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Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 01

By: Smokey125



Smokey Saga #4: "Beyond Hell And Back"

This, to put it lightly, is a harsh story—far harsher, more dark and sinister than my other works. Some might go so far as to call it "brutal." It's a much more malicious side to my writing than has been shown thus far. No kidding—on the spectrum of erotica, if "Hypnothe-Rapist" is at one extreme, this is at the other; the two could not be more different. And also standing apart from my previous Sagas, hopefully without giving too much away, this story does not have a sweet happy ending. So without further ado...

***

August 28th, 2:15 a.m.

It was a full-tilt booming fiasco at The Twilight, teeming with hundreds of ardent clubbers on the floor. Strings of multicolored strobe lights lined the ceiling of the otherwise dark building, bouncing dim spotlights over the entire joint, under a cacophony of vociferous techno trance music, dripping over it all like a hot fudge sundae.

In the midst of the whole scene, sitting at the bar was a group of five young women. Four of them were raucously partying, throwing back drinks, hitting on guys, having one of the nights of their rowdy lives...and toasting the one girl who wasn't partying. She, as it turned out, was the birthday girl. Holly. 21 years old, as of 10:57 p.m., August 27th, 2003.

Holly sat shy and quiet at the bar, her boisterous friends on either side. She stared into her virtually untouched glass, hands in her lap, trying to look like she wasn't here with these hoydens. She felt like a fish out of water: embarrassed, nervous and reluctant...but most of all she felt uncomfy. Very uncomfy. The fact was, she hadn't even wanted to come to this club for her birthday. She'd never been to it before, and she didn't like it here. Her friends had figuratively dragged her along, but it might as well have been literally. She came because she couldn't say no, and because her friends were persistent. In fact, lately she had begun questioning why she remained friends with them. She knew it probably made her "uncool," but she couldn't have felt less at ease here. She wished she could've just stayed home, in her nice safe house, with her nice safe Mom and Dad.

They had given her a sedate little party at home, which was really more her style, and presented her with a beautiful new light-blue blouse, which she was wearing right now. She'd put it on for them just before her friends dropped over and kidnapped her, insisting her 21st birthday was instant grounds for a full-tilt booming fiasco at The Twilight.

They had been there about an hour and a half, and while out of morality she didn't want to, Holly was heavily considering lowering herself underneath the bar, slipping by her kidnappers and going home. Although she hated doing anything deceitful or dishonest, it wouldn't be too difficult to ditch her friends. They all had a few belts in them, and they weren't paying attention to her at all; they were draping themselves over young men who approached to buy them drinks.

That was it. Holly made up her mind. She slipped off her shoes, picked up her purse, slowly spun herself around the stool, ducked down, rapidly tiptoed straight to the door in her bare feet, and let herself out. She could have used a quick trip to the ladies', but she didn't like public restrooms and she really didn't want to spend one more minute in this place.

She got outside to Kent Street, breathed a sigh of relief and put her heels back on. She sighed, just wanting to get away from here. It was a sketchy neighborhood, she was getting tired and all she wanted now was to go home and hit the sack. Unfortunately for her, her girl buddies had wanted to get tanked, so they'd taken public transportation here. She'd have to take the bus back. She mentally rerouted herself and continued walking. The closest stop, she believed, was at the corner of Kent Street and Queensquare Road. She had a good little journey ahead of her. Luckily, she knew there was a bus every half hour or so. On the way, she called her parents, knowing there was little chance but hoping they could be awake and come get her. No luck. Click.

She shook her head, thinking about her "friends." Again, why did she hang out with these girls? She had next to nothing in common with them, and they always took advantage of her. Then again, she told herself, it seemed that people had always taken advantage of her growing up. She felt ashamed of her inability to tell anyone no. She thought it made her a pushover...a jellyfish, a doormat, a marshmallow. Come to think of it, taking advantage went hand in hand with teasing her. She was mercilessly teased, mocked and ridiculed in school, in large part because halfway through year one—ostensibly deemed brainy by those other than herself—she was taken out of first grade and dropped in second. The alienation was awful. The lack of positive attention as a child gradually translated into a need to do whatever it took to make people like her as an adult. Hence her compulsion to please everyone and never say no. And yet, at the same time, she didn't feel she received any reciprocation or respect. It was all so...so...frustrating.

Her grade jump was the reason she was 21 and all her friends were 22. The fact that her friends grew up and became young women a year before she did made a psychological impact on her. She never fully grew up mentally, and so her tendencies and behavior remained childlike. Not foolishly immature, but merely unsophisticated. She was naïve, innocent and easily influenced. When someone treated her like an adult, or addressed her as "Miss" or "Ma'am," it felt bizarre. Time went on, but her mindset stayed put. Chronologically, she was 21, but in her kiddish mind, she might as well be 14. In this respect, her friends grew up without her.

She made a note the next time they wanted her time to politely tell them to bugger off. She chided herself for not toughening up and being such a chicken in situations like this night. She proceeded to give herself another scolding for giving in to the pressure her friends put her under tonight to buy them a round. And she'd done it. It was her birthday, for heaven's sake! She didn't even drink!

It was just a few more minutes to the bus stop. She could make out the Juniper street sign over the major highway. Good, just another block or so. She kept berating, then forgiving herself, thinking she just needed a good night's sleep and things would be all better. And she would strengthen her will, and stop always giving others what they needed in exchange for temporary gratification. And she'd grow up already! She would become life-smart, in addition to simply being book-smart, and learn to know shortcake from Shinola. Yeah. She'd show them. And she'd show herself. She'd stop doing favors and buying drinks and just saying yes all the time. She tried calling home again, even though she was positive they wouldn't answer, and she was right. Disappointed, she kept heading for the bus stop. Phooey, she thought. She was really hoping she could get her folks to come pick her up and save her a...

...Wait a minute.

A ping of panic struck her. Waaaait a minute, she repeated in her head. She let the ping grow into a realistic strike of alarm and trepidation. She stopped walking, grabbed her purse and started worriedly sifting through it.

Oh no, she thought, her dread growing. OH, NO.

She had no money left for the bus. She had only taken a few dollars with her, and that had ended up going for the drinks. The club was fifteen miles from her house. There was no way she could walk that far, in heels or barefoot. She ruffled through her purse more quickly and fearfully, trying to remember how much money she'd given the bartender, and how much she'd left home with. Oh no! she kept thinking, on the verge of tears. Oh, God, no! Oh, now I'm screwed! What am I gonna do??

For half a second she considered going back to The Twilight, but that just wasn't an option. It had been about thirty minutes since she left. She was now several blocks away, she was very tired, and if she knew her friends, they'd already left with some sleazy-looking guys, no doubt on the way to some further debauchery.

She had her credit card, but a lot of good that'd do on the bus. She had already tried calling home twice. She tried a third, then immediately again a fourth time, but to still no avail. Her mind raced through anything and everything that came to mind, looking for options. She was ten seconds from dumping the contents of her purse on the sidewalk in one last-ditch effort to find some cash.

Oh no...oh, why didn't I just give the bartender my stupid credit card?! Oh gosh, I'm such an idiot! What was I thinking??

Apparently, she was thinking her so-called friends would give her a ride home. Her naiveté and flighty mind tended to land her in such troublesome spots as this. She whimpered and sniffled, punishing herself for making all these absurd decisions leading up to her current state. She could have brought more money! She could have asked her Mom and Dad to wait up for her! She could have resisted her friends' demands to go out with them in the first place! She could have worn sneakers! She could have—

The next sound stopped her heart.

Click.

"Don't say a word."

Before her brain even had time to register it, a predatory gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt something press the side of her head, which she did not have to look to know...was a cocked gun.

Holly automatically screamed in terror, but all that escaped was a muffled squeal.

***

August 28th, 2:55 a.m.

Holly felt herself being literally dragged off the street, into the back of an alley and finally through a door into a pitch black interior. By the time they got inside, scared and submissive to the core as she was, she was already crying hysterically. Her attacker locked the door behind them, and she felt the gloved hand unmuffle her mouth.

When she realized she could speak again, she wailed, "Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I-I-I don't have any money! Please don't kill me!" She sobbed out the words, covering her head with her arms.

She heard the same deep, inscrutable voice again.

"That's just fine; I don't want your money."

She breathed heavily, petrified to move, unable to see a thing in the blackness.

"W—...what do you want?" she timidly asked from between her elbows.

A single bare light bulb clicked on above them. They were in what appeared to her to be a...warehouse. Holly looked up to see a...

...A woman. A woman about Holly's height, who looked 30, maybe a little older, dressed in a black jumpsuit, black gloves and boots, a hair color somewhere between blonde and brunette, and icily piercing blue eyes, smiling at her, pointing the gun.

She answered. "Just you."

Holly cowered at the sight of the gun barrel, more scared than she could ever remember being.

"Welcome to my dungeon," the attacker greeted with her malicious smile. "Well, it's my warehouse, but I use it as my private dungeon. Oh, and you may call me Farrah," she said. "And what's your name then, young lady?"

Her faculties were useless. This was the most horrifying experience she'd ever been through. All she could think to do was comply.

"H—...Holly..." she slowly wept out.

"Ah," leered Farrah. "Pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty little girl."

"Please don't kill me, Miss Farrah," Holly sobbed again.

"Oh, I have no intention of killing you, Holly," she heard Farrah reassure her. "None at all."

Feeling only an iota better, Holly blubbered, "Then...then what are you gonna do to me?"

A chuckle. "All in good time." The depth in her voice intensified. "First of all..." She gestured with the gun. "...The purse. C'mon."

Still fearing above all for her life, Holly quickly tossed her purse on the floor between them.

"That's a good girl. Now then, anything else in your pockets? Phone? Wallet?"

Holly shook her head. "It's all in there."

"Very well," Farrah rejoined, placing the purse behind her amid some boxes. Holly watched her only means of contact disappear.

She knew her attacker had already given her an answer to this question—or lack thereof—but Holly couldn't help but ask again.

"Miss Farrah?...What're you going to do to me?" Her face was covering with tears.

"Now, now, we've been through all that," Farrah said, more sternly. "Besides, I'm asking the questions here.

"So," she turned back to Holly, boring cruelly into her with her sinister eyes. "How old are you, little girl?"

"Tw-twenty-one," Holly stammered.

Farrah gave another chuckle. "Well, now, you are just a baby, aren't you..." She nodded. "I like that."

You...like that? a puzzled Holly thought.

"So what's a sweet young thing like you doing on a street like this in the middle of the night?" was Farrah's next question.

Holly thought she might as well give up all the details. It might even elicit a tiny bit of sympathy from this forbidding lady, her daft mind thought. She piped her voice up a little and explained, "Um...my friends took me out here to The Twilight for my birthday."

"It's your birthday!" Farrah said in amusement. "Isn't that something! I might just have to come up with a little present for ya."

Holly only trembled and recoiled in response.

"Well!" continued Farrah, "Guess it's about time we got down to business then, whaddaya say." Keeping the gun pointed in poor Holly's direction, Farrah ordered, with the same ominous smile, "Get your clothes off."

A rush of a whole new fear froze Holly's body. "What?" Holly squeaked, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

Farrah's smile disappeared. She did not care for delayed obedience.

"You heard me, little girl," she reiterated, much less amicably. "Get 'em off. Now."

Holly gaped at her incredulously. You...can't be serious, she thought in horror. Her parents had warned her about the dangers of bad neighborhoods before, but she could never have imagined something like this. She murmured for clarification.

"B—...but-but...why? I—"

Farrah took two big, deliberate steps towards her, making the snap of the bare wooden floor echo around them.

"Get, your fucking clothes off, NOW!!" she exploded, cocking the gun on the final word at the poor petrified girl.

Holly panicked. This outburst let loose a whole second dam of tears in her. She started bawling like a baby.

"Okay!" She hastily began undressing. "Just please don't shoot me!" she repeated.

Farrah eased up and ambled back the couple steps. She put the gun down and removed her gloves. Holly yanked off her heels, dropping them to the floor. She carefully took off her new blouse next and paused a moment. She held it up for Farrah to see. "Um...lady?" she cautiously asked. "...My-my parents gave me this blouse for my birthday...I don't want it to get ruined."

Less angry again, Farrah thoughtfully raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? Well, I can appreciate a fine garment. Give it here."

Holly again cooperated, and Farrah draped the blouse over the boxes where she'd put Holly's purse.

Now clad in only her bra and panties, Holly put her hands over her privates. Farrah motioned for her to go on.

"C'mon, I said; all of it."

Holly's drenched eyes widened at her in shock. "You mean...naked??"

"That's right, doll, naked!" Farrah confirmed, again angry and impatient. She grabbed the gun. "Want me to do it for ya?!"

Holly vehemently shook her head. She suddenly realized that had there been no gun involved in this situation, she wouldn't have such a problem saying no at all. Then again, she had also never been presented with such a set of terrifying circumstances. Her face pinkened in humiliation as she unhooked her bra and let it fall into her arm. With the other hand, she slipped down and stepped out of her panties. She crouched down, attempting to avoid completely exposing herself.

Farrah nodded, gesturing for her to stand. "A'right, little naked girl, on your feet."

Hanging her head in shame and disgrace, Holly slowly rose, one arm across her breasts, other hand over her hairless virgin pussy.

"Hands up."

Holly knew that was coming. She started helplessly weeping for mercy again, not moving her hands.

"Hands up, I said. Do it."

Holly's body was quivering. She felt like her legs were about to give out underneath her. She tried to be still.

"But you're scaring me!"

Farrah stamped the floor with such furious force the echo bounced around the entire building.

"DO IT GODDAMMIT!!"

Again, the yelling intimidated Holly to the point of agreement and submission. She tightly shut her eyes and quickly raised her hands above her head, her soaking wet pink face now turning beet-red. She whimpered, feeling the air on her uncovered genitals.

Farrah strolled towards her. Holly closed her eyes even tighter, hearing the footsteps approach. There was no way to fathom how much Holly did not want Farrah to touch her naked body.

"A—...are you going to rape me?" she softly peeped.

Farrah chuckled wickedly, admiring the modest curves of her pure young body. "Not exactly...but you're on the right track."

Holly sobbed meekly.

"Oh, now cheer up," Farrah encouraged, letting one of her hands rest on Holly's queasy tummy. Holly cringed and reflexively turned away. The next part of her body Farrah touched was her behind, which made her jump.

"Nice ass..." Farrah commented. She stroked her back. About as creeped out as humanly possible, Holly lowered her arms.

"Ah!" Farrah scolded. She grabbed Holly's arms and pulled them back up over her head. Again forcing her to keep them there, she next glid her hands up Holly's sides and under the arms, making her half-shriek and half-giggle.

"Ooh," Farrah said with a pleased grin, poking her about the ribs. "Ticklish, are we?...Very nice..." She continued fondling.

"Miss Farrah, please stop it!" whined Holly. "I don't like this!"

Farrah turned Holly to face her, nose to nose. Holly opened her eyes to see Farrah's face inches from her own, and immediately shut her eyes tight as before. She felt Farrah stroke her chin, and then felt her evil hands grope both of her breasts.

Holly tried to jerk her body away. "Please don't touch me there, lady!"

"'Please don't touch me there, lady'?" Farrah teasingly mimicked in an inquisitive tone. "How old did you say you were again?"

"I don't want you to touch my..." Holly lowered her voice to a whisper. "...Boobs!"

"Very well." She slipped her hand between Holly's legs and rubbed. "Ooh, nice smooth pussy too."

Holly jumped again. "NO!!" she tearfully shrieked. "STOP it! Leave me ALONE!" Her voice cracked piteously.

"Ah, don't be such a little fuckin' crybaby," Farrah told her. She took a few steps in another direction, where a thin but sturdy wall divided the interior warehouse space between the area they occupied and an additional small cranny behind. The sectioned-off part of the wall where Farrah stood was nine feet high, six feet wide, and lined with metal hooks rectangularly patterning the perimeter.

"Get over here."

Holly opened her moist eyes. Farrah was pointing to the floor where she was standing, in front of the unpleasant-looking wall.


Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 02



BHaB (Part 2): "Heavenly Creatures"





Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 02



Rachel let her head fall back on the pillow, laughing. "You are such a bitch."

"Aw, Holly sorry," Holly said in the same infantile voice, returning to her sitting-up straddling position. "Maybe I should give yours a little lovin' then, huh?" She leaned down towards Rachel's right tit, brought her hand and her tongue to within an inch of it, then suddenly sat back up and said, "Or should I?"

Rachel rattled the cuffs with aggravation. She loathed being teased, which was exactly why Holly was teasing her. Holly loved getting the best of her girlfriend. She loved knowing she was the one with the power. She loved to make the chick who'd stolen her heart beg, keeping her in check, holding her princess (and her princess's hyper sex drive) under her control and trained to obey her. Rachel was still laughing but now just a little less good-naturedly. "I am so gonna fuckin' kill you," she mumble-chuckled.

"Oh, just like you so fuckin' killed me the last hundred times?" said Holly, poking at her torso and her titties just like before. "Huh? Huh? What're you gonna do?" she taunted. "What are you going to do?"

Trying not to succumb to the tingly sensations being triggered in her nerve endings, Rachel just continued to rattle and struggle and giggle, flinging inaudible nasty words at her. Finally, Holly said, "All right, I guess that's enough teasing...for now." She propped herself on her hands in the mattress again and started to settle down and lower her body onto Rachel's. "Mmmm...yes, baby..." swam out of Rachel's lips.

Just before their bodies overlapped, Holly pushed herself back up off her again. "Or is it?" she asked.

"Fuck you."

"Ooh, little impatient, aren't ya, sweetie? Okay, for real, this time," Holly said. She hastily lowered her body back down on Rachel's, their bared breasts mingling together, lips open to taste one another. They were underway.

A few moments in, Hobbie trotted into the room and hopped on the bed. He cocked his head, watching for a couple seconds. "Mrrrraaaoow?" he asked.

Holly and Rachel both halted in activity, opened their eyes, sighed, and Holly slowly raised herself back up again. "Really?" she asked the air. "My cat is cuntblocking me?" She got off the bed and picked up Hobbie, who started to protest. "A'right, ya little puffball," she muttered, picking him up and carrying him out. "Mommy and Auntie Rachel are going to have sex now," Rachel heard Holly tell him in a motherly voice. Holly dropped Hobbie on the couch, dashed back to the bedroom, jumped behind the door before her cat could return, shut it, breathed out an, "Okay then," took a moment to recapture the mood, slowly turned back to Rachel, leered at her and announced in a low, ominous voice, "You'd better be scared, girl-slave...'cause now that I own that naked pussy of yours...I can do whatever I want to it."

Rachel felt another little chill go through her. Her vagina suddenly became frightened (in a good way) and dampened.





Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 02



Rachel had dropped her face into her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm so so so sorry, Holly," she bawled. "I'll never do it again."

Holly stared down at her in a mixture of anger and disappointment. "That is absolutely goddamn RIGHT you'll never do it again. 'Cause that's it, Rachel."

Rachel returned her eyes to Holly's.

"Listen good to me, Rache. NO more smoking. I mean it. I haven't forgotten about your arm, but this—it's me or the cigarettes. I am no longer asking you, Rachel Millerstein, I am telling you to quit. Last chance. One more puff, and that's it, it's over between us."

Rachel nodded. "Yes ma'am. I promise," she sniffled.

"A'right, get up and get dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital."





Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 03



SMOKEY SAGAS #13:

Beyond Hell And Back (Part 3):

"When The Morning Comes"

***

June 3rd, 2:36 a.m.

"Yes?"

"HELL-o there..."

"Well now. This voice sounds familiar, does it not? Little Holly Greentree, I presume?"

"Yes, yes, it is Holly, actually."

"Well, I'll be damned!" the chilling voice dripped through the phone, delightfully surprised to hear from her. "A figure of speech with an ironic double meaning in my case, of course. Well! My, my, my, the Holly doll herself, one and the same! And how has my little pet been recently?" Her chuckle echoed with her trademark demonic malice.

"Uh, well, as it turns out...I need your help, Miss Farrah."

"Oh?" Even Farrah's inquisitive voice was seductively sinister.

"Yes, ma'am. May I visit you in about thirty minutes or so?"

***

By evening and twilight, the Hellmistress presided over her dungeon of condemned youthful souls, passing harsh judgment and severely sentencing those who wandered into her path, becoming ensnared in her web. Once having abducted her prisoners, she set about to terrifyingly invade their innocent minds and pure, fresh bodies, exposing and taking ruthless advantage of each and every sexual weakness uncovered, forcefully relieving them of their fledgling virginity.

Farrah's daylit hours were spent masquerading as a normal 41-year-old dirty-blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, who ate and slept, laughed and wept, bathed and strolled, rocked and rolled. It was once the sun bid adieu and slipped beneath the horizon that she crossed the boundary of immortality and assumed the identity of The Devil.

Just after their initial dead-of-night escapade ten years before, Farrah had promised then-young, then-helpless, then-scared little Holly Greentree that she'd stay in contact with her, and subsequently, up peeked the sun, and her reflection reappeared. She didn't necessarily intend on maintaining said contact; it was more of a manipulation technique to remind Holly that Farrah could manifest her presence at any possible moment it struck her fancy, to haunt her. And to remind Holly that Farrah could control her mind, and now owned Holly's virgin soul.

But while she possessed the ability to commandeer Holly's mental activity, she only exercised her psychological sorcery to the extent such that Holly's rollercoaster ride through her brimstone palace remained buried below the depths of her mind. Holly never forgot who Miss Farrah was or where she resided, and while she also never actually forgot the incident itself, she might as well have. Her aforementioned virgin soul having been forcibly confiscated from inside of her also robbed her of the capability of resisting Miss Farrah's seizure of her mental faculties. Farrah ordered her not to share their impromptu tryst with any other individual, and so Holly had no choice but to obey.

Farrah inhumanly usurped her victims' very beings with such subtlety, they had no idea what hit them. So undetectable was the involuntary soulbotomy, that once released, the objects of her prey resumed daily existence where they had left off. The only differences were stolen virginity, and an instilled susceptibility to being mentally tortured by the sorceress' powers. In other words, the previous owners of the souls Farrah had taken from them could essentially, presumably go on and continue to lead normal, contented lives, as long as Farrah allowed it. This allowance served as the compensation for their silence; if one's encounter with The Devil remained secret, then one's life and mind remained safe.

Holly Lil Greentree was a perfect example. Once Farrah had gotten through with her, she felt scared, drained, empty and cold. But when she let her go, Holly fearfully concealed the truth, and when enough time passed, forefront events put her disastrous 21st birthday surprise behind her. Oh, Farrah made certain the memory always remained there, just to keep Holly cognizant of who was in charge, but Farrah also allowed it to be put away and left alone, so that Holly could revive, recover and move forward. Holly alone knew the truth, keeping it locked away in a dark, desolate area of her memory, never to be divulged, even to—especially to—the woman with whom she planned to spend the rest of her life, Rachel Keri Millerstein.

Rachel was the reason Holly was reaching out and summoning Farrah during this particular twilight. Just a few short hours ago while Holly was sleeping, Rachel had ventured out by herself to a convenience store on eastbound Kent Street, a perilous downtown boulevard, for her preferred brand of cigarettes which weren't available anywhere else. On the way back out to her car, a mugger had attacked her, robbed her and slashed her arm with a knife when she tried to escape. She tried to keep Holly from finding out, for reasons she now wanted nothing but to put behind her, but Holly did find out. And even though Rachel had gone there of her own volition, Holly was now determined to get The Devil in her corner, hunt down this assailant and fight fire with much deadlier fire.

The 20-year-old Holly would have heaved up and cried helplessly over such a catastrophic turn of events, not knowing what to do. But the 30-year-old Holly...

You accosted and wounded the woman I love. BIG mistake, foolish bitch. WRONG move.

You're dead.

***

June 3rd, 3:08 a.m.

Returning to the warehouse dungeon at 666 Kent Street at the intersection of Kent and Juniper was surreal and intimidating. Even though she knew Miss Farrah was on her side, just revisiting to the original scene gave her a benign case of the shivers. She took a few quick glances back and forth, exited the car, snuck stealthily down the alley and gave the door a rap.

"It's Holly," she stated in a moderate voice.

The door slid open, and Holly was presented with a silhouetted portrait of the entity that haunted her dreams for years. The dirty-blonde tresses were barely visible. The ominous ice-blue eyes glowed through the darkness.

"Were you followed?"

Oh, that voice. It still sent a small chill up her spine.

"No."

"Good," The Devil whispered. She drew the firearm, spun the canister, made sure it was fully loaded, repacked it, grabbed an extra case of bullets and a pair of handcuffs. "Let's rock and roll."

Farrah ferried them east across Kent Street. Holly explained the rest of the situation to her. She told her how she had asked Rachel a series of questions on the way to the hospital, and Rachel's answers. Farrah listened intently, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.

"Got the picture?" she asked Holly.

"Yeah." Holly took her cell phone from her purse and sorted through the contents. Before she'd left the house, Farrah had instructed her to get a photograph of Rachel's bruised arm—even though it had already been cleaned and bandaged up—which she took with her cell. It was a fortunate thing Rachel slept like a dead log, because Holly had to turn the light on to get any kind of visibility. "I don't understand what it's for, though," she said.

"You'll see," Farrah uttered.

They kept driving. "The only thing I'm worried about," said Holly, "Is that we won't be able to find her. She's probably not at the 7-11 anymore."

"Not if she's got an ounce of brains," commented Farrah. "But don't worry. You said she didn't have a car, right?"

"Right—well, that's what Rachel said," answered Holly. "She said there were only two cars in the parking lot: hers and the one that must've belonged to whoever was inside working."

"And the chick took her phone?"

"She took everything. The only thing she let her keep was her clothes."

"Gotcha. Okay, here's the deal," Farrah explained. "She's not gonna come back this way. Again, not if she's got any smarts. Too much light. The street lamps and the lights on in the buildings would make it too easy to spot her. And she's also not gonna wanna go across the street. You've got the rest of your 24-hour mini-marts over there. She's not gonna hit another spot just like 7-11 right away. And she's definitely not gonna wanna go anywhere near The Twilight. Her best course of action is staying on this side of the street, and going further east. Fewer buildings and much less light."

"So that's where we're going?"

"You got it. We'll take a quick peek by the 7-11, just in case she doesn't have any brains."

They stopped in the 7-11 lot for a quick minute. "Okay," Farrah said, "You said she came at her with a knife, right?"

"Yeah."

"A'right, so it's highly unlikely she's packing heat; why use a knife if you've got a gun..." They looked around. "Looks pretty empty," said Farrah. "Just in case, here. I'm gonna park the car away from the light and turn the headlights off. Get out, stand under the streetlight and start going through your purse like you're looking for money. Look like a victim."

Stand still under a streetlight, on Kent Street, looking for money, in my purse. THAT sounds familiar. I'm not sure I'm gonna like what'll come after that...

She did as Farrah directed. Nothing happened. After a few more minutes, Farrah restarted the car and she got back in.

"A'right, so she's not here." They pulled back out onto Kent and went further east. "Now what was she wearing again?"

"Uh...Rache said some kind of...horror mask."

"Interesting...okay, it was probably one of the scream zombie ones, they're some of the most popular," said Farrah. "So we know she's smart enough to flee the scene and to have a mask on...which means she's probably also smart enough to cover her tracks. Do you know what kind of shoes she had on?"

"No."

"Damn. All right, anything else at all?"

"Black hair," said Holly. "And she didn't think the girl could've been older than 20."

"Gutsy young broad."

They eventually passed The Twilight, which was just as wild and noisy as any other night. A few more traffic lights later, they'd almost completely exited downtown. Once the traffic lights ceased, the streetlights faded in brightness and the buildings turned into foliage, Farrah slowed down.

"Okay, roll down your window," she ordered Holly in a whisper. Both the car's front-seat windows down, they coasted through the forest nice and slow.

Holly slid her voice down to the level of Farrah's. "How will we know if it's her or just some forest animal?"

"I've got that all taken care of," Farrah assured her, pulling off to the shoulder of the road and parking under one of the dim streetlights. "Right here's about halfway through the woods. Odds are, around this time, presuming she's been moving in this direction, and she should be at least somewhere nearby. Now just get out and follow my lead."

Farrah gave Holly the handcuffs, popped the hood, and they got out. "What are we gonna do?" Holly asked her.

"We're gonna make ourselves vulnerable." Farrah raised her voice and hollered out into the open forest air, careful not to be too loud or obvious, "OH NO, I'M AFRAID OUR CAR HAS BROKEN DOWN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE GONNA DO NOW."

She held up a finger to hold Holly temporarily silent. At first they didn't hear anything. But then, as faintly as could be, within earshot came moderately paced footsteps. They seemed to be approaching, then momentarily stopped.

"MY CELL PHONE'S ALMOST DEAD, AND I DON'T KNOW IF WE'D GET ANY RECEPTION OUT HERE ANYWAY," Farrah continued yelling, only slightly less voluminously than before. "I THINK WE MIGHT BE IN REAL TROUBLE."

They waited another moment. Sure enough, they again heard the footsteps picking up. Turning in the direction of the nearing figure, they noted its shadow skulking towards them. Holly began to get nervous, but Farrah made her keep cool. Finally, as Farrah predicted, they indeed saw the screaming zombie mask staring at them, a backpack over its shoulders, its gloved hand brandishing a menacing-looking dagger.

"Gimme the purses, bitches!" came the threatening voice, shaking the knife at them. "Now!"

Farrah drew the piece and retaliated in one quick, fluid motion.

Click.

"Not quite."

The attacker gasped and backed up.

"That's RI-ight," Farrah sang to her. "Say hello to MY little friend."

The attacker didn't say anything at first. She continued holding the knife, but withdrew. Farrah continued. "Now here's what's gonna happen, scumbag. You're gonna drop the knife, and you're coming with us."

Though intimidated, she held on to the knife for another moment. "How do I know it's loaded?" she asked Farrah.

Farrah didn't believe in holding back or being subtle. She lowered the gun to right between the attacker's shoes, took very quick aim, and fired.

The attacker yelled and jumped.

"That's how," Farrah replied. "Now dance." She fired a few more shots around her feet. Finally, the attacker dropped the knife.

"Cuff her, doll," Farrah ordered Holly, who grabbed the attacker by the arms, yanked her hands behind her back and shackled her. "Good," praised Farrah with a smirk. With her free hand, she took hold of the mask and ripped it off the girl's now frightened face. The tables had turned on her, she realized. "Now let's try this again, you little bitch. Would you like to come with us?"

Farrah gave Holly the gun, and Holly shoved her into the back, climbing in beside, as Farrah picked up the knife and the mask to toss in the trunk, slammed both it and the hood, and resumed her position in the driver's seat. She started it up and flipped a U-turn.

"Blindfold," Farrah reminded her. Holly went into her purse, found it and tied it tightly over the girl's eyes.

"What are you, undercover cops?" she asked them.

"Not exactly," Farrah answered. "But that'll be enough of that; we're asking the questions."

The windows were rolled back up. Farrah reversed course and shuttled them back to the warehouse.

***

June 3rd, 3:57 a.m.  "And, uh, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you, young lady," Holly advised the girl as she opened the car door and yanked her out. "Unless of course you want a five hundred-mile-an-hour tongue piercing." Farrah laughed, amused and impressed. "Ha! Looks like I'm rubbing off on you, Holly doll!" she said, leading them through the back alley to the door. Holly put the girl in front of her, held on to her by the handcuff chain and stuck the gun in her back. "March," she ordered, steering her in Farrah's direction. They got inside. Holly gave her a push in, and Farrah locked the door behind them. Holly deposited the gun in her hand. "Well, then," began Farrah, turning the attacker to face her. "And what's your name, little girl?" Holly gave a slight shiver. Also heard THAT before, she recalled. "B-Becka," the girl stammered. Holly knew what was coming next. She said it right along with Farrah: "A pretty name for a pretty little girl." Just between her, herself and she, Holly guessed Farrah said that to everybody, no matter what their name. "Becka what?" added Farrah. "...W-Weeks," she responded. "Becka Weeks." "Well, it's a joy to meet you, Becka Weeks," rejoined Farrah in her chilling voice. She nodded to Holly. "Cuffs off." She undid Becka's hands. "Backpack, please," was Farrah's next request. Becka didn't move for a moment. "You heard the lady," Holly prompted her. "She's got enough bullets to make you dance all night." Becka complied. Holly took it and handed it to Farrah. "Good girl," said Farrah. "Now cuffs on." Becka wanted to ask what was with the cuffs, but she had a pretty good idea of the answer. Hands stuck behind her back, she couldn't take the blindfold off. And without taking the blindfold off, she already had a less than zero chance of escaping from this place. Holly reshackled her, and she and Farrah proceeded to look into the backpack for Rachel's purse. The search barely took five seconds. "Badda-bingo. Right there," Becka heard Holly say. "What's going on?" she asked them warily. "If you're not cops, who are you?" "I told you, little girl, we're asking the questions here," repeated Farrah. "But as far as what's going on...Holly doll? You wanna field that one?" "Delighted." Holly reclaimed Rachel's purse and put it on one of the piles of boxes along with her own, returned to Becka and fixated her hand on the back of her head. Standing close enough for Becka to feel her breath, she established a point-making grip on her black hair and said, "Little Miss Becka, I want you to think back a few hours. Right down the street. 7-11. Remember anything?" A sickly feeling oozed through Becka's every cell. It was evident, someone had informed on her to them about her most recent mugging activity, and now they had tracked her down to... ...To settle the score, she had to believe, as the queasy feeling swelled. Oh, God...what were they going to do? Holly was continuing. "Remember anything like, say, for instance, wounding a young blonde-highlight-haired woman with your little knife...and taking her belongings?" Becka was beginning to shake and swallow nervously. Farrah silently explored the remainder of the backpack's contents as Holly began reading her chapter two of the Riot Act. "It just so happens...buddy girl..." said Holly, "That young blonde-haired woman is very special...and very important to me." The grasp on her hair tightened. "As a matter of fact...she just happens to be the woman I love." Becka turned in Holly's direction with a bizarre expression on her face. What the...? she thought. Holly tilted Becka's head backwards to dominantly look down into her face. "I cannot allow you to get away with that, Becka." Becka was beginning to become very scared, especially after what Holly said next. "You've fucked with the wrong woman. And I'm afraid that now you're going to have to dearly pay for it..." She slowed down her pace and finished the sentence in a low voice. "...you filthy little sewer rat." She continued to impress Farrah. NICEly done, Holly doll, she thought. I see I've taught you well. Becka gulped. "Mm...wha-...what're you gonna do?" "Well!" Holly said, loosening her grip on her again. "For this portion of our symposium this twilight morning, Becka Weeks, I turn you over to your hostess, Miss Farrah." One of the items Farrah'd found in the backpack was Becka's own mini-purse, which contained, among other things, her identification. The first thing Farrah said to her following Holly's little speech was, "Yes, let me ask you something, little girl. Just for establishing purposes, allow me to first pose the question, how old are you?" Becka wasn't sure it was the best idea to fib...but she did, trying to sound confident. "22." It wasn't. Farrah shot them both a look. "22?...Gee, y'know, that's pretty interesting, Becka, my girl...because your birth certificate seems to indicate otherwise." Becka turned red and she looked at the floor, caught in the lie. Holly shot her the same look. "'Twould appear your girlfriend was right, doll," Farrah told Holly. "This baby chick is eighteen and a half years old." "What??" exclaimed Holly, stepping away from Becka for the moment. Farrah showed her the certificate. She did the math herself, and whipped back around on her. "Dirty liar! Oh, you are a little delinquent, aren't you! Okay, kiddo. You're officially in detention," said the teacher. She marched back over to where Becka stood. Turning back to Farrah, she quipped, "Guess that makes you the principal." Farrah stepped in. "A'right, little girl, you've got two choices. One, we uncuff your hands and you get your clothes off for us..." A look of shock came over Becka's face as she looked up. "...Two, we take 'em off for ya." Suddenly, being handcuffed and blindfolded didn't matter too much to Becka. She flipped around to where she thought the door was. She knew it was virtually impossible to escape, but the fact still failed to stop her. "Let me outta here!" she shouted. Unfortunately for her, Holly was again standing right next to her. Once she started running, all Holly had to do was slip her foot out in front of her, to send her to the floor—an especially rough fall, without the use of her hands to cushion her landing. "Ooh, you landed right on your boobies! Ouch!" remarked Holly with a wince. She took her by the arms. "Come on, up. Now, first of all, I didn't want to have to do that. If you just cooperate, we'll all get out of here a lot quicker." Back up to her feet, Becka didn't know what to do or say. She pouted out the words, "I don't wanna take my clothes off." "Y'know, that's funny, Becka," Holly went on, "See, I didn't wanna find my girlfriend in my bathroom, in tears, with a slashed arm tonight. Sometimes things just happen that we don't want to happen, and we just have to roll with it. This is one of those times." "That's RI-ight," Farrah sang again. "One way or the other, little girl, you're gonna be naked in five minutes. Don't you fucking dare take that blindfold off until we tell you you can. And if you think you're getting off with just a disciplinary spanking...think again." 




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 03



***

June 3rd, 4:22 a.m.  A now terrified, whimpering, stark naked Becka Weeks was sitting on the hard wooden floor of Mi(stre)ss Farrah's dungeon, still blindfolded, hands and feet tightly bound up in twine, a material chosen specifically for the girl's discomfort. She was sitting in a ball hugging her knees, trying to keep her private areas concealed for the moment. "So, Becka, my young lass," said Farrah, "Enjoying yourself so far?" She looked up in Farrah and Holly's direction, who were leering down at her. "What kind of shit are you pulling on me here?" she demanded, intimidated but trying to sound tough. "What are you, a couple of sick dykes or something?" Holly took this question. "Hey. Listen up, you little brat. Number one, a lot of us don't care for that word; it's 'lesbian' to you, not 'dyke.' And just to prolong the lecture, it's definitely not 'fur-slurper,' or 'carpet-cruncher,' or 'muff-snuffer,' or any of those other cute little names you kids like to come up with. And two, if you're big enough to rob someone at knifepoint and stab them in the arm, you're big enough to serve the punishment for it." Farrah cracked her knuckles. "SPEAKing of punishment, Becka..." she sneered at her, "...What say we get on with it here?" She motioned Holly to follow her. "You just sit tight, little girl, and we'll be riiight back." They rounded the end of the hook wall to the far wall on the other side. They retrieved a jumbo sized plastic storage bin, seven feet long, two and a half feet wide, two and a half feet high, each taking an end and dragging it out to behind where Becka was sitting. "All right, up we go," said Farrah. She took Becka by the arms, as Holly took her by the legs, together lifting her off the floor high enough to deposit her body in the plastic bin. "There we are," she continued. "Now don't you go anywhere!" she teased, waggling a patronizingly scolding finger at her. She adjourned for a moment to the restroom.

Holly took a moment to circle the bin, giving Becka's naked body a once-over. She wasn't examining the girl's exposed skin as an evaluation of physical appeal, but rather vulnerability. She remembered being undressed and restrained in this same dungeon herself. And she had been completely innocent. She had robbed no one; her only crime was not having retained fare money to get home from The Twilight. She didn't know what exactly Miss Farrah had in store for her, and as she reminded herself the girl was eighteen years old, as well as conjuring up just what Miss Farrah was capable of, she almost began to feel sorry for her...until the horrifying image of her beloved Rachel's sliced-open upper arm rematerialized in her mind.

She didn't right now intend for the thoughts in her mind to progress the way they did, but the next one to run through her brain was the first time she met her angel, in the department store. Rachel had given her a bra she thought would look pretty on her. Holly took it in the fitting room and found herself secretly wanting Rachel in there with her, watching her undress. And she recalled making such beautiful love to her barely a mere twelve hours ago before this moment...her immaculate, perfect body...

...Until...

...Until...

She found herself in a personal dilemma in regards to this obviously misguided girl. Half of her actually wanted to feel for her, to know whatever traumatized her and went so wrong to set her on the path she was on. And the other half of her wanted justice, wanted to stand up for her girlfriend, defend her honor and heavily reprimand this little cretin. The latter half wanted this girl to get everything she deserved, maybe more. And this half knew it could count on Miss Farrah to give it to her. Actually, it wasn't quite half, it was more 35-65. She remembered the horrible tableau that sat before her on her bathroom floor. The blood...the peroxide...the tears. Now it was 20-80. She turned away from Becka. She didn't want to look at her right now.

Farrah returned from the lavatory, dragging a snaking object behind her. Holly turned to see what she was holding: a...garden hose? She turned and took a few steps around where Farrah was standing. It was. A hose connected to...apparently connected to the faucet. She looked puzzledly at Miss Farrah, who was holding it by the squirt trigger. She put a quick finger to her lips.

This should be interesting, she thought. "What the hell are you gonna do with that?" she asked.

Farrah answered her in two descending, low, drawn-out tones. "YOU'll see..." She aimed it right at Becka's nose and squeezed the trigger.

The sprayer's diameter was about five inches. Becka suddenly felt very, very, very cold water popping all over her face. It came at her fast and hard. Goosebumps jumped up on her skin. She started to scream but the water also formed a liquid muzzle on her. The scream turned into a panicked gargle. She started waving her arms and legs up and down as much as the restraints would allow her. When she raised her arms to cover her face, Farrah sprayed her in the breasts instead. And moved up and down on her, as she tried to protect herself with her arms. The water was freezing. And fast; it really pounded her. She flailed and flopped all about the inside of the bin, just trying to get a little relief. It was an entertaining scene; Holly had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing at her.

What Holly didn't know and Becka definitely didn't know was that there was actually a purpose to this spray treatment, but she'd need a lot more water in the bin before said purpose could be carried out. So Farrah had a little more fun with her, which amused Holly and herself a great deal. She rectangled the bin several times, soaking and showering Becka up and down, over and over. Her spastic, helpless jiggling looked ironically like a fish out of water. Each time Farrah hit her face, Becka put her arms up over her head and shook it vigorously back and forth, and so Farrah again would promptly move to her lower body, ad infinitum.

When a nice couple of inches had accumulated in the bottom of the bin, Farrah upped the ante on her. She picked up Becka's feet by the twine around her ankles, lifted them just about to a 135° angle, bent her at the knees to spread her legs a little, and sprayed her smack between the thighs, icing her from cunt to ass.

She might as well have hammered a high-striker on the pitch of Becka's voice; it shot up five octaves. Becka went crazy, shooting off a repetitive stream of quick, ear-piercing screeches, thrashing as much as she could inside the bin, which didn't offer the most generous amount of space to begin with. At this display, Holly couldn't hold it back any more. Her hand popped off her mouth and she laughed so hard she lost her balance and let herself down on her knees, gripping onto the side of the bin for support, getting herself a little wet in the process.

Becka was desperately spitting water out. "STOP it!" she cried above the top of her voice, like a four-year-old. "STOP! PLEEEEASE!!"

Oh, you poor pitiful thing, Holly mentally remarked.

"Hey, you wanna hose her down for a while?" Farrah asked Holly.

That sounded like fun. Holding on to her ankles, Farrah handed her the sprayer. Holly took over the watering.

"Thanks, that whining's already on my nerves," said Farrah, holding up her feet by the twine with her left hand and digging her fingernails into the bottoms of Becka's feet with her right. The screeching and begging morphed into guffawing and full-out, lung-puncturing screaming.

While Farrah was tickling her soles, Holly held the spray on Becka's face with the hose, just to malevolently mess with her. She did indeed seem to be reverting to a child with the facial expressions she was making and the noises her larynx produced.

"Poor little psychopath," Holly said to Farrah. "Think she's learning her lesson?"

"Oh, I think she's grasping the basic concept at least," replied Farrah. Calling down to Becka, she raised her voice, slowed down the pace of her speech and sadistically asked, "Aw, what's the matter, little girl? Things going pretty rough for you right now?"

In response, Becka just coughed and sputtered breathlessly between the forced laughs, jerking her body back and forth in the water, covering as much of her head as she could with her arms.

"Huh?" Farrah went on condescendingly in a childish voice. "Are the mean ladies tormenting you?" she taunted the shivering, shaking girl. "Are they, Becka? Are they giving you a hard time? Are those nasty old ladies making your life a living HELL?"

"Ha!" said Holly. "Yeah, literally, but she doesn't know that."

After a few more short moments of this, the water level was starting to climb almost the whole way on top of the portion of her body that still lay flat in the bin. Once Farrah decided the water had risen sufficiently, she ceased the tickle treatment and said, "Okay, that's enough."

"Aw, really? Okay," Holly agreed, releasing the spray trigger and handing it back to Farrah.

"A'right, you just rest for a minute, kiddo," Farrah told Becka, dropping her feet on the edge of the bin.

"OW!" she cried.

Farrah returned the hose to the bathroom, came back through the main area and around to where she and Holly had pulled out the plastic bin. Holly didn't exactly see what she was doing. She was plugging an extension cord into the wall. She stepped back out to Holly and Becka again, holding something else in the cradle of her arms. Extension cord socket in one hand, she looked at Holly and put her other hand's index finger to her lips. Holly raised her eyebrows inquisitively, as Farrah dramatically displayed for her...

...A Violet Wand.

An electric Violet Wand.

With an electric plug on the end of the adapter connected to it.

It wasn't the same Wand Farrah had given Holly a taste of—or rather, a whiff of—ten years ago, but a look of shock (no pun intended) clouded Holly's face anyway. She looked at the girl lying still in the water in the plastic bin, desperately inhaling and exhaling, gasping for oxygen, put it all together in her mind, then gaped back at Farrah in amazement, who carefully, soundlessly slipped the not yet plugged in Wand into the water.

"My God, you really ARE The Devil, aren't you?" Holly asked.

"And don't you ever forget it, my pets." She turned her attention to Becka. "Now, little girl...at this point, we want to ask you a few questions. You will want to consider your answers very carefully. But not for too long, of course. Oh, and I promise you this: you'll also want to be more honest than you were about your age."

Becka was still very chilly, goosebumpy and short of breath. Every part of her was drenched, and her entire torso was heaving trying to get her breathing under control. And this question the one woman just asked the other one—about her really being "The Devil"—made her feel more frightened still, and not without good reason.

"Now then, my girl," Farrah continued, addressing Becka, "The first thing I'd like to know is, where do you live?"

Farrah of course already knew, having seen the forms of ID on her, she just wanted to hear her answer.

Becka turned in her direction briefly. "W-...with my parents," she squeaked.

"Oh? Do they not take care of you?"

Becka squirmed and let out a whimper.

"Answer, please, Becka?"

"They do...take care of me," she said.

"And what, then, may I ask, are you doing out in the dead of night robbing folks with your knife at the 7-11?"

Becka turned her head back the other way and began to softly weep.

"Clock is ticking, Becka."

Becka didn't know how to answer her.

Farrah aligned the Wand's adapter's prongs with the socket. "Five...four...three...two..."

Becka didn't know what she was counting down to, but she figured she'd better try to get something out. Unfortunately, her panicked mind wouldn't cooperate. "I...I-I-I..."

"Time's up." She plugged in the Wand. It activated, and off shot the current, sending the generated shock of ionized electricity through the girl's body. The crackle of the electricity was audible, but not as audible as the pain-bursting bloodcurdler that came out of Becka's mouth. She felt as if she were zapped right out of her own skin.

Farrah let it go for two seconds, then took the plug back out. Becka's reaction after the electrocution wore off was exactly the same as would be a very small child's—as well as many other grown adults'. She threw out a wracking sob. It was comparable to an infant, but an infant would be incapable of following up a crying fit with the words, "What the fuck?!"

Farrah kneeled down in front of Becka. Leaning down to address her right in the face, she lowered her tone.

"You do know where BAD little girls go for doing bad things...do you not, Becka?"

She waited a few seconds. Becka was silent, trying to stop crying. "Well, you do now.Welcome to hell."

Becka looked at her with two horrified eyes under her blindfold.

"My name is Farrah. I'll be your tour guide."

Her bawling quieted down, hands over her eyes. "I'll give you another chance to answer," said Farrah. "Do you remember what the question was?"

"I...um..." Becka sniffled, her skin feeling like it was burning. "I needed money...for..." She exhaled another cry. "...for cigarettes."

Holly's face filled with surprise. WHOA, déjà-fucking-vu! her mind said. First Rachel, now this little thing?

"What the..." she exclaimed. She turned around and took a few paces in the opposite direction. She hated cigarettes more than she hated most things in this world. "What is it with these goddamned cigarettes?!" she wanted to know.

Farrah started to ask the next question.

"And did you h—"

"Whoa, no, no, wait a minute, Miss Farrah, hold on," Holly broke in. She looked down at Becka. "Let me get this straight, Becka. So along with her money and her phone, you stole my girlfriend's cigarettes?"

Becka turned her face this time in the opposite direction from Holly and silently wept.

This time it was Holly who added, "Clock is ticking, Becka."

"Yes! Yes! I did!" bawled Becka.

Holly looked up, a bit uncertain. She rubbed her chin, paused a moment and looked back to Farrah.

"Your witness."

She turned and walked the few steps away again, one hand on her forehead, one on her hip, doing some thinking. Farrah resumed interrogating Becka, but Holly stopped paying attention momentarily. The situation had turned somewhat ironic. Additional circumstances aside, it turned out that Becka had stopped Rachel from smoking, which was exactly what Holly had been trying to do for months. Perhaps not permanently, but in a bizarre twist, the little psycho'd held Rache off the nicotine. On the other hand, even though this small factor ended up working in Holly's favor, she also took her money, purse and phone, and stabbed her, which remained much worse.

Hmm, thought Holly. Her girlfriend was obviously now very discouraged from smoking, which was incredibly important to Holly. Yet she was also injured, and had Holly and Farrah not caught this girl, Rache'd also still be broke and have her property stolen. On top of which, this young criminal would still be walking the streets, looking for others to attack and rob. Hm, she thought again. It didn't really matter; this addiction Rachel had was something that should just be worked out between the two of them, and the girl shouldn't have stolen Rachel's things and slashed her arm in the first place. She did have to pay for it.

Still, Farrah saw the debate in Holly's face. She had paused the interrogation. Knowing what Holly was thinking, "Look at your phone," she said.

Holly turned her phone on. It was still showing the picture of Rachel's wounded arm. When she saw it again, all the anger rushed back. So that was why Miss Farrah made her take the picture: motivation. Holly was beginning to see red again. The girl might have inadvertently kept Rachel from smoking, but this was still inexcusable. Eighteen years old or not, she needed this girl to feel the pain she'd inflicted on them. She whipped back around on Farrah.

"Make her suffer."

Farrah turned back to the girl. "You heard the lady, Becka." Becka barely had time to throw out a pleading gasp before Farrah gave her another wet shock. The agony-engulfed screams echoed around the entire warehouse for three seconds this time before Farrah let her back off the hook again.

Becka was once more heaving enormous breaths to accommodate the totality of her wrenching cries. When she again regained the ability to think, she screamed, "I'm SORRY! I'm SORRY! I'm...s-...so sor-...ry!"

Holly and Farrah paused a second to look at each other.

"Aw, why, did you hear that?" Becka heard Holly ask Farrah. "She's 'sorry,'" she said, drawing the word out mockingly. Returning her gaze to the girl, she said, "Wow, y'know, that's funny, Becka, 'cause, I've gotta tell ya, it really didn't seem to me like you were quite that sorry when you were trying to rob us."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly get that vibe either," agreed Farrah.

"Let me ask you something, kid," continued Holly. "Are you sorry because of what you've done to my girlfriend, or are you sorry 'cause we caught you?"

"B-BOTH!" Becka sputtered out. "And-and everything!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry for everything!"

"You didn't think what the ramifications for such an act might be, did you?"

Becka just wept.

"No, you did not. And you know, as a teacher, I see that a lot," said Holly. "That's the problem with you children: you never consider the consequences of your actions."

"Yeah—now let me ask you something, Becka, my dear," Farrah addressed her. She knelt down to lean in close to her until their faces were only inches apart. Turning on the scary voice, she growled, "Did you really think you were gonna get away with that?"

Becka reflexively turned away from Farrah and pouted again.

Farrah gave Becka her dominant glare. She inserted the Wand plug just far enough into the socket to begin to activate it. "Your Hellmistress asked you another question, little girl."

Feeling the hint of the jolt, Becka yelped again and shouted, "No! Uh-...yes!...I...I-I don't know!"

While Farrah admonished her, Holly remembered something else Rachel had told her on the way to the hospital. She'd had a total of $37 with her at the moment she'd come out of the 7-11 with the cigarettes. She opened Rachel's purse to check the wallet. Empty.

Holly spun around in Becka's direction to start grilling her, but thought again first. She checked the girl's purse. Certain enough, near the top of the purse heap was a crumpled up wad of American currency, in the form of three 10s, a 5 and two singles.

Ah. My girlfriend's cash, thank you very much, Holly said, replacing it in its rightful spot. She had just put Rachel's wallet and purse away in a safe spot. Thank goodness Rache kept her keys in a different place, so she had a way to get home from the store, she thought. This thought, though unrelated, led her to another thought. She went back into Becka's purse to see if she could find any more cash, stolen or otherwise. And after just a little bit of digging, bingo. More cash, and...whoa. And some more interesting things, that...obviously also didn't belong to her.

Inspiration had struck. Holly squatted down on the other side of the bin, looked at Farrah with a finger to her lips, jerked her head and darted her eyes over to the side to motion Farrah to join her for a quick word.




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 03



"Okay, hang in tight there, lass. My accomplice and I shall return in just a jiffy," said Farrah. "You be good now, and don't go running off on us!"

They adjourned to the far side of the chamber.

"Let's make her a little deal," Holly whispered, showing her the large bills she'd found in the girl's purse. "She's got four hundred bucks here in 100s."

Farrah made a proud face. "Nice find," she said.

"Right. Now check it out: I've got an idea."

So Becka was granted another five-minute break. When Holly was done laying out her scheme, Farrah went and fetched her a long, thin slab of wood shaped like a ruler. Farrah and Holly returned to the bin, Holly with ruler in hand, Farrah picking up the plug and socket again.

Holly smacked the ruler down on the side of the bin, producing an echoing whack! sound that made Becka jump. "All right, students, class is in session," Holly strictly announced. "Now here's the deal, young lady. Today we're gonna have a little pop quiz."

Becka looked up at her with a strange, confused expression.

"The quiz will be five questions," she continued. "And while these are not essay questions, it won't exactly be an open-book exam either. So I hope you studied hard. Answering correctly shall keep you out of trouble, but should you answer incorrectly, severe penalties will follow. Do you understand?"

Becka squeaked out, "I...guess, but...why?"

"Hey—!" Holly whapped the bin with the ruler again. "What did we say when we brought you into our classroom? We're asking the questions here. Now then, let's begin. Question one: did you or did you not already have any money with you at the time you took my girlfriend's?"

Becka'd had a lapse of memory. She'd completely forgotten about the additional $400 in her purse.

"Um...no," she whimpered in what she believed was honesty.

Holly orally imitated a game show buzzer. "Wrong!" Immediately after which, Farrah gave her a predictable wet jolt. Once Becka started calming down from this most recent unwelcome exchange, Holly explained to her, "You see, young lady, we've found an extra $400 in your purse..."

Becka suddenly remembered. She tried to start explaining that she'd forgotten, but didn't get two words out.

"...And decided each of our pop quiz questions today will be worth $100 of it," Holly said, keeping her silent. "Ergo, that incorrect answer just cost you $100."

"Hey, b—that's mine!" Becka objected.

"Oh, certainly, now that you remembered it," countered Holly. "Too bad you got the first question wrong. Perhaps you'll do better on number two: how old must one be to legally purchase cigarettes in this state?"

"...Tw-...21?" said Becka, trying to obtain herself an excuse for stealing the smokes.

"Then again, perhaps not. The correct answer's 18, Becka. Sorry, that's another $100."

"Oh, God," she squealed, bracing herself for the next shock...but it didn't come. She opened one eye under the blindfold, then the other, waited a moment, and relaxed. Oh...guess I won't get electrocuted this time. Whew.

And then the next shock came. Zzzzzzzt!

The pain accompanying this one was almost dulled a little by the mental incredulity Becka got from the magnitude of sheer cruelty being administered upon her. Oh my God, that was so mean!! she thought. These two really were from hell!

"All right, young lady, question three," said Holly after another minute. "Have you mugged anyone else other than my girlfriend?"

Oh, God, she mentally repeated. "I-I-I..." She pouted and shivered. "I don't remember."

"Oh really?" Holly asked. "Would you like us to, uh...jolt your memory?"

She shook her head. "Mm-mm!"

"Then think. Come on now, we'd hate to have to nail you on multiple counts of theft. And I'm sure you're a pretty smart girl, smart enough not to make the same mistake twice, right?" she asked, manipulating her mind.

Becka thought. "Uh, r-...right! Right."

Holly shook her head.

"WRONG." Another zap, another outburst of agony, another $100.

"We also located some items in your purse belonging to a lady named Susan Day," Holly elaborated. "I think she may be interested in having a word or two with you herself." The girl cringed through the pain and shut her eyes, slowly starting too to remember this.

"Question four," Holly grinned. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. "If you have $400, and each pack of cigarettes costs $10, how many packs can you buy?"

Oh, God, Becka thought again. An academic one...she tried to get her mind in gear. That's pretty much simple division, the logical part of her brain told her, so, four hundred divided by ten is...

"Forty!" she said.

"OH!" exclaimed Holly, knowing forty was exactly what she'd say. "So close!" She threw Farrah the signal.

"WHAT?!" she cried, immediately after which—

ZZZZZzzzzt! "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"

"You see, hon, you forgot to figure in the sales tax. So the answer is really thirty-seven whole packs, with some change left over. But even had you gotten that correct, you don't have $400 anymore. I'm afraid you've just lost it all."

"Wh-...b-..." Becka choked back the tears and sniffled. "Y-...you tricked me!" she declared.

"Not exactly," said Holly. "Just planted a small trap you were not quite sharp enough to avoid."

Becka would have tried to bring herself to her feet and hop out, but she was drained of strength. She turned her face away from Holly. "I hate you," she uttered, really addressing Holly in this instance, but speaking in Farrah's direction.

"Aw, that's too bad," Farrah said to her. "You know, who you should really hate is yourself. Just out of curiosity, little girl, what made you decide to enter the lucrative field of the criminal arts?"

"I, um, I drmmuhduhkuh."

"Sorry? What was that again, Becka?"

"...I dropped out of school."

Holly, the teacher, gasped. "You dropped out of school?!" she exclaimed. "Shame on you!" she exclaimed. "Well, unfortunately, you weren't able to hold on to any of your money, so, I guess you know what that means. Last question, number five: what is Miss Farrah going to do to you for getting a big fat zero on our little pop quiz?"

The girl just wept. "Please don't electrocute me again," she sobbed.

"Nope," Farrah replied with one shake of the head. "No more electrocution."

"A-...are you going to kill me?" she asked, whispering the last two words.

The Hellmistress gave a small closed-mouth chuckle.

"Oh, I have no intention of killing you, Becka," she heard Farrah's voice say. "None at all."

It still didn't help put Becka's mind at ease, but Farrah continued. "It wouldn't accomplish anything productive, really; after all, you are already in hell. Besides which, what I'm gonna do to you is worse than death." She got up and again returned to the area where they'd gotten the bin.

"Oh, God...what? What? What are you gonna do?" Becka wailed.

"Well," said Holly, picking up her ankles, "We're gonna start by untying your feet..." She gave her feet a little tickle, then began undoing the twine. "But don't get excited; you're not going anywhere just yet."

Becka obediently lay still to have her feet untied, which Holly finished doing just about the time Farrah returned from around the corner...with something else on her.

Again, Holly and Farrah picked the girl up, all four limbs in their four arms, lifting her out of the bin and laying her on the floor. They next picked up the bin, turned it over, doused the girl with the water and placed it back on the floor beside her, bottom up. "Okay, little girl, time to perform the final act, which will bring your little trip through hell to a close."

The last words might have comforted her mind just a bit, but she was still petrified, trying to get water out of her nose, mouth and ears. "What's that?" she mumbled, wiping her face on her arms.

As they again took her arms and legs and lay her now on top of the upside-down bin, Holly stepped in with the next query. "Well, let me ask you something before she gets into that, Becka." She paused for a beat and asked her sternly, "Are you going to rob anybody again?"

Becka was desperate. "NO! Never! I swear, I never will again!"

"Now you think hard about this, Becka. You've seen what can happen to you when you do an especially bad thing. And for most, doing dishonest things leads to doing more dishonest things: lying, cheating, stealing, et cetera. So when you answer this question, you'd better mean it. Are you EVER...going to attack or steal from another human being again for the rest of your life?"

She answered again immediately the same way. "NO. I promise! Never!"

Holly looked at Farrah. "Mm, I dunno...what do you think?"

Farrah shrugged. "Well, she seems pretty sincere to me."

"Don't forget, Becka, Miss Farrah will know if you ever do something like this again."

She nodded fearfully. "I won't! I-I-I won't forget, and I won't ever do it again."

They wanted a few minutes. Finally, Holly said, "...I think we can believe her."

"Yeah," Farrah agreed. "All right, little girl, we believe you."

"Oh, thank you," Becka said quietly.

"Yeah," said Farrah, starting to spread her legs apart. "So, tell you what...you flunked your little pop quiz, but you do seem pretty apologetic, so I'll ease up on you a little..." She stroked the strap-on she was wearing as if masturbating an actual penis. "...And so, I'm just gonna rape you for half an hour."

Becka's brain sent the signal to her lungs to explode. "WHAT??!" she erupted, close to a pitch only dogs could hear.

Farrah leered down at her, maliciously chuckling at her.

Becka let out a "NOOOOOOOOO!" just about the same pitch as her previous outburst. Farrah returned to the area where all her supplies were kept. Becka's legs were now free, but she still didn't see what good could be accomplished. If she tried anything, they'd just catch her. Holly returned her eyes to the window.

"Oh, Miss Farrah, the sun's starting to come up," she remarked.

"Is it? Well. Better take care of this right now then," said Farrah, coming back with the object in her hand, grasping onto Becka's thighs close enough to keep them immobile and also to spread her labia apart.

Becka's body went nauseous and her stomach flipped. She tried to sit up and bat Farrah's hands away with her own entwined front paws. "Uh, Holly doll," Farrah called to her. Holly noticed. She trotted to the back side of the bin, grabbed her wrists, pulled them back down above her head and held her down, to Becka's dismay and incessant tantrums.

"The more you complain, the worse it'll be," Holly warned her. "You had better stop the whining, you little slimeball. Miss Farrah doesn't like that. If you start whining and crying, she WILL tickle the shit out of you till you can't breathe. Trust me, you can take my word for it; I found that out the hard way."

Once Farrah'd got Becka's vagina open wide enough, she touched the cattle prod she'd just fetched to it. "Now, Becka, little girl, first of all, let me show you what I'm not going to do to you." Zap!

Becka let loose a voice-destroying siren of a scream that blew all her previous screams out of the water. The pain in her tender vagina was excruciating, and indescribable. It hurt SO bad. She didn't think there were any tears left in her. She was very wrong.

Holly almost felt that herself. DAMN, she thought. Glad you never gave ME a taste of that thing.

"See that, Becka? I am not gonna do that to you at this time. But should it prove necessary to bring you back to justice and back to my dungeon after this morning, now you've an idea what you may expect."

She tossed the cattle prod to the floor. "Now then, on with the rape." She again pried her pussy lips open enough to ease the strap-on in, grabbed her by the calves, pulled her to a steeper angle and indeed commenced to penetrating her. Becka heard the warning Holly had given her about complaining and crying, but she couldn't help it. Feeling the penetration and invasion of her vagina against her will, she screamed and writhed like an infant.

"Go ahead, scream as loud as the hell you want," Farrah told her. "No one's gonna hear ya."

As for Holly, she was no longer needed, so she released Becka's restrained wrists and returned to her belongings. She put the $37 Becka'd taken from Rache in Rache's purse, and returned the $400 to Becka's. She wanted Becka to think she was taking the money from her, but Holly just wasn't by nature a thief, so she didn't. What she did take with her, however, was the additional purse Becka had snitched—which belonged to the woman named Susan Day—so she could give it back to her.

Watching the performance, she could very well have possibly become entertained and highly turned on, but she was getting sleepy, and she really just wanted to get back home to her Rachel. Slinging both purses over her shoulder, Holly turned back to them. "All right, I'm leaving," she loudly announced so Farrah could hear her over Becka's outraged protests.

Farrah didn't say anything, but just kept her smiling eyes on Becka's horrified face.

"Thanks for the help, Miss Farrah," shouted Holly. Looking down at their young friend, she added, "And thank you for the money, Becka. This'll be able to take care of much more than just the hospital bill for which you owe us. Now, I think I'll go buy something nice for my girlfriend...something to the tune of about $400." Again, only making the girl believe she'd taken her money, adding illusory insult to injury.

Becka kept trying to get away from Farrah, but her legs were at too steep an angle from the rest of her body, and Farrah had too strong a grip on her. She made what seemed like every possible desperate tortured sound a human being could, but Farrah wasn't fazed in the least. She'd heard them all dozens of times before.

"STOP it!!" Becka futilely yelled at her. "Get off me! Let me GO!!"

Farrah laughed a petrifying villainous laugh. "You're saying that as if you actually expect me to do it," she shouted back down at the terror-riddled Becka.

"Oh, God, I hate you!! Stop it, you sick fucking bitch!" she cried.

Again, not fazed. "Now just what the hell do you think I'm gonna do when you say that?" Farrah chuckled at her matter-of-factly.

"FUCK YOU!" Becka screamed at Farrah, her explosive outbursts continuing to bounce right off her.

"You're adorable," she commented. Punctuating her remark, Farrah threw her head back and delivered the most wicked, dynamic, horrifying cackle Becka had ever heard. Becka could have sworn she heard a rumbling crash of thunder accompany the laugh.

"Oh, cheer up, kid," Farrah told her. "The nightmare's almost over."

Ten to fifteen more minutes of sheer torture later, Farrah finally decided she'd had enough and pulled the strap-on all the way out of the girl's almost bleeding wrecked purple cunt. At this point, however, it seemed as if nothing could provide Becka any measure of relief or comfort whatsoever. Farrah knew what she still could get her, though. She sat the bucket on the floor and untied the soaked blindfold from the girl's eyes. Becka rolled over from the top of the bin to the floor, next to the bucket, stared down into it...and the Hellmistress gave her a moment of privacy.

Farrah put the strap-on away, returned to the eighteen-year-old no-longer-virgin and plucked her wet, sticky strands of hair out of her forehead to brush them behind her ears. She dropped into the lav one more time to get her some paper towels. She tore some off the roll and handed them to her. "Here, blow."

She squatted down in front of Becka. "Congratulations, little girl," she said. "You survived."

Becka had no strength to argue or grouse anymore. She still hated Farrah, and still felt utterly destroyed by her, whether she deserved any of it or not, but couldn't muster the energy to say or do anything about it. And though Becka didn't know it, now that the sun was up, Farrah had turned human for the day.

Five more minutes went by for Becka to get her face cleaned up. She guessed she should probably go ahead and get dressed now, but then what would she do after that...on top of everything else, she'd spent the last two and a half hours being traumatized, mistreated, abused and overall feeling like her guts had been ripped out. Though if she were entirely honest with herself, it wasn't as if she'd never mistreated another person in her life. She didn't know if she deserved a castigation of quite this measure to even things up, but one thing was for certain: she was indeed never going to assault or steal from another innocent person ever again.

"Well then," Farrah said. "I suppose that one option is we could take you to the cops..."

Becka looked at her wide-eyed. There was something she wanted very much to say to her vis-à-vis this suggestion, but Farrah went on, "...but you've already served a pretty impressive sentence in my little prison here. And somehow, I have a feeling you won't be doing anything like that again."

The girl vigorously shook her head in agreement that she wouldn't.

"Well, under the circumstances," replied Farrah, "Now that you've seen what happens when you misbehave—and as long as you remember what can happen again, at any point—and don't you EVER forget it, little girl—if you share the details of our morning together..." she pointed to her with an ominous voice, making her shiver, "I suppose I can take you back home."

Becka was dreading this, even though she'd just wanted the ordeal to be over from the beginning. "I..." she muttered. "I, um...I can't go home."

"Why not?"

Again, Becka was really not keen on confiding in a woman who had just done all these horrific things to her, culminating in ripping her virginity right out of her, but she also figured what choice did she have, and she'd seen what happened when she didn't answer the woman's questions. Becka lifelessly explained to Farrah that being a kleptomaniac, when her parents originally learned that she had begun stealing, they had given her chance after chance to straighten herself up and stop, but when she ultimately just couldn't, they had to resort to the psych ward, from which she'd busted out and run away no more than just a couple of days ago. And for these last couple days, her parents were still under the impression she was being treated at the ward.

When she finished her story, Farrah processed the info.

"Well, Becka, I think you know what you have to do then."

They both knew.

"Come on, then," Farrah told her. "Up and at 'em. Get dressed."

***

June 3rd, 7:07 a.m.

Holly had made a quick trip to the 24-hour pharmstore on the way home to get a present for her beloved. She had now of course softened from the way she'd felt six hours ago. A small part of her did feel a little sorry for Becka even though things happened the way they did, but she knew Farrah would straighten her out. And she also knew she couldn't hold focus on this; she couldn't concentrate on the past, recent or distant. She had to keep her eyes on the present and immediate future. And on the way home, she'd thought of a wonderful way to do so.

She made a mental note to locate and contact Miss Susan Day about her stolen property and return it to her, rounded the corner back around to Rosebud Avenue, hoping to heaven Rachel was still there (and also hopefully still asleep, though if necessary she'd settle for her just being there). She was, Holly contentedly noted. She parked, collected the purses and took them inside.




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 03



She opened the door as quietly as she could, but Hobbie still heard her, with his superior feline ears, promptly running to the living room to greet her. Having been in bed with Rachel, Holly could tell he'd still missed her quite a bit. The door shut and locked, she knelt down on the floor to hold and stroke him.

"Aw, my sweet kitty," she murmured adoringly as he encircled her petting hands, purring, turning his head sideways and flattening his ears rubbing up against her. "You really love Mommy so much...I know, I know. Yes, you do. Where's Auntie Rachel, still in bed?"

She slipped down the hall with Rachel's purse, Hobbie dancing behind her. The door was of course wide open now, Hobbie having pawed it ajar. She stopped as she reached the doorway, and her heart melted.

There she was. Her cherub. Still sound asleep.

Hobbie caught up with her and began figure-eighting her legs, dropping in an occasional meow. Holly placed her steps on the way to the bed carefully, so as not to step on or trip over the cat. When she reached the head of the bed on which they had just made tender, passionate love fifteen hours ago, she knelt down on the right side to take in the vision of enchantment which lay before her eyes. Several strands of her flax-blonde and goldlit hair hung down over her face. Something about the nuance Rachel's stray hairs added to her heavenly face reached into Holly, squeezed her heart and made her fall in love with her all over again, exactly the way she did the first time they met.

I know it's a cliché, but the absolute first time I saw your face, somehow, I knew. I just had to be with you.

Her slumbering angel looked so peaceful, tranquil and serene Holly almost wanted to cry. She crossed her arms on the bed and laid her head on them, making visual love to her face.

Rachel suddenly turned her face to the side with an unconscious giggle and muttered in her sleep, "Holly, stop th..."

She raised her head. Huh? she thought.

Rachel let out another giggle and slurred out, "No, Holly, sto..."

Stop? Stop what? And why are you giggling?

Suddenly, she noticed what was happening. Hobbie had jumped up on the bed where Rachel's bare foot was sticking out from under the blanket, and he was nuzzling and kissing it with his wet nose. Holly giggled herself when she saw it. Oh, no wonder, she thought with a cute smile. Goofy boy.

Rachel's cashmere blue eyes fluttered open. "H-...Holly?"

Still looking at Hobbie, Holly said, "It's all right, honey, it's just the cat."

"...What's just the cat?"

She turned back to Rache's face. "Oh, Rache, sweetie, you're awake!" Holly laughed. She kissed her. When they broke from the kiss, both now with conscious giggles, Rachel smiled for a second, then asked, "Hey, how come you're all the way over there? You're not in bed."

"Oh, yeah," Holly said. "Well, I wanted to wait for you to wake up to ask you something, but first I wanted to let you know, I got your purse back." She showed her. "Your money, phone, everything."

For a second Rachel didn't know what she was talking about, but she remembered quickly. "Oh! My God! Thank you, Holly, you're the BEST!" She reached up to put her arms around her, but then lowered her left arm back down with an, "Ooh! Ouch!"

Holly took her right hand. "I know, it hurts. It's all right, it'll be okay soon. In the meantime, I have something I want to tell you," she said. "Oh, but first, let me get this out of the way." She put down the purse and showed her the bag from the drugstore. "I got you a nicotine patch."

She wasn't sure how Rachel would take this, but she just said, "Aw...thanks Holly, you're such a sweetie."

"I know. So here's what I really wanted to say. All the details aren't really important, but in the last few hours I've come to realize just how much I care for you...and cherish you...and how terribly sad I'd feel if you weren't in my life, and, uh..."

She hadn't worked out the entire speech, but it wasn't that difficult to come up with it as she went along. "And, well, we don't have to focus on it, but when I saw what happened to you last night, I got really scared, Rache. All I could think about was how close I came to losing you. I couldn't bear to go through that. I can't imagine my life without you. And I know I don't have a—..."

She stopped before she said the last word, realizing it would blow the surprise. She backed up and started the sentence again. "...I...and I know you already made one promise to me last night, but if I can ask you to make me just one more promise right now..."

She started to choke up. "...Will you promise to..." She blinked and sniffled. "...Make me the absolute happiest girl on Earth, and..."

Rachel's eyes widened. Holly curled her fingers around Rachel's and caressed her face with the other hand.

"...Rachel Millerstein...will you...be my wife? Will you marry me?"

A rush of pure exhilaration and delight washed Rachel's face. She gasped, waited about three seconds and said, "Uh...yeah!" An obvious answer, of course; the proposal could have served as just a formality, but it was still a lovely show of devotion on Holly's part and Rachel was very appreciative and charmed by it.

Two initial tears of joy leapt to Holly's eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed, laying another passionate long one on her lips. "I love you so so so much!" she burst when they broke from this kiss. Taking a quick time-out for one short slightly less romantic moment, she punched her fist in the air and hollered, "YES!!"

Rache giggled. "Well, hey, then...future bride..." Rachel said to her between further kisses, "How about a...little bit of, uh...lovin'? For your new fiancée?"

It was Holly eyes' turn to widen. "Y—...really?" she asked. "...You're in the mood?"

"Holly, you know me; when am I not in the mood?"

"Mm. Good point, babe." Holly didn't want to come out and say she needed some sleep, because she didn't want to have to explain why, thereby undoubtedly spoiling things. She decided to just go ahead with it, and then fall asleep immediately afterwards, so that Rachel would think it must have been so good it knocked her right out. Yes, she determined. Infinitely better idea.

"Let's do it."

Rachel grinned. Not completely able to punch the air with a fist, she just closed her eyes and hollered, "YES!!" She looked into Holly's lovely dark brown eyes. "I don't mean to be indelicate, honey bun, but when you just proposed to me, you just gave me some major tingling action in my—"

"Mrrrraaaoow," interrupted Hobbie, walking right in between them and laying down on Rachel's face. They both took a second to digest the irony, then laughed out loud.

"Right," said Rachel. "What he said."

The sex was short but sweet. After putting Hobbie in the other room—again—and Rachel shifted to the other side of the bed, Holly crawled up onto the bed, propped herself on her elbow, took Rachel's face in both hands, laid an establishing kiss on her to initiate the heat, and off their hands started on their journeys. Luckily, Rachel was right-handed, and Holly was both left- and right-handed.

The following eighteen minutes were among the happiest of their lives. It wasn't long before the mutual fondling started, in their mutual favorite spot. And tired as Holly was, when Rachel's hand slipped to her nether-region to thrill her, Holly felt the fireworks go off. She took Rachel's arm, her own hand joined Rachel's hand, and she squeezed her thighs together. Holly stopped rubbing Rachel, but she didn't care. Rachel, who had just woken up, had enough energy for both of them and plenty left over. When they finally reached eighteen minutes, Rachel had fingered Holly's pussy exactly hard enough and masterfully enough to rock her so hard over the edge she couldn't see it anymore. And she did fall asleep immediately afterwards. And Rachel went right to work on herself.

***

Epilogue

Later on the morning of Saturday, June 3rd, a scared, drained, empty and cold Becka Amanda Weeks was not turned in to the police department or arrested, but returned to the psych ward she'd left shortly before. Now having been re-admitted and genuinely wanting help, support and guidance, she has allowed herself to accept help and treatment for her kleptomania. One June later, her old wounds now given time to heal, with an understanding of her mental disorder, as well as the techniques and tools she'll need on her path—not to mention the original, unmentionable motivation she received from the Hellmistress—she's going home. She is certain, however, that it can't hurt to maintain therapy with a professional, just to be cautious.

Rachel Keri Millerstein—now Rachel Keri Greentree—took a leave of absence from the store for a week to recuperate, and paid a follow-up visit to the hospital on June 10th. She was allowed to remove her no longer painful arm's dressing, replacing it with a Band-Aid until healing completely. She returned to work wearing a beautiful engagement ring, a beautiful smile and a beautiful nicotine patch. Some of her nights have been rough fighting off her cigarette addiction, but these nights have since become fewer and farther between. She finished moving all her things to Holly's house and Holly has encouraged her to come up with a list of hobbies to possibly develop and fill her spare time, diverting her mind's focus away from tobacco—and from the surplus sex which has been wearing Holly out. Rachel's libido remains locked in hyperdrive. For her last birthday, Holly bought her a vibrator and what for Rachel works out to about a year's worth of batteries.

Holly Lil Greentree spent the weekend nursing and tending to her fiancée, and when Rachel regained enough energy, Holly took her to pick out a ring. She rode out the final week of the school year, and put in notice for her own leave of absence. She immediately started throwing together the wedding, losing as little time as possible. Working tirelessly day and night—pausing for a more than occasional sexual romp with her betrothed—with the help of her friends and family, she managed to pull together a lovely ceremony in the span of a single month and a half. Holly and Rachel got married on Sunday, July 30th. Rachel opted to take her last name after they wed. Three weeks into August, the next school year started up, and the first Sunday after was Holly's 31st birthday. When Rachel asked her where she wanted to go, Holly said, "Absolutely anywhere, EXCEPT a club." 



Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 04



SS45: "Beyond Hell And Back IV: Eternal Damnation" 

*** 

Not much to say; if you read the first three "BHaB"s, you know the score. Wasn't sure I could push the LesBDSM envelope any further, I guess we'll find out. I categorized this under Lesbian Sex, though it has both BDSM and non-BDSM. And this turned out to be another holiday tribute, even though I've actually already paid homage to this specific holiday, in an earlier story. 

*** 

October 30th, 3:08 p.m. 

Rachel Keri Greentree was happier than a clam. 

Everything in her life right now seemed just...perfect: her job, her marriage, her relationships, her incredible as ever sex life, the whole lot of it. She had no complaints. Her superiors at Rax 4th Avenue, the department store in the mall where she worked, had granted her the day off, so she'd slept in till eleven, masturbated magnificently with the birthday present her wife had given her last year, garnered herself not one but a whopping two Earth-rocking orgasms, bathed, dressed, had a bite to eat and taken a bike ride along the trail that started at the church and went on mile after mile until letting off its visitors at the water park. 

When she returned from her cycling trip, their cat Hobbie met her at the door and announced that it was time to give him treats and play. She did so, first sprinkling some kitty morsels in the top level of his tree-castle, then tossing a mouse toy down the hall for him to continually chase, retrieve and return, frolickingly working off the treats. 

Hobbie eventually decided he was sleepy and would retire to his regal sanctum sanctorum for a gloriously indefinite nap. This left Rachel pondering what to do now, so she flipped on the radio, stripped down to her birthday suit and danced into the kitchen to strap on the apron and start whipping up something tasty. 

The purposes of getting naked first were twofold. Number one, the apron was durable but silky soft, and felt very nice against her bare skin. And the other intention, of course, when her honey bear Holly returned home, was to entice her with the hospital gown-like getup, showing off her pleasing round bare ass, with only the apron string around her waist, keeping her front flirtatiously shrouded. Unlike her department store work apron—which she wore on the job, and thus would not be a very grand idea to wear in the nude—this apron was green and read MAKE LOVE TO THE COOK, SHE'S IRISH—even though Rachel was Jewish, and Holly was Anglo-Saxon, German and a few other things; neither of them was in fact Irish, but when they found the apron, it was too adorable to resist. They could indulge in a little fantasy and pretend to be Irish if it got them some action. 

Actually, Rachel was prepared to do just about anything it took to get Holly to give her a little action. Sexual compulsives aside, Rachel's libidinous drive was positively unrivaled. For her, it was an orgasm a day that kept the proverbially scary doctor away. Sex was understandably at its finest with her sweetheart, but far from unsatisfying otherwise. Whether it be her tireless vibrator, their pulsating shower head, any part of Holly, or her own hand, the source was less important than the actual pleasure itself—which was not, however, to say that Rachel's passion was to be found with anyone else. She was beyond a hundred percent devoted to Holly Lil Greentree, and vice versa. They had been married one year and a couple of months now, and a hint of anything resembling infidelity had yet to even cross their minds. Why should it, there was no reason. 

On the other hand, Rachel did tend to wear Holly out with her incessant hunger for lovemaking, and even she knew when to say when. Both the Greentree wives felt it was important to find lots of different things to do together, both in and out of the bedroom. Rachel's list of personal hobbies and activities rather paled in comparison to Holly's, so they came up with more things for Rachel to try, both alone and together. One that she'd begun to really enjoy this year was cooking. 

Rachel worked in the mall, where most of her meals came from the food court. Most at home were either in the form of defrostable TV dinners or were fixed by Holly, and Rache started thinking it would be nice to even out the preparatory kitchen time. Especially since Holly had a longer commute to work. On top of which, though Rachel wasn't yet aware of this, one factor had started really wearing on Holly's nerves at the middle school where she taught. 

Very much enjoying being domestic in this area—the apron and oven mitts made her feel sweet and cute, like Holly's "Honey, I'm home!" house-frau—Rachel had grown fascinated in honing her culinary skills, and reading recipes in general. When she felt brave enough to try a few, she found with delight that this was something she was surprisingly good at. It wasn't often she came across things at which she both derived enjoyment and excelled with finesse. For Holly, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, now that she could come home, plop on the sofa, put her feet up and wait for a tasty din-din to be served. 

Today, a little after three, as Holly was about to return home, it was early to start on dinner, but Rachel was excited to try her hand at a new dish, and if she happened to screw it up some way or another, there would be time to make alternative supper arrangements. She was tossing them together a pan-seared cast-iron salmon, with the radio on extra loud to be heard above the skillet. She put on her best Jen Foster voice and crooned along with the music. 

"I didn't just kiss her...we went all the way and I liked it!...What's the point in trying to hide it?...You never know till you've tried it!..." she belted, dancing on her toes and scatting around the lyrics. "I didn't just kiss her...she put it on my tongue and I licked it!...I think she wishes she could forget it...But she sure seemed to love every minute!..." 

What Rachel didn't know was that her wife was just about to walk in the door. Hobbie, on the other hand, heard her approach and enter her key, perking up his ears. He leapt from the kitty castle and ran to greet her. 

Unfortunately, Holly wasn't exactly in the mood to be cheerfully greeted this afternoon. Rachel shut off the stove and turned down the tunes just as she came in. 

Holly angrily slung her purse from around her shoulder and slammed it into the corner of the sofa. 

"Daughter of a BITCH!" she yelled. 

Rachel's feet went cold hearing this fiery exclamation in lieu of the semi-consistent "Honey, I'm home!" 

"Sorry!" came her voice from the kitchen. "What'd I do??" 

"Oh," Holly looked up. "Not you, sweetie. Remember I told you that new girl, Simona Herrington, just started in the administrative office a few weeks ago?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Her. The little troll's making everyone's life friggin' miserable," Holly snarled. 

"Really? Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, hon." 

Holly paced around the living room to let off steam, tagged behind by Hobbie like the attention-seeking kitty cat he was. "Rache, everybody hates her. She's only, like, 23, and she's already just...such a rat! It's like she spends her regular hours just thinking of awful things to do to people! Like they're essentially paying her to be a dick!" 

"Wow...is she really that bad?" 

"Worse. Last week she put a live cockroach in Darlene's briefcase! Monday she was making a latte for Peg and she spit in it! Yest—oh, and YESTerday—you know Emily Wing, the history teacher? She's Chinese? Well, apparently Simona accidentally made an unsightly dent in Emily's car, right? So once she comes in, I swear to God, she goes, 'Oh, sorry I put a chink in your car, but then again, there was already one in there to begin with, right?! Har-har-har!'" Holly mockingly mimicked her. "And that's the most pathetic part: she actually thinks this shit's funny!" 

"Oh, my God, she sounds horrible!...What'd she do to you?" 

"Oh, today? Well, just TODAY, for instance, I ended up in a five-minute argument with the principal 'cause I was supposed to have gotten some messages in my inbox—only, I did, but guess who threw 'em in the trash?!" 

"You're kidding!" said Rachel, getting angry on Holly's behalf. "What is she, four fucking years old?? What a bitch!" 

"Yeah, and the worst part is she just gets away with it 'cause she's the principal's niece!" 

"Oh, Lord," sighed Rache. "My 'total bullshit' alarm just went off. Well, I wish I knew what to tell you, sweetheart. Seems to be a law in the workplace that every woman has another woman in her office whose presence basically makes her life a living hell." 

"Yeah, except you." 

Rachel walked herself right into that one. Everyone in her store was very nice. She thought she'd just...kinda...shut up now. 

"...I walked myself right into that one. Everyone in my store is very nice. I think I'll just...kinda...shut up now." 

Holly now felt guilty for turning her anger on her beloved wife. She was still quite piffled off from work, and now that she was home, only her sweet bride was directly in her line of fire. She dropped into the kitchen to hug her from behind. 

"Aw, baby, Holly sorry," she amended in her small child's voice, slipping her arms around Rachel's middle, dabbing soft kisses over her neck and shoulders. 

"Mmmm, smells divine," commented Holly. "So does the food, by the way." She danced her fingertips down Rachel's back. 

"Honey..." Rachel giggled giddily, "That tickles! Come on, I'm cooking here!" 

A hand stroked down Rachel's naked bottom and glided between her legs, accompanied by the sultry voice. 

"That makes two of us." 

Rachel's paws instinctively fixed on the countertop for support as she involuntarily laid her head back, gasped and moaned. 

"Oh, God..." 

"I'm sorry I took out my anger on you, angel," Holly purred in Rachel's ear. "Why don't you come with me, and, eh... 

"Let me make it up to you?" she proposed, lowering her voice. 

"Oh, Holly..." Rachel groaned as Holly roguishly strummed a single index finger just barely tangibly beneath her unsuspectingly naked pussy. It tingled so torturously, and so good. "Oh my fucking God..." 

Holly smirked and again whispered coquettishly and girlishly in her ear. 

"Hey, I'm just doing what the apron says." 

"Oh, God, but the foo—...OH FUCKING GOD..." 

Rachel went weak in the knees. Her head lolled back until her gold-highlit hair fell over Holly's shoulder. Her legs shook unsteadily. Holly poured it on, showering her lovely trembling feminine body with heated, breathy kisses about the collar and shoulder blades. Rachel wasn't going to be able to withstand this very much longer at all. 

"Bu—...but, Holly...wh—...what about dinner?" 

Holly paused long enough to murmur a quick fix as time-old as the invention of electricity itself. 

"Throw it in the fridge." 

"But-but it'll b—" 

Her argument was cut off by Holly's reaching into the inside of her apron and fondling her while simultaneously reaching her right leg around Rachel's, pulling her legs further apart and seizing access to the insides of her labia. Rachel cried in ecstasy. 

"OHHHH!" she wailed. "FUCK!" 

Suddenly, Holly's suggestion regarding supper went directly past good into downright necessary. 

"Okay," Rachel automatically obeyed, allowing herself to be gently, but literally, dragged, by the pussy, into the bedroom. 

*** 

October 30th, 5:21 p.m. 

A simple manipulation of Hobbie's interests by sprinkling some small pieces of rotisserie chicken—which he could eat safely—into His Royal Catness' food bowl, along with his regular eats, granted the Greentrees some quality intimacy time without any cat-astrophic interruptions. Even if he gobbled down all the chicken, next on his schedule would likely be another long nap. 

The apron made it about halfway down the hall from the kitchen before crumpling to the floor and being trampled upon by four eager bare feet stamping their way to the bedroom. Slam! went the door, and it was a go. 

Leaping in with so much ferocity they almost turned the bed into a trampoline, Holly and Rachel wasted nary a moment locking limb and lip, caressing endlessly, turning hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter, fiercer and fiercer... 

Holly was still half-dressed, in bra and panties with her unbuttoned work shirt hanging off her arms and shoulders, but that was okay by Rachel. Seeing as Holly wanted as much foreplay as she could get a firm grasp on, and Rachel didn't really need hardly any, things began semi-regularly with a naked Rachel and a less naked Holly and proceeded from there. And Rachel had to more or less force herself to wait until Holly was really revved up and ready to get nasty. 

There was no way to anticipate how long this might take—Rachel was given no clues by the tone of Holly's mood on a given day or anything—and though it drove Rachel crazy, she loved it because she loved her wife. Holly, relishing being in control in this area, would sometimes reach the point at which foreplay had to cease, but yet hold it back even longer, for the sole purpose of tormenting poor Rachel and making her burn for it, until Holly too could simply wait no longer. 

Delighting in the sadistic knowledge that Rachel couldn't read her mind, Holly loved to toy with her about how long she would have to wait each time they made love before proceeding to have explosively hot sex. It all depended on how kinkily evil she was feeling. Today, her troublemaking office administrator—the school principal's niece, Simona Herrington—had put her in a bad mood, and it would appear the unfortunate Rachel would be paying the price for it—albeit in this fun form. 

Admittedly, were Holly to be honest with herself, this was sort of her ulterior motive upon coming in and putting the moves on her sweetie. Self-serving and devious as it was, she knew Rachel practically worshiped at her altar, and would do anything for her, up to and including (but not limited to) enduring all the release-prolonging foreplay Holly could throw at her. It was one of the perks of being downright adorably irresistible. 

Sometimes the girls used a form of bondage to kink things up, but on an occasion such as this they wanted feisty spontaneity, of which they'd be robbed by the extra time and trouble gone to with restraints. Rachel's sex drive was comparable to the engine of a high-performance sports car which could go from zero to sixty in just about two seconds flat. That really was all it took, and she was ready. Holly's engine purred like a kitten and couldn't take too much at once, or she'd be knocked out of the mood. Holly's tachometer had to be accelerated gradually, carefully, gingerly, sloooooooowly, until she finally ignited hot enough to catch up to Rachel, to her wife's relieved euphoria. 

Which was not to say that Rachel did not enjoy foreplay with Holly; for her, it was okay enough to serve its purposes, it just didn't utterly blow her mind the way the dirty deed itself did. And after a year being married, she was well accustomed to what her wife liked. She manually covered as much territory as possible while planting a heart-shaped pattern of slow, sizzling kisses around Holly's face: starting at the chin, ascending up either jawline, curving the ascent at the temple, arching at the forehead, down just a bit between the eyebrows, and back up again to symmetrically do the other side. This was a little tricky to focus on while also maintaining the hand-eye coordination to fondle the rest of Holly's body, but if she could do these things, she could make Holly very pleased. And the more pleased Holly was, the much more PLEASED Rachel would be. 

Eyes shut in helpless devotion as Rachel did her thing, Holly moaned sublimely. "Oh baby..." she whispered as her fingers rode lovingly through Rachel's beautiful golden hair. As her arms made their ways back around Rachel, who went on with the lovely foreplay, Holly soon rewarded her by squeezing her extra tight, pressing up and massaging Rachel's waiting breasts with her own. After indefinitely giving Holly what she so craved, this offering of reciprocation already felt so beautiful, a wave of happiness crested over Rachel and enchanted her through and through. Feeling more fueled, she in turn increased aggression on Holly, and Holly's sensations began to go wild as she cried, pleaded and begged for more. 

Holly slipped under the surface of the ocean along with Rachel and felt the powerful undertow pulling her like a water-ski. The next chapter of their magical romp through the sensual world was underway. Fingers bumping, hearts thumping, breasts jumping, legs pumping, thighs humping, all was ratcheted up a notch and Holly's inner tachometer resumed its starting position at the onset of rev number two. Her pussy dampened and secreted at the feeling of Rachel's already drenched cunt leaking passionate moisture onto her thighs. Rachel's starving pussy ached, twitched and swelled for love. She forced herself to keep her own hands—as well as Holly's hands—off of it, but she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. 

"Oh God!...Holly!..." Rachel sobbed, heaving gasping breaths, dying to get on with it. "P—...PLEASE!" 

Holly opened her eyes to take in her wife's entreating, begging face. Oh, she looked just so desperate. Holly was planning to make her wait, but...ah, what the hell. She supposed she could take mercy on her, this time. 

Holly gave her a nod and a smoky smirk. 

"All right, Rachel." 

Rachel opened her eyes wide and hopeful to meet Holly's. 

"We're gonna take care of you now—on one condition," Holly stipulated. Rachel watched her lips curl into a full sexy smile. 

"And that is...you'd better give me one hell of a show." 

Rachel's face lit up and shone as if alit by a beam. Her heart pounded a mile a minute as another wave drowned her in passion. "YES MA'AM!" she promised bountifully. 

Holly grinned wickedly and whipped off her shirt, subsequently unhooking her bra. 

"Teeth," she ordered, indicating the clasp between the cups. Rachel bit and took hold of it in her mouth and yanked it off. 

"Good girl. Now..." Holly next shimmied her panties down her legs and pointed to them. "...Feet." 

Clasp still in mouth, Rachel whipped her head back and opened her teeth to let the bra fly, held Holly with her arms and spread her toes to take hold of her panties. With the use of both feet she managed to remove them and kick them too off the bed. 

"'At's my baby," praised Holly. "Now what'll it be? Oral, manual, pedal, strap-on, scissor, anal, or other?" 

"OOOOoooh," Rachel considered the options before her mind settled. "Oh, I know! I want you up here with me so I can kiss you and hold your hands, so..." She thought of a whimsical example of sexy wordplay, and tried it out. "...Dil-do me!" 

Hearing how this sounded out loud, Rachel abruptly pursed her lips tight together and turned a bit red. Holly smiled. 

"That sounded better in your head, didn't it?" 

"Um, way better, yes," nodded a slightly embarrassed Rachel. 




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 04



Holly smoothed her fingers over one of her wife's rosy cheeks. "No matter; okay, strap-on it is!" 

She went into their toy box and rummaged about till she located the large beige-orange artificial cock, nice and sturdy, trusty and dependable—virtually the exact words on the box when they bought it. Back and ass to her wifey on the bed, she fastened it on and turned around, but unfortunately, she bumped it against the corner of the dresser. 

"Ooooh!" Holly exclaimed with a wince, rubbing the end of the dildo where she whacked it on the bureau. "I hurt my dick!" she chuckled. "That's a definite ouch." 

"And it stayed hard!" Rachel joked along. "It's a miracle! It's the cock of the gods!" 

They laughed for a second before Holly became serious again. 

"All right, you," barked Holly, turning strict. "That'll be enough of that. Now get on your back and prepare to be rampaged." 

Rachel almost came right on the spot. 

*** 

October 30th, 7:01 p.m. 

Wearing only her protruding rubber dick, Holly roughly shoved Rachel's legs to either side of the bed, leering down at her where she stood. Her sinister eyes wordlessly ordered Rachel to keep her feet still and her legs wide open while she climbed atop and ravaged the living hell from her. Holding and gripping her by the thighs, Holly growled— 

"A'right, my friend...you wanted it, you got it. Don't say I didn't warn you. 

"And here's another warning: by the time I'm ready to have my way with you... 

"That pussy'd better fucking be wet. 

"'Cause if it's not...you have no idea how much, and how dearly you're gonna regret it." 

Rachel was already flared so wildly stoat-randy by Holly's ominous but mischievous threats and taunts, she didn't think she could wait for her to climb on top of her and rock her world. She was dying to plunge her hands to her nether-regions and kick-start herself on her jolly way, but she held off. Impatient as she was, it'd be far more rewarding relinquishing control to Holly. 

Finally on top, Holly sneered down on her, planting her fists firmly in the mattress. 

"I had a bad day at work today..." she ominously started, staring directly into Rachel's eyes. 

"Uh-oh," Rachel murmured back, stifling a giggle. 

"...Do you know what that means?" 

"Um..." 

"I've only you to take it out on..." Holly laid it out for her, now turning their earlier unfortunate reality into a fun game. 

"...So too bad for you...sweetheart...you're gonna pay for it." 

"Oh, dear," whimpered Rachel, feigning fear, trying to hide her smile. 

"And another thing: if you think I'm gonna go easy on you just 'cause you're my wife... 

"You are gonna be sorely disappointed." 

Rachel couldn't hold back her grin any longer. "Oh, no," she chuckled, trying to keep playing along but clearly feigning. She was too excited to act convincingly. She could hardly be blamed, what with Holly's captivating aura being given off right now. 

Holly crawled further up on the bed, slowly and feline-like, wearing only her strap-on and a leering smirk. She ceased moving once she got in ideal position. 

"All right, sugar buns," Holly purred. "Open wide." 

A smiling Rachel reached between her thighs and parted her labia. 

"Oh, if these lips could talk...the stories they could tell." 

Holly's narrow, piercing eye slits bore laceratingly into Rachel's, deftly gripping her dick. She had the coordinates in mind to sightlessly direct it right into the soaked, dripping pussy waiting for it. Even if Holly slightly missed, Rachel's autolube would help it easily slide in. Holly leaned forward, still holding her cock in one hand. Rachel patiently held her eyes closed, pussy open and lips pursed. Holly's own plushy hot lips made contact with Rachel's just as the head of her dick nosed into Rachel's cunt. 

"MMMMM!" Rachel groaned desperately through the kiss. Oh, how she had been waiting for this. It had only been for a couple of hours, but she supposed it all depended on how one looked at it. The anticipation could build up in a person's mind the same amount whether he or she thought about the prize before them sporadically over a long period of time, or continually over a short period of time. And once Rachel got her thoughts hooked on something—especially should that something be anything remotely related to sex—it was hard to scrape it off her mind. 

Once Holly made her way as far inside Rachel as she could penetrate, Rachel let go of her cunt and squeezed Holly in her arms, moaning perpetually in utter ecstasy. This was what made life worth living: her sweet baby in her arms, legs entwined, thrusting inside, fucking her with exquisite, thorough, sublime strokes. Eyes glued shut, lips glued together, Holly felt the lovely tingles continue to dance over her sweaty skin, maintaining intense contact between as many as their body parts as would connect at any one time. Rachel was being driven out of her mind both interiorly and exteriorly, too feeling the aforementioned tingles prancing over their sticky flesh, as well as the internal sensations firing off inside her pussy. Holly's rubber cock felt like a real cock shooting off hot doses of heaven throughout her whole 5'6" figure. 

Eventually, Holly broke from their long-lasting kiss and brushed her lips downwards along Rachel's face, jaw, chin and neck, with hot, steamy breaths. Concentrating on her pelvis-to-mind coordination, steadily pumping inside her wife's cunt, Holly dotted Rachel's ripe hide with a series of what were more than kisses, but less than hickeys. She enjoyed keeping Rachel on her proverbial toes, always making her wonder what was going to happen next. Holly loved retaining excitement in their marriage this way, keeping an air of mystery always floating about. 

Holly sifted her hands through Rachel's golden mane, rubbing her nape and shoulder blades, burrowing her face in her lady's torso. Rachel's dazed eyes fluttered open just a bit, then shut again, contorting her anxious face in a grimace of exhilaration. She howled in famished desire as Holly sank predatory teeth into her heaving breasts. Lightning shot through her as Holly tongued her nipples. Every time they had sex and Rachel thought it could get no better, Holly always proceeded to prove her wrong. 

Rachel also massively turned herself on with the pretense that Holly was invading her, taking control and having her way with her against her will, flooding her mind with delicious kinkiness. She was always up for kink, satisfying fetishes, fantasies, anything consenting adults wished to try with one another. She felt everyone on Earth should essentially fuck their brains out. She didn't personally understand how anyone could not want to, but she was willing to concede, to each his or her own. 

Holly, meanwhile, gave her wife the time of her life each time they made love, but her purposes could be self-interested as well. She'd learned to make Rachel happier than the clam she'd been earlier, basically anytime she wanted, after discovering just what her bride really liked and just how she really liked it done. To say nothing of the aforementioned evaluation that Holly really controlled things in the bedroom. She seriously did relish essentially owning her wife. The bottom line was, their sex sessions normally lasted about as long as Holly liked. Holly came when Holly wanted; and Rachel came...when Holly wanted. 

And things had just about progressed this evening to the point where Holly was ready to make her wife scream for orgasmic mercy. So she did. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!" shrieked Rachel. "AAAAAAAAHHHH!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" 

Rachel ferociously blew her come all over Holly's artificial dick, the bedspread, and both of their thighs. Holly smiled, slowly extracting the come-soaked dildo from her wifey's spent, swollen, drained pussy. Trying to spread as little discharge to the rest of the bed as she could, she got up, leaving her ravaged wife gasping for breath on the mattress, about to fall dead asleep. 

"You're welcome, honey," Holly said calmly. 

*** 

October 31st, 2:37 p.m. 

The bell rang. 

"All right, young ladies and gents!" Holly called over the bustle of her students getting their things together and vacating their desks. "Happy Halloween, have a nice weekend, and remember," she added, quipping with them, "I do not wanna see any of your faces for at least forty-eight hours!" 

She waited as the kids filed out. None of them seemed to have anything to post-class discuss with her this special Friday—understandable, with a single thing on their one-track minds right now—so she erased the material du jour from the board and sat at her desk to go through her things, ascertaining how much homework she herself had this upcoming All Saints' weekend. 

She went through her mental checklist for the evening. She and Rachel had plenty of candy, they had witch and Dracula costumes to welcome the kids... 

Actually, there wasn't much more to it than that. 

It looked like they were all set. 

"Hol-lo there, Hol-ly..." 

She looked up, and immediately regretted doing so. 

Leaning in the doorway, regular smug look playing about her face, stood Miss Simona Herrington. The daughter of a bitch herself. A dismayed Holly returned to her papers, blowing out her breath with a sigh. 

"What can I do for ya, Simona?" she asked flatly. 

Simona sauntered in, clapping her hands a single time. 

"Oh...nothing, really...I just thought we might have a little chat..." 

GrEEEEEat... 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah! I mean, good golly, Miss Holly, you and I've never really gotten to know each other." 

Oh, there are reasons for that... 

"Well, first of all, it's 'Mrs.'...and to tell you the truth, I'm not totally interested in getting to know someone who gets her kicks by tossing my messages in the trash." 

"Oh, now, come on, Holly!" Simona laughed, tossing it off with a wave of the hand. "You know a good prank when ya see one, don't'cha? Although, I suppose it's not funny 'cause it happened to you, right?" 

Holly didn't feel like explaining to her that what she had done was not a prank, it was simply stupid—as "prank" implied there was at least some imagination, humor and constructiveness involved—but she didn't get the chance anyway. 

"But enough about that; you're married? I don't think I ever knew!" 

"I am," Holly nodded, focusing on the papers on her desk, flashing her a quick ring finger wave. "Over a year now. To a wonderful woman. I love her very much." You, by contrast, I could frankly do without... 

Simona smacked her own thigh. "Oh, y'know, that's right! Now I remember, someone told me you were a 'dyke-ski'!" 

Holly's eyes narrowed and burned. Oh, how she hated that derogatory word. It was as if Simona were some sort of fury-seeking missile who knew just exactly how to press her buttons. Holly clenched her teeth. 

"The word...is 'lesbian,' Simona..." ...You fucking cunt-bag. 

"Eh, 'lesbian,' 'dyke,' 'potato,' 'potahto'..." 

Holly's voice abruptly rose and sharpened. 

"Yes, well, anyway," she barked, pushing herself up from the desk clapping a palm down on it, making a sheet of paper blow away. "Just come in here to screw with me, did'ya? Or do you actually have something informative to say?" ...Before I kill you? 

When Holly was describing this girl to her wife the day before, it wasn't as if she was exaggerating. The girl was a gigantic pain in the ass. She was annoying and irritating as hell...although, well, Holly thought, at least she wasn't harmful. She aggravated everyone, but she didn't do any serious damage to their lives. Holly had one idea of something evil to do to her for retribution, an idea she considered fairly often...but she didn't. It was too extreme for someone who was merely annoying—even Simona. She did need to be taught a lesson, but not this way. 

"Ah, thanks for reminding me. Yes, I've come to let you know that Aunt Betsy is going on vacation for one month, during which time I shall be in charge, as acting principal," she cooed, grinning ear to ear. 

Holly whirled on her. 

"You what??" 

"That's right. I would've announced it sooner, but the PA system doesn't work in all the classrooms." 

A sick feeling invaded Holly's body. Oh, you have got to be shitting me... she thought in panic. The maggot's in charge? For God's sake! This cannot fucking happen! She's gonna make our entire November a living hell! 

"Uh, let me concretely understand this, Simona...Principal Betsy is going on a month-long vacation, and she left you in charge?...Of her own volition and free will?? She expressly said, 'Simona, you're in charge while I'm gone'??" 

"You catch on amazingly fast, Hollywood," Simona teased her. 

No...no...this is not happening. Someone's playing a sick joke here...this is not real. 

"Well, Simona, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd like to have a word with Betsy about this anyhow. Where is she?" 

"Well, I believe she just caught her flight." 

"She's gone already?!" 

"Nothin' gets by you," Simona grinned. 

FUCK ME... 

Holly sighed in exasperation. 

"Just out of curiosity, Simona, what did everyone else say when you delivered them this delightful news?" 

"He-ey! C'mon, Hollyoaks, everybody loves me!" 

Wow...delusional and a giant douche. Nice combo. 

Holly sighed in frustration, starting to resign herself to the fact that she'd likely just have to go home, come back on Monday, bond with everybody else for strength and support and find some way to survive the next month. She sulked back to her desk and started to get her stuff together to depart. Well, at least she could enjoy this weekend first. 

The next thing she knew, something very strange happened. 

Holly suddenly felt a disturbing sensation behind her. She warily turned to see... 

...That Simona had approached...was now standing two inches from her... 

...And...rubbing her back?? 

"Simona... 

"...What...the hell are you doing?" 

Simona chuckled smarmily. 

"What's it feel like?" 

Before Holly could say anything else, Simona moved in closer and started to grope her in a spot no one was allowed to touch. 

"Whoa—HEY. I'm warning you, Sim—" 

Holly tried to jerk out of her grasp but Simona moved in on her again. These abrupt advances freaked Holly right out. She wouldn't have guessed this girl was gay in the first place, but...what the hell was going on?? What was this??! 

"Come on, Hollyhocks. You told me you were a lesbian...and you're a sex teacher...I thought you oughta like this, huh??" 

"WHA—" With barely ample time to process whatever this was supposed to mean, Holly was about to let loose another outburst when she felt Simona grab her ass. Holly gasped. 

"Fucking bitch!" 

This time Holly successfully wrenched herself from Simona's slimy hands, whipped around, and smacked her in the face. 

"You sick slime ball! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Holly exclaimed, only half-conscious to lower her voice while dropping the 'f'-bombs. Simona reflexively covered her cheek where Holly'd struck her. The slap seemed to make her back off...for about three whole seconds. Simona removed her hand from her pink-reddened face, stared her down, turned her expression sultry on her, and reapproached. 

Standing by her blackboard, Holly instinctively grabbed her yardstick off the slate. 

"Get away from me, you whore," she warned in a low, quiet voice. "I'll hit you again." 

Simona ignored her. Already flipped out as she was by whatever the little worm was on about here, Holly's mind was positively blown by what happened next. Her reflexes betrayed her as before her eyes, Simona seized her face with two hands and forced a horrifyingly perturbing kiss upon her. 

"MMM!" Holly shrieked through the belly-churning smooch. She tried to push Simona off. She tried to smack her away again with the yardstick. But somehow, it seemed Simona was intent on whatever the devil she was up to, and would not be shaken. 

Finally, Holly's objection persevered. She shoved her off, but Simona was persistent. 

"C'mon, Miss Greentree," Simona taunted, intentionally using the nonmarried title. "You know you want it." 

Holly was so incredulous she was having trouble finding the words she was trying to locate to tell this psycho what was up. 

But she didn't get a chance this time. 

"...Holly??" 

Simona and Holly both turned to the doorway whence the sound of her name came from a third voice. Even though she was being innocently molested, Holly's blood froze. 

Rachel. 

"R—...Rachel?" Holly met her wife's consternated eyes. "What are you doing here?" 

"...My shift ended, and...I ended up in the neighborhood, so I thought I would come over, and...just see you..." 

Apparently, Rachel planned to surprise Holly with her presence, but she was the one who had ended up being surprised. 

"...But I think the better question is..." Rachel's voice shook. 

"What are you doing here??" 

Just at the moment she'd seen her, it had only sunk in a little, but as Holly heard Rachel ask her this, the enormity of this ill-fated situation loomed over her in its entirety like the shadow of a dark, dark cloud. Holly's eyes widened as she realized. 

"Whoa..." Holly held up a hand. "No, no, no...Rache, wait a minute, honey, this is not what it looks l—" 

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she should have rephrased. She should have led with the fact that this was Simona, the woman she'd told her about the day before, and that she had put the moves on Holly. But she didn't. She was too flustered. To her horror, Rachel's face started to break into tears, right before she turned from the doorway and ran. 

Holly panicked. She started to follow her out. "NO! No, Rachel, wait! Please!" 

Rachel's footsteps rapidly echoed away. Holly thought she noticed Rachel had her sneakers on today. And she was a fast runner to begin with. Holly was in heels, but it didn't matter; Rachel could outrun her for miles in her bare feet. By the time she got to the doorway she already knew it was no use. 

"Oh, shit!" she lamented, whapping the doorway with the side of her fist. 

"Well, someone sure got up on the wrong side of the bed," came the voice behind her. 

As much as it had frozen to ice before, Holly's blood burned black. She spun around and marched back on Simona. 

"I am gonna fucking KILL YOU!!" she hollered past the top of her lungs. "No court in the world would convict me!" 

To her astonishment, Simona had the nerve to actually put her hands up in front of her and turn surprised at this tirade. 

"Hey, whoa, whoa!" said Simona. "Where'd this come from?" 

Holly's fiery bloodshot eyes popped wide open. This...person had just deliberately thrown a giant cleaver through the fabric of Holly's marriage, and subsequently was acting as if nothing was going on. This was too much. This was extreme. 




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 04



And extreme circumstances, Holly thought, called for extreme measures. Simona had crossed the line. It was time to pull out the big guns. The gloves were off. She was going to make Simona pay for this, with the pain, agony and suffering of her life. 

And almost before she knew what she was doing, Holly's hands were the next to raise. 

And the next thing Simona knew, everything went red. 

Then black. 

*** 

October 31st, 5:18 p.m. 

"Yeah...look, I'm sorry to ask you to help me out with this sorta thing again, but...well, I'm kinda parked right outside, and, uh... 

"...Right. Yeah. You probably won't believe this...then again, you might. This little bitch who just started working at the school a short while ago made a move on me today...yeah...actually, a few moves... 

"...I know! Right?! And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Rachel shows up! At the worst possible moment! I didn't even do anything here; the slut came on me. And Rache split before I could explain. 

"...Well, I'm not proud of this, but...I snapped, and...I strangled her...yeah...then I dragged her out to my car... 

"...Yeah, she's still passed out in my backseat. I didn't kill her, I just knocked her out for a while...I didn't mean to, but... 

"...Heh! That is good; for all she'll know, she'll think she really did die and actually w—...yes! Exactly!... 

"...Okay, just one sec." 

Holly hung up the phone and got out of the car. She'd parked in the same secluded area in the trench of Kent and Juniper just adjacent to the alley bordering 666 Kent Street. She had to minimize the time needed to make this quick drop-off so she could get back home, find Rachel, and explain everything. She opened the back door, grabbed Simona under the arms, mustered her strength again, and pulled her out. Once more just hoping no one construed this as the suspicious behavior it was, she dragged her up to the back alley door and discreetly rapped on it. 

A few moments later, the lock clicked, the door creaked open... 

...And there they were. Those cold, steely icy-blue eyes. 

"Were you followed?" 

"No." 

The door creaked open enough to let her in. Holly only entered far enough to be able to lug in Simona, throw her down on the floor, and retire. She had to get home to Rachel. She only hoped Rachel would be there, and had not set the house on fire. She stormed back out alone, shut the car doors, peeled out and drove straight home. 

*** 

October 31st, 5:46 p.m. 

The sun was half down. The townschildren were gussied up in their costumes, about to hit the streets with their baskets and bags: the younger accompanied by their parents, the older by their friends. The grown-ups and neighborhood residents turned on their lights, opened their doors, brought out the candy bowls and prepared to scare. 

No one, however, was to come to 666 Kent Street tonight. 

If Simona had begun to revive from Holly's throttling of her, she was again knocked out by the blow absorbed when she hit the warehouse floor. Half an hour later, she had been blindfolded...stripped nude...hand- and footcuffed...pulled to the bolt wall on her back...feet first...and hoisted over the top of the wall by the ankles...upside-down...until she could be manually bolted to it by all four cuffs, now forming a giant naked 'X' facing outwards. 

And then there were the couple of other setups in play. 

The sun was still steadily on its way down; it was about to happen. 

If only Simona Amie Herrington knew what was to befall her. 

Before she went lightheaded all over again, the smelling salts were waved over her nostrils. 

Sniff! Simona winced as she stirred to consciousness. A couple more short seconds were all that elapsed before— 

"H—...w—...wh—...WHAT...OHM—...WHAT THE HELL?!" 

A smile. 

An evil smile. 

"That's correct." 

"Huh?!" 

"HELL-o," said a deep, sinister female voice. 

"Who's...wha—..." 

Simona was too startled to complete any sentences, declaratory, interrogatory or otherwise. She pulled at the cuffs, realizing she couldn't move. Her tongue was tied. Finally...she just screamed. 

"AAAAAAAAAHHH!!" 

"Perhaps you may permit me to explicate," uttered the voice. "You see, Simona, my dear..." 

She waited the last short while until the sun finally bade farewell and descended invisibly below the horizon. 

The circadian transformation was completed. Across her face slithered the dastardly broad grin. 

"...You're dead," said The Devil. 

Simona waited one shocked moment and shrieked, tears accompanying her wildly panicking mood. 

"WHAAAAAT??!" 

"Oh, yes. It's really quite simple. Simona Herrington, my sweet child..." 

Simona felt a sharp, jagged fingernail pricklingly stroke from her knee down her outer thigh. 

"...You've literally died, and gone to hell." 

Under normal enough circumstances, Simona would have been the least bit skeptical upon hearing such a development. But already freaked as she was, suspended and hanging upside-down, blinded, immobile, blood rushing to her head, she was more inclined to believe what she was told. 

"NOOOOOOOO!!" wailed Simona. 

"Why, yes! Do you happen to remember the afternoon of October the thirty-first?" 

Simona was far too petrified to even begin trying to remember such dated events. 

"Very well; I'll remind you. It seems you were quite a naughty girl, especially vis-à-vis the affairs of Mrs. Holly Lil Greentree." 

"B—...BUT...BU—..." 

"Ah—do not...interrupt. 

"... 

"...That's better. Now then. You were throttled to death as a result of your brashly inappropriate office behavior, which finally crossed a fatal boundary that day, when you paid a visit to Mrs. Greentree after school let out, and accosted her. You harassed her, both professionally and sexually. What was more, you abused your co-workers, and you abused the privilege of a position of employment granted courtesy of firsthand nepotism. 

"You're a bad person, Simona. A bad little girl. 

"And when bad little girls die, this is where their souls come to spend eternity." 

Simona was already bawling hysterically. How this woman knew all this about her she couldn't fathom—unless it really was true. She never knew if she believed in heaven or hell before, and even if she did, she couldn't imagine either one feeling this real. It felt too real to be a bad dream. Could this be true?? 

Was she really actually dead?...IN HELL?? 

Being dead alone would already put enough of a damper on things. 

"Therefore, I reiterate: welcome to hell. My name is Farrah. I'll be your hostess, and your torture mistress." 

"Wh-wh-what??" Simona sobbed. 

"Surely a perceptive damsel such as yourself can follow the logic. It's called karma, Simona. When you are bad, you must be punished. When you are bad enough, and pass on, you subject yourself to eternal damnation." 

"NOOO-OO-OO-OO!!" Simona repeated. 

"Yes!" Farrah contradicted cheerfully. "So! Shall we get on with it?" 

"What?!" 

"Well, yes! Your punishment, of course, silly!" 

"Bu—...but-but-but...I don't wanna be punished!" Simona bawled. 

"Oh, if only it were that easy, dear. Take Mrs. Greentree, for example. She didn't want to be so rudely intruded upon that afternoon in her classroom, and molested by the likes of you. But that happened as well, did it not?" 

"But...what're...what're you gonna do to me??" 

Farrah chuckled. But that was all. Simona waited, but was privy to no further response for several moments. 

Before awakening her, Farrah had gone to the pleasure of hooking a dozen or so electrodes to Simona's naked body—covering her most fragile, vulnerable areas—all of which were wired to a remote Farrah held in her hand. The remote consisted of one large button under a circular dial with a dormant setting at zero and ten settings of intensity clockwise around it. It had been turned off to this point. The time had arrived to switch it on. 

Simona received her answer in nonverbal form a minute or two later. As Farrah flipped on the remote, Simona heard a short zzzt-sound as the current activated through the wires. The next thing she heard was a very faint, very low hum. Whatever it was, she couldn't guess, but her concentration was thrown off by the electrodes attached onto her skin, which pinched tighter when Farrah turned on the remote. She decided to toss the girl right into the fire pit. She turned the dial to level four. 

Once the remote was on, all Farrah needed to do was turn the dial to any setting, hold down the button and essentially just let Simona electrocute herself, by simply moving. The electrodes' effect was basically muted if the victim held perfectly still, but the more said victim moved, the greater a shock she took. 

A few more moments following her sadistic chuckling, Farrah pressed and held down the remote button. While still twitching, this caused moderate initial jolts to shoot through Simona's body from head to toe. 

"YYYYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" she screeched. "OWWWW! WHAT THE...!!" 

"Oh, isn't electricity fun??" Farrah chortled. 

"Y—...you're electrocuting me?!!" 

"Mm, for now, anyway," Farrah giggled, turning the dial up another notch, bringing the intensity to level five. "However, if you just hold still...it won't hurt." 

This didn't grant Simona a wealth of comfort, but she held as still as she could. Farrah pressed down the button, and Simona tried to just stop herself from quivering, clenching her fists, teeth and toes around the pinching agony. The electrodes felt like small patches of needles pricking her delicate flesh. 

"Ouch!...Ow...ow...OW!..." she moaned, scrunching her face into a painful cringe. 

"Now let's make this more fun for both of us," Farrah continued. "Tell me, Simona, my girl-pet..." 

She lowered her voice to a bone-chilling whisper. 

"...Are you ticklish?" 

Simona didn't like the sound of this. 

"...Am...am I what?" 

Very well, thought Farrah, deciding to find out for herself. Upside-down, Simona's soles were facing straight up. Holding down the remote button, Farrah reached up, and scraped one long, edgy black fingernail down the bottom of the girl's left foot. This set off a diabolical chain reaction in Simona: the trigger of her indeed ticklish nerve endings forced her to laugh...which brought on an involuntary spasm in her muscles as the laugh escaped...which in turn set off the electrodes. The result— 

"HeeeeheeeheeeEEYYYYEEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWTCH!!" 

Her laugh morphed into a bloodcurdling cry of blinding, searing, unreal pain. She felt the excruciating jolts through her extremities, her breasts, her ass, her pussy, and a number of her less sensitive regions in turn. The lady was right; this was hell. 

"Awww...poor baby..." oozed the evil Devil woman's voice, slow and cruel. "...Does it hurt, little girl?..." 

Simona was crying so hard, several different fluids were emanating from her body. With her frame inverted on this wall, gravity took over and ran her tears, sweat, saliva and so on down her forehead, her loose-hanging hair, forming a puddle of misery on the hard wooden warehouse floor. 

"Oh, PLEE-EE-EE-EEASE!" Simona wailed, live sparks sizzling on her sore reddening flesh. "PLEE-EE-EEASE, whoever you are, MER-R-R-RCY-Y-Y-Y!" 

"Oh, but I'm afraid not, my little talking doll toy," Farrah shook her head. "Hell doesn't just hand out reprieve like you're hoping. Hell doesn't forgive, and doesn't forget, either. Hell hath no mercy." 

"B-b-but...I...I'm sorry!" Simona blubbered helplessly. "I'm sorry!! I'M SO SORRY!! PLEEEEEEEASE!!" 

Farrah chuckled again, turning the dial once more. Setting six. Down went the button. Up she reached to Simona's right foot. 

"Too little, too late, dearie. Goochie-goochie-goochie-goochie!!" 

Poor Simona was driven through yet a second nightmarish, inexorable ticklish shock wave. She shrieked her lungs out, and resumed crying like an infant as the electricity wore back down. 

Farrah only maliciously laughed down at her woeful sobbing. Oh, she was loving this. 

"Oh, I am loving this." 

"How could you?!" the girl whined in stark despair. "How could you be so...so..." 

"...Ruthless?" Farrah suggested gleefully. "...Spiteful?...Fiendish?" 

She shrugged. "I can't help it, sweetie. I'm The Devil. I just adore making naughty little children suffer." 

"I DON'T DESERVE THIS!!" Simona forcefully declared. 

"Oh, you're adorable." Click. Setting seven. "Let's just see how sensitive that sweet little pink pussy is, shall we?" 

Predictably, Farrah wiggled her fingernail between Simona's trembling labia. 

Simona went crazy. 

"EEEEEEEEEEEHHHEEEEEYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" 

"So what do you think, darlin'?" Farrah wanted to know. "Thinking about what you did and why it was wrong? Any regrets?" 

"Ye-e-e-essss!" Simona wept. "E-e-e-everythi-i-ing!" 

Her crying was so pitiful Farrah almost felt sorry for her. Almost. 

"Ohhh-kay..." Farrah said. "A'right, kiddo, tell you what. Too much crying kinda bums me out, be honest with ya, so I'm just gonna tickle ya to death for a while. Figure of speech, of course, seeing as how you're already dead." 

"OH GOD, PLEASE, DON'T!!" 

"But it's just tickling..." Farrah grinned, drawing out the words. "Even a baby can handle a little innocent tickling..." 

"PLEEEEEEASE!" 

"Oh, dear gal, you'll learn quickly here in hell that tickle torment is just about my favorite thing. That wonderful sound of forced laughter is almost as delicious as that of an agonizing scream." 

"Oh, God, why are you doing this to me? Why??" Simona cried. 

"I appreciate the worship, little dollface, but I'm not God. My name is Farrah. I'm The Devil, sweetie." 

Farrah dug her sharp nails into Simona's breasts, her tummy, her armpits, her ribs, her ass, her cunt, her calves, her tootsies, randomly and rapidly hitting aimless spots all over, driving her utterly insane. Another couple minutes of sheer literal hell later, Farrah gave Simona a little rest. But she told her not to get too used to it, for the worst was still yet to come. Another short time followed before Simona heard a strange rustling sound. 

"...What's going on?" she asked tearfully. 

"Do you know what this is?" came the terrifying voice. 

"N—...no..." 

"The proper term is called 'ilex.' You may better know this material as... 

"...'Holly.'" 

Farrah retrieved a long snaking string of the artificial, extra durable orange garland which she began threading through the eyes of the bolts in the wall, starting at the bottom under Simona's head and working her way clockwise around her body until she'd lined the entire circumference. Once she'd covered the whole 360°, she kept going around again until she'd used up the excess length of the holly. Simona was whimpering, anticipating the scalding terror of whatever was coming next. Finally, Farrah finished lining the wall and picked up the next item to be put to use: a lighter. 

"This holly, my child, is bright orange...and about to turn bright black. 

"So Happy Halloween, my dear... 

"You may well think of this evening as The Nightmare Before Christmas. 

"It is now, Simona, with great pleasure, that I welcome you to the next circle of hell." 

"H—...huh?" Simona whined. 

"That's right; if you wish to know what's happening at this juncture, just use your other senses. I'm sure it won't take long." 

Farrah again chuckled under her breath as she activated the lighter and touched the flame to the sturdy yet still flammable festive fake foliage. Simona's ears perked up at the sound of the singeing ignition. She gasped with fright as the immediate temperature around her ascended. The fire caught, slinking its way the entire length of the wall. Simona again screamed as she detected what was happening. She was being...set on fire! 

"OHHHHNOOOOO-OO-OO-OO-OO!!" she yowled. 

"Oh ye-e-e-e-es!" Farrah laughed despicably. "Burn, my pet, burn." 

The next Simona knew, four cuff-adjacent bolts were all that separated her dizzy, exposed 5'7" figure from a rectangle of blazing, blackening holiday garnish. Identical repetitive shouts and pleas ensued. Jovially ignoring her, the next thing Farrah lit was a candle she held in her other hand. The candle was four inches in length and two in diameter. 

"Having fun, my flammable little waif?" 

"HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLP!" Simona howled, screaming bloody murder. "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLP!!" 

"If you're quite done..." Farrah addressed her, raising her voice to carry over Simona's tantrum. "I believe it's time to move along to our next experiment of the evening..." 

With her free hand, Farrah parted Simona's perspiring cunt lips just as wide ajar as they'd spread. Holding her open with her left hand, without any further ado or another moment wasted, she proceeded to turn the lit candle upside-down with her right, and allowed not a spot of wax to drip off before extinguishing it...in Simona's pussy. 

And then, before the sensation could so much as register in her brain, solely to add injury to injury, Farrah drew her hot labia back together, nice and tight around the candle. Only to allow the inside of her pussy no oxygenated relief.  

The sensation registered. 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!" 

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!" Farrah maniacally cackled, whipping the candle back out of Simona's now scorched pussy, throwing her head back in merry, malevolent mirth as the girl continuing crying out in glass-shattering, macabre tortured shrieks. 

"Go right ahead, Miss Simona. Scream your pretty little head off; no one's gonna hear ya." 

"Oh, just KILL ME!!" Simona yelled. 

Farrah crouched down beside her pretty little head, tickling under the chin. 

"You're already dead, pumpkin." 

"Noooooooo..." Simona futilely implored, approaching the surroundings of qualified laryngitis. "I can't stand this!" 

"You don't say," said Farrah, reaching up to jiggle her curling, quivering toes. "Perhaps you should have given a bit more thought to that before being such a bitch to everyone around you when you were alive." 

"I'm SORRY!!" Simona reiterated, drowning in her running facial fluids. "How many times do I have to say it??!" 

"Say it as many times as you so please," came the doomful reply. "It's too late to change anything." 

"BUT...BUT...NOOOO!" exclaimed Simona for the umpteenth time. "This can't be happening!" 

"Oh, but it can," Farrah again calmly corrected her. "Hell, my child, is real. Your agony is real. This nightmare is real. 

"It's all real." 

"Oh, God..." Simona croaked, realizing her fate was actually, irreparably sealed. 

"No, no, no," The Devil repeated. "Again, Farrah. Say it with me: 'FAR-rah.' I'd settle for, 'Oh, Devil,' but I yet prefer Farrah." 

Simona knew not what to do other than go on crying. This was indeed a nightmare beyond her wildest fears, and it had come true. It was as real as her sweat, her tears, the smoke dissipating from her torched vagina. She could not fully process it, and yet, she could do no other than fully process it. She saw no way of getting around this. She was dead; she was in hell. For...the rest of time, space and everything, she could only reckon. She hadn't really believed in either the salvation or the condemnation of one's deceased soul after death since she was a child, but she was now rather compelled to take a second look at her beliefs. 




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 04



"Oh...this isn't ever gonna stop...is it?" 

"Well, I'm glad you're finally catching on, my little lamb," Farrah smiled, scratching her nails from Simona's thigh to her ribs, as she repalmed the electrode remote and turned its dial straight to setting ten and held down the button. "Get used to it; it's just gonna be more fun for me from here on out...and far worse for you. 

"Have a pleasant eternity, my dear... 

"Goochie-goochie-goo." 

"NOOOOOOOOO!!" 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzTTTT! 

"YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!" 

*** 

October 31st, 5:46 p.m. 

"Honey, I swear! You've gotta believe me, she came on to me! I did nothing to provoke her! I told you she was a total bitch!" 

Holly desperately paced about the living room in her witch costume, trying not to step on the ever-underfoot Hobbie as she labored to convince Rachel of what truthfully happened in the classroom. Rachel sat grumpily on the couch, arms crossed, still having trouble wrapping her head around it all. Holly couldn't say she totally blamed her—after all, Rachel had never met Simona before, and showing up randomly on a one-time visit to the school, she'd walked in on her own wife kissing—being kissed by—another woman. But at the same time, Holly was her wife. They had pledged to spend the rest of their lives together, to eternally love, honor and trust one another. Rachel had to believe her! 

As always, she'd kept concealed from her the part about Farrah. Holly had always to keep Farrah's presence a grave secret in order to protect their relationship. After two and a half years as girlfriends and a little over one more as wives, Holly knew Rachel pretty well, and the last thing she wanted to do was frighten her away. 

Ding-dong! 

Up until the end of the school day, she and Rachel had still planned to dress up in their respective grown-up witch and Dracula costumes, but the little wrench Simona'd thrown into their schedule and dual disposition had half-allayed this plot. Holly was still dressed as her evening's wicked witch alter-ego—into which she'd changed when she'd gotten home and found that Rachel was in the bathroom—but the very upset Rachel refused to go along until she could allow herself to at least settle down a little. Holly sighed and paused for what was now the third time, told Rachel she'd be right back, trotted to the door, changed the demeanor in her face, took a breath, and opened. 

"Greetings, my children! EE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!" she laughed like her character. 

A pirate, a ghost and a Young Frankenstein held up their pumpkin baskets. 

"Trick or treat!" 

The Greentrees' house at 637 Rosebud Avenue was one of the neighborhood favorites to come to for Halloween night. Holly always found cute costumes for them to wear to greet the children. Being a teacher, she'd always been pretty good with kids. 

"Well, look at you guys!" said Holly, returning to her normal voice, grabbing three pawfuls of candy from their enormous bowl and depositing them in the kids' receptacles. "Don't you look great!" 

"Thank you!" the children chorused as they turned to hit their next house. 

"You're welcome!" waved Holly. "Hope you get lots of good stuff!" She shut the door, sighed, dropped her metaphorical mask of Halloween merriment, put down the candy bowl and returned to the living room. 

"Rachel, honest to God!" she continued. "What the hell can I do to convince you?? I would never think of doing anything like this to you! I'm a faithful and committed wife! I couldn't betray you if my life depended on it!" 

Rachel sighed. Her arms dropped from their crossed position on her chest, landing her hands on her thighs. Holly saw this as possible progress. It was the most Rachel had moved since Holly'd come out of the bedroom in her costume and found her sitting stock-still on the couch. Hobbie hopped up on the couch and began loving Rachel with his tactile head. She idly laid a hand on Hobbie and stroked his fur. 

"Does...does this mean you're starting to believe me?" 

Still no answer. 

"...All right, well, would you please at least tell me if you're gonna cook something or if I should order out?" 

Another few moments passed, and finally, Rachel's mouth opened. She started to speak. 

"I..." 

Ding-dong! 

"Damn it!" groused Holly. She stomped back to the front door, seized the candy bowl, let out a frustrated growl, sighed, shut her eyes, took a breath, smiled again, and opened the door. 

"HelLO there, my pretties! HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!" 

A Tigger and a Ninja Turtle held up their baggies. 

"Trick or treat!" 

"Wow, you two look awesome!" said Holly. She treated them, waved them off, closed the door and tossed down the bowl. 

"Sweetheart, you have my word!" she said, sitting back down on the couch with Rachel, taking her hand. "I love you more than anything in the entire world. We can't let one stupid thing this slimy little snake did to me ruin everything we have! Honest to God, if I'm lying, strike me dead. I told you yesterday how much of an asshole she's been to us. It was all her." 

The conviction finally penetrated. Rachel let the love come through in her eyes. 

"Oh," she gushed, taking Holly in her arms, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know you love me. And I you." 

"Oh, thank you, babe!" rejoiced a relieved Holly, hugging her wife back good and tight. "I promise to the heavens above, nothing could ever change the way I feel for you." 

"Me neither." They began to share a passionate make-up kiss. 

"Ooh!" giggled Rachel. "Your nose got in my way!" 

"Sorry." Holly took off her fake witch nose. "Come here." 

Ding-dong! 

"Oh!" Holly jumped up with a wry chuckle and put her nose back on. "Honey, why don't you go get in costume!" She ran back to the door, grinning now effortlessly, and opened up. 

"HEE-HEE-HEE! Who dares come to this haunted house tonight?!" she cackled at them. 

A junior witch, a Care Bear, a fairy princess and a bunny rabbit—as well as their pet dog, who was clad in a superhero cape—presented their sacks. "Trick or treat!" 

"Well! Look at that! Forest creatures, a canine hero and a tiny version of me!" said Holly, doling out their goodies. 

"Thank you!" they harmonized. 

"I'll get you, my pretties!" Holly mock-threatened. "And your little dog too! EE-HEE-HEE-HEE!" The children half-laughed, half-screamed and ran away, taking their barking super-pup with them. 

Holly giggled as she set the bowl down. She hadn't wanted the kids or their parents to see her and Rachel fighting, and now that they weren't anymore, she left the front door open. She peered out the transparent exterior door to watch the droves of kids, parents, babysitters and the occasional additional dog patrolling the sidewalks. Her thoughts wandered to Simona and what Farrah must be doing to her right now. She almost felt bad for her until she again reminded herself of the motivation of what happened that afternoon. She suddenly had a worried thought as she wondered if anyone was expecting Simona back home today, but she was pretty certain she'd never heard the woman mention kids, a spouse or other roommate. Besides, she had brought this punishment upon herself. Holly was positive she hadn't actually killed her, or she would have heard back from Farrah about it by now. She had dumped her off at Farrah's feet, she just had to let the Mistress of the Underworld handle it. 

Her distractions vanished as she noticed more kids prancing up to the door. 

Ding-dong! A punk rock star, a goblin, a space alien and a zombie were their next visitors. Once Holly gave them their candy and bid them adieu, she turned around and reflexively yelped. Back out of the bedroom now stood the grinning Rachula, in her suit, cape, gloves, bow tie, makeup, short black wig and bloody fangs. 

"Oh! Honey, you scared me!" laughed Holly. 

"But of courth I did," Rache lisped through her fangs in a deep, more masculine-sounding voice. "It ith I, Dr-r-r-racula! Now let uth thcare the daylightth from thothe little moppetth! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" 

Rachel's awaited partnership in the fright game paid off. They took the candy and waited for the remaining kids together outside, as it grew completely dark. They urged the children to take candy from the bowl themselves, and then proceeded to indeed scare the tots—as well as a few of the meeker parents—silly. 

Funnily enough, they didn't end up giving away so much more candy that evening. 

*** 

November 3rd, 7:38 a.m. 

"...And that's why I've called together this little meeting this morning," said Holly. She was addressing the assembled body of administration and faculty in the multipurpose room of the school's main offices, shortly before the students were to arrive. "As you all know by now, our principal, Betsy Herrington, has taken to vacation for the month of November, at first logically leaving her niece, our dear friend Simona, in charge." 

Half of the staff chuckled dryly and ironically. Half of the other half booed. The rest hissed. 

"Yes, yes..." Holly raised a hand to settle them down. "...My sentiments exactly. In the meantime, however, another development has arisen of which I'm obligated at this time to inform you." She turned to one of the side curtains. "Simona?" 

Some of the crowd turned back and forth to one another. Murmurs were exchanged. No one joined Holly at the podium. 

Holly stepped down and held up a single finger. "Just-just one moment, please." 

She marched to the curtain, stepped behind it, and for a moment, all that was visible on the other side of the drape were the signs of a miniature struggle. Finally, Mrs. Greentree succeeded in dragging out Ms. Herrington by the elbow. Quite a raucous reaction was earned by the assembly of teachers and admins at what transpired and was seen next as Holly yanked her out. 

The girl was stark naked. 

What was more, her wrists and ankles were (again) connected by twelve-inch-chained cuffs, allowing her only to separate her hands and take her steps both at a foot-long distance, limping and emitting small "Ow"s holding on to her tender vagina. She reddened at the collection of laughs and taunts she was met with in front of the assembly. A few weren't very amused, but most applauded in voyeuristic enjoyment. Most of the men—and a couple of the women—whistled. She'd tried to cover up her genitals as Holly pulled her out into full view, which required a little bending down. Once Holly let go of her, she turned her back—and bare ass—on them and covered her embarrassed face. 

"I suppose you're wondering what our Miss Herrington here is doing in such a, uh...compromising situation," Holly grinned at them. "Well, I'll tell you. An incident occurred Friday, after classes let out, when, while visiting my classroom—and I won't go into details, but—during said visit, Miss Simona Herrington presented me with a series of improper sexual advances." 

The surprised assembly muttered a cacophony of angry and indignant remarks in response. 

"Her body is rather battered this morning, as you can see, but not courtesy of myself. It seems over the weekend she was taking a little, eh...bicycle ride...and had a bit of an unfortunate accident. But don't worry, she's not seriously harmed or injured, just a little banged up." Holly turned back to her. 

"Isn't that...right, Simona?" 

Simona nodded her head visibly with her back turned. 

The girl was truly bruised, singed, sore, aching, scared and humiliated. Once Farrah had finally let her go several hours later and explained to her that she wasn't actually dead, she was relieved, but furious to have been tricked and terrorized like this. She would have attempted to kick Farrah's ass had she the energy. Per Holly's request, Farrah commanded her to meet Holly extra early at the school Monday morning to discuss what was to happen now. One of the first things Simona asked was why Holly and her Devil friend had done this horrible thing to her. Holly's response? 

"Oh, now, come on, Simona; you know a good prank when you see one, don't'cha?...although, I suppose it's not funny 'cause it happened to you, right?" 

While discussing Simona's debacle with the admin body, Holly intentionally left out the Farrah chapter—just as she had with Rachel—substituting for it this bike accident story. She'd prematurely told Simona what she now told the assembly. 

"I have spoken with the superintendent of schools, the county sexual harassment board, and a lawyer," Holly informed them. "All are intent upon me pressing charges." The assembly expressed agreement. 

"After giving it some thought, and having had a little chat with Simona, I've decided not to press charges just immediately," Holly said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "Instead, unbeknownst to these three parties, I've elected to make a little deal with Miss Herrington. In exchange for at least postponing said charges..." Holly turned to Simona and flashed her smirk. 

"...Until her aunt returns...Simona has agreed to spend the next month not performing as acting principal, but relinquishing that post to our chief administrator, Marion Lemore, right now," Holly announced, gesturing to her. "Students sent to the office will report to her, during which time Simona will be confined to Marion's office. Any time a student comes to the office for this or any other reason, Simona? Marion's office. And at all times, Miss Simona Herrington will be on her best professional office behavior. These are the conditions to which she has easily agreed. 

"Now for the terms Simona was reluctant to accept. While working with us in the confines of the offices, Simona will arrive in the mornings, remove her clothing and perform her daily duties naked in her shackles, as you see before you...and when the school days end, she'll be allowed to uncuff herself, dress and leave. The rest of the time, she'll be coerced into interacting with us directly...in all her nude splendor...at our disposal...on display for our entertainment and, eh..." 

Oh, was Holly enjoying this. She stroked a fingertip down one of Simona's tush cheeks, making her wriggle uncomfortably. 

"...Vengeance, so to speak..." 

Simona had indeed made enough of an impression on most of her workmates that their karmic sides welcomed these possibilities. She was hoping they'd veto the ideas of tormenting and humiliating her all day every day, but her hope was in vain. 

Holly went on. "This way, she'll effectively be prescribed a healthy dose of her own medicine over the next few weeks. I reckon after everything we will undoubtedly have put her through, by the time December rolls around, Simona will learn a great deal about proper basic human etiquette and civility, and practically even become a whole new person! Don't you think, Simona?" 

Simona only squirmed. The assembly contributed audible approval. 

"When her aunt returns, her punishment will be over. Between now and then, Miss Herrington has expressly agreed to each of these terms, and if any is violated by the slightest infraction, she understands that charges will be pressed without hesitation. For this period of time, her leave's out the window. If at any point between now and then she attempts to resign or induce termination, charges. If on any day she tries to arrive late or depart early, charges. If she claims sickness, that's you, Laura." 

She pointed to Ms. Laura Hoskins, the school nurse, who nodded in response. 

"Finally, something tells me that our Miss Simona already grasps the gravity of the situation, and will be shaping up and conforming to our standards of decency sooner than later." Holly turned to her and patted her arm. "In the meantime, Simona," she grinned, "Congratulations, on basically setting yourself up for a lifetime's worth...of blackmail." 

The assembly cheered and laughed. 

"All right, well!" Holly clapped her hands. "Classes are going to let in pretty soon, so we'd better get to work. I believe we do have time for one initial disciplinary measure to take upon Miss Herrington first, however." 

Holly called the meeting to a close, and led the lot of them back to Mrs. Marion Lemore's office, where Simona was bent forwards over her desk. Holly temporarily took one of the cuffs off to connect them under the desk, so Simona couldn't move. Her ass was right up in the air. She was now in perfect position, as each teacher and administrator took a turn quoting a mistreatment Simona had imposed upon him or her, and avenging vindication with a sharp, humbling spank! on the ass. 

An ear-to-ear smiling Holly went first, showing them just what she had in mind. 

"This, then, to start with, Simona Herrington, is for throwing my messages in the trash." SPANK! 

"OUCH!" exclaimed Simona. The force of the smack wasn't incredibly great, but the humiliation was indescribable. The assembly of admin and faculty applauded gleefully and lined up to enjoy their turns at bat, as it were. 

Holly could have stayed to witness the further degradation of the (former) office brat, but she had another idea. She adjourned to the principal's office and picked up a memo Betsy Herrington had left for everyone's edification. 

"Hmmm...so and so and so and...ah! Here we go: 'If you have any urgent questions or concerns, I can be reached long distance at 34-13-672-555-8814.' Awesome." She picked up the phone and dialed. 

"Hi, Betsy?...Hey! It's Holly Greentree...yes! Yes...well—no, no, things are going fine, actually!...Yeah! Yeah, I'd hate for something to have gone wrong in the first week of your vacation too," she giggled. "...Yeah, no, actually, just the opposite. I just wanted to call and say we all wish you well, we hope you're having a super-great time, and so much so, in fact, eh...we were thinking..." Holly paused. "...We weren't sure if we really adequately showed you our appreciation on Boss Day last month. 

"And...well, we'd each be willing to pitch in a little from our salaries to help, if, uh..." 

She could faintly hear the intervals of spankings coming from Mrs. Lemore's office. Some of them packed quite a wallop. 

..."And this is for putting a cockroach in my briefcase!" Spank! "OW!" 

..."And this is for spitting in my latte!" Smack! "OUCH! I'm sorry!" 

..."And this is for calling me a Chink!" Spank! "OWWW! I'm sorry!!" 

Holly felt her grin spread. 

"...Betsy?...How would you feel about rebooking your trip and staying another month?"



Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 01



Holly hung her head. "I don't want to," she sniffled.

"And I, don't want to blow your brains out, so get, the fuck, over here."

She did as Farrah growled. Farrah returned to the boxes where she'd placed Holly's purse and blouse, and fished out a blindfold. She reapproached Holly, stood behind her and tied it over her eyes.

"Wha—" Holly opened her eyes, seeing still nothing. "You...you're blindfolding me??"

"That's ri-ight," sang Farrah. "Besides, all that crying's depressing." She slipped around to Holly's front again and adjusted it so it lay snugly over her eyes, just her little button nose poking out from under it.

"Now," continued Farrah, caressing a fingertip down Holly's sniffly nose. "Can you see anything, doll?"

Holly shook her head. "No."

"Good." Farrah vigorously dug her nails into Holly's belly. It tickled like crazy with the blindfold on. Holly burst out laughing.

"He-ey!" Farrah said, much more pleased by this reaction. "There's a smile! That's more like it!"

Holly went back to her quiet weeping. Her arms were starting to ache. She started to lower them once more.

"KEEP those fucking hands up, missy!" Farrah snapped. Holly miserably obeyed.

"'Atta girl," Farrah praised. "But I can see I'm going to need to resort to more secure means with you. Now hold still."

As Holly woefully held pose, Farrah waltzed to the other side of the wall and returned with two pairs of thick, separable velvet cuffs. She disconnected one pair, bolted a separated cuff to a hook on one side of the wall, at the level of Holly's vagina, and did the same on the other side. She seized Holly's left arm, brought it down, slipped her wrist into its cuff, snapped it, and locked.

Holly's heart jumped. She tugged, realizing she could no longer move her arm. "...Are you tying me up??" she asked in horror.

Farrah shrugged. "'S not technically tying, my lass, it's actually cuffing...but yeah, you've got the basic idea." She took Holly's right arm and repeated on the other side. Holly tried to pull her arms free, but it was no use. The restraints held fast.

Holly thought her eyeballs would roll out of her head from more crying than she'd done in her life. It was unbelievable. Now, on top of everything else, this witch had her locked up! Like she was...a prisoner! Or some kind of degenerate criminal! What on Earth was going on?? Things like this weren't supposed to happen! This horror show kept getting worse every second. Holly broke again.

"Lady, why are you doing this to me??!" she wailed, struggling against the cuffs.

Farrah chuckled wickedly. "You just wait, little gal. Now kneel."

Holly knew arguing was pointless. She let herself down until she felt her knees touch the floor. Her arms were now spread at 90° angles. Humiliation would not begin to describe what she felt right now. She couldn't imagine what was to happen next. Then, her blood froze as she realized the impending situation: Farrah was going to rape her! She knew it! She was about to be raped! It was like a nightmare come true. She wished she could run home into her parents' arms, or even back to The Twilight. Anywhere but here.

Farrah picked up the other set of cuffs. Keeping them connected, she bolted them together to a single hook at the bottom middle, crossed Holly's ankles one over the other, and shackled them in place.

"Feet ticklish, doll?" she heard Farrah ask smirkingly. Holly only turned her face away and sulked in reply.

The smirk faded. Farrah leaned up closer to Holly's ear.

"I said...are your little feetsies..."

She placed her index nail at the ball of Holly's right foot, where the toes met the sole. Holly tensed, trying to hold back the giggling.

"...Ticklish?"

Farrah ran the jagged nail down the bottom of Holly's shaking foot, barely finishing the question. Holly blew up in insane laughter.

Farrah was pleased. "Outstanding," she assessed. "And how about this one?..." She did the same thing to Holly's left foot, making her laugh even harder. "Don't! Please, stop!" Holly begged. She banged the tops of her feet on the floor, noisily rattling her footcuffs.

"All right, that's enough of that for now," Farrah decided, letting up. She placed her hands in between Holly's supple thighs. "And now we're gonna spread...those knees," as she did just so. She pushed Holly's knees as far away from each other on the floor as they would go. They began to reflexively slide back together, but Farrah held them ajar. Holly did not care for the feeling of the air on her pussy (and nipples), reminding her that she was completely exposed and vulnerable to anything. She felt Farrah take her chin.

"You really are such a sweet, pretty little thing," she remarked. "Exactly my favorite kind."

"Favorite kind"?...What do you mean, "favorite kind"?? The question wreaked havoc in Holly's brain.

Farrah let her chin drop. She began lightly fondling Holly between the legs. Holly seized up once more, stomach churning in reaction to the horrific sensation. "NO, STOP!" she screamed. "PLEASE!" She fought harder with the cuffs. "RAAAAPE!!"

Ignoring her, Farrah marveled at her soft 21-year-old coochie. "You have a lovely young pussy, my little girl-pet..." she said, toying with her. "Smooth, tight, pink..." She looked her in her face. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Holly kept her mouth shut. She was beginning to feel drained of tears. "I'll take that as a yes," Farrah declared. She sultrily kissed her on the cheek, then stood. Holly heard her footsteps walk to her left for a spell, stop, turn around, and come back. Then she heard a loud buzzing sound. Her heartbeat accelerated to double its normal speed. As if she wasn't freaked out enough already!

"Do you know what that is?" Farrah seductively taunted her. Holly emphatically shook her head in fear.

"Oh, go on. Take a guess," Farrah said, enjoying messing with her.

Holly saw no other choice but to play along. "...A...toothbrush?"

Farrah laughed. "Y'know, for a little girl 's about to be T. and D.'d, you're optimistic, I'll give ya that. Foolishly, but yes: optimistic."

"T. and D.'d"? "What's 'T. and D.'d'?" Holly asked cautiously.

"Oh, you'll find out." Farrah clicked the device on and off. "This, in the meantime, happens to be a GX-500 Hellraiser Wand."

She had no clue what that meant. "A what?"

Farrah stroked it between Holly's tits, down her belly and just below her waist. She whispered in her ear, "It's a vibrator, my pet."

Without another word or second wasted, she switched it on its lowest setting and touched it to Holly's frightened pussy.

Holly felt as if she was going to be sick. Her stomach backflipped. She unleashed another half-scream-slash-wail.

"NOOO!" she objected for the dozenth time. "STOP it!!" She found she was in fact not yet drained of tears. She tried to rip her arms off. She would have gnawed them off if she could've. She tried to pull her pelvis away, but the vibrator clung fast to her.

"Please just let me go!" she beseeched, her voice growing hoarse.

"Aw, but we were just getting to the most fun part!" Farrah informed her, screwing with her already tormented mind. She let her other hand glide and caress the rest of Holly's body, from the hair down the back, ass and legs, to her inner thighs, torso, breasts and finally just stroked Holly's cheeks. To Holly, the utter disdain and disgust were overwhelming. The woman's touch felt slimy, depraved, and definitely unwelcome. She tried to snake and slither around Miss Farrah's hands. To say that Farrah's touches made her uncomfortable was not even close to an understatement.

"Don't rape meeeee!" Holly pleaded, wanting to bash the back of her head against the wall, anything to get her mind off Miss Farrah molesting her. "I hate this! I hate it! I hate you! I HAAAATE you!! You're a sick, mean lady!! You're disgusting!!"

Suddenly, the vibrator stopped. Holly heard the footsteps sharply and swiftly walk away, and return again. Farrah swiftly came back, grasping in her hand a different Wand. A Violet one. "Oh? Perhaps you'll like this better?!" Farrah snarled.

She touched this Wand to the tip of Holly's nose. It alit a small crackle of electricity and made a zzzt! sound in contact with her skin. In reaction to this, Holly emitted a high-pitched shrieking, "OW!" And she did fling her head back on the wall.

"OhmyGOD, that hurts!" she screamed, scrunching her nose, trying to soothe it. "Did you just fucking electrocute me?!"

She stunned herself with her profanity. She'd never say this word under normal conditions. But circumstances were out of her hands. Farrah parted her labia an inch. Her voice was threatening. She turned off the Wand and smoothed it over Holly's pussy lips.

"Oh, that's nothing. This little beauty gets way the hell hotter than that...unless of course you'd rather have the vibrator back...?"

The vilely uncomfortable vibing on her genitalia proved still yet much preferable to painful electric shocks. Farrah removed the Violet Wand from her pussy and gave her alternating taps on both nipples with it: left, right, left, right...

"Huuuuh?" came Farrah's spooky voice, drawing out the terror. "What'll it be? Vibrator?...Or shock treatment?..." She grabbed Holly's chin in her hand as she finished, "...You little fucking WHORE?!!"

Holly sensed she had been sent straight to hell. She quickly made a decision. "V—...vibrator!" she yelled.

Farrah perked up. "Smart girl!" she grinned. A minute later, Holly again felt the electronic sexual pulsating invading her nether-regions. Horrible as it was, it was still no match for the smarting surge of electricity she received on her poor, reddened, runny nose.

"Okay, you had your little tantrum...oh, and by the by, you spoke incorrectly," Farrah said. "What I believe you meant to say was..."

She gripped at Holly's breasts. Holly felt her breath brush her cheek.

"...That you love me."

"Oh, please just let me go-o-o-o..." Holly whined. Her throat was getting very sore. She didn't have the energy or laryngeal strength to scream anymore. She just closed her eyes and wept. "Oh, please, please, please, please, please, please, plea—"

Farrah lost patience. She clutched Holly's mouth again, more severely, and Holly squeaked like a mouse. "SHUT it, you ungrateful filthy little cunt!" she growled through gritted teeth, making the girl cry even harder. "You'll take it, and you'll fucking like it!

"And another thing," she added, cooling back down, "You're depressing me again. Enough with the waterworks."

She let go of Holly's chin and tickled the hell out of her feet. Holly's frown involuntarily turned upside-down. She laughed so explosively hard she flung her head back against the wall again.

"Okay!" she guffawed, trying to catch her breath. "Please don't tickle me! I can't sta-a-a-and it!"

Farrah mocked her. Keeping the vibrator on her, she tweaked her with the other hand. Imitating a little girl, she whined, "'Oh, don't hurt me! Don't shoot me! Don't touch me! Don't rape me! Don't tickle me!' Damn, you're a disagreeable little pixie, ain't'cha?"

The mocking tone took Holly's mind off the torment of the Hellraiser. It deeply hurt her feelings. It reminded her of her hours of being picked on, poked fun at and degraded as a young lass. She struggled again. She found herself wanting to break through these infernal cuffs and sock this nasty bully right in the mouth. She wanted to harness the strength of Wonder Woman and bust out of here. But the vibrator was continuing to drain her of stamina...and her legs were quivering...

And, she was breathing heavier...

And, most of her brain told her to keep yelling at her kidnapper to let her go. But incredibly enough, she very faintly heard a tiny part of her brain tell her...to be quiet.

Hush, it said. You're not getting out of this. And besides...

She paid attention to this small part of her mind speaking to her, and dismissed its insinuation after half a second.

UGH! No! she told her mind, giving herself a mental spanking. That's disGUSTing! You hate this! This sick, rotten, horrible woman is terrorizing you, remember?? This is a NIGHTmare!

Still...she squirmed and wriggled. The vibrator held onto her like a magnet. It wielded an astonishing power over her. Her strength was giving out. And amazingly...minute by minute...she felt herself actually losing the will to fight Farrah off.

"Stop it," she croaked out, growing weaker and less determined by the second. "Sto—..."

She dropped her head. The need to rapidly shift her breath cut off the 'p.'

Farrah grinned up at her, knowing she was winning. "Didn't quite get it all out that time, did ya??" she leered.

Holly jerked more, still trying to futilely wrench herself free from the dreaded Wand. "No...plea—...don—..." she sputtered.

Her breath picked up. Her heart accelerated again. The small part of her brain which told her to hush up was quickly growing and taking over the resisting part. She was fighting a steeper and steeper uphill battle, she could tell. And...was that...?

NO. Couldn't be. No way.

...But...was it...?...Did it feel...good down there??

NO! she repeated to herself. That's sick! How is that possible??

And yet, she couldn't deny it much longer. Farrah smoothed her free hand over her breasts, stomach and ribs...and Holly let her.

She moistened. She was actually getting wet! She didn't know what was going on. How could this possibly be happening? How could she possibly start to become sexually aroused by a woman who had taken her prisoner and was torturing her?

Maybe... she heaved her breath and let her head drop back against the wall.

Maybe...maybe it's not actually torture...anymore...

Farrah's grin spread triumphantly, watching the girl's head bob and her breasts bounce. She sneered up at Holly's flushing face.

"You're startin' to like it, aren't ya?" she chortled lasciviously.

Holly barely even heard her. When her entire mind agreed to surrender, she felt herself being drawn out from the inner world she'd inhabited for twenty-one years. Before she could discern what was happening, common sense flew the coop. Reason and rationale were kicked in the corner. Resistance was no longer even up for consideration. As much as she didn't understand it, Holly at last decided, ...To hell with trying to understand it. Who cares anymore...just sink in...and swim...

"Thaaaat's a good girl," Farrah purred to her, slow and sultry, drawing her in, telling Holly more words she couldn't hear. "You see? Rules of the game: you be nice to me, I'll be nice to you. You get angry and disrespectful with me...I'll be very mean to you."

Actually, thought Farrah, What you don't know is that I'm gonna be mean to you anyway...

She slid her fingertips and nails all over Holly's frame again, taking yet another trip, Holly now well warmed up. Her head lolled back, and hoarse though her voice was, she was beginning to audibly moan...

And what you also don't know is...you're gonna want me to. She laughed sadistically at her and kept up the seduction, upping the ante. She flipped the vibrator to its next level. Holly's body spastically twitched at the stimulus increase. Her fingers flexed into fists, toes curling up as well. The touch of skin on skin also increased, as Farrah caressed her, and kissed her face. She attached her lips to Holly's neck, sucked till she hickeyed her, and planted sizzling kisses on her chin, cheek, ear, temple...her forehead...her nose...her...

The real fun was now underway. Farrah let Holly feel her hot, steamy breath as she moved in. Farrah's lips came to within an inch of passion-crackling contact with Holly's own. Holly's libido, hormones and genitalia leapt to fresh, glowing life, as she gasped and opened her lips in yearning anticipation. The head of the Hellraiser grew damper and damper.

Holly thrust her body out yet further and further, getting closer and closer all the while...until, suddenly...Farrah took her lips off Holly's, and pulled the vibrator away. "No," she said quietly.

The cloud ascending underneath Holly abruptly disappeared. She plummeted back down to Earth flat on her back.

"W-what?" Holly peeped. She felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over her. "What the—"

Farrah cruelly smiled. She returned her lips to Holly's and the vibrator to her now wet, hungry vagina. Holly felt it, and threw herself back into the reignited situation. Both eager sets of lips said the same: "Yes...yes...more...more..." Farrah took her closer, and once more Holly thrust her body into Farrah's. Farrah watched her build...and build...and build...

...And then she retreated from Holly and took the vibrator away again. "Nope," she calmly reiterated. "Not this time either."

For the second time, Holly's eyes snapped open under the blindfold in confused, dizzy aggravation. This second denial was even more agonizing than the first. She felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her. "WH—" she shouted, automatically tightening up her arms, squeezing her biceps, trying even harder to wrench herself out. "WhatthefuckingHELL?!"

Farrah chuckled. "Ah, ah, ah," she chided. "I told you: T. and D.'d."

"What is 'T. and D.'d'?" Holly demanded impatiently.

"Why, teased...and denied, of course, you silly little girl."

Holly took a second to process this revelation and stack it against what she'd just experienced. She suddenly saw blood-red.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" Holly screeched.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and find out," Farrah whispered in her ear. "Enjoy." She took Holly by the back of her hair, tilted her head back, assaulted Holly's lips with her own, flipped the vicious Wand up to setting three, and torched her pussy with it.

The sound that came out of Holly was not unlike that which when Farrah first kidnapped her; what would have been a scream was silenced into a muffle. Her nipples extended and her entire body blazed with lust. Farrah shifted to Holly's right side, took the vibrator in her left hand, dipped her right index finger in Holly's pussy's autolube and circled her swelling clit. Holly was dying. She violently rattled the wall, whapping the floor with her feet. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together, jam the vibrator up between them and never let go. She was almost there. She strained in longing...just another couple of moments, and...and...aaaaand...

Farrah again ripped her pleasure away from her. "Now suffer, you little worm."

Holly thrust her body out again in disbelief, to feel nothing but wretched deprivation. She waited another moment, and—




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 01



"SHIT!" Holly wailed in defeat.

Farrah laughed out loud at the inferno of anguish she was putting the poor little girl through. "'S a hell of a mind-fuck, isn't it?!"

It, was, excruciating. Holly pulled on the cuffs as hard as she could, hands in fists so tight she almost bled her own palms with her nails. She put every spare drop of energy in her body to work trying to tear her arms free. She felt they were magnetized to her pussy, but...could...not...reach, she lamented. Farrah watched with delight as Holly's arms and wrists visibly flexed so hard she could see the shapes of her bones. Then, in the middle of Holly's fit, just to add a dash of victorious insult, Farrah tickled her. Holly screamed.

"Oh, God!..." Holly sighed in misery, pulling herself back together. "You...you...you..."

Farrah put the vicious Hellraiser back on her. "...Bitch?" she asked.

Out of her mind and robbed of breath, Holly groped for words. "You cruel...evil...c—..." she hollered, trying like crazy to control her respiration, yank something appropriate out of her limited vocabulary and free her limbs.

"I'll take that as the compliment it is." Farrah knew Holly now reactivated instantaneously at her touch. Holly sucked in, gasped, and Farrah immediately took it away. She spent the next several seconds playing a despicable game of keep-away with her. She put the Wand on her one second, took it away, changed the setting, returned it, took it away, changed settings. Holly didn't know how much more of this she could be expected to stand. Farrah knew the exact split-second to wait, force the vibe on her and then yank it away again, propelling her over the limits of insanity and back again. She was the ball on the end of the proverbial paddle.

"Thaaaaat's it, Holly doll," Farrah said, malevolently challenging her, "Hoooold it in...control it, hold it back..."

Again left high and dry—so to speak—Holly flipped. "Oh, God, why? Why?? Why would you do that??!" was her next outcry.

"I appreciate the worship, cute little sex slave, but I'm not God. The name—at least as far as you know—is Farrah. Far-rah. Come on, say it with me: 'Far-rah.' Although you may call me Goddess Farrah, if it suits you."

Holly was now begging Goddess Farrah for a much different request than she was an hour ago. Several parts of her body were throbbing, and several different fluids dripped from her. She squeezed her fists so hard her fingers almost broke. She banged her head on the wall, biting her bottom lip, scrunching her face, flaring her nostrils, gnashing and grinding her teeth. The blindfold might as well have not even been there, as her eyes were pinched shut. Innumerable strands of hair pasted to her face with sweat.

"Oh, let me cum, PLEASE!" she groaned, fingertips outstretched, her trove of forbidden pleasure one centimeter out of reach.

Farrah switched off the vibrator. "You really think you're ready to cum, little girl?" she asked patronizingly.

"Yes! YESSSS!!" Holly begged, slamming her feet on the floor. If she could've, she'd've found a way to get herself off with her toes.

Farrah turned it back on and brought it nearer her. "Welllllll..."

Holly could only continue banging her feet, elbows and head in reply. "PLEEEEEASE!!" she moaned in despair.

"A'right then...if that's what you really want...we're gonna stop messin' around," Farrah declared in her low, steamy voice. She took the Wand straight up, right past setting four, directly to its maximum setting five...spread the girl's labia further apart still...

...Leaned up to her, whispered in her ear...

..."Welcome to hell, whore"...

...And zapped her.

Holly's body locked, clenched and flew against the wall with an echoing crash! Her head went straight back, practically spinning, face shining and gleaming from sweat pouring down it. She unleashed a feral yowl. "FUUUUUUUUCK!!" she exalted.

"Mm-hm," Farrah contentedly concurred. "Go ahead...just try to cum," she dominantly taunted in her deep, dark voice. "Just try it. Just, fucking, try. I DARE you."

Holly didn't comprehend a word. She'd thrust her body out as far as she could, and couldn't move. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't smell, she couldn't taste. Her eyes rolled back in her head. It was no less than unbearable, pleasure or no pleasure.

"This Wand has five settings," Farrah said loudly, trying to carry over Holly's primal song of limitless delirium. "Low, Medium, High, Extra High, and Holy Fucking Hell," She raised her voice and gleefully shouted into Holly's face, "Guess which one THIS is!!"

Out of all the words Farrah had just said to her, Holly heard zero of them.

"FUUUUUUUCK ME!" Holly roared, more as an evaluation of her current state than as a favor.

Farrah cackled, taking it as a favor. "As you wish," she agreed, spreading her cunt's lips further apart with her unoccupied hand and readying her chosen digit. "Middle finger it is; fuck you."

She pumped her middle finger up inside Holly, ramming it straight up, then gradually flexing it about. The extreme vaginal and clitoral stimulation now combined with the digital penetration was just far too much for her. She wasn't a 21-year-old human being anymore. She was an animal. She wasn't even making sounds by this point. She was just gyrating as if sitting in an invisible electric chair. Farrah took in the entire delicious tableau of her slave's body, top half powerlessly glued to the wall, bottom half uncontrollably quaking at her white-hot touch, and waited for the signs. It was coming. Less than fifteen.

Merrily watching the sweat drip off her cheeks, nose and lips, Farrah leaned up to her ear again to whisper.

"In T-minus ten seconds and counting, orgasm..." She kept it going for the moment, drawing it out, making her suffer.

"...Will be denied."

Everything went a swirling mixture of black and blood-red.

Holly felt her world shatter to pieces. The last seconds ticked down. Every synapse and nerve ending begged for relief. Every one of them was saying the same thing. No...no, you can't do this to me! You CAN'T! I've already been through hell and back! You can't just dangle me over the edge of heaven forever, just to force me back into hell! YOU JUST CAN'T. PLEASE GOD. RELEASE ME!!

Five...four...three...two...

Holly tried to brace herself, though she knew she was about to be condemned to suffer. She didn't know how she'd recover from this, or again experience this kind of hidden ecstasy. She couldn't have imagined it existed. One solitary chance for sweet salvation, so close she could taste it...and she wasn't allowed. She'd remain locked in the unbreakable confines of chastity. One...second...left...

Farrah giggled darkly. "Just kidding, doll." She seared Holly's lips with hers and finished her off.

Finally, the one thin strand hanging her over Heaven snapped.

Holly couldn't believe it. The first reflexive thought through her sensate mind was, What??! YOU SICK BITCH!! You are SO cruel!!

The second was, But I don't care! OHTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! The second overtook the first in a flash.

Indeed, in her mind it was nothing short of a miracle. She could feel nothing beneath, above, or anywhere around. She couldn't feel the shackles on her hands and feet. She couldn't feel the blindfold. All she could feel was the bubble she was floating in.

On her outside, Farrah had made her gush. Literally. She'd rubbed Holly's g-spot over and over again, and the vaginal wall tightened and clenched on her hand until Farrah culled out all her spare fluid left, and Holly sprayed a waterfall from inside her, all over the floor. When Holly finally finished sailing over the apex of her gushgasm, wrapped in a rainbow, she inevitably started to float back down...back down to Earth, where her lifeless body slumped into unconsciousness, held up only by her cuffed wrists. Farrah unfastened the cuffs from the wall hooks, pulled Holly's body aside a few feet, and laid her down on the floor where it was dry to let her sleep...but did not yet take her wrists and ankles out of the cuffs...

***

August 28th, 5:25 a.m.

The sun prepared its arrival especially early this summer Thursday. In the warehouse buried down the back alley of the intersection of Kent and Juniper, a naked, shackled, dazed and confused 21-year-old girl lay in a state of semiconsciousness, between asleep and awake. Her 32-year-old captress had rolled her over onto her stomach, put her hands on her back, brought her legs up behind her and connected her wrist cuffs to her ankle cuffs. She was, now, as Farrah and others in her line liked to say, hogtied. Or hogcuffed.

It was still mostly dark outside. Holly's eyes fluttered under her blindfold. Opening her eyes to see nothing different, she started to panic, wondering for a second what was going on. And slowly, piece by piece, it all came back to her. The details were very fuzzy, but she could vaguely recall something about The Twilight, a gun, the name Farrah, and...being sexually abused...by the very same.

She remembered it all now. Her mind got back more and more pieces to the puzzle. Farrah had kidnapped her, forcibly dragged her back to wherever here was, made her take her clothes off, tortured her...and then...then...

The last she could summon to memory was being locked to a wall and Farrah taking advantage of her naked body...yet one more time someone took advantage of her, she thought. Well, then again, this time was different. This time she didn't have a choice.

And...did...did something else happen after that?...Did...she just fall asleep?...

She tried to move. She could still feel the cuffs immobilizing her hands and feet. She recognized the feel of the cold hard floor on her breasts and belly, so she knew she was still naked...she shifted her body around as much as she could, till she heard the voice.

"Morning, sunshine," came the deep, misty tone that sent a chill through her body. She looked up, even though she couldn't see.

"Pleasant dreams?"

Holly suddenly felt very scared. She said nothing.

"Well, I would hope so, after that red-hot motherfucker orgasm."

Holly's ears perked up. Orgasm? She'd had an or—?...

"I hope you appreciate that, dollface. I would've denied you completely. The only reason I let you cum was it's your birthday."

All of a sudden, Holly remembered everything else. She was feeling a lot of emotions at the same time, most of them unplaceable. She frankly didn't know how to feel right now. "C—...can I g—..." She was going to ask if she could go home now, but then she also remembered that she had no money and no means of transport to get there. But in another couple hours, her parents would be getting up. She didn't know if she should tell them, or how to tell them...or whom else to tell. Should she...she didn't know. She didn't know how to handle this. She was only 21. Barely 21. She was still just a kid. And she was lying naked, cuffed up, in the middle of what she still considered a stranger's warehouse. She'd never been through anything like this before. What was she to do?

She started weeping. She heard Farrah's exasperated voice. "Ah, hell, here we go again. Look, little girl, I just gave you a once-in-a-lifetime cum-fest that knocked you out cold. What the fuck are you crying about now?"

Holly shook her head. "I don't think that was me, Miss...Farrah. I think you turned me into some...slut-person or something. I feel..." She tried to think of the words she wanted. "...I feel violated, Miss Farrah. I feel like you took my virginity." She squirmed. "And...I still don't have any money or any way to get home. I don't know what to do." She dropped her head on the floor and cried.

Farrah nodded. "I know, doll. You gave me your purse. I've got your address and phone number." Holly looked back up at her with wide blindfolded eyes. Farrah went on. "And fortunately for you, I'm a nice lady, and I don't believe in permanent entrapment. So, consider yourself damn lucky, first of all. Now, as for getting you home, there're a couple ways we can handle this." She stood up and sauntered over to where Holly lay hogcuffed on the floor.

"One...I could drive you home myself...two, I could give you a few bucks for the bus...three, I could call you a cab and give you a few bucks for that." She knelt down beside Holly. "Now, there's a little roadblock with all three choices, my pet. You see..." She let her hand rest on Holly's tush. "When you do things to a person the likes of what I've just done to you in the last three hours, they feel a natural desire and compulsion to immediately relate that information to a third party. Usually, authorities. Or family members sometimes come first too. And you know, if you're the one to have inflicted these acts upon another, and your victim spreads the word around, it can potentially spell problems for you." She paused. "You see where I'm going with this?"

Unfortunately, yes, Holly did. She nodded.

"Ah, good. Then we can cut to the chase. Now, sweet Holly, everyone has their own methods for dealing with this sort of thing, of, eh...shall we say, persuading their victims to conveniently 'forget' the events of the past few hours. This...is my preferred method." She traced a finger around Holly's lower body, from her ass around her left leg and up to her foot. "If you recall, Holly, did I not ask you if you were..." She slid her finger down her left foot's instep, causing her to jiggle, wriggle and giggle. "...Ticklish?"

Holly gulped, abruptly feeling very scared, and very doomed. She started to murmur, "Oh, no, Miss Farrah, please—"

Farrah continued tracing her body. "And, eh...did you also happen to be aware, my young lass...that normally, after a human body experiences orgasm, the hyperactive bloodflow in the system overstimulates the nerve endings, in turn making the body even more sensitive than usual, thus more..." She leaned down to Holly's ear, letting her nails softly slide down her back. "...Ticklish?"

Holly's body was shaking, dreading the immediate future. She panicked again. She heard Farrah chuckle, and tried as hard as she could to curl herself up into a ball. She wished she had a shell to hide in.

Farrah smiled adoringly down at her poor sweet little victim. "Y'see where I'm going with this now?"

Holly burrowed her face into the floor. "Oh, why can't I just go ho-o-ome?" she sobbed.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that," Farrah said. "You'll be back home sweet home safe and sound before you know it. Juuuust as soon as I slip you the, uh...well, let's just say it—the needle."

All of a sudden, saying no was the easiest thing in the world. Holly screamed her lungs out.

"NO!!" she shrieked. "Miss Farrah, I'll never tell anyone, I swear! I SWEAR! Believe me! I won't! PLEASE, no needles!!"

Farrah laughed, lovingly, gingerly sweeping stray hair from Holly's brow, patting her head. "Oh, doll, relax. I'm not really gonna jab you with a needle. I'm far too kind for that. 'Sides, I feel a bit of extreme, intense tickling'll prove persuasive enough, don't you?"

Holly broke. "Oh, for God's sake, Miss Farrah, PLE-E-E-EASE!" she pled. She raised her voice, trying to throw in a few extra doses of pathos. "Have mercy on me! This has been the worst day...or night, or-or whatever it is of my life! Do you have any idea how much you've traumatized the daylights out of me?! I said I wouldn't tell anybody and I won't! Ever! I'll-I'll make up some kind of story! Or-or you make it up! I swear! What do I have to do to make you believe me?? I'll never tell! Honest to God!" Her head pounded from the enormous headache all the crying had induced. She lowered it back to the floor. "Honest to God," she repeated tearfully.

For a couple of moments, the only sound in the warehouse was Holly's sobbing.

Farrah gave her a pat on the left ass cheek. "Holly, I absolutely believe you."

Holly perked up her ears. "...You do?"

"Natch! Of course I do!" said Farrah. "C'mon, an innocent-hearted, angelic little ragamuffin like you? You haven't a single devious or deceptive bone in your body!" she grinned, giving her a playful spank. "You're just far too much fun to tickle the living hell out of!"

Holly's eyes stung with dismay. She realized her fate was sealed. She could feel the walls closing in on her.

"Noooooo," Holly ruefully complained. She hopefully sank her face into the floor. "I'm dead meeeeeeat..." she moaned.

"That's ri-ight," Farrah sang to her again, wiggling her evil nails before Holly's ravaged soles before she proceeded to dig in.

"Happy Birthday."

The laughter erupted like a volcano, filling the entire building, faintly echoing from one end of Kent Street to the other.

***

August 28th, 7:25 a.m.

After another hour and a half or so of on-and-off tickle torture, the sun had popped up, its first rays illuminating the dark streets. Holly had finally been allowed to take a much-needed bathroom break, wash and clean herself up, and get dressed. As much as she disliked using someone else's restroom, she made an exception in this case. Farrah drove her home herself, just to go over a few details with her. When they pulled up a few houses down the street from Holly's, Farrah parked and turned to her.

Holly looked and felt somewhat like she had five hours ago in the bar. She was in her birthday blouse, staring down at her hands crossed in her lap. Of course, several things were different now. She was thinking about the no longer pure as snow vagina that didn't feel like hers anymore. Her feet were on pins and needles. Her tummy was queasy. Until the next time she shampooed, her thick hair was a mess. And she had a feeling she would hear Farrah's evil laughter indefinitely haunting her mind.

At least now she could go home...but she still felt troubled on the inside.

"Miss Farrah, I don't know if I feel good about this. I mean, this...this just..." She sighed uneasily. "...This just doesn't seem right."

"I know, Holly doll. But it'll make you stronger in the long run. You told me yourself you needed to stop being such a softy.

"All right," Farrah quizzed her, "Now, whether your parents are awake already or not, your story is...?"

Holly really did not want to lie to her parents. But...

"...That my friend Delilah took me to her house, we had an all-night jammie party and she just drove me home," Holly answered, gloomily and monotonically, "And that's also why I'm so tired right now."

"Very good," said Farrah. "And should anyone ask what happened to your hair...?"

Oh, how she wanted to just tell them the truth, the whole truth and nothing other than the truth. But...

"...Pillow fight, extreme rules," muttered Holly, looking down at her lap.

"And your eyes...?"

"...We watched some really scary horror movies and they made us cry."

"Excellent," congratulated Farrah. "And what did we say you're gonna do first thing you get inside?"

"Take an extra-long shower, scrub every inch of my body and wash my blouse," murmured Holly.




Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 01



"And if your friends try to drag you out to those kind of places anymore, you're gonna say...?"

"...No, 'cause I don't go to dangerous neighborhoods, and if you want to take me to one, then you're not really my friends."

"And why don't you go to bad neighborhoods?"

"Because someone might kidnap me again, and they may not be as nice as Miss Farrah, and they could hurt me, rob me or kill me."

"Good girl," said Farrah. "And if you start to feel like someone's taking advantage of you...?"

"...I'll tell them no and stand up for myself."

"And if you're out anywhere late at night and don't have your car...?"

"...I'll make sure I have my phone with me and money to get home, and that my parents know exactly where I am."

"And speaking of your parents...?"

"...As far as they know, Miss Farrah doesn't exist."

"Correct. Oh, yes, and we've agreed that no one is ever going to hear a peep about what really happened this morning, because...?"

Holly squirmed. She took a few anxious breaths. This one really scared her. And it came out in the tone of her voice.

"...Because if they do...Miss Farrah will know...and she knows where I live...and she'll get me...and she'll punish me for it."

"Absolutely correct," said Farrah, patting her on the knee. "And how will Miss Farrah know?"

Holly shut her eyes, wanting so bad to be able to just cry it all away.

"She just will."

"That's right, little girl.

"And don't you ever...EVER...forget it."

Farrah turned from forceful back to affable again. She gestured for her to get out. "All right, Holly doll, you've passed your test, and now you'd better run along. If your Mom and Dad are up already, we don't wanna worry them any more than necessary, right?"

Holly opened the door and started to exit the car.

"Oh, and Holly?"

She turned back to wearily face her one last time.

"Yes, Miss Farrah?"

Farrah left Holly one last message with her inscrutable smile and tone of voice.

"I'll be in touch."