Chapter 3 The Unapologetic Grim Reaper

-JULIA POV-

He never apologises. It's a pattern I've come to accept, a bitter pill I've swallowed countless times. So, I don't expect an apology now, not for how he completely forgot about me the previous night. Yet, the hurt gnaws at me, and I can't keep silent.

He's sitting in his favourite armchair, deeply absorbed in a thick novel, the kind with worn pages, like all the other books he has on the shelves of this living room.

I kneel beside him, the cool hardwood floor pressing into my knees. I watch as the soft lamplight casts shadows on his face, highlighting the furrow of his brow as he reads. At least he could read, I couldn't.

He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. He can already sense the turmoil I'm trying to hide, the words hovering on my lips. His expression shifts, a mix of curiosity and concern, as he marks his place in the book and gives me his full attention.

"Speak."

"Master, did something happen that you're not happy about?"

"Yeah, why couldn't Romeo just have some patience?! All these human books are so tragic and annoying."

He chucks the book of Romeo and Juliet across the room, making it land with a slap to the hard floor, echoing in the distance of us.

"Go fetch."

He says with a smirk, and I crawl on the ground to get the book. I want to take it with my hands, but he doesn't let me.

"Use your mouth."

I bend down, biting the book and feeling the weight of it-thank you, Shakespeare.

When he holds out his hand, I drop the book from my mouth and into his. He pats my head like someone would to their pet.

"Good little whore."

I smile in thanks and stay kneeled again. It was clear he didn't want to tell me much about the night he left for work, so I press on something else while I still have the chance.

"Master, what...happens if I go to hell forever?"

He shrugs, unbothered.

"Go read the bible and find out."

I pout, because I can't. I can't read when I was human because I have dyslexia, and he knows that. It's the reason why my parents didn't send me to school. I mainly learned everything from the television when I wasn't being used or paid for. My parents thought that school would be a waste of money and time because of my dyslexia, and they found more use for me by pimping me out to buy into their drug addiction.

Since he's well aware of my dyslexia, he laughs at it for his entertainment.

"Right, you can't. Pass it to me then."

He points toward the coffee table in front of us, and for a moment, I'm puzzled. My eyes follow the direction of his finger, and then I see it-the worn and leatherbound Bible resting there.

I grab it with my mouth again and he's pleased that I know my role and place.

He takes it from my mouth this time, and I feel the tug on my teeth. When he has it in his hands, he opens up the book and I watch him read it, but not aloud. I wait patiently, and he shuts the book, putting it aside.

"In a summary, you'll burn over and over and over again. Just when you think you're ash, you're not. You'll burn over and over and over again."

I gulp, fearful of what awaited me if I didn't obey master.

"Do they punish me...like you?"

He scoffs.

"No, but I know someone that would...maybe even worse than me."

Intrigued, I press for more information.

"Who, master?"

He grips my face, his eyes turning dark.

"The devil."

I swallow, only hearing stories of him being the worst of the worst, the origin of evil.

"Why, master?"

He shrugs, letting go of my face.

"He likes souls that are..."

He looks me up and down with a sly smile.

"Young and pretty."

I can feel the heat rise from my chest to my face, clearly, I'm blushing. He called me pretty, sure indirectly, but he said I was pretty. I haven't heard that in a while, and normally when I was being used by men, they would use the word "pretty" differently, like "pretty little pussy, pretty slut, a pretty little tight bitch." and so forth.

"Open your mouth, slave."

I do as he says, and he puts his finger inside my mouth, pushing at the wall until I choke when he pokes deeper than I'm used to. He takes his hand away and smirks.

"He likes that sound. He thinks it sounds best from younger souls, the face they make is a bonus if they're pretty."

I haven't met the devil yet, nor stepped foot in heaven. Since the moment I died, I was always with the Grim Reaper, all eight years of being a soul.

The Grim Reaper scares me, but it's a comforting scare, because I already know him well enough to survive his type of brutality. He's a familiar scare to me.

"I don't want to go with the devil, master."

"Then you'll have to be good to me, right?"

"I will, I promise."

He smiles, pleased I'm willing to do anything but be with the devil.

To scare me even more, he mentions something horrific.

"You will be good to me, because once the devil is done with you, he'll eat your soul, and you'll feel the agony like nothing you have before. You'll never reincarnate again."

"You can reincarnate if you go to hell?"

He chuckles, but nods.

"Only if your soul isn't eaten by the devil."

I'm thrilled for the chance I can get. This time, I won't screw up.

"Can we choose our parents?"

The Grim Reaper sighs.

"No, that's not for anyone to decide."

"I just don't want to go back from where I came."

He nods.

"I can put in a good word if you're good to me, right Julia?"

"Yes, master. I'll be good to you, I promise."

"Good, because...?"

"Good slaves are rewarded."

"That's right, my little slave."

In my human life, I was an unwanted child.

I was born to both parents who were heroin addicts. My father pimped me out to men who gave them either drugs or money. I didn't want that life, and I only ended up in hell because I killed my mum. My father wasn't happy about it, saying she was the one who sold herself more so they could buy more heroin. So, he pimped me out again and when the guy started choking me, I couldn't get away, and I went limp. That's when I met the Grim Reaper.

Apparently, killing no matter what, gets you into hell.

"I always wanted a dog, and you were doing so well earlier."

My thoughts go back to my reality, and I watch him smirk as he eyes my breasts.

"Take your clothes off."

I do as he says. He eyes my every movement with lust as the fabric begins to fall off my body.

"Hmmm...two more years and I won't see you again. Might as well do everything I want with you."

He mentions softly as his eyes continue to travel every curve and crevice of my naked body.

"Will I remember you when I'm reincarnated?"

I ask, suddenly feeling like I might just miss him.

"No, and who said you'll ever be reincarnated?"

I swallow thickly, aware that if the devil gets his hands on me and eats my soul, I'll be gone forever.

My breasts hang before him, and my hips bare.

"Lie on your back and fold your legs to your chest."

I do as he instructs, as if I'm in an upright fetus position.

He comes to my side kneeling and then his hand starts rubbing my pussy aggressively.

"Who's a good little slave?"

He asks as if I'm a dog, and I do feel the embarrassment, but it's impossible to feel anything else when his hands are that fast on my sensitive part.

"M-ma-master!"

I croak out, and he slaps my pussy then my face, the sting lasts on both parts.

"Bark."

I bark as a dog would.

"Woof."

"Louder."

"Woof!"

He rubs my pussy again, and his eyes remained locked on mine.

He doesn't stop, and I want to release, but I haven't asked, and I don't think I can.

"Let's see if you know some tricks."

Oh no, what does he have up his sleeves this time? I feel him stop for a moment, finally able to breathe.

"Roll over."

I roll over, but in my clumsy attempt, my head collides with the edge of the coffee table. Pain radiates from the impact, and I wince. His laughter fills the room, a sound both familiar and a gesture that he's entertained.

"Aww... is my puppy a little clumsy?"

I try to get up, but he gives me a pointed look, so I continue to play along.

"Bark."

"Woof!"

"On your fours, puppy."

I get on my knees, my hands splayed on the floor, trying to steady myself. From the corner of my eye, I see him rise and move towards the bookshelves that encase us in this cozy living room. The towering shelves stretch all the way to the ceiling, all those books and you'd expect him to know what happens to those characters that are rude.

He selects a few books from the middle row, his fingers dancing over the spines with practiced ease, and then he approaches me. I feel him place the books on top of my ass, stacking it on top of one another.

It's not the normal books, they're leather bound, and I can feel the weight of it.

"You can't read, but that doesn't mean books are useless to you, hmm?"

He huffs.

"Bark."

He commands me.

"Woof woof!"

He starts rubbing my clit softly as he quickens the pace.

"For every book that falls, I'll bring you to the basement for 10 minutes."

I didn't like the basement, and I didn't want to go there.

He rubs faster, the sensation building up, but I remain still.

That is until he penetrates both my anal and pussy. He's slow, but my juices start to drip and then the burning sensation begins.

I'm so sensitive, that when he removes his fingers and start applying a simple pressing thumb to my bud, my hips convulse, and the books fall.

"6 books, one hour. Come."

He says before getting up to remove my shackles.

"Please master, not the basement."

"No, no, no, I want to have my fun too. Stand up little whore, I'm done playing puppy games with you."

I stand weakly, my legs trembling beneath me. Without a word, he grabs my arm and drags me toward the basement. The stairs creak under our weight as we descend into the suffocating darkness. The air is thick with dread, and an overwhelming sense of horror grips my heart as I see it waiting for me. In the dim light, I reach out desperately, clutching at the Grim Reaper, my voice a whisper of frantic pleas.

"Please, please, please, don't!"

He refuses, dragging me further into the depths of the dark basement.