Hello, my Freaky Darlings!
Here’s another short story for your reading pleasure. I really hope it entertains you.
Real Estate Hell
Looking for the perfect property to spend your eternity in Hell?
Inferno Properties is here to help you find your torture palace in the flames.
Whether you’ve sold your soul or committed a lifetime of atrocities.
Inferno Properties will help you find your place in Damnation.
Call us today on 0800-666-001
Let us help you burn in style.
The client walked through the heat retardant glass doors to the sounds of screams tinkling from the bell above the door. It wasn’t his first visit to Inferno Properties’ offices. He was a difficult client. He’d earned his place in the underworld a thousand times over. He’d killed so many people with his bare hands the Devil had lost count. His death toll had earned him a luxury apartment in one of the most desired buildings in Hell – Serial Killer Abyss.
The client tapped his long claws on the counter. He was not a patient man, and while he couldn’t kill her, he could flay her again – slowly. He’d been known to do that to his victims topside. It was the only thing he believed in taking his time with. She’d learnt that the hard way.
When she’d first tried to land him as a client, she’d thought a little seduction was in order. She hadn’t realised how little it would be, or how quickly that part would be over, or that he considered flaying her as part of the evening’s pleasure. He’d taken all night just slicing her skin from her breasts. She’d faked her screams perfectly. He hadn’t even realised that she’d dozed off on a few occasions
The discomfort and tedium she’d experienced at his hands was a small price to pay for the commission she’d get once his signature was on the contract.
“What are you showing me today?” the client asked. “I hope it’s better than the one you showed me yesterday.”
“Of course, sir,” the agent said. “It’s a beautiful penthouse with a spectacular view of the Nine Rings. The building is home to all the most prominent serial killers in history.”
“We shall see,” he sighed. “You said something similar about the last place, and it was certainly not up to my standards.”
“My apologies, sir,” she said with a deep bow. “I am sure you will feel differently about this apartment.”
“I hope so,” the client said. “The hotel is beginning to bore me. Their pleasure demons lack imagination and the food in their restaurant was clearly designed for a less sophisticated palate. I need my own home to truly experience all the pleasures Hell has to offer.”
“Of course, sir,” she said bowing ever deeper. “I completely understand. Please come this way.”
She led him to the gold seal laid into the floor, intoned an incantation, and in the time it took to inhale they were standing in the receiving area of the brand new penthouse. No other demon had set hoof in it. She had secured the exclusive right to show this property.
“Your neighbours include Jack The Ripper, as well as Charles Manson,” she said as she showed him around the spacious living room area. It was one of the most luxurious units in the building. Only dictators and warlords could get better accommodation, and they were usually housed in a different building closer to the fires. Politicians and lawyers were in another much larger building further from the flames, but closer to the tarpits, and their accommodation wasn’t nearly as luxurious. Serial killers had their own special place in Hades. Having a flat in this building was a privilege.
“It’s too small,” the client said without even bothering to look around the apartment.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” the agent said, unable to control her surprise. “Did you say too small?”
“Much too small for someone of my stature,” the client said puffing up his chest.
“I’m sorry,” the agent said trying to hold her temper. “But I think you’ve misunderstood. Your budget does not purchase a bigger apartment. This is all you can afford.”
“That’s not possible,” the client blustered. “Don’t you know who I am?” He yelled.
“I’m sorry, but this is all those souls you took have bought you. The Underworld is full of men like you and people who have done far worse things than you could dream of. Even Doctor Mengele had to settle for an apartment in this building and a few floors down. This is it,” the agent said looking around the apartment before resting her gaze on the client. “There are no other units to show you, and there are no other agents who will be able to give you a bigger apartment.”
He clenched his fists and attempted to intimidate her, but she was too experienced for him. She merely exposed her fangs and flicked her tail. It was enough to put him in his place.
His anger and indignation gave way to resignation. She’d seen it a million times before. All the damned did the same thing. They all thought they were the worst of the worst and that it somehow meant more than it did, that it purchased them more than it did. It always ended the same way. She showed each of them their options. They all tried to fight the inevitable, wanted to claim they were owed more, but in the end, they all signed on the dotted line in blood. This client was no different.
The agent pulled the scroll out of her briefcase and rolled it out on the floor. It was a lengthy document that ran the span of the living room. None of them ever read it. He was no different. He signed like all the others before him. The Devil would be pleased.
She put the contract back in her briefcase and walked out of the penthouse. When she closed the door behind her, the client’s screams of torment began. He really should have read the small print.
So … what did you think?
As some of you may have noticed, at the end of these short stories I’ve added a tip jar. This tip jar is sort of my version of a Patreon thing. It’s so that I can keep writing these stories for you and hopefully earn a bit of money so that I can pay my mortgage and feed my two cats. Unlike with Patreon, you don’t have to pay every month or for every story. You only have to ‘tip’ me if you want to and you only have to ‘tip’ a small amount. It’s entirely up to you. You can even say, “Fuck You! I’m not paying you. These stories are supposed to be free.” That’s cool too. You don’t have to pay anything to read these stories.
But anyway …
My Cheeky Tip Jar
If you would like to support my writing and help feed my cats, please leave a small ‘tip’ of $2.99. Thank you so much for your support!
Well … That’s it for now. Until next time …
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