Deal With The Devil 5

Welcome gentle reader to a tale of nightmare and horror. A story of heartbreak and dilemma, an account of anguish and, ultimately, sacrifice. As our plucky heroine...

Deal's With The Devil!

Our tale of woe starts as so many such yarns do. In a bleak cold and grey graveyard. Picture, dear reader, an open grave. The weather is restless, squalid clouds boil, and ill-tempered winds gust and blow the leaves of late October.

A small funeral party stands around a grave, as the priest utters words meant to soothe, and the casket is slowly lowered. Three people watch the coffin descend. A man, his body withered by disease, sits in his wheelchair and says goodbye to his wife. A spinster, shrouded by a shapeless coat, weeps for her sister. A maiden, a large girl, pear-shaped and overly tall, sobs uncontrollably. Forlorn and bereft as her mother is laid to rest.

The clouds darken and heavy drops of rain mingle with the tears on the cheeks of the maiden. Lightning flashes and thunder rent the air. The service at an end, all bar the maiden, scurry for the church and the shelter it offers.

Lightning lights the sky again, but it is not a flash. The maiden, her name is Marjorie, looks up to see the fork of electrical energy frozen in place. There is no thunder either. In fact, silence envelops everything. The rain has stopped too. Literally stopped falling. Individual drops of water hang immobile in the air.

"You've got to admit, it is a good trick."

A new player has entered the scene. Though, gentle reader, he did not walk onto the set. Marjorie looks across the open grave to see a tall and elegant man in a frock coat. He doffs his top hat, smiles, and effortlessly hops across the open grave.

"Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste."

"Yes, but who are you?"

"What? You didn't get that? Fuck! Still, I suppose it was released in sixty-eight, and you're only twenty-two. I'll have to see about getting a new song out there. Pity, I liked that one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lucifer Morningstar, Old Nick, Satan, Beelzebub or... The Devil. I've many names Marge, you though, you lucky thing, can call me... Sir."

"What?"

"I believe that should be, 'what, Sir.'"

"What?"

"I'll let that go, but don't test me, dear... I'm afraid there is a problem with your mother?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Her immortal soul. There is a dispute."

"I don't understand... sir."

"Your mother led a selfless life. She devoted herself to your father. She forsook friends, a career, in fact even happiness. Just to care for your dear crippled dad. For that, she ought to have an express ticket to Heaven."

"Heaven is real?"

"I'm real. If I'm real then Hell is real. If there is a Hell then there must be a Heaven too. Gosh, that means He Who Shall Not Be Named is real too. Now Marjorie dear, try to keep up. I will be asking questions after."

"I... I'm... I'm sorry. This is a bit of a shock."

"I'm sure. I'm pretty vexed too. So, it turns out your mother took her unhappiness out on your dad. She'd dig her nails in when she lifted him. Deliberately let his food go cold. Just petty spiteful things when it all got too much. But it means I get entangled in her fate. This my dear girl is also where you become involved."

"How... sir?"

"I'll waive my claim on your mother if you'll deal with me?"

"What kind of deal, sir."

"A wager for your soul, my dear."

"Do I have to?"

"No, you don't, but this, my precious, is where I tempt you."

"I don't think I'm interested. I've heard of this, it's famous. Faustian is the term I think."

"Doesn't know Jagger, then quotes Goethe, you're an enigma kid. Hear the deal first, then reject it."

"Okay, sir, but I'm not biting. I've seen Bedazzled too."

"Bedazzled!"

"Yes, I'd have to make a selfless wish."

"Well, there you go then, you already know how to win. There's me, bound by convention to stick to the rules. Yet you, granted wisdom beyond your years, by the seers of Hollywood, know how to defeat me. I'm doomed. So want to hear the deal?"

"Umm... It can't hurt to hear I suppose..."

"Good girl, so you get three wishes. Now, this is not like those tales about genies. I'm not looking to foist the first thing you say, 'I wish' upon you. You can hone these wishes, whittle them and adjust. You can get them just so. Then, when you are happy with them, I'll state a price. This price will be a task."

"What sort of task, sir"

"I really don't know, perhaps; never whistle on a Tuesday or keep a shrine to me in your home. It'll depend on your wishes."

"If I take the deal mum goes to Heaven."

"Yes."

"If I take the wishes and do the task, Sir?"

"Your mum goes to heaven, and you, depending on the life you have led, may go too."

"If I fail the task?"

"Your soul is mine."

Gentle reader, it saddens me to inform you a look of lust and greed crept over Marjorie, to slowly be replaced with a cunning smile.

"So you need to know my wishes?"

"I do, your first?"

"I want a different body. I want to have a petite body with a beautiful face, I want it to be fit and not put weight on when I eat, and I want it to age well so I always look young."

"An astute wish my dear. Let us retire to somewhere we can work."

Dear reader the couple were instantly transported to a white void. There was no up or down, yet Marjorie did not feel giddy. It felt like there was a floor but all she could see was flat white.

Within this void stood Satan and Marjorie, and to Marjorie's left hung a huge gothic mirror with a gilt frame. On closer inspection, Marjorie saw that the gargoyles and cherubs that featured in the frame were engaged in an erotic war of bondage. The golden cherubs were being slowly bound, and fucked, by monstrous golden daemons.

Then Marjorie noticed her reflection. The woman on the other side of the frame matched her movements perfectly. Yet there the resemblance ended. She was petite, possibly five-foot, certainly no taller than five foot two. A slender boyish figure was clad in just a tee and a pair of briefs. Her hair was short but her face was feminine with soft almost pouty lips, large deep brown eyes and a small nose.

"So, Marge, the new you. This is a starting point. Want to make any changes?"

"Oh she's so pretty, I'm not sure. Umm... Could you make her chest a bit bigger?"

"Of course dear Marjorie, just say when..." Marjorie watched as the tee started to rise as the breasts below slowly grew.

"Stop," cried the girl when the breasts looked like they'd need a c cup bra. "Err, her bum looks too small now could that be a bit bigger too?"

"You're the boss, Marge, just say the word."

"Enough," cried Marjorie. The girl in the mirror was still petite but now voluptuous with curving hips and large, yet perky, breasts.

"What excellent taste you have young lady. I can see you'll be wishing for a shitty stick next to beat the suitors away. Now would you like to accessorise?"

"I don't understand?"

"Earrings, lip rings... even nipple rings. How about a tattoo. Let me install them now and you get them without having to endure the normal installation process. The edgy hip look with no pain. As I'm sure you know, tattoos are not licked in place by kittens."

"I'm not sure, I've never thought about it before."

"Let me demonstrate." The clothes on the reflection seemed to evaporate leaving the figure nude. Then slowly the head of a Chinese dragon tattoo appeared on the left shoulder. Marjorie turned to make the reflection turn and she saw the tattoo passed over the shoulder and wound its way down the back before the tip of the tail disappeared into the cleft of the bum. As Marjorie kept turning a circular sigil appeared on the right shoulder. Similar to a yin-yang design, this had three black parts with a hole in each. Then, on the back of the left hand, a bar code. Which was repeated on the hip, only the hip design was larger.

"Bar codes?" Asked Marjorie.

"Just naughty me, showing off, my little mortal. No earthly tattoo artist could tattoo such a design. Those will scan if you choose them."

"What, and give a price, like a tin of beans?"

"No, my dear, as an identifier. So people know who you are."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Trust me, Marge, they're cool as fuck. Now let's see... how about some heavy metal?"

Silver rings appeared in the reflection's nipples and then one materialised in the septum of the nose, Majorie was admiring this, as she was surprised to find it looked quite cute when a glint from between the legs caught her attention. Large silver rings were set in the outer labia and what looked like an identity tag hung from a ring set in the hood of the clitoris.

"That's a bit much isn't it?" Queried Marjorie.

"You think so? Why not try before you buy?"

A brief disorientating moment followed and the reflection seemed to grow until Marjorie was eye to eye. The penny dropped and she looked down at her now nude body. Initially, she was fascinated with the nipple rings. Experimenting with tugging them until she remembered the items below. Reaching down she knocked the tag and became an instant fan as the ring in her hood rubbed her love bud.

"I see what you mean, these feel great," Marjorie enthused. "Hold on what's in my mouth?" Sticking out her tongue Marjorie was shocked to find a stud set in it. "Wow! I'd never have thought of that, thank you."

"I'm glad you like it, my dear, I aim to please."

"Now I'll age well?"

"Look again at the mirror." Marjorie watched in fascinated horror as the reflection aged before her eyes. The face grew softer and the lips a little thinner, crowsfeet appeared at the corners of the eyes. The boobs became a little softer and less perky and the hair on the head slowly turned silver.

"So Marge, how old do you think your reflection is now?" Asked Satan.

"Umm, late fifties, early sixties perhaps?"

"No, that is what you'll look like at the age of one hundred if you make that wish."

"Can you make it young again first please?" Instantly the body was the original young version.

"Umm, you're not going to give me cancer or drop a bus on me five minutes after making my wishes are you?"

Satan laughed, "There are really no tricks, my innocent thing. I will keep to my bargain. I cannot claim your soul if I do not. However, I am not going to make you immortal unless you specifically wish for it. So if you jump in front of a train that's on you. But I'll not deliberately collect you early unless G. O. D. drops a bus on you, you ought to live a long life, my dear."

"Oh, I just thought, can this new body tan well too, please, sir? I always burn in the sun and have to hide in the summer."

"Okay, so what you have there with zero weight gain and tannable skin. Anything else?"

"Umm... Oh, none of my clothes will fit this body."

"Okay, good point, so complimentary wardrobe. How's this?"

Suddenly Marjorie was clothed. But gone were her usual dull and frumpy items. Patent ankle boots with thin stiletto heels, glossy black leggings and a black leather mini kilt. A black band tee and a red leather biker jacket combined with leather bondage cuffs on each wrist and a black leather collar sat high on her throat a large silver ring hung from the front.

"Oh, my God!" Squealed Marjorie.

"Less of the Gee word, if you don't mind dear. So you like?"

"Umm, yes, but I can't go back to the funeral like this."

"I understand, but the general image, you feel this is you?"

"I look hot! I've never dared dressed this way, but with this body..."

"See we are having fun. You can trust Old Nick. So, something for your mother's funeral."

The clothes changed. Sensible black leather ankle boots with a block heel of only two inches, sheer black seamed nylons a leather skirt again, but this time a knee-length pencil with a short split at the rear. A black satin blouse and a black double-breasted macintosh. The collar was replaced with a thin leather choker with a decorative thin silver ring.

"So let's recap," said Satan. "Your first wish is to have this new body, as it is now. With the new wardrobe based on the two outfits, you have tried so far. You don't want to have to watch your weight or worry about sunburn so this body will not lose any weight or gain any, so long as you eat enough food. I'll add in, though you've not requested this, that everyone who knows you will not remember the old you, but you as you are now. Though they will all notice an imperceptible change, and feel the need to congratulate you on your new appearance. You will also age slowly though this is not a guarantee of a long life. I also promise not to collect you early."

"Yes, that," said Marjorie. "I want my first wish to be that please, sir."

"Okay, Marge, I'll leave you like that for now while we discuss your next two. Then I'll implement all three at once if that is okay?"

"Yes, sir, that's fine." Marjorie was really warming to this now as she had two good selfless wishes next that ought to fox Satan.

"So your second wish?"

"I want my dad to get better."

"You mean cured?"

"No. He has Relapse Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. I want him to get properly better. All symptoms are to go away. But I don't want him magically cured. That would turn him into some sort of medical curiosity. Doctors would be probing him, and he'd have no peace. So over the next year, slowly, he regains the full function of his body. And then never has an episode again. But if they tested him they would still find he has the disease."

"Well done, Marge, that is properly clever. I can see you are one smart cookie. So your third and final wish?"

"My dad has always been gullible. He's sweet and kind but he's the sort who would send his bank details to a Nigerian Prince. My third wish is that he has an astute business sense and is successful with money."

"Very clever again, Marge. Two selfless wishes that ensure your dad is healthy and rich. I cannot give him temporary wealth as he can make more. You've turned your dad into the golden egg-laying goose."

"Thank you, sir. So what happens now?"

"Well, there is this contract to sign," a wobbling tower of paper materialised next to The Devil, "but before you do that you need to hear my price."

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot."

"Yes, so in exchange for those three wishes, your task is simple. You may deny your father nothing. No matter what he asks of you, any favour, any request, no matter what, you must say yes. If he asks for a cup of tea or your firstborn child you will not refuse. If he asks for all your money or to kill somebody, you must do as he asks.

"Oh, and you may tell not a living soul of this contract.

"It's a steep price I'll admit, but those are three rather special wishes you are getting there."

"If I say no to dad?"

Dear, gentle reader, the next description is quite hard to read and concerns the dismemberment of our heroine, feel free to skip the next paragraph if your constitution is weak.

Suddenly Marjorie found herself transported to a cavern full of fire. She was naked and stretched out in the air by many strands of barbed wire that were wrapped around all four of her limbs. Each wire cut agonisingly into her flesh as the cables tried to pull her in opposite directions. Around her throat was a chokingly tight steel collar with a serrated upper edge that sawed at her jaw each time she turned her head. A small ugly daemon climbed up her body, digging sharp claws into her exposed flesh. Its added weight caused the barbed wire to draw tighter about her limbs. With a leering grin, it produced a large curved needle and, perched on her tits, pinched her lips together and began sewing her mouth shut. Each stab of the needle was torture. The thread, as it was pulled tight, was excruciatingly painful. Unable to twist away without incurring more pain from the serrated collar she was forced to stare at the grotesque monster as it mutilated her mouth. Its task complete, it jumped off the writhing, but mute, Marjorie to pick up a huge chainsaw. The machine roared into life and the grinning monster applied the whirring blade to the crotch of the wide-eyed and hysterical girl. Indescribable agony rents her form, as the monster slowly and deliberately carved the helpless woman in half. Her own blood sprayed over her, her guts dropping into the flames below, as she tried to scream through her sutured mouth. Despite the indescribable pain, she remained conscious until the saw reached the collar, feeling every agonising inch of progress as the blade carved through her. She awoke in a cavern full of fire. She was naked and stretched out in the air by many strands of barbed wire that were wrapped around all four of her limbs...

Abruptly, after she had been eviscerated three times, she found herself back in front of Lucifer, screaming, but whole, clothed and unharmed. Her stomach heaved and Marjorie emptied her breakfast over the invisible white floor.

Satan waved at the mess and it was suddenly gone, "Don't say no to dad, dear."

"I... I... I won't, sir"

Satan flourished his hand and a pen appeared, "So do you want to sign, or did that clear and concise warning put you off?"

Marjorie paused, dear reader. Let us give her some due. She considered what she was doing. To her credit she asked questions;

"If I sign, my mum goes to Heaven?"

"Straight away."

"And I only go to Hell if I fail the task?"

"Or lead a sinful life."

"What if dad asks me to do something sinful?"

"It's not a sin if you are coerced."

"Oh, and dad can go to heaven too?"

"So long as he is good, yes, in theory. No one is damned by your signing. We are entering a wager. You are not signing your soul over to me."

"Marjorie took the pen and signed." Satan laughed.

"Well done, girl. May the best man win."

The lightning flashed, the rain fell down and the attractive, petite young Marjorie turned up her collar on her mac and turned from her mother's grave.

There was no wake. The sister-in-law said her farewells, implicit if unsaid they were unlikely to meet again. The daughter pushed her father in his chair back to their car and drove him home.

After bringing him in and settling him in front of the telly the maiden retreated to her room to explore her wardrobe. An Aladdin's cave of exotic garments hung within. Leather, PVC and even rubber garments. It was heavy on black but there were splashes of colour too. Reds and purples even emerald greens. There were some things Marjorie had to explore to understand such as a leather harness as well as a full latex catsuit. Satan may have gone too far with those she thought. Still, it would be fun to play dress-up when alone.

While undressed she examined the tattoos once more. The dragon tattoo was simply stunning in detail and vibrancy. Her attention was drawn to the round monochrome device on the outside of her shoulder. Using her phone to take a picture of the roundel on her shoulder she searched for it on the web. The result surprised her, it was the symbol of BDSM. Satan had tattooed her with an image that would lead people to believe she was into bondage and other kinky stuff in the bedroom. Not so bad she mused. Especially if it got her a hot hunk or a sexy siren tied to her bed.

She tried pointing her phone at the barcode on her hip next. Before she could take a picture though, her phone pinged and asked if she wanted to go to the page the code was linked to. Tapping the yes button took her to a profile page that immediately asked for a new password. Feeling clever Marjorie typed 'S4t4n666', to be shown a page full of details all about herself. There were mugshot pictures of her face and close-up pictures of her tattoos and piercings. including the intimate ones between her legs. There was a short bio and a list of measurements of nearly her entire body. She was intrigued to see she had a collar size of twenty-nine centimetres. Her sexuality was correctly listed as bisexual. Though she was put off to see herself described as submissive and masochistic with fetishes for latex, steel bondage, sensory deprivation and anal intercourse. She was also ranked as a 'novice' slave and is presently unowned. Obviously Satan's idea of a joke or trick. She quickly found the settings page but was dismayed to discover the details could not be changed within twenty-four hours of the password being set. She was able though to change access to 'password only' so nobody who scanned her barcodes could access the erroneous details or revealing pictures.