This one shot has been swirling around in my head for a while. But it was scratching to get out and I couldn't hold it in anymore. So here ya go!
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." Whoever said that didn't know how right they were.
I told myself that I did it for the right reasons. To save the life of the man I loved. The man who, I stupidly believed, loved me back. What a naive idiot I was. It was when I was at my lowest, that HE found me. Promised me a miracle. All I had to do was give him my soul in 10 years. I was so desperate that I agreed without really knowing what that even meant. It wasn't until after the kiss that sealed the deal, that I found out. He grinned mercilessly at my horror stricken face when he told me that when my time was up, giant invisible Hell Hounds would tear me to ribbons and drag my soul back to Hell with them.
Less than a year after I made the deal that cured his cancer and damned my soul, Rick left me for someone younger and prettier. My whole world fell apart. Did the stranger know that Rick would leave? Know that I would be alone when he sent his mutts to collect me? If he had the power to cure people, what else was he capable of?
My 10 years came and went. Miserably. There I sat, a mostly empty bottle of Jack in my lap... waiting. Waiting while the minutes tick down to my end. I could hear the howling already and I still had five minutes to go. The scratching started soon after and the door to my bedroom shuttered with the impact of there bodies trying to break through. It was only a matter of time before they came crashing through the flimsy door and used me as their own personal chew toy.
Which is how I found myself naked, strapped to this cold, metal table. Alone. Bound by heavy leather around my ankles, knees, wrists and elbows. The thickest piece holding me midway between my chest and abdomen. The rest of me laid bear and shivering in the freezing cold room. I looked around and saw that I was in a room that looked like a big metal box. The walls were covered with what looked like very old blood. It was splattered high on the walls and ran in long trails down to the floor. I couldn't see the floor, but I could only imagine the dried up puddles that must be there. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer even before the door swung open and HE walked into the room. My own personal Hell.
He stopped inside the door and just stared at me, his jaw twitching and his hands balled into tight fists. His expression was unreadable. Almost blank, like he was looking through me. He had the face of Adonis, but I was so terrified that couldn't dwell on that fact. He only moved when a hand reached through the open doorway and landed on his shoulder, making him flinch. Another man came into view behind the first and stepped up next to him with his hand still on the first man's shoulder. The creepy smile that pulled across his face made a cold shiver crawl up my spine. I looked back at the other man and he looked like he wasn't breathing.
"Dean?," the second man said with a slightly nasally voice. He walked around the head of the table and knelt down behind me, laying his chin on the edge of the table above my head. "This is Karly." He stood back up and ran back behind the man he called Dean. He propped his chin on Dean's shoulder, looking back at me. "Karly? This is Dean." Dean said nothing, he just continued to stare down at me. "Oh! And I'm Alastair, by the way."
"Please!," I whimpered. "What's happening?! Please let me go!" Alastair walked back behind me and I suddenly heard squeaking noises that grew louder as he walked back around me, pulling a tray table like in an OR. He stopped the small table next to my head, giving me a clear view of what was on top of it. It was laid out with all kinds of razors, knives, and other terrifying cutting tools. I started to hyperventilate as it dawned on me what was about to happen. "NO! PLEASE DON'T!"
"Now... now, Sweetheart," he purred, leaning over me and stroking my hair. "What did you expect Hell to be? Rainbows and lollypops?" I tried to hold in the sob but it poured out of me uncontrollably. "Shhh... easy now, Love. You should be honored. You'll be Dean's first." First? First what? What the fuck was he talking about? Alastair walked back to Dean and, with a hand on his back, gently pushed him toward the table. He grabbed a silver straight razor off the tray and held it out to Dean.
"I...c-can't! Please don't... don't make me do this!," Dean stammered gruffly. He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring at a spot on the wall above my head. The smile faded from Alastair's face and was replaced by an insincere pout.
"If that's what you want, Dean." I let out the breath I was holding in a relieved sigh. "I can always put you back on the rack." Dean's bottom lip began to tremble and he closed his eyes. "I guess 30 years just wasn't long enough for ya, huh Dean?" A tear leaked out of Dean's eye as he squeezed them tighter, his face scrunching up like he was in pain. When he opened his eyes, they were staring down at that gleaming piece of polished metal in the palm of Alastair's outstretched hand. Dean's hand trembled as he reached up and took the razor from Alistair.
"NO! PLEASE, GOD, DON'T!," I screamed, thrashing on the table as much as I could. His hand was shaking as he lowered the razor to my stomach, just above my belly button.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, before pushing in deep and pulling the razor across my belly. I gasped at the searing pain and the scream that came out of my mouth surprised even me. When I looked up at the man standing over me, the look on his face startled me out of my misery for a moment. Dean's eyes were closed and he was panting with his lips parted slightly. He looked like a junky who'd just shot up and was flying high.
"Feels good, doesn't it, Dean?," Alastair purred in Dean's ear. "To be the one dishing out the pain for once? To be in control?" His hand stroked the inside of my thigh while he spoke and I could see the excitement in his eyes. I wailed in fear and pain, trying to jerk away from his touch. "Let go, Dean. Let yourself feel the pleasure of slicing into this weeping bitch!" Dean dragged the sharp edge of the blade down the inside of my forearm, from my elbow all the way to my wrist and the burn and the sound of ripping skin shot through my brain like I'd been shot in the head. My scream seemed far away like it was coming from someone else. I felt hot blood run down my arm and I shivered again.
"P-pleassse ssstoppp..." I was shaking so hard that I thought I might fly apart. A soft smile crept over Dean's lips as he leaned close to my ear.
"Don't worry, Baby," he panted. "I'll make sure you enjoy this. I promise." I felt his tongue slide slowly down my jaw and off my chin and I sobbed brokenly.
Hours passed... Or was it days? Longer? I was in so much pain, that I wasn't sure just how long he'd been cutting. Time is different in this place. My voice had broken long ago and now all that came out were wheezes and whimpers. When I had the strength to open my eyes, what I saw made me tremble. Dean was smiling as he carved me up. He had blood, my blood, dripping from his fingers and smeared over his face. 'I should be dead,' I thought vaguely. There's nothing left of me. But this was Hell. And I'm pretty sure you can't die if you're already dead. When I felt his blade scrape against my spine, the last tear I had left rolled down my cheek and into my ear.
"My, my! Dean, you are a true artist!," Alastair said in awe. He stuck his hand into what was left of me, pulling out a hot, wet clot of blood on the tip of one finger. He stuck it in his mouth and moaned like he was having a sexual experience. "I've only seen one other person carve up a soul this pretty. That person is me... when I had you on my table." Alastair reached up and stroked Dean's cheek almost lovingly. Dean beamed at the praise, puffing his chest out with pride.
"Thank you, Alastair."
"But, there's so much more to the rack than just cutting, Dean. So much more for you to learn," Alastair hissed, running his hand over Dean's shoulders as he walked around him. He snapped his fingers and I was instantly restored. My body was completely whole again.
"What do you mean?," Dean asked, his brows knit together in confusion. "You never did anything to me but carve."
"Sorry, Dean. I may be a depraved demon, but I don't swing that way." He walked away from Dean, toward me with a predatory grin on his face. He stopped next to the table, grabbed the inside of my thigh, and squeezed. Hard. Even after all the pain I'd just been through, I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out. "A woman's body is a work of art, Dean. God's finest, if I'm being honest." his fingers relaxed and started to slide upward while he licked his lips. His hand stopped just before he reached my center and started rubbing my thigh again. He was so close that I could feel the heat from his large hand on my folds. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore what he was doing.
"You... you mean..." Dean croaked. He swallowed hard enough that I could hear it.
"There's more than one way to break a soul, Dean. And it's much more... hands on." As he said the last two words, his hand moved up and cupped my mound. I jerked and a whimper came out of me as I continued to gaze up at the ceiling. Quiet tears rolled down both sides of my face. "Come," Alastair whispered. And I couldn't help but look to see what Dean would do. "Touch her, Dean. Feel her." Dean stepped up to the table again and again he looked unsure. When he just stood there looking down at my body, Alastair grabbed his wrist and gently laid it on my stomach in the exact same spot that Dean had made the first cut. I flinched when his blood soaked hand touched my skin, leaving a bloody trail as Alastair moved Dean's hand in a circle around my belly button. At some point, Alastair stepped back but Dean's hand continued to moved in a circle. I could see Dean's breathing kick into high gear and when he looked up at me, his eyes were full of lust.
"Dean, please don't do this!," I sobbed, saying his name to try to get him to connect with me. To see me as a person and not just a slab of meat. "You... you don't wanna do this, Dean! He stopped before he reached my mound and just stared down at his hand. "Please don't hurt me anymore! Please!" His other hand raised up slowly and cupped my cheek gently. I was so desperate to get through to him that I closed my eyes and leaned into his hand. And my body craved any physical contact that didn't cause pain.
"Karly?," Dean murmured. The look in his eyes when I looked up at him made my stomach sink. "I've never wanted anything more." His hand slid down my face and over my throat and with a violent thrust, his palm pressed into my windpipe, completely cutting off my air. My mouth shot open, trying to take a breath, and Dean took the opportunity to jam his tongue down my throat. I jerked and thrashed as my lungs began to burn. And when it didn't seem like he was going to let up, I used the only weapon left to me, my teeth. I bit down hard on his tongue and he jerked himself away from me with a pained snarl. "FUCKING BITCH!," he spat, blood spraying from his lips.
"I... I'm sorry!," I sobbed pathetically. I knew I was in trouble when I saw him stalk back over to the table and climb on top of it. He crawled over me on all fours, straddling my body. He hovered over me, breathing hard through his nose, with rage in his eyes. "Please...," I whined softly. He didn't speak, he just sneered down at me, blood dripping off his chin and onto my cheek. He ran his bloody hand up my arm slowly and leaned into my face and I thought he was gonna try to kiss me again. But then he stopped with his mouth a hair's breath away from mine.
"I'm gonna rip you apart, bitch," Dean breathed, his hot breath blowing against my trembling lips. Instead of kissing me, he suddenly sat up and started to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. "I'm gonna enjoy splitting you open!" He was smiling and his eyes were full of psychotic glee. When he pulled his zipper down and his hard erection sprang free, I screamed and bucked, trying to knock him off of me.
"GET OFF ME, YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!," I screeched, angrily. Dean braced himself on the edges of the table and barked with laughter.
"That's the spirit!," he bellowed, still laughing. "Show me what ya got, Sweetheart! Fight back!" I jerked and pulled at the restraints, but there was no give in them at all. All I accomplished was rubbing my skin raw on the rough leather. "COME ON! YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!" He grabbed my breasts in both hands and twisted harshly, pulling a shriek out of me. I tried to fling my hips to the side, but he sat down, putting all of his weight on my thighs. "I guess you're not as strong as I thought you were." I brought my head up as high as I could and spat in his face. Dean wiped the spittle off his cheek and stared at it for a moment before wiping it on his pants. I expected him to hit me, but he just smiled sadistically. "This is gonna be fun!"
"Fuck you," I growled.
"If you insist." He slid backwards and unbuckled the straps on my knees, leaving the straps on my ankles secured tightly. When he forced my legs open, the leather around my ankles pulled the fragile bones apart painfully. When he settled himself between my thighs, it spread my legs even further and I felt the tendons tear. I screamed and he chuckled in my face. He reached down between us and stuck his finger deep inside me, exploring. "That's a shame. You're completely dry." He grabbed his shaft and lined the tip up with my entrance. "Oh well. You'll be slick soon enough." He didn't have to elaborate further for me to understand what he meant. I would bleed soon.
"Please. N...," My begging was cut off when he suddenly drove himself into me until his hips crashed into mine. Dean groaned but it was drowned out by my scream. He never gave me any time to adjust before he started thrusting violently, slamming into my cervix each time. He was pounding into me so hard that the air was forcibly pushed out of me with each hard thrust. Then I felt it. His thrusts became easier, just a little less agonizing. And I knew. I was bleeding. That made it ten times worse.
"Feel that, Sweetness?," he purred against my cheek when I turned away. "That's me, tearing open your tight little cunt! FUCK! So fuckin' tight! I can feel the blood running down my balls! Can you feel it?" His words cut me deeper than his razor ever could. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I wailed out my grief and pain. My cries seemed to egg him on. He sped up his pace before he wrapped his fingers around my throat again and squeezed.
"Oh, God...," I whimpered.
"That's it, Baby!," Dean panted. "Call to Him! Call to God!" His thrusts began to stutter and become sloppy as he got closer to the edge. When I held my tongue, he squeezed tighter. "I SAID CALL TO GOD, BITCH!" He punched into me even harder and I gave in.
"GOD HELP MEEEE!" My plea to God sent Dean tumbling over the edge. He gave three more violent thrusts as he came hard. He let go of my throat and slumped over on top of me.
"Sorry, Darlin'. God's dead." He kissed my cheek almost tenderly before he rose up on his hands and knees and hoped over the side of the table. The loud thud of his boots hitting the floor echoed off the metal walls. I had my head turned away but I could hear the jingle of his belt as he tucked himself away and fastened his pants. "Well, that was fun! Shall we start again?" My head turned to face him and I started to pant in terror.
"A-again?" Dean stood in front of the little metal tray, stroking his chin. Finally, he paused and a smile spread across his face as he reached down and picked up a short, curved blade with a finger hole at the end of the handle. He turned and looked down at me with renewed excitement as he twirled the blade around his index finger. The last thing that I clearly remembered was the knife slicing under my left breast while Dean whistled.
Like I said before, time is different in this place. I had no idea how long he had at me. It could have been years I spent strapped to that fucking table. I don't know. All I knew was that I spent it in constant pain. Pain dealt out by a monster. Carving and raping. Raping and carving. And each time Alistair would be there to praise Dean for his fine work and to make me whole again. My body, at least. My mind and spirit fractured a little more each time he started anew. There was no fixing that.
Then it happened. Seeming without me even noticing. My screams slowly morphed into great peals of hysterical laughter even as Dean flayed the skin off my face. I wasn't me anymore. I was perverted and twisted into something just as evil and blood thirsty as the monster holding the blade. I was a demon.
"Well done, Dean!," Alastair said, clapping Dean on the back. "She's exquisite!" Alistair stepped up to me as I stood, naked, before them and ran a slender finger down my cheek. I smiled and closed my eyes at the touch.
"Your first is one you will always remember."
THE END