Tales Of Debauchery

[ChrisWard]

Wormwood flew into the sulphurous den of Old Scratch. “Lucifer has a job for you Scratch. You are to compile a tome detailing the various sexual exploits, and episodes of each of our newest inhabitants. We expect to instruct the emerging imps on what humanity is capable of. How best to feed their dark desires. You have dealt in humanities sexual aberrations longer than anyone here. It is your forte Scratch. Solicit and compile their stories. How they were lead into a life of debauchery.We will use these tales firstly for our own satisfaction. Then, to lead others down the luscious path of lust.”

Scratch stared at Wormwood, whose enormous red erection bobbed lewdly against his belly. “Is this for Lucifer or for you? Is it to help you gauge which new inmates you should take to your own little den for your twisted pleasures?”

Wormwood shifted uneasily on his perch, his leathery wings arching over his head to obscure his reply. He brought a long hoary finger to his lips and whispered. “A little of both my dear Scratch. A little of both.”

Scratch pulled a great locked diary from the solid stone of the steaming walls. He settled it on the slab of granite before him and it sprang open. A pen hovered over the first page ready to take dictation. When do these tales of debauchery begin? The pen immediately etched out in a flowing calligraphy, “Tales of Debauchery.”

“Right away” answered Wormwood, “fondling his glowing scrotum, “After an entry or two you will assign them to their punishment and position in Hades, your usual task.”

With obvious excitement Wormwood began stroking himself. “I think I hear one coming already. He hissed.”

“Then begone,” Scratch caused a ball of flames and an effusion of smoke to appear where Wormwood had sat. “Good riddance,” he muttered.

THIS THREAD IS OPEN TO ANYONE WHO CARES TO ENTER ONE OR TWO POSTS DETAILING A CHARACTERS TALE.

 

[ChrisWard]

Terrence Justin entered the sulphurous den and was nearly overcome by the briny mist polluting the air. He could distinguish an imposing gargoyle looking creature with tremendous bat-like wings sitting majestically behind a slab of stone. A volume open before him with a pen perched just above the paper quivering and ready to write.

"A lech and a seducer I see," growled Old Scratch. "Well come on. On with your tale." He pointed a finger at Terrence and Terrence felt as if someone had physically prodded him with a sharp object. He was new to Hades and saw this as perhaps his chance to plea his case.

He began. "I sir am innocent." Scratch pointed his finger once more and Terrence felt a searing pain in the forehead and the truth began to flow uninterrupted from his lips.

TERRENCE'S TALE

In high school I lusted for every young girl who crossed my vision. I hid in an old smashed locker in the girl's change room and would masturbate to the sweet young darlings who would shower and change, feeding my unbridled lust. I would take the yearbook to bed with me and spent many a sleepless night concocting fantasies involving one, two, three, any number of the pretty little things.
There were teachers too who were gris for my fantasy mill. I especially thirsted for the girl’s gym instructor. She had long, long shapely legs, which she decorated often with high heels and a mini. The nights I spent with those legs.

One day she caught me in the locker. The girls had cleared out and my elbow was banging against the side of the cabinet as I worked my dick to a pitch. The door flung open and there stood Miss Welland. "You are a nasty, perverted, disgusting peeping Tom. She accused. You like to look at the girl’s privates, do you? Well, let's see what you are hiding in your hand. Don't try and stuff it away."

She pulled my hand away from my cock and stared at it. "Are you proud of that? Show me how you fondle it when you look at my girls." She sat on the bench before the locker. I was stuck inside and had no recourse but to continue stroking my cock at her insistence. "You must pull harder than that she reprimanded. I heard your elbow banging off the tin. Let's see you go. Her knees were up high due to the height of the bench and I had a clear view of her pantied cunt. She allowed her legs to part slightly.

"You like that do you, you little perv. Play with your nuts as you jerk your cock." She leaned back on the bench and wriggled her ass on the bench. “I want to see those hands a blur and you will spurt all up the side of the locker. Then you will clean it up. Come on spurt. Spurt for me." Her own hands drifted between her legs and down the front of her panties. "Harder, she demanded."

After an earth shattering eruption of my cock. She calmly stood and pronounced. You will report to my office everyday for the rest of the month. I believe you must milk that thing dry to expunge those disgusting thoughts from your mind.

That incident ruled my life from there on. I was addicted to beating off in front of women and my time was spent searching out opportunities to fulfill my perversion. I long to come as some authoritative madam instructs me. The more demanding she becomes the happier I become.

 

[ChrisWard]

The pen stopped scribbling and Old Scratch looked at Terrence with a jaundiced eye. You my friend will spend eternity inside a locker. Women in all states of undress and acts of passion will parade before you. But your hands will be too short to reach your throbbing dick. You will have a perpetual erection with no way to effect your relief.

"Wormwood, take him away. He is yet another victim of our infamous Belladonna Welland. After just three hundred years she has amassed nearly a legion of fallen mortals. She'll earn her horns in no time, perhaps even the 'Corruptor of Youth Award'." Scratch motioned for the old fornicator to remove the trembling subject. Along with Wormwood came a delighted legion of devils and imps anxious to prepare Old Scratch's punishment.

 

[ChrisWard]

Sandra Percher tiptoed furtively into Scratch’s den looking all the while for her escape route. Surely, when their mistake was realized she would be released from this detestable place. Through the smoke and mist she perceived Scratch hunched over the stone bench. She felt compelled to look away. He like all these demons displayed an enormous red erection waving indecently before them. Great flag poles of lust. Huge monoliths to lewdness. Stunning beacons of raw sexuality. She was staring at his member as these thoughts rolled through her head.

Then she realized that the pen over the book had written a number of lines. She craned to read them ….. “red erection waving indecently before them. Great flag poles of lust. Huge monoliths to lewdness. Stunning beacons of raw sexuality.” Her lascivious thoughts were being scribbled across the page as fast as she could think them.

“This is unfair,” she protested to Scratch. “A person is entitled to her thoughts.”

“Not here, Miss Percher, not here.” He replied.

Miss Percher buried her face in her hands yet her shame and tears had no effect on Scratch. She realized the futility of denial and began.

SANDRA’S TALE

I had always loved to read anything and everything from cereal boxes to Harlequin novellas. But, I was an outcast at school. My bedroom became my world. At twelve when puberty and penis’ possessed my mind, I discovered ‘Lady Chatterly’s Lover’ and lost myself in its racy descriptions. I then moved to the ‘Tropic of Capricorn'. The list goes on and on. Through the Kama Sutra to the Joy’s of Sex, I graduated high school with cocks, pricks, penis, rods, schlongs, meat, dancing constantly through my mind.

I needed to rail myself in as I spoke to any real men for I would find my eyes wandering to the outlines in their pants. I frequented swimming pools wearing mirrored sunglasses to afford myself the opportunity to ogle unperceived. My cunt was wet to soaking most of the day and at night I would gallop my clit like a stallion onward and onward from orgasm to orgasm. Each day, I would lead an exhaustive search for more porn. More cock. Pictures and dreams for the evening.

One fateful day, I found the pornographic potential of the Internet as I worked in my library. Why had it not occurred to me before? But I was lost in a flurry of dicks, pussies and indecencies I had only imagined or tried to imagine. I joined site after site pounding my poor pussy to a pulp with the wealth of filth. Lewd dicks and tremendous sized members, as long and as thick as my arm. Willing and ready to stuff deep, deep.

(At this point Miss Percher had both hands engaged in manipulating her pussy as she stared unabashedly at Old Scratch’s penile display.)

“Enough, enough,” groaned Scratch. He called Wormwood to hear his pronouncement and to take Miss Percher away. “Who would have guessed the power of that binary box? Our Mr. Ghaytes has surpassed himself.” Scratch mumbled to himself.

 

[ChrisWard]

Wormwood popped like a kernel of corn into the steaming den. The infamous lech had such an effect on Miss Percher, that she crossed her legs and tugged on the hem of her skirt for modesty's sake. She did find herself fascinated, however, by the wealth of flesh between Wormwood's thighs. As she began to speculate on the effect of the weapon, Scratch pronounced.

"She enjoys reading, Wormwood. She can toil in our archives reading every passage of smut ever written. When, however, she arrives at the titilating parts the text will disappear. She will spend her eternity reading exposition and build up. Take her away Wormwood. Yes, yes you may have your way with her. Begone"

With a flick of his regal wrist Wormwood and Percher vaporized.

 

[UNREGISTERED]

* * *

 

[ChrisWard]

The pen ceased its furious recording as Linda's tirade diminished. Old Scratch looked askance at the harried executive and smiled. "Wormwood" he called; and in a blue puff of smoke, mist and sulfur the great masturbator appeared. Wormwood leered at Linda Walters and fondled his lewd red erection.

"It appears that we have another clandestine addict. And most ironically she works in advertising. The only thing she does not shout from the rooftops is her own horny inclinations. You will take her to our fourth ring: the hall of secrets. There her legs will be splayed as she sits on her haunches and eternally she will dig away at her own sex, in open view of all who chance to pass by. All her acquaintances will of course be paraded by constantly.

You Wormwood and any other of our staff are free to avail yourself of our secret lecher’s charms whenever the mood strikes. "Begone, begone, all of you."

 

[ChrisWard]

Into the festering den skulked the next contributor. He was clad completely in black and held his hand over his throat. Old Scratch shook his head knowingly and intoned, "Hello, preacher, it's of no use trying to conceal anything down here." He chuckled, "your days of subterfuge are done I'm afraid."

"It must be quite a shock to see one of my profession in here," the preacher squeaked timidly.

Old Scratch could not hold in the belly laugh. "Oh, I’m afraid you'll have plenty of company, my good man, plenty of company indeed." He wiped away a tear of mirth and motioned for the man of the cloth to carry on.

Preacher Morely's Tale

The wives, the wives would come to me for guidance. Their husbands were brutes they would claim. He drinks, vicar. He abuses me. He is seeing another woman. I would dash over to the couch to console the poor, delicate, tear stained victims. I had no intention of pressing my advantage. I swear I never did. But they would lean on me and I would hold their smooth pliant little hands. I would kiss the top of their forehead. And soon, soon enough my devil of a dick would stir in my trousers. Their pillow-like bosoms would catch my eye of press against my chest.

I would stroke their hands and my unfeeling dicky would have me staring at their legs, dreaming of the wonders atop them: treasure troves of love, down covered or bald, fine ample bottoms.

"Tell me all about it my dear. Unburden yourself." My dick would burn as they spoke of rape or abuse from an uncaring spouse. I would tut and tut and my hand would work down their backs. I would feel the bra straps and picture the splendid mounds and nipples which they supported. As they spoke and sought consolation. I sought more and more to touch and picture them in the most lewd actions.

My dicky longed to be eased between their precious legs or slipped into their pouting little mouths. It usually took no more than three visits before we ended up stripped and fornicating like lascivious monkeys, or copulating like ravenous dogs. Often I would drink from their cup of Venus and they would taste my staff of life.

Mrs. Winover once brought her companion Julia Powel with her and at the end of the session the three of us were fondling touching fornicating tasting feeling and tumbling like lewd acrobats.

Preacher Morley cast his eyes to the heavens. He clasped his hands in prayer. May God forgive me. He prayed. But even now he sported an erection to rival Wormwoods.

"A little late for that." Scratch sniggered. The pen stopped and Scratch bellowed out. "Wormwood!" the old pervert appeared with his usual minion.