Hell Bent for Leather (499 word)

--

Janice knew it would happen, sooner or later. The triangle exploded,
it's corners and sides rushing out at galactic speeds. The triangle
came for her, and brought hell with it. Her pulse quickened a bit, but
not too much.

After and instant eternity, the rush slowed, the blurred colors became
more distinct. Galactic gates came at her, too high and wide to be
comprehended. They smoothly swung open, engulfing Janice in Hell
proper. A saying about kitchens and being burned flitted briefly
through her mind.

--

A mid level demon streaked towards her, full of fangs, fire and fury.
She could sense its uneasiness with the bored look on her face. It
raised its barbed whip, and the vicious tails shrieked toward her,
shattering on some unseen layer of aether.

The trembles in the aether announced the arrival of a major player. One
of the crown princes. It strode towards her, galactic in size, spewing
hatred and discord, brimstone seeping from the crevices in its body.

She grew, or the demon shrunk. In the aether, there was no real
distinction between the two. The demon cowered in fear as her foot
descended.

--

Mentally keeping score, she knew that there was only one left to
confront her. It. All of the upper echelons had fallen to her, and the
survivors of the rest were as far away from her as they could muster.
The aether started to distort, opening a rift within a rift. The beast
emerged, bigger than comprehension, more hideous than imagination.

She could feel it, probing even the inner sanctum she had constructed
in her mind. It found a doubt, and ripped it wide open. It leaned in,
into an infinite and tiny box. The gate swung shut before it knew what
was happening.

--

The leather straps snugly caressed her. A warm and cool breeze licked
her skin, teasing a bit of desire and moisture out of her center. The
damp leather gently chafed her most sensitive place.

It hung from its wrists, its ankles obscenely stretched apart. Janice
looked over the naked form she had chosen for it, saliva pouring into
her mouth, nipples growing rock hard, and the leather on her crotch
unable to absorb all of the fluids she produced.

She swung her whip. It cried out. She swung again, harder. It cried
louder. She swung harder, and it cried louder, over and over and over.
After a literal eternity, it finally broke, begging mercy.

"What do you want?" it begged, subservient once again, after an
eternity of rebellion.

"Your job, naturally."

"Why?"  It wondered and pleaded.

"You're evil is a bore. It could be so nasty, so fun, so erotic. You
chose to just be mean. Things will be so much more fun with me running
things."

The gates of hell burst open, and countless souls whose only crimes
were an inventive sex drive streamed forth, charging on heaven, a punk
vixen leading the charge.

Angels had quite shapely figures.