The next thing Carla knew, her feet were on hot sand. She screamed. This was not the Saint Philip General Hospital. It seemed like a nightmare, more than anything.
The heat! It was searing, lapping at her toes. A dark feeling of dread coursed through her body, and she trembled, in pain and in fear.
She saw black, twisted towers extending over the horizon, striking their silhouettes against a fiery red sky. Dark fumes erupted out of their tops, and a white, scorching sun hung low, surrounded by flame clouds. What was this place? Was she really dreaming? She must. This was a nightmare.
Only somehow, with a growing hole in her belly, she realized this wasn't a bad dream. She knew this was real, all horribly real.
She noticed she was stark naked. Her round and heavy bosom heaved. She was chained. There were shackles on her ankles, with some 12 inches of chain between them. Her wrists were fastened to a heavy metal yoke which rested on the back of her neck. Her pretty, elegant neck was encircled by a close-fitting metal collar.
-Walk slut! -- a deep voice ordered from behind. Almost immediately, she felt intense, burning pain strike her bare back. It was a whip which fell on her. And twice, and thrice more she suffered its sting, each time crying out.
She looked over her shoulder, struggling under the metal rod which was her yoke.
What she saw terrified her, arresting her heart, dawning on her the truth of her current plight. She had died, and she was in Hell.
For behind her, furious, murderous, and holding a red-hot whip, there stood what could only be a demon. It was large, the size of a gorilla, rock hard with muscle, with bright blue eyes and blood-red skin. The thing had a long tail, black claws on its fingers and toes, and teeth sharp as a shark's. Two red horns adorned its head. On its right arm, it had a golden band marked with arcane symbols. It wore a leather harness decorated with what appeared to be silver coins, and a kilt made of tiny, interlocked chains. All in all, Carla had never been more horrified by something in her entire life.
-Move! -- it yelled again, wielding his scorching whip, lashing her again -- Forward!
Crying out, Carla stumbled forward, feeling the pain. Her white feet threaded over the hot sand which lay before her, burning. Again, the lash fell. Sweat broke out on her creamy skin, and her plentiful breasts were soon covered with salty droplets. The yoke on her, she noticed, seemed heavier the more she walked.
She raised her head, struggling with the weight, sensing the demon walking behind her. She didn't dare stop, enduring the blaze over her head, pouring down on her, and the blaze under her feet, licking at her skin.
As she went on, she got a better look at where she was, all the while fighting back the urge to cry. She walked along what seemed to be a road of white sand, resting upon a bridge of black stone.
Below, she saw a city, sprawling monstrous, made of the same black stone. But in front of her, at the end of the sand road, there stood a gigantic fortress, and she knew somehow that that was where she was being taken. She wondered what kind of atrocities were committed there. She would learn soon enough.
Carla was not alone on the bridge. She saw hundreds more, damned ones like her, she knew. They were all naked, chained and yoked, and behind each one of them, there followed a demon, whipping them forward, shouting at them. She noticed something peculiar, that they were all beautiful and young. She saw young, gorgeous men with perfect bodies and large penises, and stunning girls with enticing curves and angelic faces. They were all as scared as she was, all being tormented by the heat.
She was particularly enthralled with man who struggled near her. He seemed to be in his twenties, had tanned skin and olive colored eyes. His body was maddening.
-You lustful little slut -- commented her demon, noticing this -- you want to fuck him, don't you? He laughed, a sound which made her skin crawl.
-He died as an old, fat child molester. He seems beautiful, for you are seeing only his soul, and not his body. The soul is perfect. Even sin cannot stain it. Sin is only good for throwing monsters down into this pit.
The whip cracked viciously.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Carla and the demon arrived to the gates of the black fortress, which was guarded by a troop of fiends. They were similar in appearance to Carla's custodian. They were armed with tridents.
-Kneel, slut -- they ordered Carla.
She complied, scared.
-You are in Lepernel, one of the Seven Cities of Hell. You we will be suffering the rest of eternity here, as a slave to his Infernal Majesty's Household -- said one of the demons.
Suddenly, it slapped her face, dropping her to the floor, rattling her chains.
-That is so you know you are now a slave. She felt hands on her. They leashed her with a length of chain, and dragged her into the walls.
***
She was taken to a dark dungeon, where she was branded with white-hot iron on her thigh. The symbol she now bore was a letter, one very similar to a K. They told her it was the first letter for the word "slave" in Firespeech, the language of Hell, this, after they had beaten her into silence . They had hurt her breasts, hitting her with thin whips made of what seemed to be wire.
She was chained by the neck to a ring in a tiny cell. The ceiling was so low she had to remain on her belly. She cried until her pretty face was damp with tears. She had done horrible things, she knew. She had always been merciless, cruel, but now she found longing for mercy, for pity. They had broken her, easily, effortlessly it seemed.
She had always been beautiful in life, as she was in Hell. She had golden brown hair, a creamy complexion, huge breasts, a soft belly, flaring hips and a round ass. Her face was equally gorgeous, with large, dreamy brown eyes. Her lips were smooth and rosy.
She didn't remember how long she had been locked up when he walked in. It was another fallen angel, only this one seemed larger, and was more flamboyantly dressed. It wore what seemed to be a white silk tunic threaded with gold. Golden jewelry adorned him, as well as an intangible sense of dread.
