Monica was still struggling to adjust to her new existence in the Mesopotamian Underworld. Only hours earlier she'd been relaxing on the balcony of her upper eastside Manhattan apartment when a ghostly specter suddenly appeared before her. Already well into her fourth margarita of the evening, Monica almost laughed when she finally understood the terms of the eternal bargain that this ghostly messenger was offering.
Realizing that this ghostly messenger was still patiently awaiting her answer, Monica casually reached through the ghostly aberration and picked up the pitcher of margaritas from the table to refill her glass before responding, "Let's see if I understand this, Ereshkigal, the ancient Sumerian goddess of death and the ruler of the Mesopotamian Underworld, is offering me eternal youth and beauty in exchange for becoming one of her willing pleasure slaves." Pausing to take a sip of her margarita, Monica continued, "And in exchange for my eternal submission to the death goddess, she's going to grant me an eternity where every day is filled with unimagined pleasures, but in exchange, I have to embrace an eternity where each night is filled with agonizing unrelenting torture."
Intentionally reaching once again through the ghostly specter floating in the air before her Monica casually set down her drink on the table before she gave her answer, "Of course I accept Ereshkigal's offer of eternal youth and beauty in exchange for becoming one of her willing pleasure slaves. So what happens now?"
In that timeless moment Monica's existence ceased and she unexpectedly found herself standing in an ancient throne room, a beautiful yet deadly looking woman sitting upon a high raised throne. Monica felt a sudden chill as she realized that all her clothes were gone and that she was, with the exception of stockings and high heels, naked. It only took a moment more for Monica to realize that she was helpless, her wrists already bound tightly together behind her back.
Although she couldn't understand what the woman was saying, Monica immediately knew that the woman was Ereshkigal. Suddenly, Monica began to understood what Ereshkigal was saying. "Monica, my troll guards are waiting to escort you to one of my dungeon torture chambers where you may spend the night proving your willingness to serve." Monica easily recognized the look of pure sadistic evil in Ereshkigal's glowing red eyes as the death goddess continued, "I'm eagerly anticipating an eternity filled with the lovely taste of your torment." Monica quickly found herself dragged from throne room, helpless to resist Ereshkigal's utterly merciless troll guards.
Taking Monica deep into the subterranean depths of the Mesopotamian Underworld's dungeons, the trolls brought Monica to a small dimly lit torture chamber where they forced locked her neck beneath the bloodstained blade of a guillotine. Moments later Monica heard a voice from the darkness dismiss the troll guards.
Monica felt her heart pounding in her chest as a sudden overwhelming sense of terror gripped her. The voice she'd heard belonged to the man, a nude and incredibly muscular man with the body of a professional weightlifter and ominously, an erect cock the size of a horse's.
Like her earlier meeting with Ereshkigal, at first Monica didn't understand what this man was saying, although the chilling blackness of his eyes as he stared into hers left Monica with little hope of mercy. Then suddenly, she found herself understanding what he was saying, and moments later wishing that she didn't.
Smiling at the sudden realization that Monica could now understand what he was saying, Nergal smiled darkly as he continued, "I am Nergal, the ancient Sumerian god of war and pestilences, the husband of Ereshkigal and the co-ruler of the Mesopotamian Underworld. My wife, the death goddess, likes me to introduce her more naive pleasure slaves to the realities of their new eternal existence. If you wish, I can still return you to your former existence. You'll awaken back at your apartment and all of this will seem as nothing more than a bad dream. Or you can acknowledge your true masochistically submissive nature and accept your rightful place as one of Ereshkigal's willing pleasure slaves fated to serve the death goddess for all eternity within the inescapable depths of the Mesopotamian Underworld."
Already to terrified to trust her own voice, Monica briefly stared that the impossible thick head of Nergal's cock poised directly before her face before closing her eyes and nodding her willing acceptance of her fate.
Lost in the moment, Monica didn't realize that Nergal had moved to stand behind her until she felt his powerful hands grasp the sides of her hips. Her eyes flew open in horrified panic and she was about to protest that as a lesbian she'd never been taken by a man, when she felt the massive blunt head of Nergal's cock pressing firmly against the dry tightness of her anus the moment before he took her.
Nergal smiled darkly at the sound of Monica's high-pitched screams of pure agony echoed off the ancient stone walls of the torture chamber as he slowly probed to tight depths of this young woman's rectum with his massive cock.
Monica screamed uncontrollably as she felt fresh waves of mind searing agony exploding through her as Nergal's massive cock moved within her bowels. Nothing in her experience could ever have prepared her for this level of agonizing torment. No stranger to the delights of anal play, that delicious mix of pleasure with just enough pain to heighten the experience, Monica's last girlfriend had often tied her to the bed and used a strap-on to fuck her in the ass. And even once, after an evening of drinks, she'd even allowed that bitch to anal fist her, but what Nergal was doing to her was anal rape. There was no pretense of passion here. Nergal was simply using her for his pleasure, her pain and her screams merely adding to his enjoyment. And yet, somewhere deep down, Monica found herself growing impossibly aroused by Nergal's abuse, his brutal unrelenting torment laying bare Monica's long hidden masochistic desires.
Nergal sensed a subtle shift in Monica's thoughts, the way pure terror slowly surrendered as Monica began to submissively embrace the masochistic pleasures of the pain she was enduring. The way her high-pitched screams of pure agony died away, gradually replaced by softer more feminine cries of erotic lust with each thrust of his cock, until her terror finally succumbed to a desperate eagerness in the way she pushed back met each new thrust of his cock. Nergal could clearly sense Monica's utter desire to please, her desperate need to satisfy his every sadistic demand. Only then, in her moment of total and complete submission, did he choose to take her fully.
Monica screamed as she felt a sharp sensation deep within her belly, a darkly sickening sensation of tearing wetness as the massive head of Nergal's cock ruptured something deep within her belly. And despite the sudden increase in pain, a faint smile of submissive satisfaction appeared on Monica's face as she felt the full length of Nergal's impossibly massive cock sliding deep into the mutilated depths of her abdomen.
Her initial terror forever vanquished by her overwhelmingly masochistic need to endure agonizing torment merely for his amusement, Monica's conversion from a confused mortal female into a thoroughly submissive pain slut was now complete. Reaching up Nergal patiently waited until his orgasm peaked before pulling the guillotine's release and beheading Ereshkigal's newest willing pleasure slave.
Looking up from where her severed head lie in the basket beneath the guillotine, Monica watched in erotic fascination as Nergal's orgasm faded and he pulled her lifeless body off the shaft of his still immense cock. Monica's last thought just before she lost consciousness, "If this is the kind of torturous nights I can expect to experience for the rest of eternity, I can't wait to see what they consider days of unimagined pleasures." A brief fleeting smiled appeared on Monica's face, "And I have a vivid imagination."