Satan’s Affair

Plumes of colorful smoke waft through the foyer as screams of terror ring out, filling the room with shades of greens, purples and reds. Strobe lights flicker, inducing a terrifying effect as monsters chase after guests. They look like creatures flickering in and out of portals from Hell, their bodies being pulled back and forth between the human realm and their true home. Giggles, screams and stomping footsteps follow soon after.

They run from monsters as if they have anywhere to hide.

I linger behind the walls on the bottom floor where a group of four enters the house. I watch them closely through the peepholes, inhaling their essence.

A garden of flowers. Sweet, innocent, pure.

I smile, watching them scream their heads off and push into each other, trying to escape from the monsters chasing after them. One doll carries a kitchen knife in her hand, fake blood dripping off the sharpened point as she slowly stalks after the girls. They’ll run from the doll, but they won’t be able to escape her.

I let the group of girls move on, staying in my spot and await the next group. The first group of five that came before the four girls are on their way out. While not every single person from the first group smelled like fresh flowers, they didn’t reek of evil, either.

The second the first group leaves, the door opens, and six people stumble in. Two men and four girls. The girls are already hunched together, hanging on each other’s arms with their hands linked so tightly, their knuckles are bleached white. Nervous giggles emanating from their pretty mouths. The two guys behind them are attempting to act macho, though I can see the whites of their shifty eyes from here.

Satan’s Affair is a world-renowned fair for a reason. We are known to have the scariest haunted houses in the country—short of the few places that allow their employees to lay hands on the guests, even going as far as torturing them.

Those haunted houses are classless. We don’t need to touch our guests in order to scare them half to death.

The hours pass by slowly. Groups of people coming in and out, their throats turning hoarse from screams. At one point, a girl peed her pants and had to walk out with a huge wet spot in her jeans. I wanted to rip a couple people’s throats out from laughing at the poor, embarrassed girl.

But I refrained because none of them were evil—just callous.

Of all the people that passed through my dollhouse, none of them have the telltale rot emanating from them. Frustration grows, and I’m beginning to feel restless.

I want to feel blood soaking into my flesh, feel my knife cutting through sinew and muscle and tearing apart delicate skin. But I can’t just kill anyone. I refuse to kill innocents. I’m not an evil person.

I pace behind the walls, restlessness making my skin crawl. Mortis leaves his post at one point, feeling my shot nerves through the walls, and offers to lick my pussy just so I’ll calm down.

“I can’t be distracted!” I snap at him. His expression doesn’t change much, never one to be affected by my attitude. It’s one of the things I like most about him—his endurance for my mood swings.

The next thing I know, I’m being slammed against the wall opposite of where I can see the guests come through, with a hand wrapped tightly around my neck, and the other covering my mouth. Hot breath fans across my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Your pacing is going to attract attention if you don’t fucking stop. I can hear you on the other side of the house,” Mortis snaps harshly, his hand tightening around my throat until I can hardly breathe.

I wriggle against him, my anger rising like a wave in a storm. But the lust feels like a fucking tsunami. My chest heaves, though there’s nowhere for the oxygen to go.

The hand on my mouth slides away from my face, past the valley between my breasts and down my nightgown. When he reaches the edge of my dress, he hitches up the bottom and pauses.

“Make another noise, and I’ll tell the boys not to reward you with their cocks for a week, got it?”

I feel my face turning cherry red. Because there’s nowhere for the blood in my head to go. Because of his audacity, and the threat. Because I can’t fucking breathe. But mostly because I want him to fuck me already.

He lifts my head forward just to thump it harshly against the wall again. Hard enough for stars to glitter across my eyes and the little breath I had to escape. “Got it?” he repeats through bared teeth.

I nod my head, gritting my teeth against the storm of emotions swirling in my head.

“Good girl,” he whispers, easing up on my throat a fraction, just enough for me to get a good deep breath before he tightens it again.

His fingers trail up my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The mere seconds it takes for his fingers to reach the juncture between my thighs feels like forever. But when the tips of his fingers whisper across my clit—my legs nearly give out. My knees tremble. If it wasn’t for Mortis’s hand wrapped firmly around my throat, I’d be a puddle of lust and cream on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping the tip of his middle finger in my pussy before spreading the cream up to my clit. “You’re so fucking wet.”

I open my mouth, but he thumps my head again before I can make a sound. “What did I just say? Not a single noise.”

I clamp my mouth shut, tightening my lips into a thin line. As if that’ll help. As if that’ll actually stop the moan resting in my throat, growing by the second.

His finger presses into the sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling around and sending intense pleasure throughout my entire body. I grind my pussy harder against his hand, frantic for the sensations he’s creating.

His finger circles faster against my clit. I struggle in his hold, desperately needing to breathe, but needing to come even more. His middle finger slides down to my opening and plunges deep inside me. I arch my back, and my eyes roll. His thumb continues the ministrations on my clit as he slips another finger inside me.

I’m fully gyrating into his hand now. My erratic movements cause the sharp talons on his fingers to dig into my throat. The sharp pinpricks heighten the agonizing bliss.

It takes a matter of moments for the coil in my stomach to snap and euphoria to render me boneless. I clamp my teeth down on my lips to keep quiet, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I ride his hand, drawing out the orgasm crashing through me.

By the time I come down, Mortis has withdrawn his hand and I can breathe again. He keeps me upright now that my legs are jelly and useless against my weight. Small droplets of blood dot my dress, trailing from the tiny wounds on my neck, courtesy of Mortis’s talons. The sight brings a smile to my face.

It’s a wonder that he doesn’t cut up the inside of my pussy, but he’s always had perfect control of what he cuts.

Said talon pokes the underside of my chin, forcing my chin up until I’m looking into deep, soulful red eyes.

“You have the nose of a bloodhound. You’re not going to miss any demons that come through this house,” Mortis says, his tone a tad breathless, but stern.

I swallow and nod my head.

He kisses my lips softly, a stark contrast to his demeanor just minutes ago. Mortis may come off dry, but he’s capable of so much more emotion than even he realizes.

His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I grant him access. He explores my mouth thoroughly for a moment before he wrenches himself away. His cock is pressing against my stomach, but we both know we don’t have time right now.

He has to get back to his post, and I need to keep an eye out for the demon.

Later. Later he will fuck me.

With one last kiss and a warning glance to stay calm, he walks away. Leaving me alone and breathless, but considerably calmer than before.

I smile, my heart filling with love and gratitude for my men. They know me better than I know myself most days.

I hear the front door open. My eyes focus and my spine snaps straight. Immediately, I make my way over to the peephole, pressing the entirety of my body against the wall.

A group of ten people stumble in, quickly pushing and shoving as they run to get away from the monsters. I breathe in deep but am disappointed when I don’t detect any rot among the group of friends.

I slump, pressing my forehead against the wooden wall, ignoring flakes of sharp wood pricking against my skin. But I listen to Mortis, and stay calm.

Only a minute goes by when I hear the door open again. I lift my head slowly, confused by why another group would be entering the house.

We’re at max capacity. The group hasn’t even made it halfway yet. No one should be coming into this house yet.

As soon as the breeze wafts in from the open door, I get a whiff of something dreadful. Narrowing my eyes, I inhale deeply. Rot filters through my senses. A slow smile begins to form on my face and I feel any lingering frustration bleed out of me, replaced by excitement.

Walking into the house is a single guy, his head swiveling left and right as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

This naughty boy isn’t supposed to be in this house. Excitement drums in my pulse.

Could it be Gary? It has to be. Why else would some guy sneak into a haunted house if he didn’t have motive?

I cringe when I get a good look at the guy. God, he’s really ugly—inside and out. A mop of greasy brown hair that’s overgrown and curling past his bushy brows and ears. A dirty, threadbare hoodie hangs from his lanky body. I bet if I were to peek beneath the sleeves covering his arms, I’d find track marks and picked over scabs.

He’s high. His pupils are dilated and shifty. Not from fear, but from whatever drug is coursing through his bloodstream. His cheeks have been hollowed out from the foreign substances eating away at this body from the inside out.

I’ve no idea what the hell Jennifer sees in this guy. He’s so gross. And Jennifer is beautiful. With pretty, pin straight blonde hair, sky blue eyes and a radiating smile. How did someone like her end up with someone like him?

She must be fooled by the bad boy persona. Maybe she has a sad homelife, restricted from doing things that make her happy, so she’s trying to find life and a thrill in someone dangerous. If only it means she feels a little less dead inside.

My flower is beginning to wilt, and just like Mommy, she will be tainted with tar if she stays with her vile boyfriend.

Gary’s image flickers. I’m no longer staring at a greasy lowlife, but Daddy. Standing before me, looking straight into my eyes as if he can see me through the wall. A sinister smile growing on his portly face until all I can see, feel and hear is evil.

I gasp, jerking away as familiar terror claws through my bones. Every time Daddy walked into the same room as me, the oxygen was sucked out and replaced with fear. I was the only one that ever stood up to Daddy, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared of him. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t fear for my life on a constant basis.

The image flickers, and Gary is before me again.

I let loose a harsh breath, shaking my hands out to calm the sharp nerves spearing through my body. I breathe in deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth to calm the anxiety.

Breathe, Sibby. Daddy is dead. He’s not here anymore.

This is why I’m here. This is my purpose. To protect my garden of flowers from wilting because of people like Gary and Daddy.

Gary pulls a gray beanie out of his hoodie pocket and pulls it over his head down low until his hair curls around the edges. His eyes travel across the foyer, noting the battery-operated woman giving birth to a demon on the couch—fake blood spurting from her orifices.

When he starts walking through the living room, the doll with the kitchen knife pops out from around the corner, cocking her head at Gary eerily and walking towards him.

“Stay the fuck back, you creepy bitch,” Gary spits, venom in his voice. The girl stills, and for just a second, she breaks character as shock and fury flash across her eyes.

It’s not very often we get aggressive guests. Afterall, the whole point of them being here is for them to chase after you and scare you.

The doll recovers quickly, a sinister smile building on her face as she continues her perusal. She has a job to do, and she’s going to fucking do it. Don’t enter the den of wolves and ask not to be bitten.

Gary scoffs. “Tell me which room Jennifer is in,” he demands sharply. The doll ignores him, distracting him while another monster creeps up from behind him. A large man, nearly almost as big as Cronus, stands behind Gary.

Feeling the presence breathing down his neck, Gary turns and comes face-to-face with a monster that looks like a demonic man. Most of the skin is missing from his face, showing just the muscle beneath. The man is holding a chainsaw, and the second Gary lays eyes on him, the man revs the chainsaw, laughing manically as he does. Gary yells, his eyes dilating further, and he takes off up the stairs.

The opposite way he’s supposed to go, but that’s okay. He won’t be lingering around for long.

I giggle, following him through the walls. I prance on my toes, keeping my footfalls light. I peek through each hole, keeping track of where he’s going, laughing as the excitement of my kill builds.

He’ll be so cute when he’s ripped open, his lifeless eyes staring at me from between my thighs.

When he wanders in an empty room, I start to sing.

“Ring a’round the rosies.”

Gary’s head whips towards my voice, though he can’t see me. His frantic eyes swivel around the room, ignoring the animated mannequin in the corner of the bedroom, stabbing itself with a knife brutally. Jackal is right outside of this room, having already scared Gary when he rushed in here.

Now that he’s in here and Jackal has heard my singing, Gary will never come back out of the room.

“Pocket full of posies,” I continue loudly. Jackal walks into the bedroom, his big yellow eyes locked on Gary. He checks the hallway one last time before shutting the door behind him. I swear his smile widens further the moment the door clicks shut. Gary whips around, jumping when he spots Jackal, his chest heaving.

He’s not as unaffected by the monsters as he pretends to be. We’re famous for a reason.

“The fuck do you want? I’m just trying to fucking find Jenny,” he rages.

“Ashes, ashes.”

Gary flinches from Jackal, his face painted in fear. It’s such a beautiful sight, and it makes me squeal in excitement.

My henchman stalks towards Gary. His melted face and yellow eyes are a sight to behold. Sensing something is off, Gary begins to back away, searching left and right for an escape route. There are two doors in each room. The door our guests come through and the door they exit out of. The hallways and exits points aren’t traditional to a real house, they’re set up in an elaborate, but organized maze so each room will ultimately connect to the other.

Angling myself so I can see the exit point Gary is backing away towards, I smile when I see another one of my henchmen, Baine, appear behind him. The Grim Reaper, blocking his exit and sealing his death.

I bounce on my toes, giggling excitedly. How fun!

Gary doesn’t notice him, though, too petrified of the melting monster before him. His chest heaves faster. His eyes are no longer dilated from the drugs, but from pure terror. Though I’m sure the drugs coursing through his system are intensifying the fear.

“What the fuck is going on?! Let me out of here!” Gary shouts, attempting to strong arm his way past Jackal. I almost snort, amused by his pathetic attempt. Gary is a tadpole compared to Jackal.

“We all fall down,” I sing, drawing out the last note in a sorrowful tone. It seems as if the world stills, the three men on the other side of the wall pausing. And then they snap into action. Gary darts towards the door but Jackal catches him by his hood and shoves him back into the wall. The evil demon opens his mouth, preparing to let loose a scream, but Jackal’s too fast. He shoves his hand over Gary’s mouth, and punches him in the stomach with the other.

Gary loses his breath, hunching over from the pain. And just like that, Jackal brings his fist down on the back of Gary’s head, knocking him out cold.

Gary slackens, his hunched body falling forward and crashing face-first to the dirty ground. I laugh when his body settles into a position where he’s awkwardly on his knees, with his ass in the air and his face on the ground.

With excited giggles, I find my little hidden entrance and crawl through. The doors are only three feet tall. It’s a little awkward to drag the demons through, but I usually don’t have too much trouble.

Once I’m inside the room, I run up to Jackal, grab his face and bring him down to my level. I brush my lips against his softly, before deepening the kiss and plunging my tongue in his mouth. This time, I don’t mind the fake, nasty blood on his mouth. Jackal groans, licking at my mouth eagerly. His cock hardens in his trousers, pressing against my stomach, the entirety of his body molding to mine.

I rip myself away from his mouth, panting and needy. As much as I’d love to pull down Jackal’s pants, get on my knees and suck on his cock, I can’t right now.

I have a job to do, and I need to hurry before more guests walk in.

Screams are sounding from all around the house. It’s only a matter of time before I get caught.

After some maneuvering, I lift Gary up from underneath his arms and drag him towards the door.

I’m a lot stronger than most would give me credit for. My height doesn’t crest past five-five, but I’ve always insisted on carrying the demons once they’ve been knocked out. Most of the time, I’m the one doing the knocking out.

My henchmen will do anything for me, but I like to take care of them myself. They risk enough for me. If anyone ever walks in on us, it’ll be me dragging them off into the depths of this house—not them.

It takes me thirty seconds to drag him up to the small door, crawl in and then drag his body in after me. I shut the door, pick him back up and drag him off towards the stairs. Just as the door shuts behind me, a group of people bursts into the room, screams still trapped on their tongues. I leave my men to their jobs while I wrangle Gary down the hallway. There’s a small alcove by the stairs big enough to fit a small group of people.

I work quickly, having learnt my lesson already. There’s been a time or two where they’ve woken up in the middle of me tying them up, and it was so annoying to knock them out again. Ropes are stashed behind the stairs, ready for when I bring a demon back here.

I tie each of his legs to the wooden chair leg in an intricate knot. It took me a bit, but after the first year in Satan’s Affair, I mastered tying a knot so well—they had no chance of escape. I tie his arms behind the chair’s back, and then I pin his torso to the chair by wrapping a larger rope around his chest.

His head lolls and drool gathers in the corner of his mouth. Soon, it’ll start trailing out. Curling my lip in disgust, I grab my roll of duct tape, tear off a strip and slap it on his acne-ridden face. His screams won’t be completely silent, but they’ll be muffled enough that they’ll be swallowed up by the other screams going on around the house.

No one has ever heard a demon calling for help in my house. And they never fucking will.

I bound off towards the room I know Jennifer is working in. I want to stay close to her to make sure she’s doing okay. I don’t know her, nor does she even know of my existence, but I feel the need to comfort her. So badly, I want to tell her that I’m taking care of her—that she no longer has to worry about her rapist.

He’s getting exactly what he deserves.

After I extinguish her shitty boyfriend—I know in my heart she’s going to heal and find someone better. How could she not now that the soul-sucking leech has been ripped from her body and soul?

I find her in my playroom, hiding under the bed. Once a group arrives, she’ll crawl out from under the bed, her limbs distorted as she chases after them. I overheard her saying before she used to be a gymnast. No one does this job better than her.

We wait for a few minutes before we hear a loud group coming down the hallway. I press myself against the peephole, keeping my eye on the space Jennifer is going to crawl out of.

The group barrels in the room, stumbling like a bunch of drunk fools as they scream and push each other to get away from the monster chasing after them with a chainsaw. They’re guaranteed to come in this room since Jackal is posted up at the end of the hallway, keeping anyone from wanting to come near him.

On cue, Jennifer’s distorted body comes crawling out from under the bed. A redheaded girl screams, the pitch of it making me cringe away from the wall.

That was fucking obnoxious.

Good thing she smells like petunias or I’d kill her.

The group of girls push and shove at each other as they run towards the exit, avoiding Jennifer like the plague. They fling up the other door, the wood bounding off the stopper. If there wasn’t one, the wall would have a permanent imprint of the door in the cheap drywall from how hard people open the door.

Once they’re out, Jennifer gets up and softly closes the doors again. Her face is hidden from view as she does, her movements slow. I hold my breath, hoping to see her normal happy face. But when she finally turns, tears are gathered in her lids.

I frown, my heart dropping.

Why is she crying? I saved her! She should be rejoicing.

She sniffles, carefully wiping her eyes before the tears fall and ruin her makeup.

Is she… she couldn’t possibly be upset that her boyfriend didn’t show up? He raped her! How could she be upset over something like that?

I snarl, her ungratefulness releasing a black cloud of ink inside me. I made sure her rapist didn’t come near her. He would’ve only hurt her if he did. He would’ve spun her back into his web again, and she would’ve fallen victim to a black widow that would slowly poison her until nothing good is left.

Until her flower is wilted.

I stay by the wall for hours, watching Jennifer’s attitude increasingly decline as the night goes on. Every time I see a tear drop from her eye, I see Mommy before me, crying into her hands as Daddy punishes her.

The second the last guests of the night leave her room, she sits on the bed and sobs. Holding her face in her hands like a small child, black tears trailing down her cheeks from her makeup.

I reach toward her, but the wall hinders me.

“Mommy?” I whisper. Jennifer’s blonde hair bleeds to Mommy’s dark brown hair, and all I can see is a woman sobbing her heart out, praying for death. And then her blonde hair is back, and I can’t tell if the lone tear that trails down my cheek is for Jennifer or Mommy.

It doesn’t take long for Sarah to come looking for her. The second she sees Jennifer’s state, she sits on the bed next to her and cocoons the weeping girl in her arms.

“What’s wrong? Did he come see you?”

Jennifer drops her arms and wails, “That’s just the thing! He didn’t show up.”

I can only see their backs, but Sarah’s silence is weighted.

“I… thought that’s what you wanted,” Sarah hedges, her tone tight with confusion.

Jennifer wipes her eyes and gives a pitiful shrug. “I wanted to see what he would say, but as usual, he’s fucking unreliable and always lies. He’s probably out doing drugs again. He said he stopped that, but I don’t think he did.”

I scowl. He definitely didn’t.

“Didn’t you tell him you didn’t want to see him?”

Jennifer scoffs, “Yeah, so? If he really cared about me, he would’ve shown up and at least tried to explain himself.”

Another weighted silence passes. Sarah sees that Jennifer is in a toxic cycle. Despite what Gary did to her, she was still hoping he’d show up. And because I stopped that from happening, she’s pissed.

The black ink spreads deeper inside of me.

What an ungrateful bitch! My hand trembles as rage consumes me. I work hard to rid this world of evil. Gary would’ve met the same fate regardless—I would’ve smelled his stench from the first step inside my house. But I probably wouldn’t have bothered to lure him away until after he talked to Jennifer.

I saved her.

It seems I made a mistake in doing so.

Snarling, I rip away from the wall and stalk back towards Gary. I’m feeling particularly savage. God help the souls that will feel my wrath.