I saw him before he'd even registered my presence.
I knew he was the guy I was after. His arrogance exuded from him; it was an overwhelming stench of crap. I could see the steam radiating out from him just like a psychic could see auroras.
This guy was a textbook misogynist. I'd known about his life for weeks now. I'd seen things that no demon should ever see. His visits to the toilet after a night out drinking and eating kebabs and curries. His treatment of all women whether they were child or elderly. On curry nights, he'd ended up smelling even stronger of crap than usual.
It's a smell I never got used to.
Now my purpose? To destroy.
I'd been told of his personality flaws but I knew most of them already.
“His list of attributes include selfishness, immorality, hatred of women and so up-himself it's bordering on being yet another up-himself crime,” my Lord, had said.
Surely to be up-himself that much would effectively cancel the other out? Seems not.
In case you're wondering, not all demons are evil. There are some of us that want to save the human race, despite it being doomed from way back when.
In my previous life, I'd been a good person; to others and myself. But something had changed all that, and that something was right there in front of me. It seemed, to me, that it always ended that way; the good people got the worst in life from people like him. He was busy re-arranging his tackle. It made me laugh. Perhaps if he'd taken more time to give himself a bit of love than he wouldn't be so keen to spread his baby batter far and wide.
I wore my red hair loose and a sleek, red dress clung to every curve of my figure. That's the good thing about death; your whole persona can change for the better. I'd turned red (my skin had a healthy blush all over), in accordance with the punishment I would carry out.
I spent my spare time, just reflecting on what might have been, if I hadn't met Jason. What would have I become?
I twirled the cocktail stick in my Martini whilst admiring my red nails. Perfect. I just hoped dealing with the loser there didn't break one or two of them. I took pride in my appearance; it was often crucial to my errands.
Humming, I pretended that I wasn't aware of his creepy-eyed look. But, I watched him under my lashes as he ordered a lager. He looked contemptuously at the barman when he spilt his drink. The colour of his favourite tipple matched his smell. I half expected him to lick up the booze directly from the dirty bar.
I knew I would enjoy taking him back to my home. When I was alive, I, of course, didn't have a clue what the guy was really like. I got caught up in his charm and his generosity.
Until he had stuck the knife in.
“Busy in here, tonight, isn’t it? So, what brings a beautiful lady like yourself to a dive like this?”
So predictable.
I rolled my eyes. Classic. The line was simple enough but just plain cheesy. It hurt my ears. I found it offensive that he could even think that women would hang around for long after hearing that.
He was right, though. The bar was starting to fill up. It was Friday night and people were just beginning to flood in. Friday night is, 'I really must get pissed tonight' night. I knew it was time to move.
What I had planned for him couldn't, shouldn't be seen by anyone else. I felt a hand on my arm; I so wanted to shake it off. It felt cool and clammy, deadening the glistening look of my skin on my wrist. I hoped my heat would shift it but, no, the little tyke kept it there.
Most, if not all, bastards felt and smelt like shit. Every job had a downside, and this was mine.
His attention had then moved to my ample rack. I breathed in deeply to really accentuate them. Luckily, bras didn't exist in hell so I was walking around unfettered. I certainly didn't miss the huge welts under my boobs from those nasty under-wires. Didn't they give you cancer anyway?
Okay, intelligence had never been my strong point. It was why I relied on my body to get what I wanted. Actions definitely spoke louder than words.
A squeaking noise came from the side of the bar. He was talking to me again, his little rat-nose sniffed the air. I plucked a cigarette and lighter seemingly from nowhere. I blew a long stream of the ghastly smoke into his face. He had done that to me. He knew I hated it but he did it all the same. He waved his hand over his face.
“I have to say that you are looking stunning and I would love to get to know you a little better. Can I perhaps get you a drink? What do you say, honey?”
I kept silent. What was there to say? It would have been so easy to tell him to fuck off. I couldn't trust myself not to do so. Oh look, I thought, he's got a hard-on. He was waving it around like it was seven inches but I can assure you it was only three.
“How about a glass of Champagne, my shout? You deserve only the best, my sweet.”
I quite enjoyed listening to him talking to himself. However, I had to get things moving.
“How about I take you back to my place and show you a good time?”
I turned around and let the V-shape on the back of my dress tell him to, metaphorically, go and take a hike. Unfortunately, it didn't work. He was still there with his tongue hanging out, drooling all over the floor.
“Come with me,” I said.
I gave him a few seconds before I repeated my request.
He wouldn't need leading, he'd follow me as if he was attached. My little whiffy puppy. The only hot thing about him was his eyes as they burnt a hole in my back. If I had one, someone would have been walking over my grave. That's how it made me feel.
I slipped out of a side door that didn't really exist. I had to have some privacy; couldn't have all the losers making their way to me. I would never get any rest.
My 'home' lay within a hotel. The colour red adorned the place as far as the eye could see. The hotel itself appeared normal from the outside but hellishly beautiful inside. The road that led to it was dark.
It was the true colour of souls gone bad; the hotel not the road.
He followed me up the stairs, so I really wiggled my butt. His eyes were still burning into me but, they had moved ever lower.
My room was just as red as the lower floor. No light entered the room usually but I had to make an exception. The room was lit up but the light itself didn't really exist. I hoped it would give him a false sense of security. Most of the furnishings littered around the room were hallucinations.
I wasn't romantic even in life. I had gone to town, though. Red wine, candlelight, soft coverings over my bed. The red wine, for sure, wasn't required. There wouldn't be enough time to get hammered.
I pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. I pinned his arms above his head and clamped around his hips with my thighs. Then, I removed my dress. Now, my breasts hung free. His eyes lit up.
Oh, something was at home then.
“So many women, in so little time,” I whispered. “No rest for you then?”
He laughed. Arrogant sod.
“It’s most certainly not, honey. It and I can go for years yet. Why don’t you climb on and see?”
Eager he most certainly was, I thought. So I obliged. He must have wanted a quick conclusion to our coupling as much as I did. As I pushed down hard on his cock, I almost threw up. It was a very different feeling when I was with him in life. We had a satisfying love life and he could be charming...sometimes. The feelings of revulsion slowly passed and I began to ride him harder. His cock started to disintegrate inside me but, it wasn't enough for him or me. I wanted so much more.
I leant forward, placing my hands on either side of his chest. His hands gripped at the sheet. Ah, a display of pain at last. I felt him wiggle a bit. Not a chance, I thought. Just a wee bit longer.
Finally, I gave him a breather. I had harder things in store for him. I had found a duplicate of the sex toy he had used on me. I had made the suggestion that I should use it on him, too, but, he just didn't play that game at all.
Now he will, I thought.
I clambered off and retrieved it from...somewhere.
Turning back, I held the offending toy in my hand. His response was immediate. He scrambled off the bed and ran frantically to the side of the room. My cheap props smashed onto the floor, making a pretend mess, but, overall, it was a great spectacle to watch. Whilst he wasted energy trying to get out, I slowly fitted the dildo around my hips and waist.
Ironically, I agreed with him about the thing. It was gross. However, there was no other good way to violate males so I had to deal.
I was ready and I made him aware of it. Obediently, he made his way back to the bed. On all fours, he presented his rump to me. His balls and cock were swinging between his legs. Not quite hard as it was before but then it didn't really matter. This wasn't about his pleasure but mine. But, I was wrong.
I swung my breasts over his back, my nipples softly tracing a wonky path over his skin. Well, as soft as a demon can be, of course.
I glided my 'cock' slowly up his rectum. He gasped, whether from pleasure or pain, I didn't know. In response I thrust harder and faster. Yanking his head back so hard, I pulled some of his hair out by the roots, but he was enjoying it! Wanted it. His initial reaction of scrambling off the bed...was that just a game he was playing with me?
“Remember, all those girls you fucked and abused? Well, I decided that you should be paid in kind. Now, it’s your turn to go to hell...”
I'd heard that back in the day, the 'punishment' carried out to Edward II, would have been a 'red hot poker up the fundament.' Well, I couldn't profess to it being a punishment per-se. You don't tend to enjoy punishments of a tortuous and unwilling nature. But this wasn't one of either. I had no doubts about that. His pleasure showed in his face and in his body.
Well, anyway, I think I'd just about executed that perfectly.
I would go down in history.