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Arriving at the party on Sam’s arm Tegan scanned the room with some anxiety. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had agreed to when Sam invited her, but she knew he wouldn’t have done so were it not going to be sexually adventurous. All she had been told was that she would be visiting the “nine circles of hell” and he’d provided her with a costume that seemed to follow an angelic theme – she wore a skimpy white wraparound dress and matching sandals, a set of costume backpiece with wings and a glittery halo, and a delicate white mask with a lacy pattern that barely covered any of her face – it simply sat over her eyes between her eyebrows and cheekbones. She supposed it was more of a symbolic mask than anything else. It made her feel naked, though that was likely contributed to by Sam’s insistence that under her dress she was devoid of any underwear.

Scanning the room, she observed – confirming her suspicions – that all the males wore devil-themed attire. Many just wore an assortment of red clothing, or even accessorised black suits with red pocket squares or ties, though Tegan saw a couple of entirely red suits. Others had committed a little more and wore haphazard loincloths that made them look more like barbarian warriors. She supposed hell was less clear on its dress code than heaven. Sam had kept his attire relatively simple, a black t-shirt and chinos with a red blazer and plastic devil horns. There were other women dotted around the room dressed similarly to Tegan but they were definitely outnumbered by the men at a ratio of about or five to one – the room was so large numbers were hard to judge at a glance but Tegan estimated there were half a dozen “angels” in total. There was no questioning why that was. As they approached the open bar Sam ordered two neat bourbons and handed one of the glasses to Tegan.

“Who are these people?” Tegan asked as she took a sip.

“A loose collection of acquaintances. I don’t really know most of these people.” Sam said disinterestedly.

“And the women? Are they… working girls?” Tegan euphemised.

“No. That’s the main rule.” Sam threw back his drink and ordered another. “The entrance fee is sacrifice. You have to bring someone. A partner or good friend. Someone they actually know, who’s important to them. You can’t just buy your way in.”

“The numbers here aren’t exactly balanced.” Tegan observed.

“As I understand it, any man here has either brought a sacrifice, or done so at a previous event.” Sam clarified. “By sacrificing you I get to participate and earn my place at future events.”

“Sounds like some crazy sex cult.” Tegan said wryly. “You have some weird connections, Sam.”

“I guess I do.” He chuckled.

“Just so we’re clear, me being here as your sacrifice means…”

“That you’re probably going to get your brains fucked out.” Sam said, glancing sideways at her as his second drink arrived. “If you want.”

“And if I don’t want?”

“Firstly I assume if you didn’t you wouldn’t have been curious enough to come.” Sam took a sip. “Secondly, that’s why there’s circles. Just being in the door is the first circle: Limbo. We mingle, talk, have a drink. That’s all there is to it. And if that’s all you want out of tonight, we leave.”

“What’s the second circle?”

“Well in Dante’s Inferno, which I assume the party is loosely modelled on, it’s Lust.”

“Sounds like the party peaks early if that’s the case.”

“As I understand it, Lust is purely about removing inhibitions. Getting naked, getting friendly. The sex doesn’t come until later. Anyone who doesn’t want to move onto that phase of the party can stay, have a few drinks, go home.”

“So each circle is basically another level of depravity, with people choosing when they want to quit.”

“Right.”

“So what happens if I made it to the ninth circle? Is there a prize?” Tegan asked jokingly as she took another sip of her drink.

“Well for me it means I’ve earned my way into the ninth circle for future events.”

“Again, that sounds really culty.” Tegan sipped her whiskey. “And for me?”

“Women, as you can see, are the commodity here and always welcome – though I assume every woman here is serving as a sacrifice for one of the men. Some might be repeat guests who can’t get enough, or want to go further than they did on a prior visit. Others, most of them, will be first timers.”

“So basically your fate is linked to how far I’m willing to go.”

“Bingo.”

“Now that’s my kind of fun.” Tegan teased before contemplatively swirling her glass and finishing her whiskey. “It seems like all this – the venue, the drinks – is expensive. Who’s paying the bills?”

“I never asked. I assume the party is sponsored by some rich perverts who get a kick out of it.” Sam shrugged. Tegan set her glass down on the bar then shook her head politely when the bartender gestured to enquire if she wanted another.

“So should we be mingling?”

“Sure, let’s.”



-----



The First Circles



Sam and Tegan wove through the party. The room they were in, which seemed to be an old ballroom, reminded Tegan of the last party she had attended. She wondered how many old manses in the area were outfitted like this. She guessed there had to be at least forty guests present, though as she had noticed earlier it was mostly men. Including herself she estimated there were no more than six women, suggesting that by even the most conservative estimate Tegan was going to enjoy the company of five strangers tonight. She hoped enjoy was the right word. The party she’d been paid to attend had had structure, and rules, and limits. From what Sam had told her she could walk away at any time but that still didn’t tell her exactly what to expect.

Occasionally a cluster of chatting men would turn their attention to Tegan on Sam’s arm and they would make polite small talk but Tegan wondered if they were undressing her with their eyes behind their small red masks, mentally making a note of her for later. Occasionally someone would ask Sam who Tegan was and he would introduce Tegan as his close friend. One particularly forward man reached under the short skirt of Tegan’s dress and briefly squeezed her bare ass, which she acknowledged with nothing but a coy smile in his direction before her and Sam moved on. They met another couple who claimed to be husband and wife, though the man was eager to profess that for tonight she would belong to everyone. After making conversation with a few people and finding them friendly and easy-going, Tegan began to feel more relaxed.

Around twenty minutes after their arrival there was a clinking sound of someone rapping a knife against a glass that cut through the murmurs of conversation and everyone settled into silence. A man, not really distinct from anyone else in the room in terms of his attire, spoke with the assistance of a lapel microphone that broadcast his voice to concealed speakers around the room. He spoke gently but to Tegan he might as well have been standing right next to her.

“Ladies and gents, or rather I should say, angels and devils.” He paused for the polite chuckle that rippled through the crowd “We thank you all for your presence this evening, especially those of you that have brought sacrifices.” He paused again to raise his glass in salute and a few glasses raised in response.

“Now, we will proceed with the evening’s events. You have all been welcome to be present in the first circle, which we call Limbo. You may at this time be undecided as to whether you will begin your descent, or if you will turn away: we require that you make that decision now. Anyone who does not wish to proceed, we would ask that you leave the room. There is a small bar in the adjacent room where you are welcome to enjoy some drinks and canapes, and make conversation, but sadly if you make that decision you will be unable to return.”

The speaker took a long pause and the people in the crowd looked around, seeing if anyone was going to make a move. Tegan glanced up at Sam, her stomach giving a twist of nervousness, or perhaps excitement. She had conflated the two so much recently that it could be a mix of both. Sam looked down at her though she didn’t sense any doubt in his eyes that she intended to stay, and that strengthened her resolve.

When no one moved the speaker continued.

“Excellent. We have quite the crowd this evening. The ceremony is about to begin – sacrifices, gather in the centre of the room. Beyond this point, you will begin your slow descent through the circles. Your only escape back to the world of humanity and reason is Virgil, who can guide you back. By which I mean, that is the safeword. Otherwise, you will be dragged down… down… down… deeper into the pit, at the mercy of the demons that lurk there.” The speaker finished on an ominous, dramatic note, which made Tegan shiver despite its cheesiness. As he finished speaking his voice was replaced with what seemed like organ music that faded into the background noise but lingered on the edge of hearing. It wasn’t any piece Tegan recognised though she was no classical music. At her best guess some kind of fugue, though she was not sure she even knew what a fugue was.

With one last look at Sam she pulled away from him and wove through the crowd where a space had opened up in the centre of the room. She was joined by five other women all attired similarly to herself, white wraparound dresses and togas, faux wings of varying quality, halos quivering on stands that rose up from the wings or a headband of some kind. As they gathered in the centre the men pressed forward around them until they were closed in on all sides, a tight circle of around twenty or so men standing shoulder to shoulder with even more behind. Tegan stood with her back to the centre as did all the others, as they pressed together and faced the demons surrounding them. The speaker’s gentle, soothing voice came over the speakers, almost hypnotically blending with the organ music.

“In the second circle, Lust, those who give in to the sins of the flesh are tormented by being buffeted by the strong winds, as their unbridled passions cause them to drift endlessly.”

As he spoke the men closed in on the group of vulnerable women and their hands reached out and snatched them up. Tegan let out a cry of surprise as two men grabbed her by the dress and pulled at her roughly sending her stumbling into them and also tearing the fabric. As she was pulled out of the circle into the mass of men she felt hands wandering all over her, tugging at her clothing and the slip knots holding the garment in place. She was reminded almost immediately of her lack of undergarments as hands slid up her thighs towards her crotch and her small chest was exposed as the top half of her dress was pulled open. Her notional modesty was preserved by the loose belt cinched around her waist even though she could feel a hand cupping her bare slit, but someone tugged at that knot and her dress fell completely open leaving her bare. The hands continued to roam over her body, fingers closed over and tweaked her nipples which grew hard. Hands squeezed her modest tit-flesh and flat ass. Someone stripped her sandals from her and she involuntarily thrashed as they tickled the soles of her delicate feet. Fingers stroked her face and she seized up as she fear they were going to divest her of her mask, her notional anonymity, but they did not – apparently that was still sacrosanct.

She realised that as they groped and caressed and touched and pulled her the men were gradually shedding their own clothing. The arms manhandling her became bare and she felt someone’s bare chest pressing against her back. Bare legs and a half-erect cock brushed her thigh. She didn’t have a lot of time to get her bearings as she was kept continuously off-balance but she was reasonably certain none of the men were Sam, who was presumably off participating in this theatrical ritual with one of the other sacrifices. As she felt fingers probing her slit and spreading her lower lips she impulsively reached out to try to grasp one of the swelling members surrounding her but her arms were pushed away. Her arms were pulled up above her and her wrists held in strong hand, stretching and elongating her slim body. The hands of the other men ran down her body, tickling her arms and exposed armpits, her small breasts and toned stomach, her thighs and calves. She was shivering not just from bring tickled and touched but from excitement. She turned her head side to side, trying to see if the other women were being subjected to similar torture but her diminutive stature compared to the press of men around her made it impossible to tell. For now, she was isolated and outnumbered. She felt a mouth envelop one of her nipples and suck, a tongue dancing around her areola. She could feel the erection of a man pressing into her back as a man held her by the hips and kissed her neck from behind. A finger slid between her lower lips and found her wet hole, sliding easily inside. She went weak at the knees but the hands and bodies pressing in on her made it impossible to fall. Someone pushed their thumb into her mouth and she sucked it hungrily. They continued to stroke and caress and grope every inch of her until no inch of skin, no crevice on her body remained unmolested.



“In the third circle, we find the Gluttons. The ones who gave over to temptation and indulged in their vices to excess.” The speaker’s voice soothingly cut in among the notes of the music, enticing. Tegan was lain down across what seemed to be a kind of table. She didn’t know where it had come from. There was a pillow in the small of her back which made her back arch, her thighs hanging off one end and her head dangling from the others. Her wrists were bound with what felt like some piece of cloth as it was cinched tight, her hands resting on her stomach. Her ankles were held by strong hands, keeping her legs apart. She could feel someone between her thighs and realised she was straddling someone’s head when she felt a mouth press against her and a tongue probe between her labia, tentatively tasting her. She let out an appreciative moan in response as hands holding her down continued to caress her skin and grope her chest.

The speaker was suddenly before her, at least as far as she could tell from her inverted position. He was fully dressed, and Tegan supposed that as Master of ceremonies he was refraining from participating, at least for now. He was holding out a pill between his gloved fingers in front of her where she could see it.

“An enhancement?” He offered quietly. “It is not unlike ecstasy, but with greater aphrodisiac qualities.”

“Do I have to?”

“No.” He said kindly. “It is another vice, but not required.”

Tegan mulled it over, slightly distracted by the mouth at work on her pussy, her toes curling. She was already feeling a high level of sexual energy and didn’t really believe she required chemical enhancement, but she’d done E and acid as a student in university and didn’t see the harm. Eventually she decided that – in for a penny, in for a pound – she might as well. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue to invite the Speaker to place the pill on it and he did, holding a bottle of water to her lips so she could take a sip and swallow more easily. The Speaker moved on, presumably to offer narcotics to the other women, and once he was out of the way her view was blocked by the waxed genitalia of a slightly overweight man, his hairless balls dangling in front of her as he cradled her head in his hand and fed his average-sized cock between her parted lips. It quickly became apparent he was satisfied to simply fuck her mouth and she focused on keeping her lips in a snug O around his shaft as he slid in and out, moaning gently as the man between her legs kept up her persistent oral ministrations, two fingers inside her as he vigorously circled her clit with his tongue.

For a while she was aware of little but the pleasure building inside her, the steady rhythm of the man in her mouth, the distant grunting and wet noises as presumably this scene played out around the room. Then she became aware of a warm, almost tingling sensation and her mind drifted as she became incredibly relaxed. She began to feel almost like she was sleepwalking or in a deep fog, while also being fully aware of the goings on around her, the tingles in her body shooting directly to her crotch like a lightning rod being the only thing keeping her grounded.

The man in her mouth buried himself as deep as he could, his balls tightening, the swollen tip tickling the back of her throat, and she came at the same time he did, her thighs shaking and legs flexing as she reflexively swallowed the load shooting into her mouth. She continued to suck at the twitching rod, eliciting another groan from the man and a second smaller squirt of cream, then he stepped back pulling from her mouth. She gasped for air, her breaths coming as moans as the man continued to go down on her, his fingers curled up into her g-spot. She was normally too sensitive to put up with continued touch following an orgasm but this was different: not only did she have no say in the matter unless she wanted to utter the safeword and end her night early, but her quivering body hungered for more even while she was in the throes of orgasmic bliss.

Another orgasmic shockwave rolled through her as a second man stepped up to her panting mouth and started to use it. He was a little longer than the first man but with her head titled back it didn’t matter. He cradled her head maintaining a straight tunnel from her lips to her throat and eased himself in all the way, Tegan’s well-suppressed gag reflex having no issue. She squirmed as the man going down on her inserted a third finger into her slick hole, feeling the slight stretch as her clenching muscles accommodated it, but it was a simple adjustment. Three fingers was tame compared to some of the punishment her hole had been subjected to lately. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of another orgasm as the Speaker’s voice cut through the music again.



“In the Fourth circle, those who succumbed to the sin of Greed are crushed beneath relentless weights.”

Tegan let out a disappointed moan as the fingers withdrew from her and the mouth stopped working her aching clit, but almost immediately she felt something else enter her – a penis, most likely. The shaft that sank into her was a good size and she let out a muffled sigh of pleasure as she felt it fill her slick hole completely. The man in her mouth had stopped moving and was simply holding himself in her mouth. She tried to move her head, assuming that perhaps he was leaving it to her to do some of the work but he clamps his hand down over her throat, pinning her against the table so she could not move. He wasn’t choking her but his hand on her neck was enough to assert control as she was forced to simply lie there and take it as the man between her legs began to move, slowly easing in and out at first before building to a steady rhythm. He seemed to be in no hurry and was taking his time enjoying the warm slickness of her tight hole. The other men, at least three sets of hands continued to roam over her naked torso, occasionally wandering fingers would tug roughly on her nipples, creating pangs of a pleasurable pain that made her nether regions ache with the need for release. She silently begged for the man to fuck her properly, fuck her hard, but he was maintaining a steady rhythm. Just when Tegan felt that surely he would be nearing his finish he stepped back leaving her glistening slit vacant for the briefest of moments before he was replaced. A fresh cock entered her and began pumping immediately, her body well prepared and needy. She urged her hips upwards trying to meet his thrusts but the hand on her throat, almost warningly, pressed down a little harder which discouraged her. She was feeling lightheaded and lost, her insides somewhere between her hips felt insistent, almost like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, and she wondered if this was the effect of the pill, making her need to be fucked no matter what, so she would be more susceptible to the trials ahead.

Every time it seemed like the man inside her was about to cum he stepped away and another man was hot-swapped in. At some point the man in her mouth removed himself and switched places to use her pussy for a while, leaving her mouth free to let out passionate cries of need, always on the verge of but never quite reaching another orgasm – by that same token it seemed the men, apart from the first one to use her mouth, were refraining from finishing as far as she could tell as well. While she commended their restraint, she wanted to feel their cum on or in her almost as badly as she wanted release for herself. Her pussy ached but the men continued to slide in and out and she could feel her juices trickling down her thighs – she must be the wettest she’d ever been. As another man hot-swapped in to use her dripping hole she tried to lock her ankles behind him to draw him in close but two other men pulled her legs apart and pushed them back, spreading her wide as he pushed his cock up inside her. This man was considerably thicker that the rest had been – she’d lost count but figured this had to be the last one in her group – and she let out a surprised gasp as he burrowed into her core.

“Please.” She urged. “Fuck me. Cum in me.”

“Greedy whore.” The man retorted with a growl as he wrapped his large, strong hand around her throat. “We decide when you have earned your reward.”

He began to move, his fat cock pushing in and out of her, a gentle squishing sound emanating as her vaginal walls clenched in response to his words, her legs trembling. She was sure that she would finally come but the man seemed to sense exactly where her edge was and keep her balanced them, moving agonisingly slowly.

“Please.” She repeated, her voice fillwed with desperation. She had never needed anything so badly. Surely he must need this as much as her – she surmised that orgasm denial was the whole point of the ritual but the fact that the men were refraining as well only made her need more urgent. After while the man moved on and he was replaced by another. She supposed it was time for a second rotation – she was so close to her edge that she felt like she would surely burst at any moment but knowing this the men barely moved, simply taking turns warming their cocks inside her while they played with her nipples, and she started to lose track of time, lulled into a trance.



“In the Fifth Circle” the Speaker’s voice cut in again. How long had she been lying on that table getting fucked? She couldn’t know. The speaker continued: “are the sinners of Wrath – who endlessly torment each other with violence.”

Tegan was abruptly hauled up ooff the table and pushed back against something. As her wrists were unbound, a man on each limb pulled her into an X shape and she felt manacles being clicked into place at her wrists and ankles. She realised she must be on some kind of medieval style rack. Her chest rising and falling with fast, deep breaths she looked blearily around the room as the tables were moved out of the way. Her rack was turned towards the centre of the room and she realised that she and the five other woman, all in the same predicament, were in a rough circle facing each other. She could not easily see the women to her left and right but the three women opposite were in the same situation. Naked and bound to X-shaped racks, seemingly breathless, their skin shiny with sweat. All three of them were entirely shaved and she could see juices glistening on their inflamed pussy lips.

As she watched her view was blocked by a man approaching her with a gag. It appeared to be a simple leather bit that she could bite down on but would not be locked in place, presumably to enable her to use the party safeword if she wanted to back out. The thought had so far not occurred to her and she trembled at the thought of what now lay ahead. The man held the gag up to her mouth and waited, and she opened her mouth to accept it and bit down carefully, holding it with her teeth. As she accepted the bit, another man approached and tugged on her nipples, somewhat roughly, seeming to ensure they would be at full hardness and she felt them pinched by an object – nipple clamps was the obvious conclusion. She let out a muffled grunt as they pinched the sensitive nubs and she felt her legs quiver and her clit throb.

Another man stepped up to her, this seemed to be the slightly chubby one who had previously cum in her mouth, holding a riding crop. She stiffened in anticipation as he flexed the crop in his hands and slapped it against his palm with a fleshy crack then started running the tip over her body. He traced a lazy line across her chest, tapping her lightly on the nipple clamps which elicited another grunt from her, then he continued tracing it down her belly towards her crotch. He skirted around her pubis and rubbed the crop against her inner thighs. Then suddenly he flicked his wrist and slapped the crop against her thigh making her cry out. It was more out of surprise than pain though the crop did create a definitely sting. He smiled knowingly – she did not detect any cruelty in it, which gave her some comfort. She felt the crop slowly run up her thigh and he nestled it against her slit, rubbing it back and forth with the polished leather rubbing against her aching clit. Then he ran the crop down the other thigh before slapping it again. Tegan cried out again but to her surprise there was an edge of passion to it. She felt her pussy clench, a rising need. It had been some time since her first and only orgasm of the evening under the skilful tongue of a stranger and all she wanted was to be filled again.

The man with the crop repeated his process, running the stick up her thigh to rest between her lips again, pressing it against her clit. Then he pulled it away and smacked it against her pussy. She whimpered as the blow landed just to the side of her crotch in the crease of her left thigh. Then he struck again and she felt the crop smack against her shaved slit, causing her to momentarily tense up then sag in her restraints. She was already aching and part of her was inclined to put an end to this so she could just go home and let Sam fuck her brains out – but a much larger part of her wanted to see this through. She knew that eventually there had to be a payoff, and her body was on fire with a need to continue. She raised her head and her eyes scanned the room looking for Sam. It was hard to find him in the crowd of naked men standing around but she found him attending to one of the women across from her, a busty blonde woman. He was idly playing with what looked like a cat-o-nine-tails, apparently waiting for his turn to partake in her degrading punishment.

She was snapped back to her own predicament as another blow from the crop stuck against her tender labia. The man was hitting her hard, just enough to sting, but it still sent ripples through her sensitive body. Her clamped nipples ached and she could feel them pulsing with her heartbeat. She had never felt more exposed and vulnerable – because she never had been. In her mind she knew she had a choice but at the same time she felt like she was helpless, a prisoner of her own lust. The crop struck her thigh again, then the man teasingly ran the tip along the underside of her small tits, giving each nipple clamp a playful tap before stepping away. She watched him go then her attention was captured by another man stepping up before her. He was holding his own cat-o-nine-tails and she felt a plaintive moan escape from her as she both anticipated and dreaded him using it on her.

The man did not waste any time. He drew his arm across and the tails of the cat lashed across her belly. He didn’t seem to be striking hard but the tails nonetheless stung as they crossed her skin. She tightened her stomach muscles and moaned into the bit, involuntarily struggling against the manacles holding her arms akimbo. She took a few deep breaths and tried to ready herself as he drew his arm again, a second backhand slash and this time the tails crossed her chest, stinging her small tits and catching against the clamps. Jolts of pain shot through her nipples and made her weak at the knees momentarily. When she didn’t appear to be protesting the man swung his arm again in a lazy forehand movement that lashed her across the left side of her ribs. She flinched away from the blow, another muffled cry escaping her. Then he backhanded again, this time catching her across the right side of her ribs. She could feel her body shaking as adrenaline surged through her body, the lust and narcotic induced fog seeming to clear from her brain. The man swung again and the tails lashed her lower belly and the top of her pubic mound and she arched her back, and she bit down hard on the leather as her legs shook and she realised, against all expectation, that she was coming. She struggled to support her weight on her legs as her thighs tensed and quaked, her pussy convulsing and clenching, her nipples and clit throbbing as a wave of ecstasy surged through her. She balled her hands into fists as she rode out the waves of pleasure and then went limp in her restraints, her mind reeling with the overwhelming surge of sensation coursing through her and the realisation that she had come from pain. She felt broken somehow, like her entire worldview was distorted. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed hard.

For now, it seemed like they were done torturing her, if that had ever been their intent. She could sense the men standing around her but it seemed that their mission had been accomplished. Had that been the point? To confuse her senses until her body sought release wherever it could be found? She could feel a cool wet sensation on her thigh and wondered if she had wet herself, or if she was simply dripping with need. Around the room she could hear the other women’s muffled moans and cries following each smack of some implement striking their bare skin. To her left she heard the urgent cry of “virgil” as one of her cohort, a slightly chubby brunette, reached her limit and tapped out. Was she the first? She couldn’t tell for sure. There was some commotion as she was released from her rack and escorted from the room with her partner who left his group to her left and made gentle soothing noises, assuring her that all was well, and she was appreciated. The rest of the men redistributed themselves among the other sacrifices, incrementing each group by one. Tegan raised her head to regard the now six men clustered around her, a defiant gleam in her eye.

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