Carla awoke, moaning in pain, face down. Her back ached and her belly felt as if it had been punctured. The brand on her thigh burned her, making her move her leg in discomfort. Her nipples hurt, and her labia felt swollen and scalded.
She felt a weight to her right, a body.
She opened her eyes, remembering what had happened, and where she was. Carla tried to get up, and she bumped her head on the stone ceiling of her cell. She was still in the dungeons, locked in the kennels. She had to remain prone, the ceiling barely some 10 inches from the floor.
Carla's hands were shackled behind her back, her arms painfully bended into 90 degree angles. Her ankles were similarly fastened in steel. A chain ran from her collar to her wrist restraints, holding her soft hands high on her back.
The stone floor was ice cold, contrasting with the blaze she had experienced when marching through the sand. It made her skin crawl and her nipples get erect.
She wriggled piteously, lightly touching the body near her. She twisted her head and saw it was a girl, secured in the same fashion as her. She was very pretty, with dark hair, creamy skin and luscious, full red lips. She was face down, sleeping. The girl was wet, as if she had just taken a shower. Her left thigh was branded, and the mark glowed eerily.
Carla tried to look over her shoulder, letting out a grunt of effort and hurt. Her body was a chaos of pains and stings. Her genitals itched and felt as if burned. Slowly, lust crept into her, as she longed for a penis. She didn't know why, but there seemed to her she now felt a need for sex. She tried to resist it, but it called out to her, a tingling in her lower belly, between her legs, on her breasts.
She had always liked BDSM, loved it really. She found it impossible to get off without being tied or chained, so profound was her fetish. And being restrained with heavy chains, in a small cell, naked, only intensified her libido, almost against her will.
She moaned once more, a bit louder this time, and tried to rub her mound against the floor. It was useless, unsatisfying.
Carla's cringing made her bump into the girl on her right.
-Hey!
The girl was awake now, glaring at Carla with her blue eyes.
-Stop it you stupid whore! β she hissed β when you spend 20 hours each day toiling and being raped down on the Iron Plains you'll learn to appreciate sleep!
Carla flinched, scared at the girl's sudden outburst. If she had been living, Carla would have had her tongue cut off. She had done it herself many times. But they were not on Earth any more, and Carla was afraid of this girl, as she was afraid of everything she had so far seen in Hell.
-I-I'm sorry β she apologized.
This seemed to appease the blue-eyed girl somewhat.
-Bitch... what's your name anyway?
-C-Carla. I am Carla Wells.
-American?
-Yes β Carla answered.
-I'm Marie LaGrange, Belgian.
-How come we understand each other? Do you speak English? β asked Carla.
-No β said Marie β we are speaking in the language of the fallen ones, known by the demons as Firespeech.
Carla noticed Marie had bruises on her arms and sides. On her back, there was the fresh wound of claws. She had little scratches on her face, and her left eye had a purple shade under it. She had been severely abused.
-What did you do to get sent here? β asked Marie.
-I was... I trafficked women...
-Oh really?
Marie's eyes sparkled amusedly.
-Tell me about it β she said.
-Oh, well... I worked with a Russian prostitution ring based in New York. We lured women from third-world Europe and exploited them once they got to America. Others we kidnapped. I was the boss's lover, and his second-in-command...
-Haha! β laughed Marie β one would have never guessed it! You don't look anything like a madam! You look more like a high-class whore!
Carla twisted a little, still under the curse of her lust, her pussy aching for sex.
-So β continued Marie β what about me? Am I good enough? If we were alive, would you kidnap me and make me your slut?
Her eyes spoke of a genuine curiosity, and this frightened Carla. She was serious.
-Yes β she answered β you would be on your back, pleasuring men in a stinky room, handcuffed to a squeaky bed for hours.
-Well, it isn't much different from Hell. Here, when we aren't being violated we are laboring like beasts.
-Oh...
-Yes.
Marie noticed Carla's twitching.
-You better stop that. It only makes it worse.
-Do you feel it too?
-We all feel it down here. It is eternal. There is no appeasing it. Our only release comes from our demon Masters. A resource they use to torture us, and perhaps one of the most effective. You will only feel satisfied when they rape you. And the joy comes at a terrible price. You remember their semen?
-Yes β Carla answered, her skin crawling at the memory of the burning liquid.
-It is a torment. It makes you want to die. And the appeasement of you lust, it lasts for only a few minutes. Soon enough, it comes back, stronger still. Don't worry too much about it. We learn to exist with it.
Carla wondered if she would ever do as Marie said, if she would ever grow accustomed to such a desire. She stared at Marie's bruises, at her red wounds, terrified.