The heat hit Dave first. It wasn't just the oppressive, sulfurous burn of the air, but the searing agony of the ground beneath his bare feet. His clothes were gone, his only garment a rough, filthy burlap sack. He only just had time to register these things after stumbling naked through the iron gates, though. Then a swarm of imps, small, evil spirits of lust and perversion grabbed him before he could take a second breath, their leathery wings buzzing, their claws pinching and grabbing. They pulled him along, stumbling and tripping, their gleeful chittering echoing against the steaming rock walls.
"Fresh meat," one hissed.
"Pretty pink skin, so hairy," another giggled. "We'll soon fix that."
They dragged Dave into a grotto carved from black obsidian, the walls slick with condensation from the hellish humidity. Racks lined the cavern, hung with implements that glinted in the crimson light. Iron shackles dangled on chains from the ceiling. A brazier simmered nearby, several irons ominously protruding from the shimmering heat. A stone slab dominated the center, stained dark with crusty remains of old fluids. The imps grabbed the shackles and locked them around his wrists, then circled him, a ring of twisted grins and yellow eyes. There were seven of them—no, eight. He couldn't keep count. They moved too fast, their gnarled bodies darting and weaving like flies over carrion.
"Strip him," the largest one commanded. He was maybe three feet tall, his skin the color of dried blood, his horns curving back like a ram's. "Slow. 'Cause there's no rush. Not here."
Dave trembled as the first imp stepped forward. It reached for the burlap sack and pulled it down, slowly, revealing his chest. Claws traced the line of his collarbone, light as a lover's touch, teasing a nipple, making it harden. The sensation made him flinch. The imp laughed, a wet, gurgling sound.
"Ticklish, piggy?"
The sack slid further down, to his waist. More claws joined in, poking his ribs, skittering across his stomach, tracing the dip of his navel. Dave twisted, trying to escape, but the shackles held him fast. The imps' touch was maddening. Too gentle, too teasing, every brush a promise of worse to come.
The sack was pulled down to his feet, finally exposing his naked body. "Look at the teeny-little cock on this one," an imp sneered, his voice like grinding stones. It reached between his legs and cupped him, squeezing once. "Tiny. Useless. We'll fix that too."
They circled, examining Dave like a piece of meat. Claws pinched his nipples, twisted them until he gasped. Fingers traced the curve of his ass, spread him open, prodded the tight ring of muscle. An imp knelt to examine his feet, sniffing them, then licking a big toe. He jerked away, but there was nowhere to go.
"Oka, listen closely, meat," the leader said, stepping close. His breath was hot and stank like rotten eggs. "We're going to start with the plucking. Every hair on your body, gone. Your head, your brows, your pits, your balls, that pretty little asshole. Every last strand, pulled out by the root. Then we pierce you. Nipples first, so we can chain them together. Then that tiny cock, through the head, through the shaft. Maybe we'll put a ring through your balls too. Then your face. Lips. Ears. Cheeks. Tongue. You'll rattle when you walk."
He reached up and gripped Dave's jaw, forcing his head back. "After that, the mask. Leather. Zippered, so we can get at your mouth. But no eye holes. You'll be blind and dumb, feeling everything. And then..." He smiled, showing needle-teeth. "The brands. We have irons for all your new names," it said, leering pointedly at the brazier. "Pig. Faggot. Cocksocket. We'll mark you head to toe."
Dave's breath came in ragged gasps. The imps pressed closer, their bodies hot against his skin.
"And when you're properly decorated, we'll use you." The leader's hand slid down Dave's chest, over his stomach, wrapped around his soft cock. "We'll fuck every hole you have, make you gag on our cocks, eat our asses, lick our feet clean. You'll learn the taste of everything. Cum, piss, shit, snot, sweat, toe-jam. You'll savor it all. And when you're torn and bleeding, we'll fuck you more. We'll use the toys. The rings. The plugs. The speculum that'll open you wide enough to fist. You'll scream until your throat tears, and then you'll keep screaming silently."
The imp released him, stepping back into the circle. "Best of all, you will not cum," he said, the words dropping like stones. "Not once. Not ever."
The imps began to giggle.
"Not until we decide to let you nut," the leader went on. "Maybe when break you so completely that you beg for it. Maybe."
The vile creatures pressed in, scratching him with their claws, grabbing his flesh and squeezing it. Dave tensed and again tried to pull away, but the first imp moved fast as thought, grabbing a fistful of his pubic hair and yanking. The clump of hair tore from Dave's groin with a wet, ripping sound that echoed in the obsidian chamber. He yelped, a high, thin sound, but the imp holding the plucked clump of pubes only giggled, holding it up to the hell-light like a trophy. "A few dozen down, ten thousand to go," it chirped, then shoved the handful of Dave's pubes into its mouth and happily chewed.
Dave whimpered as the imps unshackled him, then shoved him onto the crusty stone slab, locked him in place with more manacles and got cheerily to work. A swarm of sharp claws and tiny tweezers attacked him. One imp straddled his chest, pinching the hairs from his armpits one by agonizing one, while another knelt between his spread legs, methodically denuding his scrotum. A third perched by his head, pulling at his scalp hair in clumps, the roots coming free with a sensation like tearing skin. Dave bucked and writhed and wailed, but the shackles held him flat on the stone slab. The imps chattered as they worked, trading observations about his body while greedily eating the hair they yanked from his follicles.
"Soft skin for a sinner," one said, running a claw across his cheek before plucking an eyebrow hair. "We'll toughen it up."
Another rip of hair, more chewing. "Wonder how many nasty, filthy holes that dick has been in?"
"Look how red he gets," another noted, pinching a nipple hair and popping it into its mouth. "Pretty pink pig."
The plucking moved in waves. His chest, his stomach, his thighs, his forearms. The hair on his knuckles, the fine hairs on his ears, the coarse ones sprouting from his toes. They were meticulous, almost surgical. Each hair came out with a sharp sting that faded to a dull burn, leaving his skin raw. By the time they finished, Dave was utterly smooth and bald, his raw skin slick with sweat and tears, his breath coming in ragged sobs. His entire body felt like one open nerve ending, the air itself an abrasive against his denuded flesh.
"Beautiful," the lead imp purred, running a hand over Dave's smooth scalp. "Now, we decorate."
The piercing table was wheeled up to the slab, a sheet of polished obsidian covered in velvet, holding gleaming needles, rings, and barbells.
The first needle went through Dave's left nipple. His vision went white. The pain was sharp and clean, a line of fire that radiated through his chest. The imp threaded a ring through the fresh hole, twisting it until the clamp clicked shut. Then the right nipple, the same procedure, same blinding agony. The two rings were linked by a chain that could be tugged to stretch both sensitive nubs at once.
As promised, they didn't stop there. He whimpered as a curved needle pierced the skin of his scrotum, pulling a steel ring through the loose flesh. Another imp gripped his cock, still soft and limp from shock, and pushed a hollow needle through the glans. Dave's scream tore his throat raw. The needle emerged from the other side, and they threaded it with a barbell, screwing on the ends until they were snug against the head.
An imp tapped the barbell. "Oh, you're gonna learn to hate feeling that, trust me, cum-rag," it growled.
They moved to his face. A ring through his right nostril. A labret through his lower lip, the metal cold against his teeth. Four rings along each ear, curving up the cartilage. Two through his cheeks, one on each side, the sharp ends poking into his mouth. He tasted blood. His tongue was next. An imp pulled it out with forceps, and a long barbell was driven through the muscle, the pain so intense Dave gagged and choked.
The imps stood back, admiring their handiwork. Dave's body was a lattice of silver and steel, his smooth skin gleaming with sweat and blood. He was no longer human. He was a canvas, a sculpture of pain.
The mask was next. It reeked of old leather, stale sweat and something bleak, like despair. Black, featureless, with a zipper running from crown to chin. They worked it over his head, the leather clinging to his face like a second skin. The zipper was pulled down, sealing him in darkness and silence. He could only breathe through a small grommet at the nostrils, and even that was partly clogged with his own snot. It left him blind. Dumb. Helpless.
He was unshackled, hands pulling him off the slab and shoving him down on his knees. The stone burned against his bare, hairless legs. He whimpered as he felt the imps moving around him, whimpered some more when he felt a sudden wash of heat. Then came the hiss of heated metal, and the first brand touched his chest.
The scent of burning flesh filled the mask. The brand pressed into his pectoral muscle, spelling out PIG in cursive letters, each letter a separate iron. Dave's muffled scream was swallowed by the leather. The pain was beyond description, a white-hot pressure that seemed to melt through his skin, into his muscle, into his bone.
The next iron touched him and he screamed again. FAGGOT, across his stomach, the letters stretching from hip to hip.
PERV on his right thigh, just below the crease of his ass.
COCKSOCKET branded into his left cheek, the iron cupping the curve of his buttock.
CUMRAG on his lower back, just above the tailbone.
WHORE on his inner thigh, high enough to brush against his scrotum.
The pain became a constant, shrill squeal in his mind, blasting away all other thought. He stopped screaming. His throat was too raw, his tongue too swollen. He simply shuddered at each new flare of incandescent agony. When the branding was finally finished, they shoved him down on the slab again, face-down, and locked the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Something was shoved under his stomach, raising his hips off the slab and exposing his dangling cock and balls. Rough, clawed hands spread his ass cheeks, and he felt the first application of hellfire lube, a slick gel that burned like acid on contact, seeping into his hole, coating his insides with liquid fire.
"Ready for your first toy?" a voice cooed.
A butt plug was pushed against his sphincter. It was spiked, tiny metal nubs covering the entire surface. The imp pushed slowly, letting each spike stretch his rim as the plug sank in. Dave's body convulsed, trying to shrink away from the obscene intrusion, but there was nowhere to retreat. The plug seated, and the flanged base pressed flush against his skin. His gut felt bloated and full, his rectum spasming as it reflexively and futilely tried to shit out the plug.
"Now for your cock."
A cock ring was rolled down his shaft, its inner surface lined with short spikes that pressed into the soft flesh. His penis, still soft, was trapped inside. An imp began stroking him, trying to coax an erection. The spikes dug deeper with each stroke, and when he finally began to harden, the pain intensified until he was half-erect, trapped in a ring of agony.
Next, the mouth of the hood was unzipped high enough that a ring-gag could be strapped around his head, forcing his jaws open. It kept his mouth stretched wide, gooey saliva dripping down his chin and pooling on the slab. He rasped in a welcome breath of hot, fetid air, but that ended when a dildo was shoved into his mouth. It was a monstrous thing, ribbed, gnarled, shaped like a pig's cock, curved and thick. They fucked his face with it, ramming it down his throat until he gagged, pulling it out, pushing it back in. Tears soaked the leather around his eyes.
Behind him, another imp mounted his ass. The demon's cock was small but rough, like sandpaper covered in barbs. It entered him alongside the butt plug, the spikes scraping his insides with every thrust. Dave's muffled screams were music to the vile little creatures.
They worked in shifts. Two imps would explore his feet, licking and sucking his toes and making him wince and shudder and moan, while a third fucked his ass and a fourth abused his mouth. The dildo alternated with an imp fucking his throat. Then both those vanished and an imp shoved its ass into his face, forcing him to lick its stinking asshole, the ring-gag keeping his tongue exposed. It farted in his mouth, filling it and his nose with putrid gas. Dave gagged and coughed.
The imps came in his mouth, in his ass, over his branded skin. They made him eat their cum, including the slimy, foul slurry of jizz, mucus and shit that leaked from his gaping ass. The one riding his mouth with its grimy ass grunted, strained, farted again, then pushed a fat, greasy turd into his mouth. Dave retched and snorted, but the imps pushed the pasty waste down his throat, then washed it down into his gut with streams of hot piss. They wiped snot on his face, fed him crusty boogers, rubbed toe-jam into his nostrils. They made him worship their filthy, smelly feet, licking every nail and callus until his tongue was raw.
And yet, despite the pain and degradation, Dave's cock soon throbbed and drooled precum. As they'd promised, though, the imps refused to let him cum. Every time his cock threatened to start spurting, they'd twist the cock ring, tap the glans barbell, and send a jolt of pain through his trapped shaft. When the danger had passed, they resumed molesting him, driving him back towards orgasm. He hovered on the edge, a permanent, agonizing peak that never broke.
Hours passed. Days. He lost track. The world shrank to the rhythm of violation, the slide of a dildo down his throat, the burn of a cock in his ass, the acrid heat of cum, piss or shit on his tongue, the slurp and slobber of mouths on his nipples, feet and toes. The abuse went on and on, until something simply broke inside him. The pain stopped being pain. It became a texture, a pressure. A constant companion. The pleasure that had been denied him suffused into the agony, and the two became indistinguishable. His body stopped fighting. His mind stopped screaming.
When the lead imp leaned close and whispered, "Are you ready to beg, cum-rag?" Dave wanted to not, to plead yes, please...please let me cum. But he had no voice, no eyes. No name, except 'pig' or 'cum-slut' or 'faggot'. He was just a canvas for his tormentors to decorate as they pleased, a fuck-toy.
***
The imps started a countdown. Every hour, every hour, every endless, agonizing moment. "One year, pig, starting now," the lead imp whispered into the leather-covered ear, its breath hot through the mask. "On Earth, that's how long you'd be suffering. But here? Yeah, that don't mean much."
The first day was the worst because Dave still believed it would end. By the second week, though, that belief had curdled into something far darker and despairing. By the first month, he'd stopped counting. But the imps never stopped, not for a moment. There was always a cock in his mouth, one in his ass, a hand stroking his trapped shaft, tongues licking his toes, his nipples, his hairless pits. The spiked cock ring kept him half-hard, perpetually teased, never allowed to finish. The glans barbell was twisted, tapped, flicked with cruel precision every time his hips began to buck with approaching release.
"Not yet," they'd coo. "Not yet, piggy." He learned to despise those words.
His precum never stopped, either. It leaked from him like a broken faucet, clear and sticky, pooling on the stone beneath him. The imps collected it in cups, laughing as they poured it over his branded skin, rubbing it into the healing wounds. "You're a fuckin' fountain," one giggled, dipping a finger into his slit and pulling out a fresh string of fluid. "A pretty little cum-fountain. These little cups ain't gonna do." So hey brought buckets. Actual buckets, made of rusted iron and lined with leather. They raised him enough to position them beneath his cock, so his precum dripped into them with a steady plink...plink...plink. It soon became the rhythm of his existence.
Plink, and a cock rammed down his throat. Plink, and spikes scraped his rectum. Plink, and an imp was sitting on his face, forcing Dave to tongue its ass. Plink, and another load of cum spattered his back. Plink, and the cock ring twisted, sending agony through his trapped erection and killing yet another impending orgasm. Day after day. Week after week. The buckets slowly filled, were emptied, and filled again.
The hallucinations started around month four. The darkness of the mask became a canvas, Dave's tortured brain projecting images onto it. He saw the faces of people he'd known. His mother. His best friend as a kid. A teacher from high school. They looked at him with pity, with disgust, with nothing at all. He tried to speak, to call out to them, but his tongue was pinned by the barbell, his mouth stretched by the ring-gag, his voice swallowed by leather and cock. No sound escaped.
Plink...plink...
At month six, he stopped recognizing the faces. They were just shapes now, shifting and melting in the void. The imps kept him hard through sheer mechanical persistence. They'd stroke him for hours, using hellfire lube that burned and stimulated in equal measure. They'd suck his cock, a risky move. The first time he felt something warm and soft and wet on his trapped shaft, he nearly came right there and then. The imp, sensing his imminent eruption, bit him. Needle-sharp teeth drew blood. "Don't you dare," he snarled. "Not yet, pig. Not yet."
Plink...plink...
They fucked his ass while stimulating his prostate, sometimes with their cocks, sometimes with dildos, sometimes their fists. They deftly pressed against the gland through the thin wall of his rectum, causing the raw pleasure to spiral up. His cock would twitch, his balls would tighten, and they'd stop. Twist the ring. Tap the barbell. Flick his slit. The sensation would recede, only to be built again. It was a cycle of infinite cruelty. Approach, denial, retreat. Approach, denial, retreat. The peak of orgasm was a tantalizing mirage, always visible, always within reach, always snatched away at the last moment.
Plink...
By month nine, Dave's body had adapted to the torment in ways that horrified him. His nipples, pierced and ringed, had become hypersensitive nodes of sensation. The brands on his skin, once agonizing, now hummed with deep, painful pleasure. His ass, stretched and filled over and over, had learned to clench around invading cocks all on its own, milking them for cum. Mouthfuls of pasty shit, acrid piss and slimy cum were old friends to him now. His cock, perpetually trapped in the spiked ring, had even begun to enjoy the pain. The spikes didn't hurt anymore. They excited. Every twist of the ring sent a jolt of dark electric pleasure through his shaft, a sinister electricity that only made him leak more precum into the buckets, plink...plink...plink.
He hated his body for betraying him. But he couldn't stop it. He could only experience it.
Plink...plink...plink...
***
And then, at the stroke of the year, the imps stopped. The cocks pulled out of his holes. The hands released his limbs. The mask was unzipped, peeled away from his face, and light flooded in.
Dave blinked. Or tried to. His eyes had been sealed shut for so long they didn't want to open. When they did, the world was a blur of crimson and black.
His vision slowly cleared and he saw the lead imp standing before him, grinning, gesturing at an iron cask filled with clear, slimy fluid. It was Dave's precum. A year's worth.
"Happy anniversary, piggy," it said. "Now. Let's make you cum, shall we?"
They removed the ring-gag, but didn't remove the cock ring. They didn't remove the glans barbell, either. Instead, they removed the spikes themselves, tiny screws that they twisted out one by one. The removal of each sent a new wave of sensation through Dave's shaft. His cock, trapped for a year in a cage of pain, suddenly felt...good.
The lead imp wrapped a hand around his shaft. It was small, clawed, rough, but it was the most exquisite thing Dave had ever felt.
"Ready?" it asked.
Dave tried to speak, but his voice was a croak, a whisper, a ghost of sound. He nodded. He fucking nodded.
The imp stroked him once. Just once. Dave's entire body arched off the slab. The orgasm that had been building for a year erupted from him like a volcano. Cum shot from his cock in thick ropes, hitting the ceiling, splattering across the obsidian walls, covering the imps who laughed and cheered. He came and came and came, his body convulsing, his vision going white, his mind shattering into a billion pieces. He wailed and gasped and shuddered as mind-bending waves of pleasure slammed through him. There was no end to it. Each spasm triggered another, each wave stronger than the last. It was as though every denied orgasm had only been delayed, and now all of them, a year's worth of them, slammed through him at once. His balls, overfull and aching, emptied in a flood that seemed impossible. His ragged wail became a full-throated scream, his voice finally returning in a raw, ragged howl. The sound echoed through the cavern long after his throat gave out.
When the orgasm finally, finally subsided, Dave hung limp on the slab, a sweaty, gasping heap, barely conscious. His cock was still half-hard, still leaking. His toes twitched. His entire body trembled with aftershocks.
"Beautiful," the lead imp whispered. "Absolutely beautiful."
Unfortunately, Dave's respite was measured in heartbeats. Before his vision had fully cleared, a hand wrapped around his cock. The spikes were screwed back into the cock-ring. The barbell was tapped. His flaccid shaft began to swell again, unbelievably forced once more into arousal.
He gaped. "What?" he hissed. "No. No, please..."
"Please what?" the lead imp asked, climbing onto the slab behind him. "Please more? We thought so."
A cock pushed into his ass, which was still loose, still stretched, still slick with a year's worth of abuse. The imp began to fuck him, slow and deliberate, while another imp wrapped its lips around his cock.
"Here's the thing about eternity, piggy," the lead imp said, rubbing his nipple. "A year is nothing. A decade is nothing. A century is...well, you get the idea." It leaned close, its breath hot against Dave's ear. "So, we're gonna do it all again. Only this time, we're going for ten years. And, when we've done that, then a hundred. And then a thousand. And then...well, yeah, again, you get the idea."
Dave moaned, a primal utterance of despair and, buried deep beneath it, something even darker. "Please...just kill me."
The imps laughed. "Even if we wanted to, pig, we can't...'cause you're already dead!"
The lead imp patted his head, then replaced the ring-gag, jamming his mouth open again, and filled it with his cock. "Welcome to forever, cocksocket," he said, and began thrusting.
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