Finally, Pierre stepped forward once more. In his hand was a huge white flower. It looked like a daisy but it was the biggest one I'd ever seen."The p...ece de resistance," he exclaimed. I felt his fingers once more, parting the lips of my sex, the thick stem of the flower sliding between. He stepped back to examine his work, coming back to fidget with the flower, which rubbed against my clit each time he moved it."Are you done yet?" I growled, hating the fact that this whole thing had gotten me. Pissing off the Almighty was not the way to go. Ah fuck it! I'd read Dante's Inferno and the Niven and Pournelle update of it. Even though my memories of the details of Hell's geography were a bit hazy, I knew the topography. If I ended up in Hell I was pretty sure I could navigate my way out of it. I'd have all eternity anyway. A memory of the final cantos filtered through to my consciousness and I laughed silently. 'When Hell freezes over', is a common expression, but according to Dante the. More

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