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If you choose to open the proscribed gates beyond this introduction, prepare to witness the macabre thoughts that fuel the heart of my carnal and depraved fantasies. There shall be no further warning. All characters, living, dead, possessed, or undead, are copyright Eldyran. Hellraiser and its intellectual properties are the rights of Clive Barker. Unless your decadent heart desires ten thousand razor slashes on your scrotum, Do Not Taunt Happy Fun Ball(tm) !!!

Hellraiser: Hellsent

1st Piece - Suffer the Children

2006 by Eldyran

Prologue: France, 1784

A pair of nimble, black vulpine paws turned a miniature screwdriver, its flat tip deep inside a strange mechanical puzzle box. While skilled, the dexterous digits slipped on the head of the tool, slicked with dark crimson blood. His other paw moved to a mutilated, severed wolf pup's paw, where a paw tip had been sliced off, the bone extracted. The fox placed the bone inside the delicate puzzle box with diligent care and turned the tool a few more times, securing the ghastly, bloody token deep inside the clockwork guts of the demented mechanism.

Busillis ex mortis

As the fox pulled the tip of the screwdriver out, a hellish blue light glowed from the interior of the box. As if animated by infernal forces beyond reason, a flock of mechanical toy birds sitting up high on the toymaker's shelf began to sing, their chirps and chimes an eldritch sonata for this abysmal christening. The keys sticking out from their clockwork innards remained still. The insane vulpine leaned back in his chair and cackled manically, the rhythmical chirping of his other, more innocent creations almost sweeping his hushed words away.

"Diabolus fecit, ut id facerem ..."

Brazil, 1974

Joshua Merchant squinted down at the jigsaw puzzle by his knees. The young vupline's legs ached from sitting on them for so long, and his jade eyes burned from constant squinting, an early sign of his impending nearsightedness. Most boys his age would hate being stuck inside on a rainy afternoon, but for Joshua, rainy afternoons meant a valid excuse to piece together another 5000 piece jigsaw.

And outside Rio de Janeiro, it rained a lot.

Just outside the raindrop streaked window, the foliage of the tropical forest rippled in the heavy downpour. Inside, stacks of cardboard boxes piled up to the low celling in the small storage room, transforming it into a child's mythical playland. Miscellaneous odds and ends of antiques and other assorted novelties piled out from between the stacks at random intervals; buried treasures just waiting to be uncovered.

Joshua snuffled a bit in the stuffy air of the storage room, and rubbed his nose with the back of his right furry forearm. He wished he could open a window to ease his allergy to all the dust in here, but his father would get pissed if he did. His father served in the French Foreign Legion, and as a military brat, Joshua knew better than to piss off a military man.

The introverted black fox didn't know if where they would station his father six months from now, but he didn't care. It always ended the same way. He'd have to say goodbye to another batch of friends he'd barely got to know, and help his father pack up. That was the worse part. As shy as he was, he rather introduce himself to a hundred strange classrooms than pack all of his father's shit one more time.

Because his father collected a lot of eccentric junk in his global travels.

An ocelot's paw shoved a mis-matched piece into the wrong spot on the picturesque puzzle, and Joshua's paw grabbed the attached wrist with a bark of dismay.

"That doesn't go there, Phillipe!" the distressed fox wailed. His best friend from third grade let go of it and leaned back, shaking his muzzle. Joshua dug out the minuscule piece with meticulous care, and with little mental effort, placed in the correct spot on the other side of the cardboard array. Although the two boys had been playing for only an hour, a quarter of the puzzle, a picturesque view of the Andes mountain range, already appeared in the center.

"This is boring Joshua, can't we play a different game?" the feline asked, sitting back on his haunches. In the time it took for Phillipe to complete his sentence, the fox placed two more pieces. He coughed and looked up to his eight year old friend.

"It's still pouring outside, Phillipe, and my dad hates it when we try to play hide and seek when he's working in his study. Thats why were in here, so we don't bother him." Joshua pulled his legs out from under him and stretched them out on the carpet, trying to rub the sleep out of them through his shorts. "You know of any other quiet games we can play and still stay in here?" His busy tail flickered a bit behind him.

"I know of a game ..." the ocelot said with a smile, and slid over next to his vulpine classmate. He leaned in close and placed a paw on the crotch of Joshua shorts, rubbing gently. A quiet gasp escaped the fox's black muzzle lips as he felt the warm paw rub his small sheath through the thin material.

"W ... what is this game called?"

"It really doesn't have a name, but it's fun." the ocelot said with slight purr. "My older brother taught me this game. It feels just as good when you do it to someone else too." He shot an expectant look over to his best friend, who, after slight hesitation, slid his own paw over to cup the feline's maleness. Joshua gave a gentle squeeze, his curious digits exploring.

"It's even better when ..." Phillipe began, but let his paw finish his sentence for him when he slid his paw tips down inside the fox's shorts. Joshua let out a slight moan and closed his eyes. A minute later, his own inquisitive paw made a similar journey, his paw tips eager to investigate the ocelot's smooth, silky sheath. As the mutual molestations continued, their prepubertal cock tips emerged.

Tandem sets of sharp claws savored this new, slick flesh.

After a while, the two friends drifted physically closer, until their muzzle locked, their tongues seeking new pleasures, raptures yet unseen. The door to the spare bedroom opened suddenly, and Joshua's father dropped the large wooden crate of cartographer's maps and brass navigation trinkets in shock at what his narrowing, cruel eyes witnessed. The two boys jumped at the commotion and scooted apart, fear creeping into them as they realized they had been caught doing something grownups did not want them to do.

"What's this you little Serin!!!" The huge, sinister black fox in casual military dress bellowed out, charging over to the ocelot. The prepubescent feline scrambled backwards on his ass, his head snapping back on his neck like a rubber band, trying to deny the dirty deed.

"No Mr. Merchant! We were just ... playing ... a game!" The brawny vulpine's paws latched on to the eight year old's arms and yanked him up. The ocelot yowled in pain, his hind paws kicking futilely, now a meter off the art deco styled carpet.

"Your not going to turn MY son into a Pédale you little Merde!" Mr. Merchant growled and shook the child back in forth in his adamant grip like a rag doll. His claws dug deep into the tender, unspoiled flesh, his vice like paw tips already leaving dark bruises under the the silky feline fur. Joshua heard his friend's squeals of pain and ran to his aid. The little fox's paws locked on to his father's mammoth right bicep, trying to break the hold.

"No Daddy!" He cried out, yanking down on his fathers arm with as much success as a gnat grappling with an Airbus. "You're hurting him!"

His father growled low in the back of his throat; the type of growl reserved for days where Joshua received claws rather than a mere beating with a thin leather studded strap. The adult fox tore his arm free and belted his son across the muzzle with a viscous back paw, the young fox giving a pitiful yelp as he flew backwards. The brutal force hurled the boy into the lime green stucco wall, which shook from the impact. The back of Joshua's skull hit the wall with a dull thunk, and his limp, dazed form fell to the floor. A thick line of red fell from the his canid nose, now slightly askew, dripping onto his shirt.

Joshua shook the stars away from the back of his eyes and witnessed in horror as his father throttled the poor feline. As the ocelot's desperate gasps for air fell to his ears, Joshua felt helpless to save his friend. His paws clenched in anger, frustration. But his left paw held something. He looked down into the wooden crate his father had carried in, and didn't remember when his paw had found its way inside. Maybe it fell in on accident. He pulled out his small paw, which held a rather large metal ... cube.

A puzzle box.

Joshua pulled the cube to his chest, clutching the unusual puzzle in both of his undersized, innocent paws. His paw pads ran over the intricate, almost fractal designs etched into its six surfaces, and a few drops of blood from his broken nose tickled down unto the cube. As his paw tips traced the slick, now red lines, the deep seductive rumble of a phantasmal jaguar slipped into his perked ears.

Jooshhhuaa ... your friend has so many more luscious delights to shower upon your frail flesh ...

The fox looked up to his father, who forced the feline's arm at an unnatural angle while still throttling him with the other massive paw. Phillipe's body bucked, choked, as the strain on his left arm reached its stress limit. Joshua's rage boiled, his darker instincts, repressed since birth, crept up to the surface of his psyche. The young fox's muzzle split in a menacing growl, spittle dripping from his fangs.

Ohhhh your friend suffers so ... you belong with him, sharing such rapture. Invite us to play in your games. We will teach you the sacrament of two intertwined hearts beating in ageless agony ...

His father snarled, and Phillipe's immature humerus gave a wet snap. The arm flopped around like a boneless fish, his friend's eyes rolling back in their sockets. The young feline's shrieks of agony echoed off the thin stucco walls, seeming to go on without end.

It's time Joshua .... release us ...

One of Joshua's claw tips ran the groove of a carefully selected etch line; hot, living blood easing its demented passage. The cube sprang to life in his paws, some of the fractal designs pushed outwards, others folded inwards in non-euclidean defiance of three dimensional space. The raised pattern on top spun once, then stilled. The fox slid a thumb pad against an exposed notch, which slid forward and locked into place. The box opened; the blue dead lights of a unspeakable dimension contained within glinted off Joshua's black corneas. Musical, almost birdlike chimes escaped from the confines of the puzzle box, melding seamlessly with Phillipe's tormented screech.

Time ... to play ...

Impossibly long lengths of wrought iron chain burst from the wall and zipped past his perked ears in a shower of stucco. His father screamed, and hot crimson splashed across Joshua's closed muzzle. The black lips of the muzzle trembled once, before splitting in a prolonged shriek of everlasting horror ...

Florida, 1984

Calloused black paw tips worked over dull ebony iron. It was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The nimble paws worked their budding craft with deliberate, patent precision as they connected a crude loop to a short iron rod, joining its four brothers in ascending orders of magnitude. Crafty paws reached up to pull down a heavily tinted facial shield, before striking an arc. The welding point exploded in retina searing electric flashes, showering the welding shield in melted iron droplets. After the arc vanished, the paws lifted the shield, and the rough, calloused paw tips of the left paw ran along the fresh weld, the scarred flesh sizzling.

"What the fuck's the matter with you, faggot?"

Joshua stood and removed his welding shield, his long, shaggy raven black head fur matted with heavy sweat. He licked the salty drops of perspiration from his muzzle lips as he cranked his neck around to stare at the lion with gang braids in his mane. He said nothing in return.

For typical seventh period metal shop, the class was unusually packed. Joshua in fact counted fifteen other students, mostly males, some females, who milled about or were otherwise absorbed in their own projects. Metal dust drifted in the stuffy air of the shop, and small piles of the fine grit had accumulated on the machines and between the workbenches. A few students turned from their work after hearing the lion's slur, curious to know how this was going to go down.

"Mr. Rhinehold said to use leather gloves when welding assfucker," the feline said, putting down his grinder. A plastic grinding shield lay next to him on the workbench, unused.

"I can't feel the weld through dead skin. Only through pain can the weld show me its true quality ..." the soft voice trailed off as the throbbing in the faint blisters on his left paw tips sent his mind off into a focused zone. The weld told him it was pure, strong, reflected in the exquisite torment that now danced through his sensitive flesh.

"What are you some type of sick fuck?" A sudden shove cut his tantric trance short, and he tripped backwards on the cord to the arc welder's power supply. He landed on his back hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, his emotionless face staring up at the smug lion.

Joshua's first instinct was to grab the power cord for the lion's grinder, yank it to himself, and start grinding down some feline kneecap. His paws flexed around the cord, but the metal shop instructor shoved his way through the crowd that seemed to appear out of thin air. As it was in most high schools, fights attracted its student body like shit draws flies.

"What the HELL is going on here!" the Florida panther roared. "Mr. Merchant! Mr. Refore! Explain yourselves!" The lion grinned down to the vulpine at his feet.

"The little cocksucker wasn't thinking with his safety sense, Mr. Rhinehold, and tripped over some cords." the lion flashed Joshua a hint of fangs. "It's a lot safer down there, isn't it, princess?" Most of the crowd burst into peals of laughter, until Mr. Rhinehold silenced them with another roar.

"That's enough! Everyone clean up and leave. Class dismissed for the day." The students, thrilled at the early dismissal, scattered. The golden cougar clamped a paw on the shorter feline's shoulder as he turned to join the ranks filing out of shop class. The panther's whisper was a low rumble in the punk's ear, punctuating his complete sincerity.

"Use that language in this classroom again, Mr. Refore, and I'll have ... something ... to shove down that noisehole you call a muzzle."

Mr. Rhinehold shuffled his hips a bit, the swelling bulge in the crotch of his tight blue jeans suggesting a worthy gag device. The lion shot his instructor a defiant look until the cougar's razor claws sank through the denim jacket he wore and deep into the vulnerable flesh of his shoulder. Few things are as satisfying to watch as faux resolve melting away in disobedient eyes at the slightest application of measured pain. The kitten mewled and tore his shoulder from the clutches of his shop instructor's claws. The lion made sure he last in the line of his peers. Although the denim jacket hid the blood that trickled down the fur of his shoulder, he could not hide the hint of watering eyes, nor the priceless haunt of fear in them.

While this quiet confrontation went down, a lupine paw offered to help Joshua up from the floor. The black fox took the masculine paw, and the white wolf who wore a football jersey helped him to his feet. Joshua's gaze walked up and down the athletic lupine, coming to rest at his white, perked wolven ears, still out of focus.

"Hey Josh, you okay?" the larger canid asked. Joshua nodded, fishing his horn rimmed glasses from the pocket of his overalls. The fuzzy world snapped into sudden focus.

"You coming to the game tonight?" the attractive white wolf inquired. The fox just stared at him. The star running back furled his brow in concern. "Hey Josh, maybe you should head home. You don't look so good." Joshua nodded, his stoic jade eyes still locked on the jock. As Raymond walked back to clean up his workbench, Joshua turned and pretended to do the same. His eyes, however, stalked the distorted reflection of the entrancing lupine on the inner surface of his glasses. A female coyote joined the image, the popular cheerleader wrapping her arms around Raymond

"Heya babe," Raymond said with an enthusiastic smile, "you want a ride home day?"

"Don't be a bunny, Ray, that Camaro your folks got you is out of sight!" The 'yote kissed her boyfriend on his muzzle lips. Joshua's own tightened against his muzzle, fangs exposed in an envious snarl. Lethal claws sank into the old wood of his workbench, and metal shards slashed at the thick pads of his clenched paws, his knuckles white under the fur.

Joshua's covetous heart shriveled three sizes that day.

The two left, holding paws, and Joshua picked up the side project he just finished. The misshapen rings jingling against each each other as he rolled it back and forth between his two nimble paws. He stood there, admiring his handiwork, until a feline growl broke him out of his trance. He turned to Mr. Rhinehold, who sat behind his desk, this morning's paper laid out before him. His left paw traced a line of words in the sports section while his right elbow rested on the arm of his chair.

"What are you still doing here, Mr. Merchant?" The cougar never looked up. When the fox didn't answer back, he flipped an annoyed glance up from his reading. "What is it that you're holding Mr. Merchant? Come here." The fox walked up to his instructors desk, a blank expression on his muzzle. "Well, let me see it."

Joshua placed the device on his paper, and Mr. Rhinehold picked it up gingerly by one end of the rod, examining it. He brought his right paw from underneath the desk and ran an extended claw just under the ascending sizes of rings. As the rings swung and knocked against each other, they made a flat, almost musical jingle.

"Is this another of your puzzles, Mr. Merchant?" the bulky feline asked, flipping the rod back and forth, the rings folding one way, then the other. Joshua simply shook his head. A paw tip ran over a sharp edge of one of the welds holding the contraption together, and a drop of blood welled up at the fresh cut. It fell to the paper, staining a black and white picture of Raymond at the last game a dark shade of red.

"Well son, this isn't art class. If you want extra credit for your side projects, you're going to grind down your welds. I want a professional job each and every time." Mr Rhinehold returned his right paw to its previous position, and his left dropped the unrecognized implement into Joshua's extended paw.

The shop instructor's paw lingered on his student's own.

"I ... see good things in you son." Mr Rhinehold let go of the vulpine's paw, and went back to reading his paper. Joshua turned and left, but as he walked out the door, Mr. Rhinehold glanced discreetly up to watch the fox's young ass ripple with each stride under his overalls. The cougar's lips curled a bit in pleasure as he leaned back in his seat. Underneath his desk, his right paw stroked his exposed, barbed feline cock jutting out from his unzipped fly ...

* * * * *

Joshua stepped into his attic room and slid the wooden door shut behind him, locking it. The first thing the secretive fox insisted upon after getting his own room separate from his cousin was that his uncle install a locking mechanism on his door. His uncle grudgingly agreed, as his plan to normalize his nephew back into society through forced co-habitation with his own son backfired with disastrous results. In the end Joshua withdrew even deeper into his psychological shell, talking to his extended family only when necessary.

The old attic room was small, almost claustrophobic, but Joshua insisted that his needs were minimal. His uncle offered the repaint the room, but he cared little for such aesthetics, and ignored its flaking, dingy white walls. The floorboards were an eyesore as well, as old as the rest of the house, built in the 1920's, the polish and tarnish long since rubbed down to the bare wood. The top of his dresser was lined with all manner of intricate metal puzzles, some crafted with his own paw.

The fox leaned against the peeling and chipped white paint of the door and closed his eyes for a few minutes. He stood like a statue, rigid, not even a simple exhale to mark the use of his lungs. His heartbeat slowed to a crawl, stalled for one long, dreadful moment. One of his claws twitched, then stilled. His eyelids slid up, the white and jade gone from his sockets.

If his proverbial soul once had windows, Acheronian night had now descended over them.

One of his paws reached into a pocket and withdrew the homemade Gates of Hell. The other unbuttoned his overalls, and they slipped past his slim hips to pool around his ankles. He stepped out of his loose sneakers, and his free paw reached up, depositing his glasses in the heap of useless articles.

The achromatic vulpine walked to the broken mattress in the center of the sparse room, past the black leather trunk filled with all sorts of demented toys. His thick, bushy tail flowed behind him, almost dragging on the floorboards. The fox settled down onto the broken springs of the mildew scented mattress, the decrepit bedding swallowing the outline of his naked form. While the black fox's empty, black eyes stared up at the empty ceiling, he dropped the Gates of Hell next to him, and allowed his slender paws to explore his slim hips and chest.

Although his paws moved of its own violation, Joshua's mind devoured every snippet of sensation offered to his glutenous appetite: The almost forbidden way his teasing claws slid through his silky fur, barely grazing the oh so responsive skin underneath. The way his paw pads gripped the loose skin of his sheath, and pulled back to expose the tapered tip of his foxhood, moments before pinching it hard between thumb and fore pad. The way a single claw performed the seductor's dance of enticement around the tight nub of his nipple, before piercing through it to the other side.

The latter sent a blistering spike of pain coursing through him, tempered with the sulfurous flush of pleasure, and a sharp bark tore itself from Joshua's muzzle lips. His free paw scooped up the homemade bondage device and slipped it over his engorged sheath, largest ring first. The smallest ring caught on his foxtip, and the carnassial claw in his nipple worked his slender, hard body into a lust crazed fervor. As Joshua scarred maleness slid out of his protective sheath, the swelling, tapered sex caught on each ascending magnitude of ring, till the last gripped the the vulpine's base in its cold, ironclad embrace.

This sent a fiend's shiver up his rigid spine, and a gout of pre shot from his erect phallus, landing in the musky fur of his pubic region. His left paw gripped his vulnerable foxhood, and gave it a few gentle strokes. The sharp welds on the erotic torture device sliced open the tender flesh in some spots, and a few drops of blood fell to join older stains already residing in the bare thread mattress.

It took many years for this artistic paw to etch a masterpiece of criss crossing scar lines into this sacred canvas.

A sharp hiss clawed its way from his throat from the exquisite anguish, his muzzle agape. His right paw pulled itself away from his screaming, groaning nipple, and slashed at his tight abs, ripping the skin there, teasing the layer of taught muscle underneath. Joshua thrashed on the mattress, his carnal needs teased, mocked with demonic precision. As his claws worked their tantalizing way down to his furry sacs, tears fell from the corners of his ebon eyes, to mix with the small spots of blood underneath him.

Stranger's paws clamped around his seed bearing orbs, and Joshua tensed, whined in delicious agony. As his left paw continued to stroke his bleeding shaft, the metal grit ground into his paw pads scoured the weeping, fresh wounds, eliciting short whimpers from the possessed fox. A heavy sheen of sweat matted down his fur now, his hips arching up to meet the torturer's sadistic paws.

Unbearable pain. Unbelievable pleasure.

Joshua's fox knot swelled, now trapped between the largest ring and its sadistic brother. Unforgiving iron dug deep into the expanding, hungry flesh, giving no quarter, blurring the subjective lines between punishment and reward. His left paw stroked faster now, the main course of this glutenous meal devoured, hellbent on seeking its just desserts. The paw slid effortlessly up and down himself now, eased with slick, warm blood.

The vulpine's other paw tugged his furry sacs away from his body, the sensation making his prostrate swell and twitch with need. His grip tightened on his delicate orbs, the vicious pressure sending Joshua's consciousness to the precipice of swoon. The tips of his wicked claws pierced the taught skin between his ball sack and groin, and the fox barked several times in torturous delight, sweat dripping off his head fur.

His back arched as the pain became all consuming, until the backdrop of pleasure created a new sensation, neither anguish nor joy, but an esthesis more wondrous, more damning than both. This new sentience drowned out all other things, even his incarnate climax, and catapulted him to that aphotic realm where the infernal legion known as "The Order of the Gash" dwell. Joshua's mind surveyed the horrific visions of suffering before him.

And Leviathan called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and Joshua saw that it was good.

His meat body bucked under this enlightenment, and his paw blurred as it pumped up and down his dolorous flesh pole. Small drops of bright red splattered on his sable fur. Under the ironclad vice of both paw and the Gates of Hell, his foxcock twitched once, twice, before ropes of thick, white vulpine cum shot from its slick, tapered tip. The eruption of seed shot high in the air, the pulsing spurts raining back to mix with the other three fluids pooled into Joshua's bedding: Sweat. Tears. Blood. Cum.

Joshua's salty offerings to the guardian of Leviathan's carnal paradise.

Somewhere in darkness of the attic storage room next to his, his father's large wooden crate of cartographer's maps and brass navigation trinkets began to glow with a ghostly blue hue. Joshua's uncle made sure only to ship up the most important crates after his brother's unfortunate and horrid demise, but the insidious things contained within had laid in dust and darkness for a decade now, lost to iniquity. At least until now. Encrusted with dried blood from both Joshua and his father, one of Lemarchand's many puzzle boxes began to hum, its cubed sides now warm to the touch.

Hearkened, the guardian offered up the solution to the first puzzle step, and the cube rearranged ....

~ Fin Part I ~

Tell me Sprocket, did the internal clockwork of my demented mind frighten you? Or did its ghastly machinations only increase your wanton desire for more? Do tell! In case any other furry fans of Hellraiser were wondering, I'm giving more cannon precedent to Barker's novella: The Hellbound Heart rather than Hellraiser: Bloodlines.