I opened my eyes. Brimstone and fire. I sighed. I didn't hate hell, it was certainly much more pleasant than the bible described it. Luaus and barbeques. Nice place. And warm, too. I sighed, walking past the huge crowd of people who had also died that day. "Heya Satan." I greeted him as I walked past, and he smiled for a moment before turning to the other arrivals to tell them their fate. I made my way up the scorched hills to Satan's castle thing. I walked past the guards, fist bumping one and greeting the other with a "hey, Bill.". When I got to my destination, I hesitated. Were those moans I heard? I stared at the door, painted black, with hazmat tape and signs warning against entering plastered over almost every inch. I lifted my hand to knock, hesitating. The spawn of Satan couldn't really do anything to me other than have me tortured for the duration of my short stay here in hell, but I still drew back at the idea of pissing the jackal boy off. I decided against knocking at the moment, and plotted a course for the satanic castle's decked out kitchen.
"You died again?" Damien asked, walking into the kitchen wearing only a pair of black briefs and his various tattoos. "a-yep." I spoke, taking a bite of the sandwich I had prepared myself while I waited. "Oh, hello!" a cheery voice greeted me, addressing me in a familiar British accent. My eyes widened a bit. "P..Pip?" I stammered, nearly choking on my sandwich when I realized what he was wearing. He was practically naked, aside from the few skimpy bits of skin-tight leather that covered his intimate parts and the tight leather belly shirt he wore over his torso. The four-inch platform shoes weren't lost on me either. I rose my eyebrow at Damien, who continued on rambling through the fridge as though this was absolutely normal. Pip took a seat at one of the four chairs and smiled at Damien lovingly as the devil spawn brought some little pastry things (crumpets I assumed) for Pip and a bowl of raw meat for himself, and took a seat at the table across from the brit. "Why thank you, love." Pip chirped, picking up a crumpet and biting it politely. "So, why'd you punch that kid? Clyde was it?" Damien asked, carrying on this conversation as though his sex toy wasn't seated next to me. Oh wait. No that's a collar. Sex slave, it seems. I turned my attention from Pip, who was happily eating and listening, and focused on Damien, who apparently had no intention of explaining. "I don't know. I guess because of how he was treating Butters." I answered, biting my sandwich again. "You love em?" Damien asked, picking up a chunk of the raw ground beef and blowing on it in his hand, using his powers to cook it slightly. I chuckled, placing my sandwich on the plate before me, before leaning back in my chair. "yeah." I answered calmly. "Oh, how wonderful! Have you told him yet, old chap?" Pip chimed in, his cheery face a stark contrast to the BDSM way he was dressed at the moment. It was at that point that I noticed, aside from the collar (which had a tag on it, inscribed with Damien's name), there were multiple bite marks and bruises on the blonde brit. I hesitated for a moment before answering. What kind of stuff was that sweet kid into? If he could be into that… I bit my own tongue as I imagined my sweet little Bunny, handcuffed to the posts of his bed, cooled wax on his stomach and a ball gag in his mouth. Oh, I wasn't ready. "Kenny. Your nose is bleeding." Damien smirked.