A Walk Through Hell

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I stood before the old oak door naked. My long black hair flowed over my body. I’m not very tall, only 5ft, so it’s like a blanket on my body. It offered little protection against the chill of the room though. My boyfriend didn’t notice my shivering. He stood nearby, chanting the spell to open the door and allow me to walk through Hell.

Why would I willing go to Hell? Well, I didn’t plan to stay there. You weren’t a true witch unless you made the walk through Hell and survived. Besides, in the stories that I read, not all of Hell was horror. There was delights. And, I thought, as the door opened, sometimes horror is delight.

As I stepped through the door, I entered a dark void. It was unnerving to walk through shadows. Still I walked, knowing how easy it would be to become lost in that void. Eventually I entered a white room. There was a gynecologist chair with straps in the center of the room. A tall red-skinned woman, over 9ft, entered the room. She wore an old-fashioned nurses’s uniform. Including a jaunty hat in between her horns.

“Hello little witch,” she cooed, “I’m Satan, and I’ll be your nurse today.”

Before I could react, she picked me up by my hair and put me in the chair. It strapped me in itself, parting my legs spread-eagle and digging into my flesh so tightly that it drew blood.

Nurse Satan held up a pair of large black clippers. “Let’s start by finding that witch’s mark.”

She started with my thick swirl of black pubes. Nothing. So, much to my horror, she plunged the clippers into my head. All my beautiful hair brutally stripped from my head and throw to the ground. Like trash. She tutted about girls with dark hair being difficult. Then she lathered up my scalp and shaved it smooth with a pearl-handled straight razor. Finally she looked pleased. She held up a mirror. I looked so hideous that I burst into tears. There was a large brown birth mark on the top of my egg-shaped head. My witch’s mark revealed. I didn’t feel like a woman anymore. Just a thing.

“Look at you. Like something out of Roald Dahl’s imagination now. An ugly bald witch at the mercy of her cruel demonic mistress.”

She then slid her hand between my legs and played with my soaking wet pussy. My tears over my appearance eventually faded, distracted by the waves of pleasure coming over my body. When she brought me to climax, she withdrew her hand and let me sniff what I left dripping on it.

“Yeah, you serve me, bitch, and don’t you forget it. Now continue on your journey through my kingdom. I’m not the only demon that’s going to have my way with you.”

And, with that, the chair released me to continue on my journey.

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