re-disguised Cat-Girl shook her head, “I’ve seen Norwich lose to Ipswich. I can handle disgusted horror. And stop treating me like a little girl or I will take your balls, sweetie.”

They walked in hand in hand to see Pete’s cold naked body spread out on the bed and looked upon his face.

“What… happened? How did he get like that?” Jenny asked, shaken by the mixture of terror and lust on Pete’s dead face yet also finding it strangely hilarious.

“My guess? About 5 years of too much food, not enough exercise.”

Dave glared at Jim-Bob.

“Don’t you see? Something horrific did this to him. Some evil thing came to him when he was alone and killed him, just to stop him from helping us go to Hell. Don’t you see?”

Jim-Bob was wandering around the room, and he stopped by the TV.

“I don’t think so, Dave. Look at this!”

Spinning around he held up a Gigli DVD. Even tough Jenny yelped and hid her head, and Dave muttered a prayer.

“PUT IT AWAY!” Dave said, as soon as he could speak.

“He’s got Mallrats here too… Star Trek: Nemesis… POV: The director’s girlfriend’s cut… Even… oh no… Spiceworld…”

Dave felt like he was going to break down in tears, and asked, “Are you saying… this was suicide?”

“WHUF!”

“What is it girl?” Minty Foo Foo Jumped up, and pulled a video casstte – ejected on reaching the end of the tape – from the machine.

“Bright dog,” Dave commented, avoiding Jim-Bob’s gaze.

“So what was it that finally did him in?”

“I can’t see a label…? Here Minty! I’ll rewind it and play…” Dave called.

Minty Foo Foo shook her head, breaking the tape against the floor.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?”

“Whuf!”

“Oh yeah… I can’t speak dog…”

“As the newly mute gang member signed to his mate…”

They looked at Jim-Bob again, who shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the atmosphere guys.”

Dave cut a heroic pose, and said “Enough. We’re going to hell to rescue him, and get some revenge for Pete.”

He held out his hand, and Jim-Bob slapped his down on top, followed by Jenny’s, and then suddenly Minty Foo Foo jumped up and put her paws on too.

Jim-Bob broke the mood with “Is it me, it did it just get all Scooby Doo in here?”

“WHUF!”

“Wait down here, then. I’ll go and fetch our key to Hell.”

As Dave left, deciding to stick some more rubbers in his pockets upstairs just in case, Jim-Bob started to think about everything and how unlikely it all was. Jenny was thinking much the same, and about how she was due on for a shift that night. Whether she was there or not, shift happens.

“I got caught up earlier,” Jim-Bob explained as Dave bounded down the stairs and into the room, “I’m telling you, Dave, there is no such thing as Hell. It’s a scientific impossibility, like finding Courtney Love attractive. We should call the police about Pete’s body.”

“Later.” Dave was making big with the single-minded conviction again, impressively shoehorned into a single word, but even Jenny was having a hard time with it.

Dave held a puzzle box in his hands, familiar to anyone who’s ever seen Hellraiser. As it happened, Jim-Bob and Jenny both had.

“You’re taking us to Hell with a movie prop?” Jim-Bob made much merriment, while Jenny was more cautious, and saddened to think that Dave was probably fucking nuts. ‘Did a guy really have to be crazy to love and respect a cat-girl?’ she thought.

“Dave? You’re starting to worry me,” She told him, realising him that she’s fallen for him so much that it hurt to think we was crazy. Truly, love at first sight existed outside a Harley Davidson lot.

“When they made that movie, the set designers used photo references. They based the Cenobites on a Welsh punk band, and the puzzle box that could open a doorway to Hell, on a puzzle box that could open a doorway to Hell.”

Jim-Bob and Jenny exchanged glances, finding all this hard to believe standing there on a cold winter’s morning in the cold sunlight. Even Jenny, with her cat-girl mutations, found the idea of going to Hell tough. When she didn’t disguise her true nature, cruel people had assumed it was costume prosthetics, or called her a freak. She’d spent her life looking for acceptance that didn’t involve being stripped and bukkaked by horny anime fans, and she’d found it with Dave.

“So that’s why,” the star of the best-selling The Passion of The Dave finished, “Those witches loaned it to me, with a whole bunch of warnings.”

Jim-Bob felt there was only one thing he could say “Dave, that was the lamest exposition I’ve ever heard.” He paused, before adding “What warnings?”

Dave shrugged; He’d been concentrating more on trying to get the witch to agree to go out for a meal, and on checking her out. He didn’t feel that Jenny was absolutely the best person to convey this too.

“Something about uh… giant letters, and cannibal giants and snake witches…” he finally said, confusing his warnings with some girl’s. ‘ It was beneath me…’ he thought.

“Probably just, ‘keep out of direct sunlight…” he finished.

“Is there an instruction manual?” Jim-Bob adjusted his glasses – reclaimed from Pete’s bedside table continuity fans – and directed his fearsome-when-sober brain to the matter, despite a hangover that could’ve killed a mammoth and made it wish for the tar pits. Dave didn’t answer, as Jim-Bob considered other options

“Dave, we should take some weapons...” Jenny told him, but Dave shook his head.

“What would be the point? If we started fighting like that, we’d be overwhelmed instantly.”

Jenny didn’t really know what to expect, whether Dave was sane or crazy or secretly Geordie. She felt like Dave was rushing them into it when it would be more sensible for them to wait and prepare. She told him so, and she saw from the look of sickly sadness on his face that he’ed already considered it even before he began to speak.

“I told you it would be dangerous. I have to go because I just can’t leave a friend alive in Hell. That’s why I rescued Pete from Liverpool that time. There just aren’t any preparations that’d mean a damn, we just have to have faith and luck. That’s all.”

Jim-Bob snorted derisively, though he’d been meaning to laugh.

“Dave, I think you need to see a doctor. I’ve looked at medicine before and your official condition is completely fucking nuts.”

He got the finger for his troubles, as Dave began trying to solve the puzzle box. After a good fifteen minutes of swearing he’d made little progress.

“Well… This doesn’t work,” He told them, sadly. “He’s going to have to stay in Hell until I find an…”

Jim-Bob had taken the puzzle box, and solved it in less than thirty seconds. Funnily enough he’d once had a rubrik’s cube that could’ve taken him to the spiritual gardens of pleasure, but had worked out the solution in his mind and never bothered doing it for real. White light flashed about, and they were gone. The smoking cinder that had been the box dropped down to Pete’s carpet, thankfully failing to ignite it.

The Gates of Hell

“YOU! Dave was right! I never thought I’d say that!”

That was how I met Pete again, after my year in Hell. I raised me head from the ground. I was lying in the famous foetal position apparently having jiffled about in my sleep where Lilith had left me, naked, bruised, and with a loose length of chain hanging from my name-tagged collar.

“Pete? Holy shit you poor son of a bitch, you weren’t bad enough for hell! What are you doing here? Were you trying to re-incarnate as a brummy and took a wrong turning?”

“I’m dead!”

I guess he missed the point. You probably wouldn’t be surprised how few people arriving at the gates off hell are thinking irrationally, Boston priests are the worst of all for that. I guessed he’d tried turning and fleeing and, like many before, been unable to escape a possible destiny as some giant sweaty demon’s prophylactic in an infernal mating ritual.

Pete was the first person I’d ever met at the gates of hell that I actually knew personally.

“What’s it like?”

“Death?” he paused, like Harold Pinter forgetting the words, “It’s like going on holiday with a group of Red Dwarf fans.”

I tell you what; I’ve seen road kill looking cheerier than Pete did then, despite death having left him thinner; there being a finite amount of spirit-ectoplasm in the universe and all.

“Why are you asking me anyway? What was it like when you died?”

“I’m not dead, Pete, I’m alive. Let me tell you about it!”

I sat up, looked out over the swampy lands and flicked my head towards the actual gates of Hell. Bob didn’t seem too inclined to put in an appearance any time soon, so I began. Suddenly cheerful, as telling my story always made me.

“ It was a dark and stormy night…”

“Wait! You ARE still alive! Dude! Where are we, really? There’s no such place as Hell!”

I looked at him quite sadly, for I had known him well, and said “Pete, you know where it is. This is Hell, mate.”

“I don’t believe in hell! Why would I come here? I’m… I’m a good guy!”

“Pete… you’re a communist,” I told him, feeling I’d hit the nail on the head. To be honest, I didn’t have a clue but I think my tale has established that sitting by the gates of hell really accentuates natural schadenfreude. I saw the fear well up in him that I’d seen in many before, and for the first time felt bad for one of the jokes I’d cracked at the gates.

“What’s… what’s it like? Here in hell?”

“So-so, not so bad, can’t complain,” I told him, “But then I’m not really your standard resident. I guess the social model for me is… uh… this is prison and I’m Her bitch.”

Or was, I thought. Where had She been while Lilith had taken her pleasure from me, along with my seed? Her reputation had done nothing to protect me; in fact Lilith had seemingly taken me because of how her daughter saw me. That was about the time I started to worry that She’d not be remotely happy that I’d lain with another in Her absence. Oh sure, it was hardly my fault, but you know something? Demons aren’t famed for tolerance and understanding.

“Well… I might be in a bit of trouble,” I told him, “You know what Hell hath no fury, thing? Well, It’s bollocks.”

Pete didn’t seem to sympathise too much, having problems of his own.

“I’m DEAD! I got fucked to death by a malevolent, evil ghost thing and I went to HELL! And you’re worried because you ‘might’ be in a ‘bit of’ trouble?”

Pete’s general tone was starting to annoy me, so I stood up to him, feeling the cold metal of the broken chain clink against my back.

“Oh is that right? Well, listen, dude! I’m chained outside the gates of hell as pet for an evil demon soul gatherer, and Her mum just raped me! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

I caught a downward flicker of his eyes, and realised he could see how it made me feel.

“Ah… well… It does have its good points…” I dropped my hands over my crotch, feeling curiously modest in the presence of someone I’d known personally.

“You sick bastard! You… enjoyed that?” Pete often got judgemental, not being one to deny an area of his natural humanity. Plus, it seemed he’d already been judged himself so what had he to lose?

Anyway, I sure did. Wouldn’t you? It was not a bad life by any stretch, usually no cares and no responsibilities. All I had to do was want her, which I did, and show her deserved respect, which I did. She truly seemed to care for me. As Pete went into a rant about what a nasty bastard I was to be “friends” with the demons who were going to torture him for the rest of time I closed my hand over the nametag on my collar, and thought of Her. She was a beautiful woman… demon… woman, from the tips of her horns to the base of her hooves, with a cruel sense of humour mixed in with the affection she showed for me. When I first encountered Her I was filled with both fear and arousal, and I can’t say that ever changed before Lilith.

Lilith, I’d damn her were it not redundant.

Now the fear that was bubbling in my stomach was close to overwhelming me. I didn’t fancy being alive in Hell and facing her wrath, and yet my fear couldn’t compete with Pete’s as the sight of Hell’s bleak walls stretched out before him. He’d stopped ranting now, reduced to begging.

“Dude… please… for all our friendship… for everything… don’t let me burn in hell. Help me. Please.”

I’m basically a good guy at heart, unwilling to leave someone in need unless I felt they deserved to be in need of course. Funnily enough, it was that which had gotten me into Hell in the first place.

“Please, man, please… I can’t go back… I’ve tried…” He was on his knees, now, begging, crying, on his knees.

“Shit.” I said, along with “Shit. Shit. Shit.” I stopped before Haiku became viable. Tough choice here, because If I was in trouble now it would be nothing compared to what I’d be in if She caught me.

“Oh fuck it. I’m probably dead anyway. Now listen, since you’re dead the only way out for you is through. We ought to be able to find a way to get you back to Earth – I’ve heard rumours.”

Pete looked angrily up, as if I were taking the piss.

“What the fuck? Have you been playing Doom?”

“Dude, you’ve walked the road. You know it’s true about not going back. Come on… we’ll have to sneak you in, I guess.”

During my many hours at the Gates of Hell, I’d had a lot of time to think. I’d come up with a few ideas on how to get someone past Bob, and decided to try one of them now. I took Pete by the shoulder – this being possible with spirits in Hell - and shoved him over by the great left door into hell. I got the big guy to crouch down, right in by the wall. Then I went over to the bell-rope.

“When I distract the big guy, sneak in and hide behind the shrubbery.”

“The shrubbery?” I could tell Pete thought I was taking the piss again.

“You’ll see.”

I wasn’t sure if I could fool Bob, but felt up to trying. I rang the bell, and rested a gentle hand on my post. I remembered the day She’d first left me there and a tear welled in my eye. Yeah, right, call me a pussy all you want.

I had a flashback. Yeah, like you’ve never seen demons in flashbacks. Anyway, it was more of a jog down memory lane.

“Oh Pet. I have so much work to do, so many souls to collect I can’t just lie with you forever. I’m going to leave you here, at the gates, for when I return.”

I was standing beside her at the time, naked. There was a hot pain in my throat where here bite was healing with the help of some ointment. She hadn’t actually let me wear any clothes since I came to Hell, and I’d grown used to it. As for her clothes, leather dresses were favoured. This one was blood red leather, picked out with golden highlights, hanging to her knees. Fuck, people talk about the fires of Hell, but she was hotter.

“I have a gift for you,” she’d told me, smiling as I hopped excitedly like a kid at a birthday party. She took a collar from the bag she carried, and showed it to me. There was a small golden tag hanging from it, and the whole collar was just like my old dog’s. The nametag had my name on one side, and on the rear read Property of AshleeRothea in a demonic text similar to the one on the sign above the Gates of Hell – any who read it would know what it meant. I remembered wondering if I was taxable property.

She attached it around my neck, and I shivered at the touch of her hot skin against me, as the wind blew in over the marshes around the road to Hell. I realised then that all I’d ever wanted was to be owned, which was probably why I kept playing the godlike Jim-Bob at Unreal Tournament. She threaded the chain through a loop on the back of the collar and attached it to a wooden post I’d just watched her put into the ground with her bare hands.

“Kneel,” she told me, and I obeyed quickly, settling myself onto the ground outside the gates of Hell.

“Good pet! Perfect!” she exclaimed, moving happily around me as I watched her hooves kick sparks on some of the harder stones. You could light fires with kindling and her feet. There was something on my mind, and I looked up questioningly. Spotting my expression she asked,

“Yes, pet?”

“Why haven’t you taken my soul from me?” I asked, taking the opportunity to appreciate her body, before she pulled my head up with her taloned hand.

“I can take it whenever I want, I nearly pulled it from you the first time I took you,” she laughed, “But, you’re far more fun this way, pet. I’ve not had many living pets before.”

She let go of my head, and I dropped my eyes to the floor – not literally, they stayed in my skull – and considered.

Well, it could have been worse, I thought. Can you imagine being told that your soul just isn’t worth it? That would have to be the worst thing ever. Forget ‘your dick is too small,’ or ‘you’re fat,’ or ‘you’re so ugly giant spiders would pass’, not wanting your soul blows that all away. (If you can’t forget those things, my sympathies: Find a hooker.)

A hot talon opened a tiny gash on my cheek, trickling blood down. She had my attention back, and tasted my blood from her talon, long tongue flicking out between the fangs in the corners of her mouth.

“I want to take you here and now, you look…” She shook her head, and I watched her long black hair move against her skin, she sighed.

“No rest for the wicked, and in hell it’s always too late…” (According to the watch of a famous literary demon)

“I’ll just have to get ahead… or some head.”

She stepped forward, and lifted her skirt over my head, intensifying her sweet scent. I mewled softly, and held onto her thighs, the crimson skin pressing against my head, and then I tasted her again. Hot juice was running down my face as I worked my tongue into her tight slit. Demons never need lubricant to get going. A beautiful creature of lust and raw evil sexuality. Pure sin.

I heard screams as new arrivals down the road saw their first demon.

I didn’t care, I wanted her, all of her. I wanted her to come all over my face, and scream to the heavens she could never return to. I wanted to serve her and make her happy. She was forcing herself down on her face, not hard enough to break me but enough to hurt. The taste, the wonderful taste of her pussy; I’d kill for it. If she ever lost control she could break me in two without pausing, and turned me on even more as I heard her scream ecstatically, slamming me back into the post so hard, I actually blacked out.

When I awoke, bruised and sticky faced moments later, I saw her moving fast down the road out of Hell, great black wings sprouting from her back and spreading wide, an angel of hell in flight.

“I’m giving all that up for Pete?” I muttered, shaking my head back to the present “I must be crazier than the proverbial shithouse rat…” Then I saw him cowering, weak and dead and pitiful, a friend in need, and steeled myself. The selfish option I wanted was to wait there, take whatever punishment she offered for laying with her mother, and see Pete damned. Sometimes there’s really nothing you can do, but be the good guy – unless you’re a politician.

Bob threw open the gates of Hell, and I ran at him calling “BOB! BOB! Oh man! This crazy dead witch, man! She beat the hell out of me for telling her she had to go in, broke my chain and all, then used some spell to get back down the road!”

Bob roared, and for a moment I thought all was lost before he charged down the road seeking the supposedly escaping soul. Mentally I added the big guy to the list of demons who’d be out to beat the shit out of me when I was caught. That’s not a figure of speech by the way; they have instruments for just that. I followed Pete through the gates, and into Hell.

The Unhappiest Place Off Earth.

End of part 3!

If you liked it, email me and tell me. If you hated it, email me and tell me.

If you think I’m going to Hell, you haven’t realised we’re already here.

paxgronk@hotmail.com