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Last Chance

By mikeroberts1003 All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Horror

Last Chance

*Warning: This story contains themes, imagery and subject matter that may be considered extremely disturbing.*

Clare had always been a tease. Even in her very early teenage years she had known how to bat her huge dark brown eyes and play with her flowing mahogany hair in just the right way to make any man do what ever she wanted without having to give any of herself in return. She had always made full use of her skills and now in her early twenties, she was no different, except for being even more adept at her art. She hadn't paid for a night out, a piece of clothing or a credit card bill in years. She teased, promised, hinted and whispered until the man finally began to lose patience and stopped the cash flow, then she would discard him without a second thought, leaving him light of wallet and heavy of heart. The next victim would always follow soon.

Clare stood at the bar, her lightly tanned skin shining in the bright neon blue lights illuminating the many bottles of expensive spirits that lined the rear of the bar area. It was early, so the place was still quiet. She sat looking pouty while stroking her long well manicured finger around the rim of her empty glass. The bar man glided over with a bottle and filled her glass with expensive Amber liquid. "one day I am going to have to charge you for a drink." he joked, knowing full well he wouldn't even though every drink came out of his already low wages.

Smiling sweetly she mouthed "thank you sexy" and blew a kiss. Then as she turned from the bar she muttered "ugh" under her breath. He was handy for free drinks but did not have the money to be worth more than a brief smile and a faux kind word. She sipped her drink and

watched a few more people enter the bar. Suddenly a bristle along the side of her neck, like someone's breath lightly brushing the skin, made her turn. There was no one. As she looked to the other side of the neon splashed room, there at the far end table was a man she was sure hadn't been there before; maybe he had been in the bathroom?

He was very handsome and well dressed in a dark expensive suit, a bottle of the bars finest vodka sat on his table and two beautiful girls sat at either side of him. She decided there and then that he would be her new target. As she looked on his eyes finally caught hers, he smiled a little then went back to his two companions. This only made her more determined, those two 'sluts' wouldn't stand a chance. She turned back toward the bar to meet a drink being given to her by the barman.

"Thanks gorgeous" she said, surprised at receiving another drink from him so soon.

"Don't thank me" he said "It's from the gentleman at the end table."

She briefly wondered how he had ordered the drink when she had only just turned away from him, but like most things in life she thought it best not to think about it too much. She took the drink and nodded her thanks to the mysterious man. He waved his two friends away and indicated for her to join him.

She slipped gracefully from the stool, and walked over. Her full breasts swaying slightly in the tight black dress she wore. Her movements the definition of seduction. Her gaze briefly met the eyes of one of the man's companions. A strange sense of recognition briefly flitted through her mind, then it was gone.

She took a seat beside him and held out her hand to him. He took it lightly and kissed the centre knuckle softly as she introduced herself.

"My names Clare" she said.

"I know" he replied, his smiling mouth still close enough to her hand to feel his breath on her skin.

"Been asking about me have you?" she asked coyly.

He just smiled and poured two shots of the vodka from the table.

"So, what do I call you?" she asked still smiling her powerful smile.

"My name is Damon," he said gently, passing over a shot "and it is my great pleasure to meet you Clare."

Damon continued pouring the drinks as their conversation moved from coy to flirty. She brushed her hand across his arm every time she laughed, twirled her hair as she pretended to be interested in his words. As the alcohol levels increased, the exchanges became more philosophical. As they talked Clare could not remember who had moved their discussion in this direction, but as long as he kept buying the drinks, she didn't really care. Deep thinking had never been her thing, unless it was thinking how to open an admirers wallet, or an unobtainable man's pants.

That was the only time she didn't tease, the only time she ever followed through with her dirty promises and desires, when the man resisted her. Whatever the reason, married, attached, gay or just plain not interested, if they refused her or ignored her, she had to have them.

Damon's next question pulled her out of her head and firmly back into the bar.

"Sorry?" she said with a smile.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" he repeated, with a grin that seemed somewhat mismatched with the flickering dark of his eyes.

Clare felt her mouth freeze, she had never felt like this before, overcome and speechless, but the queen of emotional manipulation soon re-emerged, a fluttery-eyed smile accompanied her words perfectly as she said "I don't do anything wrong of course, I'm a good girl."

"Come now," Damon said, "I'm sure there's some confession you would like to make. Now's the time."

Clare felt as though the dark glow of his eyes was brutally flaying her well constructed façade from her face with each stare. "What about you?" Clare replied, regaining a little of her composure, "I'm sure you have a few confessions to make."

"Indeed I do," he said with a mixture of regret and something that resembled pride, "but, I asked first."

"Just one, pleeeeeease?" said Clare fluttering her eyes, desperate to get the focus off her.

"Very well, erm, ah yes. I once left a high ranking position at a company run by a close friend in order to set up something of a competitive firm to his. He still hasn't quite forgiven me."

"What business are you in?" she asked hoping to change the subject for good.

"Deals and acquisitions mainly," he said, looking into his glass, a slight smirk on his face, "but I have my fingers in a lot of pies. Now, back to your confessions Clare."

"I told you, I'm a good girl!" she spoke with a twang of annoyance that he wouldn't let it go.

"Is that what Sam would say, Clare?" his dark eyes burned.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." she said casting her eyes away from him, the name sending cold chills down her spine.

"You don't remember him Clare? I find that very hard to believe."

She did remember him, but she wasn't about to admit it.

"Let me refresh your memory. He was happily married, you wanted him, you badgered him, flirted with him, drove him wild, but still he refused. In the end you slipped him drugs and slept with him anyway. Then to make sure his happiness was totally gone you told enough people to ensure his wife found out. He killed himself, didn't he Clare?"

She was frozen, her limbs felt as if they had been glued to every surface they touched. Eventually the blood in her veins started to pump again.

"Fuck you! What the fuck is this twisted shit?" she exclaimed angrily.

"It's a chance Clare, I'm obliged to offer it to you." he said swirling the remaining drink in his glass.

"What about Robert, Clare, he lost everyth. . . . " his next revelation was cut short.

"Fuck you, fuck this and fuck your chances!" she raged. Her anger broke the panicked stillness that had held her. She stood, throwing the contents of her drink in his unflinching face and headed out of the bar, her middle finger defiantly raised in his direction.

"Very well" he said with a sigh, and swallowed the rest of his drink as the dampness on his clothes and face suddenly evaporated.

Clare stumbled a little as she left the bar. She had drank more than she thought. She steadied herself against a lamppost, not wishing to sacrifice her seductive demeanour. Once she was steady, she set off with the intention of heading to a different bar and attempting to start her prowling all over again. She started to cross the road when a dizziness came over her. Her head swam and her eyes closed. She hurried across the road, her vision blurred.

As she opened her eyes, confusion filled her mind. She was now by her front door. Wasn't she just in town? Blacking out wasn't like her. Her body ached and her head was still spinning and starting to pound. "Fucking creep spiked me." she grumbled to herself. She fumbled

in her small bag and quickly got the key into the lock.

Once inside she cast her things down carelessly on the hall table and walked through to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and thrusting it beneath the spout, she spun the tap. Nothing. She tried the other tap. Again, nothing.

"Aaagggghhhh!" she growled loudly, "Fuck it!"

She was so thirsty, the air in her house was so dry; she must have left the heating on, she thought to herself.

Making her way up the stairs the dizziness started to worsen. She moved groggily through her bedroom door. Supporting herself on the wall, she closed the door and clicked on the light as a voice came from behind her.

"Hello again Clare."

Damon's voice caused her to spin around.

"You don't look well, my dear, why don't you lie down." he spoke softly and kindly, but there was an unmissable air of malice hiding in his words.

He sat in a small blue armchair in the corner of her room, toying with one of many expensive looking things from the shelves nearby.

"You. . You drugged me and followed me didn't you? Get out, get out now!" her confusion began to give way to anger and fear as she spoke.

"Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!!" she screamed repeatedly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Clare." he spoke with what sounded like genuine regret.

"Then I'm leaving." she said defiantly.

"Be my guest." he said with a twitch of a smile as if he was sharing a private joke with himself.

Quickly she grabbed at the door handle, swung it open and just in time noticed what was now on the other side.

Where her carpet had been now ran a river of glowing, spitting lava, she pulled her feet back and stared. The wall that faced her bedroom door had mostly burnt away, however this did not lead through to the bathroom, which is what had always laid behind that wall. Now, through the scorched holes, all she could see was iron and fire. Long rusted metal bridges and staircases criss-crossed everywhere. There were things walking on them. Inhuman things. Things she could never have imagined.

The Walls outside her room had completely burnt away now, she could see the full visage of horror that lay before her. Lakes of flames with branching rivers of lava, iron and metal everywhere, pieces of what once were people tied up and dangling like macabre decorations. An iron walkway began to rise from the lava. Forming a bridge to the door. Clare thought about running, but even the thought made spikes of fire burst from the ground. She knew she couldn't leave.

On the walkway appeared the two girls that had been with Damon in the bar. They walked seductively towards her door. Clare suddenly broke. "Please, please let me go. I'm sorry." she cried.

"It's too late for that Clare. That chance has passed. Come, sit on your bed." Damon extended his arm to take her hand. Not knowing what else to do, she took it.

As she sat, she saw the two girls had now entered the room and were standing either side of the still open door. With a wave of Damon's hand, the door slammed itself shut.

Damon sat back down in the armchair, leaning forward like a concerned therapist.

"I think you deserve an explanation Clare. You were hit by a car leaving the bar and were killed instantly. That part was pre-determined, but the thing that wasn't already decided was where you would go afterwards. Your behavior has kept you in my sights for a long time, but an old contract with an old friend means have to offer you a chance before I take you. You waved that chance in no uncertain terms. Now, you’re mine." He smiled a smile that seemed too friendly for the words he spoke.

Looking over at the two girls he spoke in a language she had never heard before, his voice sounded like a thousand voices all whispering at once. They nodded in agreement and raised their hands to their faces.

The girls carefully manicured nails were now talons, streaks of blood covering them from tearing through the skin on their fingers. They smiled smiles that made the skin of their cheeks disintegrate into gaping wounds and sunk their clawed into the flesh of their faces. They peeled the fleshy countenance away with glee as more chunks of bloodied flesh fell away. An oozing pile of false human form soon lay at their feet, their true form now uncovered. They were humanoid, but far from human. Parts of there bodies were covered in softly pulsating scales, other parts coated in a thick dark fur and they had no consistent colour, but instead seemed to change from one sickening hue to another in the light, or maybe with excitement. It was also now very obvious that what dwelt within those women's skins was not female. Male genitals unlike anything she had seen before hung from their groins. Huge swollen throbbing members that moved and coiled like snakes. One of the demons screamed at her, it's rows and rows of needle like fangs gleaming horribly in the soft light of this displaced room.

Clare did not remember when she had started screaming, but the horrifying, piercing cry from this creature stopped her. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks but she could no longer gather a sound in her throat.

She decided to run, but as soon as she tried to rise something grabbed her wrist. She looked at Damon but he was still holding his therapist pose. She looked at her wrist as a twisting snake of black smoke snapped loudly at her. It was wrapped tight round her arm, and though it looked like smoke, it felt as if it was made of iron.

"I guess it's time, sorry Clare." as he finished speaking he snapped his fingers and from beneath the bed quickly slithered three more smoke snakes of iron, each one taking a limb. They then retracted to pull her flat against the bed.

Damon walked over to the patiently waiting demons by the door. He stroked their faces like they were pets. He chose a vantage point and, resting his hands on their shoulders said "These two have been waiting for you for some time Clare." He then nodded his permission to them. As they approached she could recognise the eyes of Sam and Robert, and she knew where the spark of recognition in the bar had come from.

The demons pounce like animals, landing on the bed as softly as a feather. They sniff and examine her writhing, screaming, terrified form. Their long black tongues slithering over her face, and body, slipping into her mouth as she screams, down into her throat causing her to gag violently from both the intrusive demonic muscle and the taste of sulphur that coats it.

The demon with Sam's eyes now kneels up and starts to run his razor sharp claws over her clothes, only a light touch causes gashes to appear in the fabric that surrounds her, and faint lines of blood to seep from beneath. Soon this slow approach is no longer enough and both of these hellish creatures of her own making, begin to tear at her brutally. They bite her flesh and push their filthy tongues into her through the wounds. One of the starts to violate her roughly with its bony clawed hands, deep hard and fast, tearing at her soft vaginal skin as the other explores, licks and bites at her neck

and ear.

The demons then move away momentarily, her clothes lie tattered around her, scratches and gouges cover her carefully cared for skin and she can feel her warm blood trickling down her sides and soaking the bed beneath her. She screams and struggles against the smoke snakes that bind her. They just hiss and pull tighter, shattering some of the bones in her wrist with a crunch.

The demon whose eyes shine like Robert's used to when she first met him, moves down between her restrained legs. His vile pulsating member clearly erect, though still squirming and moving of its own volition. As she stares at it she sees something she had not noticed before, something that horrifies her completely, and she screams harder than her lungs can take. She feels blood vessels burst inside her lungs and coughs violently as blood fills her throat.

The sight she witnessed was the end of the creatures foul penis, splitting open as a sleek black barbed tongue slid from within the broken penile flesh, past rows of teeth, white, sharp and thin to match the ones in this terrible thing's mouth.

As she coughs and splutters on the sickening eruption in her throat, the demon sinks its talons into her breasts, the already blood coated skin spewing out more crimson stickiness across her chest. Its purchase gained, it pushes its horrific writhing length inside her. The size and brutality of its first action immediately splitting her skin open. She can feel it tearing apart her insides, and worse still, each time it thrusts into her destroyed body, she can feel it eating her from within.

Through the horror of this demons acts, she had almost forgotten about the other one, the one with Sam's kind eyes. The kindness within them now paired with this monstrous face looked out of place, and somehow made the thing look even more unholy. She was soon viciously reminded of its existence. Its clawed hand grabbed her face and turned it, she just stared at the sight that lay before her.

This demons organ was snapping at her with its fangs, and out of its whole length and girth grew something that resembled thorns, jet black, and razor sharp. It thrust forward and into her open mouth, tearing her lips open and dislocating her jaw in one movement. It thrust further and further

into her throat, the thorns tearing her oesophagus to pieces, blood constantly erupting around the penile invader from her slack, twisted and hanging mouth. All the while the other demon continues to fuck and devour her torn open insides.

She should be dead, but she wasn’t. She wanted to die more than anything at that moment, but she couldn’t. As if knowing her every thought, Damon's voice came from beside the door where he had been silently watching the proceedings.

“There is no death here, Clare.” He spoke loudly, with an edge of glee that sounded like he was grinning as he said it.

The demon that was fucking this broken body suddenly sank its claws further through her chest. She could feel her heart and lungs burst as it skewered her. She knew then it was true, she would never die here. Its hissing turned to animal grunting as it suddenly tensed up, its already brutal thrusting became even harder and more forceful until a scolding heat like acid spread all through her lower half as this beast emptied its tainted seed into her. Her mind forced her to imagine the multi-fanged mini-mouth vomiting this substance into her, and though she couldn’t see it, she somehow knew that what filled, and dripped out of, her eviscerated form, was black, and sickly like treacle.

Her mind was completely detached from the moment now. Her thoughts wandering despite the disgusting thorned cock violating her face. She didn’t even notice as it erupted into her throat the same black, thick liquid the other had spewed inside her. The burning brought her thoughts back to the now. She could feel her body dissolving in this hellish liquid, feel herself dripping through the bottom of the bed. She closed her eyes as she felt the things withdraw from her. She could hear them talking in their own dark language, but she kept her eyes closed tight. She couldn’t, wouldn’t look any more.

Her eyes still shut tight a sudden silence made her sit up with a start. Panicked she looked down at herself, around at her room, ran her hands over herself. Nothing. No blood, no demons, no wounds. She panted as she tried to fight the panic and confusion within her.

Maybe it was a dream, an onset of conscience, or maybe just a fucked up side effect of being spiked. That must be it. She had come home, passed out and had a seriously fucked up nightmare.

Her breathing was just returning to normal as the sound of the door handle turning made her breath freeze in her throat. As the door opened, there was Damon. He was not alone. Behind him, stretching across every walkway and staircase in this realm of fire, stood every creature of hell, beings that defy description in human terms, only ever seen by the insane and the damned. Thousands upon thousands of jostling snarling beasts stood looking in the direction of her doorway.

Suddenly she realised the reason they were all there, as Damon grinned at her and called out loudly “Next!”

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