Feeding Time

"Feeding Time" by micahorchid micahorchid@hotmail.com

Kieran's trade was fucking, and he was very, very good at it. He turned his first trick when he was 16, ten years ago, give or take, a ten dollar blowjob in the back of some weed dealer's sedan. He now charged upwards of ten grand, give or take, to spend the evening with overworked stockbrokers, needy trust fund suburbanites and repressed celebrities--discretion guaranteed, though money back wasn't.

Kieran was 5'9" tall and had the body of a lithe swimmer, lean muscle, next to no body fat. He actually did swim, his primary workout. He kept his strawberry blond hair cut relatively short, and except for the light fuzz on his forearms and calves and a small triangle shaped patch of pale reddish hair between his flat pecs, shaved the rest of his body to the skin.

He didn't have any tats, and didn't take to wearing jewelry, except for a one inch silver bolt in his right ear. It became a nick among some of his clients, Bolt, though he preferred just Kieran.

His job on that particular day paid double than normal, because he was asked to spend an entire day with the client, instead of just one evening. Driving to find the client's house was something of a nightmare: the address didn't show up on his GPS, and the written directions pushed him on such a circuitious path that Kieran was certain he was being led on a wild goose chase, until he finally made the last turn and found himself there. And what a place it was.

The house was a huge Victorian mansion in a state of total disrepair. Some windows had been broken, a large number of shingles had blown away from the roof. The house still had some memory of how grand it must have been during it's glory years--faded rose gray pain, stately pillars bowed and tilted--but that memory was very dim. Kieran swallowed, checked the address again, and went up the porch, knocked on the door.

It took a moment or two for the door to open. Standing there was a young Asian kid, his head crowned with long, black spiky hair, glistening from what was no doubt a prodigious amount of gel. He work a black ribbed beater which revealed the elaborat canvas of tattoos on his arms, a variety of tribal designs and more eastern pictograms than a Chinese takeout menu. His denim shorts were near ankle-length. A silver wallet chain strung between belt and pocket. He was packing a Taser gun in the back of his jeans. He was skinny, wiry. He reminded Kieran of a player in a martial arts fighting video game.

Not his normal shade of client. Kieran immediately came up with a nick for him: Tekken.

Tekken moved to the side to let Kieran in. His hand and eyes were twitching--no doubt tweaking. "About time, mister," he said. "We've been waiting, he doesn't like waiting but we make him wait, better for us. We almost started the clock without you."

The we made Kieran pause. "Two of you? I was only told, and only contracted, for one client."

Tekken smiled. "No, only one 'client.' We're just the inter... inter... inter-somethings. C'mon, this way."

The interior of the mansion mirrored the outside. Wallpaper spilling to the ground, stains patterning the ceiling. Some rooms were empty, others crammed full of furniture. The floor creaked, the air musty.

Tekken led him to a huge dining room. Faded squares on the walls betrayed former pictures hanging there. There was no dining table, but at the far end of the room a folding card table had been set up, and another guy was shuffling cards.

He had near night-black skin and was older than both Tekken and Kieran, probably pushing his late-30's. His head was shaved, and he was heavy, a bit paunchy, though obviously muscular--the kind of dude who, if he cut out beer and pizza, could easily be totally jacked. He was all dressed in black, including a black leather jacket, and could be a bouncer at a club without any change. Kieran noticed a holster slung over his shoulder. He had strung around his neck five or six huge gold necklaces, thick chains with gaudy jeweled pendants. An easy nick for him: Bling.

Tekken pushed Kieran into a chair. "You can strip now." He hiked up his denims and turned to Bling. "What is it we are, inter-something?"

"Intermediaries," Bling intoned, deep and grumbling. He put down the deck of cards and got out a couple of ledger notebooks. One was labeled XX, the other XY.

"I said," Tekken said, annoyed, "you can take off your clothes now, mister." He reached his hand into Kieran's pockets and grabbed his wallet. He tossed it over to Bling, who caught it effortlessly one-handed. Bling fished out Kieran's license, opened the XY ledger, and started writing down Kieran's info.

"Hey," said Kieran, craning his neck to see over Tekken's shoulder, "what are you doing? That's personal info."

"What day is it?" asked Bling.

"Wednesday," replied Kieran automatically.

Tekken cuffed him upside the head. "Not you, moron." Then, to Bling: "Wednesday." Bling kept scribbling in the notebook.

"Why do you still have your clothes on, bitch?" tweaked out Tekken barked. He took from his pocket an ugly switchblade and, with a shick extended the blade. He grabbed the back of Kieran's neck and started to slice his shirt off.

"Whoa, whoa," Kieran protested. Aside from the fact that the shirt cost a couple hundred dollars, this was not what he had expected. Sure, he'd played kink before, before before before, but always with ground rules set up ahead of time. He didn't dare try to wrestle away from Tekken, in case the blade slipped and gutted him like a fish.

Bling closed the ledger. He reached under the card table and brought out a large manilla envelope; putting it on the floor he slid it over to Kieran using his toe.

By this point Kieran's shirt was in a ragged pile on the floor, along with most of his pants. When Tekken moved to his briefs, he put up his hands in submission. "I think I can get the rest, man." Tekken replaced the blade, and Kieran stripped off his underwear, shoes and socks. He was naked except for the bolt in his ear. It was warm and muggy in the room, and a slight river of sweat started to slide from his neck down his arm.

Kieran's cock didn't look like much of anything, not taking home any blue ribbons, but it was a grower, close enough to eight inches that he claimed it was to his clients, who passed it on word of mouth. Like most of the rest of his body, his balls and pubes were shaved to the skin.

Bling nodded towards the envelope. "Go ahead, open it. Twice what we agreed, for your troubles? Seems fair to me, fair to the boss which is what counts. No skin off my paycheck."

Kieran opened the envelope and flipped through the bills. He blinked. Forty thousand? he wondered. He'd never gotten so much for just one job before.

"I promise I'll make your boss really, really happy," he said.

Both Tekken and Bling laughed. "The boss isn't your client," giggled Tekken.

"Then who is?"

"The boss' client, so to speak," said Bling, standing up from his chair.

"The boss' special pet, you mean," went Tekken. Bling bored into Tekken's face with his angry eyes, and Tekken shut up, looking down at the floor.

Bling took out of his jacket pocket a roll of black electrical tape. "Hands out."

Kieran held out his hands, wrists together. Bling wrapped them together with the tape, but quite loosely; Kieran figured he could get out with only a little effort.

"So, what are we doing here? Top, bottom? Limits? Safeword?"

"Arm out."

Kieran kept his arms out. Tekken took from a pocket a full syringe, and before Kieran could protest, he slid the needle in his arm and emptied it into a vein.

"Hey! What the fuck is this?"

Tekken dropped the syringe into a trash basket. "Morphine."

"I'm not really into drugs."

Tekken grinned, a wobbly tweaked out smile. "You will be."

Bling headed out of the dining room; Tekken, pushing Kieran, followed. Neither said anything as they led them to a smallish room upstairs.

Opposite the door there were two windows, both boarded up. Chinks of late afternoon sunlight slipped through the cracks. On the floor was a five foot by five steel hatch with a ring grip in the middle. All along the edge of the hatch were engraved into the steel Latin words. The hatch was locked, on each side except for the hinged one, with two heavy-duty locks; each lock had a Hebrew letter on it. Above the hatch hung a shiny meat hook hanging from a chain and pulley.

Something about the setup gave Kieran a chill. Not your typical fucktools.

Tekken stood behind him, gripping his shoulders, digging his fingers deep into Kieran's flesh, enough to whiten the skin. Bling took from his pocket a ring of keys, and went about unlocking the locks, a different key for each one. Then, he grabbed the ring grip with the meat hook and started to pull. The steel hatch was maybe three inches thick. The veins began to bulge from Bling's neck as he pulled the hatch open. Then, he undid the hook; it swung lazily back and forth over the opening.

Bling was breathing heavily. He tilted his head to indicate Tekken bring Kieran forward. He did so, and attached the meat hook to Kieran's bound wrists.

"Wait...wait wait wait," Kieran said. He looked down into the darkness below him. Forty grand, forty grand, forty grand he repeated like a mantra.

"Okay," said Bling, his chest still rising and falling hard. He was playing with his watch. "One day, and we'll come get you. That's what we're paying you for." He pressed a button on the side of his watch; it beeped: the alarm.

"Well, what if...."

"Oh, don't worry," said Tekken as he took the chain and started to lower Kieran into the room below. "Just ask him and he'll tell you what to do." Pause. Then both Tekken and Bling laughed heartily.

Kieran dropped onto the floor, and removed his wrists. The electrical tape came off easily. He looked up when Tekken banged his fist four or five times on the steel plate.

"Feeding time!"

The hatch door closed with a clang.

For a moment, darkness. Then, a row of bright fluorescent lights came on. They lit the room harshly, and every second or two would blink on and off, on and off; they buzzed like cicadas. The room was maybe 15 by 15 feet, and had no door that Kieran could see, except for the hatch. He reached up in the air to see if he could touch the hatch, but the ceiling had to be ten or twelve feet high, and he fell far short. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were all covered with large once-white tiles; many of the tiles were cracked or broken.

Then he saw he wasn't alone.

Someone was crouched in the corner, facing the wall. Kieran took him for 17, maybe 18 years old. He was, give or take, 175lbs. His skin was a healthy Nordic pink. He had shaggy, shoulder-length platinum blond hair; it glistened in the fluorescent glare. His wide shoulders tapered down to a 29" or 30" waist. His shoulders were knotted like a topography map. His legs weren't massive, but they were like machines. His round ass was covered with a fine fuzz of the same platinum hair. He had an array of brown freckles on his shoulder blades.

He wasn't moving, but Kieran could tell, by the way his shoulders rose and fell, that he was breathing, was alive.

Time to go to work.

"Hey there," he began, "my name's Kieran." He waited; no response. "We're here to have some fun together." He waited again.

This time, the young man cracked his neck. He held his head up, and began to sniff the air. Kieran's heart skipped, but you never, ever backed away from a client.

The young man stretched his muscular arms wide. He had on his forearms more fine blond hair, as well as a few detailed veins. He placed his palms on the wall to each side of him and pushed himself standing.

When he turned around, Kieran's dick sprouted rock-hard, so hard he thought it might shoot off like an arrow. His mouth went dry, he gulped.

He stood about 5'11" tall. He had thick jungles of hair under his arms and between his legs; save for that, the hair on his forearms, his calves and his ass, he was smooth as stone. His pecs were flat and large like Midwest plateaus; in fact, they were in proportion to a body 30 or 40lbs more muscular than he was. The pattern of freckles continued from his shoulders to cover his pecs as well. His pecs stood over abs so deep you could lose pocket change in them. His iliac crest descended like a funnel.

But if his body was perfect, his cock was downright supernatural. It sprouted from a fistful of platinum pubes. Kieran usually had a good mind for measurements, but the best he could come up with--maybe distracted by the whole deal--was way bigger than mine. He thought he could wrap it around his forearm. It swayed as the young man stood, like a pendulum. To call it a horse-cock would give the horse more than he deserved. His balls were the size of small peaches, and hung so low they threatened to rip right off.

It took a moment for Kieran to turn his gaze up to the young man's face, and when he did, he took a step back. The young man parted his hair which would otherwise have covered his entire face. He had thick eyebrows that swept upward like an owl. They grew over eyes so deep a purple they reminded Kieran of a sunset; the purple crowded out the whites of his eyes.

But that wasn't what made him start.

The entire lower half of his face was covered with a mask, from his nose to under his chin, and sweeping up the side of his face like sideburns. It was like a Noh mask, dark cherry wood, with a fierce toothy grin. It was attached to his face by four red ribbons, locked with small silver locks at the back of his head. Holes had been carved out for the young man's nostrils, but the mouth had no openings.

No pillow talk, I guess, Kieran thought with a shivery wryness. An apt but perhaps distressing nickname came to him immediately: Demon.

Kieran took a deep breath. Forty grand, forty grand, forty grand. Time to get to work. There wasn't much he could do with Demon's face anyway's...but that body was easily the most amazing he'd ever seen, if his cock was a bellwether.

He took a few steps closer to Demon, until he was just in front of him. He was only a couple inches taller than Kieran, but seemed to lord over him. Kieran put his hand on Demon's chest, at his heart...then pulled it away.

"Ow!"

The skin was hot, over 100 degrees. He looked him up and down--Demon didn't look feverish, or unhealthy in anyway. He put his fingers back on Demon's chest, appreciating the warmth, as he leaned in and sucked on his nipple. His lips pressed against the hard muscle, and he bit down on his nipple, tugging it out. The heat made his lips go dark red.

Holding his hands to either of Demon's sides, he let his fingers brush gently, with unfair tingling pleasure, down from his pits to his waist, lowering his own body as he went. He tongued Demon's eight-pack, filling each ridge and crease with saliva. Demon put his hand on top of Kieran's head and pushed him gently down onto his knees.

Kieran took a deep breath as he came face to face with the monster prick. It was growing, perceptibly, as Kieran watched. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around the growing tool, holding it up as he grew so he could push his head between Demon's powerful thighs and gain access to those huge, juicy balls. They were far too large to get into Kieran's mouth, so he lapped them like an eager dog, slurping, his tongue running over skin and platinum pubes. Meanwhile, Demon's unnaturally huge tool was getting larger and larger, forcing his fingers farther and farther apart.

Eventually, Demon took Kieran by the hair and pulled him away from his sac. He tapped his cock against Kieran's face, leaving strands of pre in his eyebrow. Kieran took the hint, and started to kiss Demon's shaft, from his big red mushroom head, along the single thick vein that ran down the entire length of his dick, and to the hilt; then, back again. He heard Demon grunt whenever his lips met his cockhead, so he paid special attention there.

He kissed it like a lover, Frenching it, trying to dig his tongue's way into Demon's large slit. He started to stroke his shaft--now rock hard, beyond Kieran's imagining, beyond his grip. He ran the tip of his tongue around the ridge where his dickhead met his shaft.

Kieran lost track of time, of how long Demon was letting him love his massive shaft. He was running his hand over Kieran's strawberry hair like a bored dude petting his dog. Eventually, he pushed Kieran's lips away, and grabbed his tool, aiming it like a gun at Kieran's mouth.

Kieran took a deep breath. He could stretch his mouth pretty wide, but knew this would be a challenge. He put his fingers on the cock, opened his mouth, and took the head in past his lips.

He sucked down its salty, sweaty flavor. Demon nudged his cock in and out, never more than his dickhead at first, still stroking his strawberry pet. He eventually began pushing more inches into Kieran's face; Kieran's jaw began to ache as he forced it wider than it ever had been in the past. Another inch...then another...in slow, out slow, sliding over Kieran's moist, curved tongue.

Kieran looked up from his supplicant position to take in Demon's perfect body. He grabbed fistfuls of the muscle of Demon's thighs and massaged them, digging his fingers into the metal-hard flesh. Demon's entire body was hotter than normal, though not as scalding as his heart.

Demon pushed more and more of his dick inside Kieran's mouth, now taking it all out but sliding another inch in with each thrust. Kieran began to feel Demon's dickhead probe the back of his mouth. He mumbled, that was all he could take, but there was no words. It just seemed to make his mouth ripple around Demon's donkeydick.

Demon pushed his thumbs into Kieran's ears, and slowly wrapped his fingers around Kieran's head. Kieran began to pummel the thighs that he was just a moment ago massaging. Demon pulled Kieran's head onto his cock, forcing his dickhead to hit the back of Kieran's throat and go beyond it.

Kieran gagged around Demon's shaft. Each convulsion sent waves of pleasure down Demon's cock, making his muscular body shudder, and sending to Kieran's ears definitely audible groans. Demon's skullfucking grew faster and harder, but even he didn't drive his entire cock into Kieran's mouth, even though Kieran felt the dickhead go into his throat and out.

Demon only took out a couple inches with each thrust, relishing the saliva that was gathering on his dick, making it supple, lubricating it as he slid over Kieran's tongue and into his constricting throat.

Kieran let his aching jaw relax, and the line of his teeth scraped over Demon's iron cock. He didn't seem to care, the teeth making his shaft an angrier color of red, but not slowing his mouthscrew; if anything, it made him screw harder, made him grunt louder. Kieran tried to thrash his head, but Demon's grip was made of steel.

Kieran started to pound Demon's abs, but it was like pounding steel armor. He reached out and dug his fingernails into Demon's flesh, scratching him, diging his fingers deep into Demon's skin. He felt bits of flesh and blood under his fingernails, and, looking up, could see blood trickling from the eight vertical lines where his fingers (not including his thumbs) had raked his eight-pack.

Finally, Demon took the heel of his hand and put it on Kieran's forehead, shoving him back onto his ass. Demon grabbed his shaft and stroked it furiously, while Kieran grabbed his throat and sucked air into his lungs gratefully. A few strokes, and Demon shot his load--his entire body shook as if he had stepped onto a live wire.

The jism flew through the air and landed on Kieran's flat swimmer's belly. He had never seen so much semen come from one person in one load; it was like a shotglass-worth. Finally, Demon stopped exploding and took a step or two back, wobbling.

Kieran paused, breathing hard...when he looked down and felt the cum burning his stomach. He used his hand to brush all of the jism off of his body and onto the floor. It had left, in a Rorschach pattern, a burn like a sunburn, as if he had stayed out in the sun for an hour too long. Kieran looked up at Demon, at that perfect body and the elaborate mask, thinking to himself, what the fuck?

Demon leaned his back against the far wall and slid down onto his ass on the floor. Kieran collapsed onto his back, fingering the burn with the tips of his fingers, trying not to wince. He looked up at the hatch, and wondered how long he'd been down here. An hour at most.

Looking over at Demon's body, he frowned. His abs had stopped bleeding, but they had also started healing. The lines where his fingers had made angry red cuts were now pink and already starting to fade. He knew he had done more damage than that. What the fuck?

He looked over his body. His cock was still hard as fuck. He grabbed it and started jacking furiously. He knew now why Tekken had injected him with morphine, and he knew why he needed his dick, needed this cum: to take his body, at least a little, somewhere besides here with Demon.

It only took him a minute. He imagined fucking Demon, screwing that perfect muscular fuzzy ass, on his hands and knees, his eight inches fucking owning this godboy. And then, he burst, spraying his load in the air like a fountain that fell so far up his body that it hit his chin. He groaned, totally needing the release, needing the wave of pleasure that racked his body.

Kieran looked over at Demon, at his face, at the grotesque smile, and wondered if, behind the mask, he was smiling at Kieran's little show.

Whether or not he was smiling, Kieran didn't know, but Demon moved then. He got down on all fours and crawled towards Kieran. Kieran tried to scramble away, but Demon grabbed his ankle and pulled him towards him. His purple eyes bored into Kieran's bedroom blues, and he flopped his dick around a couple times, as if to say, get me hard again.

"Can I just have a minute or two," Kieran said achingly. He had a passing thought that maybe Demon didn't understand English, though he wasn't sure why.

Still holding Kieran's ankle, Demon stood gracefully up. He pulled Kieran up with him; Kieran dangled in the air, upside down. The muscles in Demon's arm and shoulder bulged and pulsed.

He held Kieran high enough so that his face was level with his demonboy megacock. Kieran reflected, between a racing fear that Demon would drop him, that this was one of the more unusual points of view he'd ever had. And after that, he wondered what would happen if he did nothing.

So, he leaned in as best he could, and kissed Demon's shaft, licking it like a popsicle. Demon bucked his hips a little to make the cock flop towards Kieran's face. With each flop, Kieran tried to grab the dickhead with his lips; on the fourth or fifth try, he succeeded. Sucking on the bloated head like a lollipop, it grew quickly, inch after massive inch. Kieran only took a few inches in his mouth at a time, glad that Demon didn't seem to have any desire for another skullfuck. Finally, it was at its full size, and Kieran couldn't help but lick his lips with desire.

Demon reached up and grabbed Kieran's other ankle with his other hand, and lowered him until his head was just touching the floor. Kieran's calves were pinned against Demon's massive pecs; he could feel his nipples digging into his flesh. But Kieran noticed a more important detail: his body was at just the right level for Demon's dick to lie right between his legs.

And Kieran's heart started racing.

He opened his mouth more than once to say something, but no words came out. Meanwhile, Demon moved his body so that his dark red cockhead was lined up at Kieran's small asshole.

Finally, Kieran was ready to speak.

"Wait...."

But Demon didn't wait. Using his hips and ass, he pushed his dickhead into Kieran's hole. Kieran's back arched in the shape of a C, and he groaned like a wounded animal. Demon kept sliding his cock into Kieran's body, pushing hard when Kieran clenched his ass closed in an instinctive effort to keep Demon out. But it didn't work; Demon pushed inch after giant inch into Kieran. Kieran felt it pushing out his abs from the inside; he felt like if Demon put it all in, he'd be able to see it in the back of his throat.

Finally, ever inch was nested into Kieran's tight hole; Kieran could feel Demon's peach-sized balls against his ass, feel his platinum pubes scraping his skin. He bit his lip in an effort to keep from groaning like a girl, but only succeeded in drawing blood. Demon kept this position for many seconds, twisting his hips around like a dancer, until he slowly began to slide his prick out.

This made Kieran groan even louder. A tiny rivulet of water dripped from the corner of his eye, slid by gravity to his forehead before dripping onto the tile.

Inch...inch...inch....

Demon didn't take his entire godcock out of Kieran; he left several inches in. Kieran had never had a client in his butt as huge as Demon was right now, even part way out.

Then, he pushed back in, faster this time, gripping Kieran's ankles even tighter. He spread Kieran's hole, his tight hole, to fit his prick, pushing inside him slowly but without interruption, forcing his cock past any resistance without refraining.

He began to fuck Kieran in earnest now, sliding his dick in and out, slow but steady, over and over. Kieran's head began to swim, not just from the fucking but from the blood flowing to his brain. He scrambled to find some traction with his hands, but Demon kept pulling him up and down a little bit to keep him disoriented.

In...out...in...out...in..out..in..out.in.out.in.out....

Who knows how long it was before Demon pulled out of Kieran and let his ankles go. Kieran tumbled to the floor like a heap of laundry. He banged his elbow and his temple against the hard tile, but didn't notice with the soreness emanating from his lower body.

Using his feet, Demon flipped Kieran over onto his back. Demon crouched down on the floor, spread Kieran's legs and took position over him. He forced Kieran's legs so far back his knees were next to his ears. Demon planted his hands to either side of Kieran's head and, using his waist, positioned his dickhead at Kieran's already punished hole, and drove his thick prick right into Kieran, all the way in one single thrust. Kieran screamed and passed out.

When he woke up again, Demon was still fucking him, tearing into his beautiful ass, making Kieran's beautiful body his own. He noticed that Demon had fucked him so much that they had skidded all the way across the room so that Kieran's head was banging against the wall, cracking the tile there.

His body couldn't process the animosity of Demon's vicious lordfucking. White hot shards of pain exploded from his lower body, up his limbs and to his brain. Demon slammed, over and over. The morphine was obviously out of his system. His shaggy blond hair hung over his face, and hung in Kieran's face as well.

Something else bothered him. Kieran looked down.

He was stone rock hard again.

It would have to take the place of the morphine. He focused on his dick, trying to block out Demon's pounding, his slamming, over and over who knows how many hours now. It didn't work so well.

Finally, Demon took his entire cock out of Kieran's punished ass. He grabbed Kieran by the shoulders and flipped him over, pulling him up onto his hands and knees. He took his dick in his hand and hit Kieran's ass with it, the smack echoing moistly. Then, he took his hand and spanked Kieran, watching his fine bubble butt ripple. He spanked him several times, watching his ass respond to his hand, before lining up his dickhead with Kieran's gaping ass, and pushing it grandly, not fast but hard, in total control.

Kieran cried out, calling out to God. His eyes bulged out as Demon fucking him doggy style, true doggy style, crouching his body over Kieran's back and fucking him, inoutinoutinout, his monster shaft sending waves of glorious pleasure up Demon's body, making his eyes bulge, too.

Kieran reached between his legs to jack himself. The only image he could come up with that would make him hard was Demon, not only Demon's supernatural beauty, his perfect, amazing body, He knew that the only thing he wanted was for this day to be over, that there wasn't enough water in the world to shower off what Demon was doing to him. He knew he was ruined now, that his career as a whore was over...that his life as a sexual being was over, unless he became Demon's slave. He knew that, if he could make himself cum without thinking of Demon, he'd be a free man; if not....

Demon reached over to Kieran's face and stuck his fingers into his mouth. He used Kieran's face as reins to fuck him harder, fuck him like a stupid animal, to pull his mammoth shaft as deep as it would go into this little prettyboy. He slammed Kieran's head harder into the wall, mixing bits of tile over his skin, making him go unconscious for a few minutes every now and again.

Kieran knew he was going to cum soon.

Demon knew he was going to cum soon.

Kieran burst his load harder than he'd ever done in his entire life. There was only a white light; he never knew what he came to.

Demon exploded, spraying his load deep into Kieran's ass. His body shook, he grunted, cried out under the mask, tossed his head back, made his platinum mane shake. Yet another prettyboy, just the same as all the others, as the prettygirls. They didn't feed him often enough.

Kieran wept, his heart too dry to cry out, when a shot glass of demon acidjism filled his hole. He collapsed on the floor, wondering if he'd ever be out of pain again. Demon stood over him, running his fingers through Kieran's hair.

He let his fingers run about. Then, he brought them to Kieran's ear, to the ear pierced with the silver bolt. Demon slid the bolt out of Kieran's ear, rubbing the blood off of it with his fingers, and stood up, with his back to Kieran.

Demon moved aside his shaggy hair, revealing the two mask locks. Using the bolt, it took him about a minute to pick the first lock; the second unlocked more easily.

One instinctual thought crossed Kieran's mind: Something bad is about to happen.

He pushed himself into a corner, trailing jism the way a snail trails slime. He couldn't take his eyes away as Demon took off the mask and let it drop to the floor; it echoed like a falling wooden salad bowl. Then, he slid from his mouth a nine inch wooden dildo, the same cherry wood of the mask. It was intricately carved, the best dildo Kieran had ever seen. From the slit it was dripping quicksilver precum. Demon let this drop too.

His face was just as perfect as the rest of his body. He had a soft nose but a strong, angular jaw and chin. His lips were full but not feminine. He had two rows of perfect white teeth; however, his two upper canines were sharp, no larger than normal but...pointed. He turned and looked down at Kieran.

"Please don't kill me," Kieran said, his voice wobbling. He almost expected Demon to bark like a dog or howl like a hyena. But, he said:

"I'm not going to kill you." His voice was accentless, a fine elegant baritone that suited his face.

"Don't hurt me."

"That, I cannot promise."

He strode to where Kieran cowered, and grabbed him under the arms, lifting him standing. He brought his face close, smelling. Then, he stuck out his tongue and licked Kieran from his chin, up the side of his nose and over his eye. He grabbed the sides of Kieran's mouth and planted his lips on his, wrestling Kieran's tongue. Kieran's eyes widened, and he screamed into Demon's open mouth.

Bling's watch beeped. Twenty-four hours.

Bling had unlocked and pulled open the steel hatch. Tekken lowered the meathook into the room below. They waited, as they always did--lots of them took a while to get their strength back--until the chain was tugged from below.

Bling gripped the chain and pulled it up. The pulley creaked. Finally, it was up all the way and a figure was holding the meathook.

It took them a moment or two to figure out it wasn't Kieran.

Bling's voice: "Oh my God, Kyung, it's out!"

Still hanging from the meathook, Demon swung, gripped his calves around Bling's neck, and spun him around, kicking him down into the room below. Tekken flicked out his taser and shot it at Demon; it crackled with electricity; Demon was unaffected and yanked the wire from his skin. With a flying roundhouse kick he knocked Tekken onto the floor.

His cock was flopping around like a windsock in a hurricane.

Tekken tried to fight Demon off; his own martial arts was not in any league approaching his. Demon ended up pinning Tekken to the wall by his neck.

Demon headbutted Tekken: the first butt stunned him, the second broke his nose, and the third sent him unconscious.

After seven hours with Tekken, he was sated. Tekken's blood soaked his torso like lacquer.

Demon grabbed Tekken's ankle and dragged him to the open hatch. Tekken's fingers scrambled to find traction.

"Please!" he choked, "I was good to you."

"Not good enough."

Demon pushed him into the pit.

The last light Tekken saw slid away as the steel hatchplate slowly closed into place..

Kieran woke up, without any sense of time. He would have cried out, but a few loads of demon acidjism had burned his throat raw.

Besides....

Kieran reached to his lower face, probing it with his fingers. Demon had attached the wooden creepy Noh mask to his face, locking it with the bolt piercing. Kieran had scraped his face red and raw trying to get it off, but the ribbons and locks were tight.

He looked around. There were two bodies on the floor of the room: Bling and Tekken. Tekken was groaning and moving mildly, but Bling's neck was twisted unnaturally.

Kieran felt something on the ground around him, on his chest. They were little pieces of paper. He pushed himself sitting--almost passing out in the process--and saw they were hundred dollar bills. Scattered all around him, all around the room.

About forty grand worth.