It was her 180th tonight, since she fell for it, long term. She had been excited to see the cuffs, blindfolds, leather straps and ropes.
“You will find yourself rising in its Symphony“, he said on their first.
For all she could remember risen was the swishing whip, her cuffed hands and the volume of music.
Too scared to raise her voice, she moaned and gasped, fake sounds.
“When hell unleashes there will be no saviour. You shall atone for your sins”. The words of the priest were still ringing in her years.
“Oh baby isn’t it heavenly!” he’d say after he shook off the last drop of his seed and leave her to clean everything up.
What if one didn’t want Heaven or Hell, she’d think after Sunday mass.
“Say my name. Say it louder!” he cried as he teased her labia with the tip of his overgrown manhood, slapping the butt cheeks a darker shade of red.
She immersed in beautifying herself more now. Gone were her usual Gloss and Kohl.
He loathed signs of reminisce.
For every night she were to submit herself anew, fresh and vivaciously yearning for their never-ending trysts.
The depths of darkness, drifted her to another world, beneath her blindfold, every time, while he performed the nightly rituals, finally splattering himself all over her mouth, stomach or inside her butt hole.
“Oh yes!” she moaned again.
She accepted it all.
For she neither wanted Heaven nor Hell.

At last, she had known Purgatory.

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