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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2205784-Perdition
Rated: XGC · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2205784
SCREAMS!!! Contest Entry 11/17/19 Theme: I knew she was trouble 872 words
PERDITION
SCREAMS!!! Contest Entry 11/17/19
Theme: I knew she was trouble
872 Words

Author's note: A little #metoo vengeance might have found its way into this one. ;)

Black, crispy skin flaked from my soul's body, rising like dry, crimson leaves in an Autumn updraft. The blackened flakes swirled upward, as I descended. It was agony, my descent to hell.

Raw, bloody flesh appeared under the missing skin only to be baked anew. Pustules of vile green formed and boiled, like eyes of newt in a witch’s stew.

Falling. Pain. Falling. More pain. Agony. Burning. Still falling...

***

I knew she was trouble from the moment I saw her. Trouble of the best kind--or so I thought.

Lush ebony hair framed an aesthetically perfect face. Her body was succulently sexy, breasts buxom, legs luscious. If perfection was possible in the eye of every beholder, it was standing in front of me.

We had met at the bar, my tongue had been tied; hers had licked lips. Her large, long-lashed eyes watched mine fill with lecherous desire. My lewd comments had received a delighted smirk in response. My lascivious language seldom found purchase, but it had tonight. It had tonight.

Why had she left with me? I didn’t know then. I did know now.

On the way home in the ride share car, the city night’s shadows rolled over her dark features as she watched me with calculating intent. For a moment, I considered the woman's height on my measuring stick of trouble, wondering if I should continue my course. Then, silky thighs crossed, and a curvaceous calf touched my leg, sending shivers of promise through me. My mind’s warnings were sheathed in the milky, hot haze of desire.

In my apartment, she pounced, a lioness on a gazelle. Teeth flashed and sharp pain popped. I didn’t care as warm, metallic taste touched my tongue. The pleasure of pillowy lips, lathered in the blood of my sliced lip, overwhelmed all competing sensation.

Until her breasts pressed to my chest, warm and full, nipples hard and sharp. Rounded hips undulated into me as fabric dropped. My mind was unable to comprehend how, but my clothes were gone. Hers as well. Nothing more to dampen the feeling of flawless, firm flesh. Heat filled my groin as it was surrounded in exquisite ecstasy.

The woman pulled back, the blood of my lip like lipstick, five-year-old applied, smeared and shining to frame her evil grin. Horns appeared from under midnight sheets of luxuriant hair. Flame-fanned fires smoldered within dark eyes. Streaks of blood stained her porcelain hips. Where had that come from?

I moaned, too lost in resplendent rapture to realize.

Sensual undulations, erotic, exquisite, milked something from me. Not a fluid, but more fundamental. The aching began. I ached for the pleasure; I ached from the pleasure.

The ache grew deeper, touching something I never knew. It pulled at my center, my core. It pulled at "me", myself, I realized--my soul. I felt darkness, the invincible monster of childhood nights, surround "me". This time, however, there were no blankets to hide under. The darkness had me in its clutches, naked, afraid.

“I” was enveloped in dark, probing passion. I felt the pull of incredible force, seeking to dislodge me as I gripped with all my will. The force was slow, building, inexorable. Its strength only grew as my will was sapped. The grip of my soul on my body weakening, weakening.

Willpower, like fingers, clutched as if to a ledge. The pull, like gravity, gradually opening fingers until only their tips held on. Finally, my grip was gone. I flew out of my physical form and into hers. I cried inside, racking sobs. I was as helpless as a child pulled into quicksand, mouth open and filling with torrid soil.

I suffocated. I gagged. Not physically. Worse. Much worse.

My despair was wretched, wonderful, complete. She was consummate in her work, leaving nothing behind, nothing of me.

Pulled from my comfortable home, horrified and quivering, I flew into her, then down. I flowed from her body through a conduit. Satan’s straw.

This began the fall, the burning.

When I landed, feathers of flames flickered around me, licking, biting. Chains snapped closed on my limbs, tearing torturously into raw, rended skin, pulling me agonizingly apart. Chains that forged in foolishness, by terrible temptation of silky sin.

Then I saw her, here. Black as night. Horns. Tail swishing in confident delight, whip in hand.

*Snap*

A burst of agony punctuated my suffering.

*Snap*

Another burst.

She approached to examine her work, using clawed hand to pull a swath of crispy, black and red skin like dough from a cookie sheet. The pain was unbearable, merciless and scorching. She held it high above her head, tilting her head upward until her mouth was below it. A long tongue reached up to taste. As tongue connected with ruined flesh, she gave a shiver of pleasure in the sweltering heat.

Her claw released, flesh piling on her horrible tongue. She gobbled it up like a wild, hungry dog. Dark, hollow eyes turned to me once more, and I shuddered in terror, longing for mere agony as she began her feast on my soul.
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