My hooves click on the red hot floor of the pit. Miserable souls, chained to spiked plinths, wail and tremble in fear as imps prod at their rumps with devilish glee. The smell of rotten flesh, sulphur and brimstone fills the room. I take in a big lungful and hold it in for as long as I can. I exhale their faces. They vomit blood and I smile.

I point at a wretched worthless, trembling female. She cowers, shaking like a wet dog.

"Bring her before me," I growl.

"Yes, O Lord of the Pit, Devourer of Souls, Master of..."

I cut him off. "Quiet; fool."

She's un-chained and dragged to me. He throws her at my feet and I hear her scream as the floor singes her skin. She scrambles away, whimpering like a wounded lamb.

"Foolish girl," I say, "think you can escape from me?"

My fork pins her to the floor trapping her head between the prongs. She screams as my fist punches through her back and ribs into her body. I grip her heart and rip it. The last thing she sees is me drinking the blood from her heart. She dies as I toss it on the pile with the rest of them.

With blood dripping from my fangs I point at the next soul. His eyes almost pop out of his head as the imps drag him across the floor.

Just as I raise my fork the director shouts, "Cut. Great stuff Mike, but we're going to have to run it again; bad lighting- it's casting shadows."

"Fine," I say licking my lips.

I hate making these silly B-movies, but at least the fake blood tastes nice.