The Promise of Pain and Pleasure

Horror Short Fiction

All Hallows Eve—the night when shadows come alive, creatures come out to play, kids trick-or-treating, and others seek darker thrills. I was the latter. Life has been a bit dull lately, and I badly craved a night of pain and pleasure. I even made a revealing female Pinhead costume to match my mood. 

That was when I met him. His short, dark hair, and his smile—god, that smile. It was the kind that sent shivers down your spine, and made you slick between your legs. Well-dressed, tall, lean, and just muscular enough to make you feel safe but also vulnerable. It was a dangerous combination, and tonight, I wanted dangerous. 

Credit: Pixabay - Lonefighter

His gaze caught mine; he stood up, and made his way over to me. We talked and laughed over a few drinks. I was about to risk everything, but little did I know those would be my famous last words. "I want to give you a night you'll never forget, where pain and pleasure blend until you can't tell one from the other,” he whispered in my ear. The anticipation grew in me, as my imagination went wild. My eyes locked with his, and he whispered we should leave, as he tucked a stray hair behind my ears. I was ready for whatever the night held. 

He didn’t take me to an apartment or hotel. Instead, he led me through the alleys and, eventually, beneath the city. He called it his “sanctum.” This should’ve been my first red flag, but tonight, I wanted danger and adventure. As we made our way through the city sewers, the smell attacked my senses, and everything in my mind was yelling at me to get out. But his whispers echoed in my mind, seductive and lustful. I shook off the feeling of dread and continued on.

When we got close to the sanctum, the surroundings started changing. It was oddly clean, for what is the sewers—too clean. I was met with grand marble doors that gleamed under the torches around it. It was adorned with intricate carvings, and all of a sudden, I felt small and insignificant standing in front of it. 

As if the doors had eyes, it opened up when it saw us approach it, and welcomed us. The moment we stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat. The grand hall was tall and stretched before me, vast and cold, but also extravagant. It blew my mind that all this was below the city.

He took my hand, and led me forward through the hall. The heat from his skin made my loins stir, and my fear subsided again. He must have felt me squirm a bit because he turned to me and said, “You’re ready.” His voice was soft, yet commanding. “But first, you need to be initiated, I hope you’re ready to have an audience.” 

My heart raced, “An audience?” I asked, surprised. He nodded. The anticipation was intoxicating. This was all new to me, and I was excited. But as we made it deeper past the halls, I noticed something. A smell. A sweet, sickly scent—like rotting fruit, but past all that was something worse. It was the unmistakable stench of decay. 

I tried to push down the sense of unease that was suddenly rising in my chest and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Shhh, we’re almost there,” he whispered as he tightened his grip. Then it hit me: something was very wrong. The air was colder now, the walls seemed to be closing in, and my gut was bursting in protest, telling me to run. But I couldn’t. 

The scent of rot got stronger with every step as he led me through a narrow corridor. There was no longer any marble on the walls but dark, slimy bricks. Then we finally reached it: an altar. 

My breath caught in my throat. I could see the massive stone stained with layers of dried and fresh blood. Bits of flesh still clung to it. I counted six hooded figures standing around it. Behind the altar was a rack, and on it, a woman. She was naked, her body covered with deep gashes, bite marks and her breasts were removed. Blood pooling at her feet. She was still alive, but barely, her eyes dull and resigned with pain.  

Created with Dall-E

My stomach churned, and I fought back the vomit that was on the verge of spilling out of me. This wasn’t pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t ecstasy. This was horror … 

I yanked my hand free from his, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear the words leave my mouth. “No…I need to go,” I stammered. 

His smile turned sinister. “It’s too late for that, my dear.” 

I bolted. My feet pounded against the stone as I retraced my steps. I could hear footsteps behind me, chasing me, not just his, but others. They were coming for me. I kept going despite drowning in the stench of death. I could see the shadows of those chasing me closing in, their footsteps getting louder. Then they were on me. His lackeys—they grabbed me, dragged me deeper into the pits of hell. As I fought back, I was met with a force so sudden to my head, and everything went dark. 

When I came to my senses, I was in their dungeon. The walls dripped with blood, and the air was thick with rot and decay. The room was massive, and in the middle of it, was a pit. It was emanating a red light that casted the room in a hellish glow. The smell was unbearable. Imagine leaving meat out to rot in the sun, but magnified by a million. My stomach lurched, and I vomited all over myself. 

“You’re not worthy for the altar.” It was his voice. His once sultry voice was now a guttural snarl. “But the pit will do to appease my God.” 

I screamed as they hurled me into the pit. My life flashed in front of me, and I could feel regret gnaw at every cell in my body. I braced myself to hit the ground, and leave this life behind. But I landed on something soft. Well, softer than the ground, that is. My breath was still knocked out of me. I opened my eyes, and instantly wished I hadn’t. 

Bodies. Everywhere. And I had landed on a mountain of bodies and skeletons. Their flesh decomposed, and those that still had eyes stared lifelessly at nothing. I screamed again, but it was drowned out by the sea of bodies. 

I tried to get up, desperate to find a way out. I could hear the rotting flesh squelch beneath my feet. As I tried to make my way downwards, I slipped on some intestines, and slid all the way down the fleshy mountain. The skeletons that poked out ripped through my soft flesh. I tried to grab hold of something to slow me down, but my hands were too slimy from the blood and guts to grip anything. I hit the bottom, and felt my leg break. I cried out in pain, but that was quickly cut off by a low, guttural growl that froze my blood. 

I turned around slowly, and was met with a hulking figure. Half-man, half-beast, hair covered its muscular body, and from its lower jaw, two massive fangs jutted out. It wore only a loincloth, and in its hand, it clutched a cleaver that was stained with blood. 

Its mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, and before I could scream, it swung the cleaver towards my throat. 

---

If a paid sub isn’t your thing, and you wanna help support my work, purrhaps you can buy me a coffee or a can of tuna for Nezuko. 🥰🖤