“Your new name is Daemon. Wake up!” Was all he could hear; having been taken from that abandoned site and taken elsewhere. Here he was with all his clothes and possessions confiscated at the den, this unholy place which was below ground ridden with candles and earth with a sweaty stench that hit Daemon hard and well. The fumes from the various essence defusers in this low-dimmed room were beginning to take effect on Daemon who up to now was called A. by his boring past.
“Follow us. Our chief wants to meet you!” shouted one of the bandits.
The three men who napped him were in another room chilling whilst their cocks were getting sucked by three twinks who had shaved heads with piercings that adorned them all. The most peculiar though was that the biohazard symbols was tattooed around their holes. Daemon didn’t know what this meant, and he was frightened. As he was walking, hands bound and escorted by a guard suddenly grabbed Daemon’s fragile neck and knelt him to the floor. “You can’t walk round here. Only men can do that! You’re a boy, you fag!” Thus he crawled, it was a first in new memory. It was utterly humiliating; he couldn’t even understand what was happening.
“Looks like you’re trying to crawl. Good boy! Let me help you with your hands there and teach you how to crawl around this den.”
The guard unbound Daemon’s hands then went on all fours teaching him how to crawl. The left hand protrudes first, then the right leg follows; the right hand next, and so the other leg. It was as simple as that, and Daemon picked up this skill quite well. Having the guard crawl with him for a while he finally understood how to crawl. Indeed, it was second nature to the guard and soon a first for Daemon.
With every crawl he made, his heart beat faster. An animal that crawled through the cold floor; an animal that dragged through the fumes that turned him so. He was ready to meet his chief. He was ready to serve him. Soon he was led deeper into the den, down the stairs that struck darkness with less light and more fear knowing his doom is nigh. There lay a hallway where Daemon was ordered to crawl all the way down, past the thick of darkness in the midst of the hallway where stood a door with two eye holes that was dimmed by candlelight. “You are to go down there, and wait.” The guard exited the hallway.
Alone was now Daemon who crawled slowly and cautiously. A rush of adrenaline struck him; whether to turn back or follow on: what difference would it make? Either way he was in trouble. There was neither right nor left, neither silence nor noise but the sound of his breathing, his pulsating heart and the path he tread through. God was not in him. Unbeknownst to him, there were rooms on either side of him which were inhabited by the corrupted men who broke the silence by yelling at the poor boy crawling past them. Bars prevented them from ravaging him; only words and juice can keep him now. “Hey boy, you thirsty? I’m cumming here!” Suddenly a gush of cum erupted from the darkness and shot towards Daemon. He tasted the cum as he crawled past the man who was now also barking at him imitating the sounds of a hound hungry to devour Daemon for his pleasure. Already did Daemon finish his some of the cum that landed in his mouth.
More men were goading him, woofing away. The loudness dimmed as the light before him grew. More the boy became less a human and more primal. A rite of passage from this to the place he was born to endure. He was at the door - now he must knock.
Waiting at the door, the two eye holds above him opened. His eyes were piercing, a medium brown colour with both iris’ holding the image of a boy on his knees ready to enter his Master’s domain and serve him through life and hell. The door opened with a stench of feet blowing through Daemon like nothing he smelt upstairs. It gave him yet another boner but harder than when he was getting facefucked at the abandoned site; than when he was crawling here; than when that guy previously blew a huge warm load for Daemon to taste.
“Come in, boy.” his Master smirked. “What’s your name?”
“I’m A., Sir.”
Wrong answer; his Master slapped him hard like a bitch. “You are Daemon! And Daemon you shall remain. Your previous life was a boring one, and we know all about you. We know you were born to devout Muslim parents, that’s true indeed. We know you are gay and have been getting fucked like crazy. Many of the people I know you’ve met are part of this cult. They contribute to the longevity of this domain and I am one of the chiefs here. You are here because you wanted to become something else and so here you are.”
Daemon noticed the Baphomet that stood before him that tightened his eyes at this amazing figure that the Master had noticed did keep him in awe of such a figure. “That’s Satan; our Saviour. He is also your Saviour and Lord who brought you here.” Daemon gulped and gazed upward at his owner who was standing forthright scrutinising the poor boy. “You’re fair skinned given your heritage, with a smooth body. You’ll do well to pleasure me. Now all you need is a wakening call to remind you of whom you are and what your purpose in life is. The man pointed Daemon to go to the bed which wasn’t like no other bed you’d find: it was low-standing; think of it as just a mattress on the floor. In fact the bed was not just king-size but room sized! The entire right wall of the bed chamber was very much covered in material made suitable for slumber for such a perfect man. It was here Daemon crawled towards and laid in bed amongst a comfort impossible to reject.
Meanwhile, Daemon’s Master opened a drawer which contained mortar and pest, bags of crystals, syringes and snort tubes amongst others. As he was preparing a mix the silence grew less between them; Daemon was bidden to go prepare himself in the meantime. Upon his return, his Master was ready. “Are you scared, boy?” “I don’t know; I’ve never been in this sort of situation before. I wonder if I’m making the right choice about being here.” “What choice? There is only fate that brought you here; there’s no choice in fate. We’re all taught to think that we have choices in life, but in truth choice is an abstract concept that plays no game with fate but only time. Time is nonexistent down here; we’ve been living the lives of generations down here, and there’s no candid choice in your being here.” Daemon was afraid of needles and his heart was racing faster. His Master joined his slave in bed with the mixture. “It’s good your heart is beating fast. It makes it easier to slam you.”
His arm supported by pillows and fastened by the tourniquet; it was time for his reckoning. It was easy to get a flash and begin slamming him. “Don’t worry; it’s only meth.” grinned his Master. As it was slowly entering his blood, now finished; the tourniquet released. A gush of this chemical streamed to his heart almost instantly. The time has come.
Whilst his Master was slamming himself, within seconds Daemon’s eyes widened. He went on his knees and coughed a few. His head was buzzing and swinging. Precum drooled from his cock; an urge to finger himself was nigh. His breathing was deeper; his arm drew a bit of blood from which he tasted. He stared at his Master in awe, no mistake made that he was his slave to endure.
“Oh, Master! I only serve you!”
“Good boy. Now worship me; prove whom you serve!”
With lightening speed, Daemon attached his mouth onto his Master’s left nipple and sucked heavily. “Lick my blood clean, boy!” At once he licked his arm clean of the blood. At once he returned to sucking his nipples, biting them gently and slowly. “Fucking bite them boy!” There was more to come, he was just starting his new life and adventure. Daemon was pushed back to lay in bed. The Master undid his lower garments and beheld before Daemon his weapon of mass destruction. “Tonight, you will lose your virginity again.”
“Oh please, Sir! That cock is huge! I need that in me!”
“Work for it; get it hard.”
He laid down and Daemon crawled in between his legs and sniffed the drunken stench that erupted from his balls. Whilst massaging his balls a greedy and wet tongue glided up his Master’s long shaft to the tip where his tongue thrusted in and out at his tip: smooth and round as a ball. What was most peculiar though is that his cock had a prince albert, a thick one of that too as the metal adorned the spectacular view. At last Daemon swallowed his cock whole with greed as the closed-bead ring in cold ice glided down the fleshy mouth whose tongue waved through the shaft secreting spit to keep his cock at bay where it belongs.
A groan from his Master, who recuperating from this extraordinary experience praised Daemon for his excellent skills on the matter, enticing him to go on by holding his head in place and envisaging his face with spit that slid down from forehead to chin in ways that his eyes beheld only tears as his mouth continued the job in deepthroating his well thick cock in surplus of the sweet precum that seeped into him from within.
“You like that cock don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir!” murmured Daemon who responded whilst deepthroating him.
“That’s real cock right there; a man’s cock!” laughed his Master.
Bobbing up and down on his cock, slurping his cock like one big noodle to impose a vacuum so as to attach his cock ring to the ends of his mouth with lips attached all around at the base as his tongue teased his balls below whilst his hands soothed his balls and pulsed for an ever glorious victor who claimed justice over Daemon, arresting him of freedom and attesting him to pleasure in all ways primal that persuaded his great Master finally to take him down to the next level in the final thick of action that would ransack both hell and Earth in a crushing blow.
“You’ve earned it. Lay on your back; you are rewarded.”
It didn’t take long. Daemon’s hole was loose to begin with from the various fucks he’s had; and given he was slammed already his hole was looser and gaping for the final piece to make its way in: to show Daemon his place in this sorry world and claim loyalty to Satan for all eternity.
“Say you love Satan for what he’s giving to you!”
“I love Satan! Thank you for showing me what my life is about! Thank you Satan for turning me into a greedy slut!”
Whilst praising Satan, a deep breath by his counterpart followed; and with heavy friction that magnificent horse hung cock ransacked in through Daemon’s hole with a ripple effect that sucked his Master in within seconds, all the way in; past the end-zone and upward till they were clasped in pleasure, face-to-face with only eyes to stare at as his Master grabbed his slave’s neck and kissed him passionately whilst fucking him bare.
At first Daemon was in pain, but after a few slow thrusts over a minute the pain went away and slowly recuperated to find pleasure at his pearl. This, whilst his Master was fucking at his pearl stimulating that prostate to ready Daemon’s produce whilst preparing his juice. Battering away at his cock, the sound of slaps from his cock into his arse filled the air with noise as loud moans and exchange of kisses and insults.
“You like my pounding, don’t you slut?”
Moaning louder; “Oh yes, Sir! I really want your cum inside me. I live only to please you! Use me whenever you like. I am your fucking slut, Master!” it was all he could utter whilst his prostate throbbed to the beating it was taking from his man’s deep and swift strokes.
“Doggy style now. Get on all fours, bitch!”
He turned around, on all fours like a dog, a bitch that was waiting to be used and bred for Satan. Here was a man finally going to capture and take him to hell with to serve them both. Sliding his cock inside, Daemon could really feel the heat against his prostate as his veiny cock was felt against his sloppy hole which was oozing his Master’s precum that mixed with the mucus inside. “Your arse is lubing itself up! You really are a slut!” laughing his Master.
More and more he fucked; more and more Daemon moaned for hell to rain upon him. More he wanted to get used by other men. “You want more guys to fuck your hole boy, don’t you?” “Yes, Master! I want to suck every guy and have all of them fuck my hole till I can’t it no more! Please Sir! I’m your slut, let me prove it to you!”
“Release the hounds!” yelled his Master as he was continuing to pound away at his slave’s gaping and wet hole. “Oh, there’s more to come, boy; don’t you worry.”