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by Hooder It was the start of John's second week in Hell. He'd skidded on some diesel in the road and driven his motorcycle into a tree. The next thing he'd known, here he was. It was not actually quite as bad as he'd expected. It wasn't continuous boiling oil, sulfurous fumes and everlasting fire -- the demons and fiends worked an 8-hour day torturing souls and everyone had the weekends off for sight-seeing. Accommodations could have been worse, too -- he shared a room with a serial killer who didn't want to talk about his punishments and there was a reasonable view of the general devastation from his window. His first week had been a getting-to-know-you kind of time: he was shown around, introduced to various dignitaries (he even caught a rare glimpse of Mephistopheles himself, getting into a hearse) and met his own personal torturer -- a fiend named Elmet. There then followed a variety of torments and tortures, to find out what John was most susceptible to. They started out with the usual physical things -- foot crushing, bamboo under the fingernails, branding -- (the nice thing was that however he was abused, at 5 PM prompt everyone reverted to their undamaged state so they could be worked on again tomorrow), but he reacted no more and no less to these crude methods of torture than did anyone else. Elmet was looking for something better -- something personal to John -- something he particularly couldn't take. The fiend found just the thing on Friday afternoon. It was 4:55 PM, almost time to quit, and Elmet had John spread-eagled on a table. He'd been gouging out bits of the boy's body with pincers and was getting bored. To be fair, John had been screaming quite well, but it just wasn't right somehow. By accident, Elmet's clawed hand slipped and a long, bony finger scraped across the boy's bare sole. The resulting yell and convulsion of the biker's body had made Elmet pause. This boy is ticklish, he thought. He put the pincers down and experimentally scraped a fingernail slowly down the length of John's left foot. The ensuing scream caused the demon next door to bang on the wall. Elmet looked at the boy, considering. He reached over and tickled both armpits lightly. Now John was strapped down with good-quality canvas restraints, but his convulsion was so intense that he actually broke the one holding his right wrist. At that precise moment the end-of-day whistle went and all torturing stopped for the weekend. Elmet ran his eyes over the young, hunky body before him. What he saw was not a healthy, 22-year-old boy with a firm, well-muscled body but an infinite number of intensely, unbearably ticklish spots. As he released the boy from his restraints and sent him off with a cheery, "See you Monday," he realized that this weekend would not be spent as usual watching reruns of "Baywatch" but in constructing a suitable restraining device and thinking of fiendish ways to make an excruciatingly ticklish -- and horny -- boy suffer as much as inhumanly possible. Elmet was good at that sort of thing. As he blew out the torches on the wall and left the torture chamber he smiled in anticipation. When John entered the room on Monday morning he noticed some changes First off, the walls had been soundproofed. Secondly, there was a large wooden device standing in the middle of the floor. Elmet greeted him. The fiend was looking especially ugly today, John thought. He was wearing a brown Monk's habit, the loose hood of which hid the back of his bald head, and his ebony-black face seemed particularly grotesque with its sharp, pointed nose and gash of a mouth. John noticed that the fiend had recently filed his teeth. "Now," said Elmet, drooling slightly, "we're going to try something different today. Observe the device." He pointed to the wooden construction that dominated the chamber. "Kneel on this board here. Your wrists are held high above your head by these metal rings and your tootsies are roped tightly to these rods at the side. Are you with me so far?" John nodded, although he wasn't altogether sure about the way things were going; he had seen the look on Elmet's face when he'd tickled him on Friday. This device would be ideal for that sort of thing. "This," he indicated a rod which stuck out at an angle a couple of feet above the kneeling board, "will go inside you. It will help to keep you..." He searched for a word, drooling some more. "...interested in what's happening." The fiend gave vent to one of his earsplitting cackles. He really did have an unpleasant voice, thought John -- thin and reedy. "Very well, on you get." Elmet helped the boy onto the device, lubricating the rod and making sure it was firmly up his ass. He secured John's wrists and ankles, pulled up a stool and sat in front of him. Reaching into the voluminous sleeves of his monk's habit, he produced a length of thin rope which he tied carefully around John's balls and the base of his cock. He then pulled it tight and fastened the other end to a hook in the floor. The effect of this was to pull John's already stiffening cock and his balls away from his body. His 8" cut cock stabbed the warm air in front of him in a disturbingly vulnerable way. John was getting nervous. Being mutilated with pincers was one thing, but being tickle-tortured was something else altogether. He prayed that that was not what was going to happen -- he was not sure he could take it. Ever since he'd been little, John had been painfully aware that he was unbelievably ticklish. He had been known to punch people who had playfully tickled him in the mouth -- quite involuntarily -- it was a reaction he had no control over. He was so inconceivably, incapacitatingly ticklish that even the thought of being tickled caused him to curl up into a tight ball to protect himself. Elmet knew this. He had spent part of his weekend researching into the ticklish aspects of his victim's past life and he had carefully designed this piece of apparatus to make him as devastatingly vulnerable to this unbearable torture as possible. When he'd completed the construction he'd sat in the Satanic Library boning up on techniques of Tickle Torture. It was not something he'd had any experience with, but fiends -- even more than demons -- are quick and studious learners and instantly became expert in their chosen field. They also have powers they can call upon which can assist them immeasurably in their work. John moved experimentally to find out just how much he would be able to protect himself if his worst fears proved to be true. It was not a lot. His arms were held immobile and the only part of his anatomy he could move was his pelvis -- and every time he did that, the rod rode in and out off his arse, making him extremely horny. He would watch the fiend closely, monitor his every move so that he would be prepared for whatever he might do. Elmet had thought of that, too. From the folds of his habit he produced a strip of black leather. "You know what's going to happen to you, don't you? I'm going to tickle you." The fiend cackled insanely as John's worst nightmares became fact and he shook his head in desperation. "And you need to see, don't you? You need to be able to see where my fingers are, don't you? Well," he dangled the strip of leather in front of John's face, "can you see through black leather? Imagine how much worse it's going to be with this leather blindfolding you..." He shrieked a cackling laugh. "Here -- feel it." The fiend wrapped it round the boy's cock, which jerked in response. "It's going to make you so much more ticklish -- and horny." Elmet took the leather and, in spite of John's pleas for mercy, tied it over his eyes. The leather was extremely thin and molded itself to the contours of his face, cutting out all light and blindfolding him completely. John was already on the verge of losing it and he hadn't even been touched yet. "Please, Elmet. Look -- what you were doing with the pincers was unbearable. Please do that. This is silly. Whoever heard of tickling as a torture? Anyway, I'm not very ticklish. You'll be wasting your time. Honestly. Let's go back to the branding irons. Please. Don't do this. Please." Elmet grinned. "Well, tell you what -- we'll try it for a few hours and see how it goes. Who knows, you might like it!" He sat on the stool again and waited, enjoying the sight of the hunky boy's body quivering with dread. He had no way of knowing when -- or where -- the torture would start. Suddenly, he dug stiff, bony fingers into John's sides, just above the waist. He probed and wiggled them. Unfortunately, in Hell it's not possible to faint, otherwise John would have done it, instantly. As it was he let out a shriek that tested the newly-installed soundproofing to its limit. Every muscle in his young body tensed and he used every ounce of his strength to escape from his restraints. Elmet had constructed the device well, though, and it was far stronger than John was. The fiend's fingers walked slowly upward toward the boy's armpits. John was shaking his head violently. "No! No! Please, not the armpits. I can't take it." Elmet cooed softly, "You're not supposed to be able to take it. If you could, it wouldn't be torture, now would it? Remember where you are. This is Hell, after all." He tickled John's armpits mercilessly and the boy convulsed, involuntarily moving his pelvis back and forth on the rod. When Elmet had built the device, he had paid particular attention to that rod. He had studied John's internal anatomy, taken precise measurements, and made the rod so that as it moved in and out it rubbed very gently against the boy's prostate gland -- not enough to make him cum (it was vital that it didn't do that), but just enough so that it would keep him intensely horny, indefinitely. The fiend's fingers wandered over John's sensitive body, finding every nook and cranny that was unbearably ticklish, and tickling every single one. He worked unpredictably so that the boy never knew where he was going to be attacked next, and alternated slow, sensuous teasing with bouts of merciless torture tickling. John was cursing the blindfold. If only he could see. If he could see, he might just possibly stand some slight chance of being able to prepare himself for the torture, alleviate it slightly. He willed himself to be able to see through the blindfold --- but that thin strip of leather made him more helpless, vulnerable and ticklish than all the rest of his restraints put together. He tried to shake it off, but wherever he moved his head there was no way he could shift it. Once he managed to lift it very slightly by pushing it against his bicep, but Elmet saw at once and, with a cackling, "Now, now, that's naughty," he pulled it back down so the boy couldn't see a thing and tied it tighter. Lunch break came and Elmet shared the usual hot coal sandwiches with the boy. John wasn't hungry, and he was still shaking. The fiend was very pleased -- this torture was proving extremely effective. The afternoon was what Elmet had been looking forward to. Not once during the morning had the fiend touched John's cock and balls. John had a rock-hard erection for the whole time and was desperate to cum. This afternoon it was time for some genital tickling to get the helpless boy really horny. Elmet produced a feather and made himself comfortable on the stool. He closed his eyes, recited strange words, and called upon powers to assist him. Instantly two disembodied hands appeared, and three more feathers. The hands, unseen by the blindfolded boy, positioned themselves at John's unprotected sides, two of the feathers readied themselves by his bare feet, and the other two at his armpits. Without warning, the tickling began. Gently at first, the fingers probed into John's sides and the feathers began their work on his feet and armpits. Within seconds, John was in hysterics. He squirmed and struggled as much as his restraints would allow and screamed at the top of his lungs. The feathers worked themselves between his toes, or turned and dragged their sharp ends across his soles; the disembodied hands dug their fingers into his ribs and sides, hitting the boy's nerve centers bang on and stimulating mercilessly. The other pair of feathers were stroking gently across his armpits, round and round, in and out, driving the boy crazy. Elmet cackled and directed his attention to the spunk-filled balls and the eight inches of vulnerable, unexplored, sensitive, ticklish boycock that swung helplessly above them. He used the feather in his hand to tickle the testicles, getting right into the crevices at their sides, and reaching round to tickle the backs of the balls as well. With his other hand, he used just one long, tapering finger on the very tip of the desperate young cock, moving round and round over the bare glans and up and down across the piss-slit. John was in an ecstasy of hysteria and horniness. He swore, pleaded, begged, threatened, screamed, shrieked, laughed, cried and struggled violently against his restraints. The fiend ignored his cries completely and the only effect the boy's struggling had was to make him even more horny. In common with all fiends and demons, Elmet possessed a power that enabled him to cause his victim the very maximum suffering possible: he could feel exactly what John was feeling, but to a much more attenuated degree. This meant two things -- first, he knew precisely where and when to tickle the boy for the most intense effect; and secondly -- he knew at any given moment how close he was to orgasm. As his fingers stroked and caressed the aching cock, sometimes working on the very tip, sometimes gently enclosing the entire shaft, squeezing lightly, or stroking up and down the full length, Elmet could feel exactly what John was experiencing. In this way he could keep the youth a hair's breadth away from shooting his load. He could keep him on the very brink of orgasm -- and still make it impossible for the boy to get the relief he so desperately craved. The main problem when someone else gives you a hand job is that because every individual does it in his own particular way, it's never quite right -- you could always, in fact, do it better yourself. However, because Elmet knew exactly what his actions were feeling like, he was doing exactly what John would have done himself if he had been trying to bring himself off -- the only difference being that if John had been doing it he would have brought himself off instantly, whereas the fiend was making very sure that the boy couldn't cum. John was almost delirious. He had been horny many times during his life, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that it was even possible to be this horny. The hands tickling his sides and the feathers working on his feet and armpits were driving him insane. His whole body, every square inch of his anatomy, was one big ticklish area. The chamber reverberated to his shrieks and screams. His voice was hoarse with screaming, his throat sore with laughter. For hours, pre-cum had been oozing out of the end of his cock, dripping stickily down to form a puddle on the floor. The fiend's fingers slipped and slid over the lubricated glans, the feather did its ticklish work on his unprotected, vulnerable balls. This went on for the rest of the day. At 5 o'clock the hooter sounded and all work stopped. Elmet caused the disembodied hands and the feathers to disappear and removed the boy's blindfold. John was desperate! "No! No! PLEASE -- YOU CAN'T STOP NOW -- MAKE ME CUM! FOR GOD'S SAKE MAKE ME CUM!!!" Elmet shook his head slowly. "For who's sake? God can't hear you, sorry. I might let you cum tomorrow -- or Wednesday -- or a week on Thursday..." He shrieked one of his cackling laughs. The fiend released John from the wooden restraint device and smiled evilly (which, for him, was easy to do). "Same time tomorrow, please." As John was leaving the chamber, Elmet called after him, "Oh, and don't try to bring yourself off -- I've put a holding spell on you. Don't want to waste all that lovely spunk I've been building up all day." John ran back to his apartment, flung himself on the bed, took his cock in his hand and began to jerk himself off. Within seconds he was on the verge of cumming - but he couldn't! He beat his cock desperately, but he couldn't cum. No matter how hard, how fast, he tried, he just could not cum. With a scream of frustration he punched the bed and cursed Elmet's name. His cock, rock-hard and aching for release, rubbed against the sheets. Again he tried, and again he failed. That night he got no sleep at all. Every couple of minutes his hand went to his cock and he tried to bring himself off. It was no good. He spent the night with a permanent erection. His cock begged him for release. Whenever he moved, whenever he turned over, opened or closed his legs, his cock made its urgent need known again. By the morning he was almost mad with lust and frustration. On Tuesday morning he arrived at the chamber an hour early. Elmet did not seem surprised to see him. The morning was a repeat of the previous afternoon. Lunchtime came, but John insisted the fiend didn't stop. Elmet made some comment about Union rules but carried on torturing the boy anyway, out of the goodness of his heart. John was not allowed to cum on Tuesday. Nor Wednesday... Nor Thursday... On Friday morning Elmet announced that he was going to let John cum. He tickle tortured him for an hour or so and then brought the boy off by using a small, soft brush on the tip of his victim's glans, tickling the boy's balls with two stiff feathers and causing the disembodied hands to tickle his feet, sides and armpits very gently and teasingly. The boy's orgasm was the longest and most shatteringly intense he had ever experienced. It went on and on. Thick, white gobs of hot, sticky spunk, which had been encouraged and built up so carefully, but which had been so sadistically denied release for so long, exploded out of his cock like water from a fire hose. Elmet carefully collected every drop. The boy's reaction was so violent that at one point the fiend wondered if the restraints were going to hold him -- but they did. Eventually it was over. John subsided, a quivering, shuddering wreck. His body relaxed for the first time in ages. He waited for the fiend to release him. But Elmet did not release him. Ten seconds after the last drop of spunk had been milked from his throbbing cock, the torture began again. This was a hundred times worse than it had ever been. Having just had the most intense orgasm of his life, the boy was at his most sensitive, his most ticklish, and Elmet was not going to let that hypersensitivity go to waste. Oh, no. The feathers tickled, the fingers probed and prodded and the torture went on -- and on. Today was Friday. By 5 PM John was once again half insane with ticklishness and the urgent need to cum. He faced a weekend of constantly needing to bring himself off but not being able to, followed by another week of pure torture at the tickling hands of the fiend. After a while it settled down into a routine. Elmet had decided that the boy's torture would be worst if he was made to cum on a Thursday morning. That way, by Friday evening he was at his most desperate for orgasm and had to get through an entire weekend of unrelenting frustration and three more days of tickle torture before he had any relief. John came to fear Thursdays more than any other time. Although the orgasms were the most wonderful thing he could imagine, the tickle torture immediately afterwards was horrifying to think about. His only relief came on Christmas Day. Elmet removed the holding spell on Christmas Eve until work resumed on Boxing Day. Christmas Day was the only time he ever got any sleep -- and even then he didn't get much as he spent most of the day jacking himself off. In odd moments he contemplated his fate. He had been in Hell for just three years now. Unlike some of the other poor souls, he had a fixed sentence -- he would not be here forever. At the end of his time he would go to the other place to spend the rest of eternity in paradise. How long had he got to go? Every week Elmet put the spunk he'd milked out of the boy into a container. When that container was full, John would be free to go. The container was a bottle. It was ten feet in diameter. And one mile high. -- Cody & Cory Foster
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Chapter 1: True Dark Convert Samael slowly inhaled the scent of the bar: cigarette smoke, vapors of booze, and the oils that preserved the harsh yet slick leather gear of the patrons of the bar. He inhaled deeper; his paranormal senses reaping the sensations no mere mortal human could detect: lust, gluttony, envy, and then finally he honed in on that sweet emotion that hinted innocence. The fear was mild, being managed by bravery and courage that Samael had bestowed upon the young man but he maliciously grinned as his gaze focused on his target. Across the bar Kane sat on a wide bench trying to keep to himself while he stared with wide eyes around the bar. His nervousness would normally have kept him far from a gay leather bar but he reassured himself reading his messages. The young man had a large denim vest with cut off sleeves and had tried his best to pull off a tough guy look; even waxing his blond hair and regretting how he looked like a slick 50’s style grease-ball but the sleek shine of his skin would tell an experienced patron that he was nervous. Kane was sweating, his courage starting to question his belief in whether his contact would show. Trying once again to discreetly check the photos sent to try to find a match in the nearby crowd. “You shouldn’t hold out for a no show-” Kane heard to his side and he looked up at a middle-aged burly man holding a drink. The modest bear wore a blue and metal harness and gave a cheerful grin. “Life’s too short to wait around for patience.” The young man tried to look confident as his brain raced to respond with something witty but Kane couldn’t help but try to discreetly move back. The older bear laughed and fondled a tiny metal canister before taking a quick inhale from it. “Sometimes you gotta seize the night and jump to the exciting thrills.” Kane saw the metal canister offered to him as he heard a separate cold deep voice. “Or the boy is being obedient and waiting for a proper daddy to show him the ropes at the pace he knows is best for him.” A firm hand gripped Kane’s shoulder as the hunting stranger looked up behind his prey. At first there was a look of cool before the bear’s face dropped and he nodded before turning off. Kane’s heart started to slowly pump back to life from the uncomfortable situation before he slowly looked up past his shoulder to see his liberator. The young man nervously grinned before quietly saying “Hi”. Samael’s facial expression changed from cheerful to stern. No human would have heard those words with the loud music and voices but he distinctly addressed the greeting. “Funny, I was beginning to think you weren’t just acting for fun through the messages boy.” The observation was simple but it worked. Kane started to focus in the same mindset as he had flirted and submitted through online messages. The environment around them wasn’t such an interference as was previously feeding the boy’s nervousness as he corrected himself. “I apologize Sir, I’m adapting to this new experience and I honor the opportunity to finally meet you Sir.” Mental logic started processing quickly in Kane’s mind; trying to review as much as he consciously memorized to make sure he was following the rules that had naturally formed when talking to Samael; a man he found himself desiring to follow and learn from. He tried his best to stay as he was and not waver or move unless ordered to. Kane’s eyes had met Samael and he eagerly awaited a response to continue. Those eyes of Samael’s reflected the occasional strobe light as they drew in the young man’s gaze, reading him and the younger male’s eagerness. Samael’s face remained cold and stern as he patted his long awaited subject. “Very good boy, go get me whatever is on tap and a double shot of bourbon.” The elder ordered and firmly handed Kane some cash. Kane firmly gripped the bills and walked to the line for the bartender. He tried to look confident and firm; a slight ping of concern that he might ask for ID since he technically was 19. Luckily the facial hair had developed earlier in life than most and did add a couple of years helping him slip through the front door or so he thought. He didn’t even realize an obvious problem when he handed the cash over to pay for Samael’s order. “You’re a bit short son.” Kane looked and realized he had only been given $3. His face was surprised and instinctively tried to turn to look at Samael but caught himself before he could face defeat. It had to be a test. “Sorry about that.” A hand slipped into his pocket and Kane pulled out a $20 before trying to smoothly hand it off to the bartender. The young man’s chest sunk when he realized that was his bus ticket home and he only got back $5 from that one bill. He nervously put the cash he got from Samael in the tip jar hoping it would be suitable for that embarrassing encounter before he retrieved the beverages. Samael was wetting a cigar with his mouth and Kane got a better look at him in person on his return. The leather daddy’s beard was black reaching down to the bottom of his pecs which were covered by a leather vest unbuttoned; revealing a thick skin but what appeared to be 3 vertical scars down the front. As he approached closer with the drinks he noticed deep red outlines and highlights upon his leather gear, boots and belt holding his jeans that sternly accented his outfit. “Let’s go outside boy.” With that Samael looped his arm around the boy’s shoulder and guided him through the crowd to the outdoor patio. A grin emerged between the elder’s lips as he was anticipating making the boy squirm but had to keep his ambitions in control. He definitely couldn’t let him fully wander far with too many fallen souls to scare him off after finally luring him in. As soon as they were within the door’s range he lit the cigar and Kane shuddered, smelling the aroma; deep, rich, and a burning that was all new to him and intimidating. He especially was thrilled when Samael didn’t care to shield his exhale from the boy and Kane tried everything to avoid coughing but he couldn’t. “You’ll get used to it, it helps to develop those darker tastes we talked about.” Samael put away his lighter and tasted the beer. “Any cash left boy?” A quick response sputtered out. “No Sir.” “Oh really?” Kane felt a firm hand on the back of his neck and he was forced to face those disapproving eyes again. “So how much did it cost?” He didn’t think he would have to be forced to admit how Kane resolved the shortfall. So of course he had to be direct as he felt the pressure on spine. “It was $15 Sir.” “So how is that covered with the $3 I gave you?” Samael puffed on the cigar drawing in the smoke in his mouth. The ember from the small fire reflected wickedly in the pupils of the leather daddy’s eyes; almost scaring Kane to try to escape but all he could do was start to crumble. “I used a $20 I had to cover it.” The chest had started to release tension and relax at the confession but Samael’s brow furrowed and the unfamiliar stench of cigar smoke bombarded Kane’s breathing. “So what happened to my $3 if you blew your $20?” Samael demanded as Kane coughed. “This is what happens when you’re not direct with me boy, you choke on useless words.” Struggling to get his breath back as he felt his lungs swell a bit. “I was-” He stressed but one look at the man before he forced it out. “-ashamed Sir. For not even checking how much you gave me before I ordered your drinks. So I tipped the $3 to the bartender.” Kane had sunk to his knees and found Samael’s boots, well cared for leather with red embossed engraving and a silver emblem but he couldn’t make it out being dizzy. But kneeling before the boots changed his focus and the dominant man caught it. “Boy when I ask you a question you never lie to me and you sure as hell answer it directly. Give me what you have left and I’ll let you kiss and lick my boots.” There was a slight hesitation as Kane instinctively reached to grab the last of his currency. What was he going to do to get home? He couldn’t call his family or friends to pick him up, they would ask too many questions. Why did he have to give his safe passage home to someone he just met tonight in person? That last thought occurred right as Kane reached up holding that $5 bill to the man he was bowing before. “Good boy.” The paper slipped out of his fingers and the sensation of complete vulnerability started to sink deep within Kane. Others were watching, he felt shame overwhelming him in his emotions. But he looked up and seemed to know but not realize that was necessary. “Now you may ask, boy.” On his knees looking up, Kane could sense about a dozen sets of eyes beaming at him besides the bold pair he stared into before him. The pressure converted the anxiety into obedience and he eagerly said. “May I kiss and lick your boots, Sir?” Samael felt a ping of regret wondering if he’d passed the point and if it had interfered with his plans. He was enjoying this, forcing a man with his power to submit to this humiliation and obedience but there was a greater purpose laid out for Kane he had to commit to. “Yes boy.” As Kane crawled forward and licked the toe cap and lining of his boots, Samael tried to focus the drive. He was confident the boy before him was the perfect being to fulfill his needs but he feared he had already planted the dark ideas too forcefully now. “Get up and sit down on the bench boy.” Samael ordered and Kane seemed a bit heart-fallen as he obediently stopped and sat in the directed spot. A couple others gestured disapproval in the short discipline but they went to mind their own business. “I guess I got carried away.” Kane’s mentality seemed to shake as he saw a gentile face looking down at him. He warmed up to his developed personality and immediately went into a polite gentile response. “It’s completely fine, I feel like I might be a bit over-eager.” A smile and chuckle emerged as Samael rubbed the younger man’s head, that smile bearing into a malicious smirk out of site as he realized that Kane’s purity had preserved itself just in time. And the boy’s ambitions revealed his suspicions. Putting on his caring act he pursued his ploy “Kane, there was a question I needed to ask you that I didn’t feel was appropriate online.” The boy raised a brow, intrigued as they had discussed many [banned word] topics and kinky topics but it had all been fantasy and thoughts before, never actually playing or acting it out. Before Kane could inquire Samael asked. “What was your deepest desire when you started checking out the websites and interest in the leather community?” Kane seemed confused, not by what was asked but realizing this is what was driving him earlier when he was on his knees and his craving to submit and lick the boots had full control practically. He recognized and identified it but couldn’t seem to understand it. “Well, I…” Desperation fed by paranoia brought up panic in Kane as he started to think in a submissive manner. “Sir, I feel a purpose to-” “No, no.” Samael calmly interrupted. He softly hugged the boy to his body, feeling Kane’s hair on his chest as he squeezed and rubbed. “You haven’t seemed to answer this question yourself. And you need to fully comprehend what this ambitious purpose will result in if you continue to allow it to motivate you.” Kane felt so assured he was in the hands of pure experience and wisdom; and contributing to his eventual doomed fate it was divine truth. He was searching blindly through his mind, breaking down the sensations and trying to deduce what had led him to this point. “I needed to escape.” “From something dangerous?” “No, from….well actually it feels like I needed to escape to something dangerous.” The leather daddy’s hopes were building into gratitude in his efforts and purpose. Samael implored. “Well that doesn’t sound normal but what was holding you back from pursuing your needs?” The answer presented itself plainly before Kane but he couldn’t believe it. “No, that can’t-” Samael thought to keep the boy on track but he knew he was already in a mental tailspin to realize the truth. He knew it was inevitable at this point. “I grew up never missing Church, never hating another man or woman, being brought up to eventually follow my father’s guidance into the ministry. I’ve never known anything other than the bright spirituality of our Lord and Savior. I’ve never gotten to explore and understand the-” Kane stopped and seemed to struggle to speak the words he couldn’t comprehend. “I can help you explore the...drives and unknown things you wish to discover. But I can’t help you if you can’t identify what’s holding you back.” Samael motivated, waiting to hear what he had patiently waited for nearly in four months. Kane stuttered, almost as if he was about to cry but then an emotion helped him conquer the uncertainty and build determination: doubt. “I have to escape from my own purity.” Samael couldn’t help himself, he chuckled eventually laughing with a boom as he squeezed and held Kane tighter. The boy was concerned initially that he had said something foolish but the laugh brought a chill of wickedness that grew concerning. Before he could contemplate another thought of concern Samael released him from the hug and leaned down. “Boy, I can help you escape from Purity once and for all.” Kane heard those words and instead of relief a burning drive erupted in him that caused a yearning for unrestrained freedom but alerted his spiritual sense of self preservation and control. “But-...what will happen to me-” “More than likely you will slowly start to escape from the bounds of purity as this world was born in Sin and temptations assure no escape. You find a yearning to indulge and enjoy the satisfaction of Sin but your spiritual clarity won’t let you damage your reputation of a pure soul, will it?” Kane felt trapped between himself and a guiding power of undeniable logic that was trying to save him. “But what will happen to my soul?” Samael thought to take a gamble, but he was afraid that he would lose control and devour the young man before him. But there was no other alternative; he needed that final motivation. Samael voided the gap between Kane and him, bringing their lips in a deep and passionate kiss while forcing his essential hunger to subside with great effort. Samael broke the kiss, struggling for air and so was Kane. The young man panted heavily wide eyed at the man who had broken the illusion secretly harming himself. “What will happen to your life? This is your time and place to make the choices that fulfill your purpose.” Kane’s face was in a state of wonder and epiphany before he sternly looked at the man he needed. “Help me.” The foul being revealed it’s malicious smile at the boy as he exploited the surrender. Kane’s expression didn’t even falter as his capulation was determined. “You weren’t going to need that money for the bus anyway. I’m taking you home to corrupt you.” Kane’s hands had been tied, his eyes blindfolded, and ordered to remain quiet and to clear his heads of all thoughts. After the realization of what he needed most from his desires he thought that last order would be quite impossible but a fog seemed to manifest in his thoughts; slowing the transition of his logical thinking or any sense of question. In those rigid moments before he succumbed to this mental state he thought he might have been drugged but it was nonetheless the ability of a fallen angel. Samael didn’t release the mental fog until Kane’s body was fully restrained upon a round stone altar with his own symbol bestowed since before time. The boy’s body was fully exposed to the light of the burning oils and lamps that casted glowing reflections upon statues, metal emblems, and artifacts unfamiliar to humans for millennia that cast swirling shadows around the room. The only natural light that didn’t emit from a malevolent object were sparse lights from the city trying to reach in from the skylights of the warehouse roof. But even the stars would not show through to the lair of sinful bounds pulsing from the pit of the abandoned factory basement. Knowing he had to work quickly before his window would close forever and Kane would be lost to the primal inhibitions of mankind, Samael sliced through the palm of his hand before smearing it on the center of Kane’s back chest. The warm blood started to increase in temperature and start to burn the skin causing the offering to call out. “What have I done?!” Kane bellowed into the altar, unable to move as he felt the searing mark his skin before vanishing into vapor. “You have betrayed your soul, banishing your sense of purity from it and denying its purpose.” Samael replied back, yelling boldly to echo and impact his victim. He could sense the one emotion building up in Kane’s soul that he needed most of all to pull him through and use him as a host. There was a lack of fear, shame, or doubt; guilt was overcoming the boy who willingly fell before wicked intent. “I beg Mercy! I pray for Salvation from our lord and savior! Condemn my wretched soul once you save me from the wicked!” Samael grinned, Kane’s subconscious thoughts were being manipulated against him and generating guilt; the one sentiment that would preserve the purity long enough for him to harvest and manifest the new being. He couldn’t help but enjoy the mental torment Kane was subjecting, in a way to himself. Especially as his blood continued to mystically mark his skin in long forgotten patterns and phrases that were channeling changes to the host body. “You deserve none. God will not follow you here and I will be your savior through darkness and whatever light you may try to face. Your own body betrays your sense of innocence as it reveals what your true desires ache for.” Kane’s body vibrated with blissful sensations and soon his cock achingly grew erect; the full shaft sliding across the altar as pre-cum barely helped; the friction scraped his cock head as it dragged across the rough stone surface. The light scratches burned as the blood triggered a reaction from the altar and amplified masochist desires in Kane. The mere human cried out for release from this distress; sensations he couldn’t fathom corresponding all at once upon him. The wretchedness of what occurred before him caused Samael’s own cock to pulse with veins that turned into a deep unholy black. Samael’s body reacted to the progression of the ritual, slowly revealing the spiritual being within as it’s lust for the event grew immense. The pupils in his eyes had grown dark before emitting red glimmers of immoral radiance. Hairs in his beard had changed to silver and white; the patterns showing grim age and an abominable reflection around the face of what used to be human. The piercings on his body showed ancient dark symbols that pulsed and glowed in random sequence as the muscles near each emblem fed with each surge in demonic energy. Fangs snarled as a long tongue emerged from the mouth of the body as claws grew and stretched in a fierce method from the man’s bare feet and knuckles. There was no longer a grin, or hint of any corrupt joy upon the being as it stared hungrily with a purpose at the human flailing against the metal restraints. The full leather harness complimented the body as it grew and warped. It showed the cursed symbol of Samael and a demonic symbol that ended with sharp, clawed biohazard symbols, glimmering a vicious red amongst the unnatural shadows. A deep voice erupted as the being approached it’s victim. “Your purity is no longer bound to your soul, you have denied your right to approach the gates of paradise.” Samael’s cock completely swelled to a fierce fourteen inches with bulbs and ridges; inspiring intimidating thoughts of sinister repercussions. “You will surrender your purity to the birth of a grim being to be bonded to you; grow with it in strength, presence and corruption as you walk among the earth. You will surrender your body to God’s venom and let it course through your veins till your body turns to ash. Allow the dark one within you to grow upon the life suffering of mankind through the venom as it contaminates you and any body you bond with as one.” Kane gasped in horror with his sentence even as his thoughts profusely echoed in his mind. He felt the restraints vanish without a sound in the shadows as he heard Samael step up on the altar. He turned over, slowly crawling back as terror started to grow. The boy recognized the being nearly twice his size in height as the monstrosity version of the leather daddy. And yet with all emotions and wicked pressures weighing on him he still strangely felt the yearning to submit. “Sir!” Kane pleaded as he climbed forward and fully bowed nude before the demonic master. “I beg of you, I pledge my servitude in whatever time and commitment submitted as I am. To fulfill in any way adoration of you as my master.” Samael paused his approach as he maliciously started laughing at the human and suddenly Kane gasped as his own voice bellowed in his head; different phrases all at once but each one clearly distinct before and after. “I will serve you with full commitment, Sir.” “I want to be owned by you Sir.” “Your will shall be my fate, Sir.” “I do not want to know purity by your will, Sir.” “I want to be corrupted by your will, never questioning my dark desires and ambitions, Sir.” “I want to earn the right to call you my master, Sir.” Kane deeply panted in confused lust as his cock dribbled pre-cum with endless fathom at the self realization of what he had just heard from deep within. He heard from Samael “You have already surrendered yourself to your deepest desires. Your plea is of no necessary matter even to you.” Kane felt a weird mix of defeat yet fulfillment, wanting to feel foolish it took him this long to realize what he wanted but before he could contemplate he saw a muscled clawed foot before him and he looked up, seeing all the dark, toxic, and malicious tattoo’s, markings, and scars etched on the scuffed muscles before his eyes met the captivating glare of his master. “Now submit to your desires and receive what I shall bestow upon you.” The faulted man gazed over the glowing biohazard markings constrained within a pentagram, and the symbol he strangely trusted was the one bonded to the mythical being before him. With barely any struggle, Kane turned around on all fours and presented his body before the dark being. “Please Sir, I gladly accept and honor what you are about to grant me.” Kane heard a roar of hunger before he felt the force of Master Samael pinning him and prostrating him with the unholy toxic cock. The nerves overloaded with severe pain and emotional despair that his brain started to pass out but his master halted that human function first. The shaft was still intruding the bowls of Kane, causing the human to scream out in excruciating pain as he felt his virgin hole torn and shredded. As his conscious mind attempted to make peace with his fate he gagged as he felt an invading tongue and gnawing kiss. Master Samael was invading Kane’s other hole and choking him with his profane tongue. The human who had discarded himself from his initial species initially thought it was to extend the torture but as he retched he felt an intimate factor. Kane’s eyesight was getting fuzzy with what was happening to him but he thought he saw his new demonic master express a sense of devotion in his work upon Kane; however he didn’t realize it was in more ways than one. Samael’s abilities concentrated as he invaded deeply into the human being; tuning in to match the spiritual connections of Kane and starting to viciously attack it. He had to break through to the soul so he could use Kane’s purity and innocence as long as they could both trap it. Samael was incredibly surprised; he truly had found the perfect human to fulfill his purpose. His feat would have been nearly impossible if Kane hadn’t been able to accept his actions and ambitions as his own and fulfill them without regret. His purity would have easily escaped as fear would have denounced his ambitions. And he had already corrupted too many mindless poz pigs over the decades. Despite Kane’s surrender to his demonic master his soul was still resilient and unable to deconstruct with any human will on itself. Samael’s attempts were proven fruitful though as eventually the human’s soul fell apart and imploded; it’s spiritual entities of morals, purpose, ambitions scattering and revealing it’s core purity. This was quickly and wholly engulfed by Samael with malicious and savory success. And for once the demon felt the pieces that had once been Kane and felt a slight emotion of regret. With their bodies, Samael started to glow violently as he stressed difficulty containing and holding the essence that was toxic in a way to all malevolent beings. Like radiation it was severely damaging the demonic master but with the talismans on his leather harness he overcame the core entrapment that had once claimed Kane. “Soon my slave, you will boast how this part of you that restrained you with such irrelevant purpose in life was corrupted and enabled you to spread blissful toxic lust.” The demon growled as he exploited the entity inside him into a fowl spiritual being. Unfortunately with Kane’s soul shattered, his body simply reacted to the physical sensations that he could feel: intense pain, the pressure from Samael’s body, tongue and shaft. His eyes listless and void, Kane would never be close to human again once Samael’s curse was completed. “Finally, I can enjoy this act of unholy initiation…” Samael was relieved as he withdrew his tongue from the front orifice of the body he was raping, allowing it to breathe properly. The demonic shaft, however, swelled and pulsed as not only would it be a charged toxic demon load, but one that would infuse another spiritual entity. As the demon plunged it’s profane dick into the human body it snarled. “You were so easy in the end to surrender to me. If it wasn’t for your purpose I would have corrupted your body long ago and kept you as a submissive slave even in human form.” Heavy amounts of blood and feral yellow bodily fluids squirted and dribbled out of Kane’s ass as Samael’s member plunged in. “I barely could contain myself waiting this long. But I had to entrap you in the purest form possible. And now that I know what you’re capable of, I can hardly regret forcing you through this.” The body’s anal region was pulverized as the shaft continued to forcibly invade. The demon seed was already dripping and corrupting it on a biological level: the HIV virus rapidly corrupting the cells with a toxic strain synthesized after years of mutations and transfers. The altar was vibrating with an ominous tone as it responded to the blood mixing between innocent and malice. Samael shuddered in bliss, barely keeping himself up. “You will pass this on with dark intent to innocent humans like you once were” Samael grunted as he could feel his member plunge deep into the muscles and tissues. He could only imagine how much blood he had infected mutilating Kane’s body like this. However he sneered; feeling a dark and twisted sensation as he got suddenly stimulated and his shaft started to rapidly swell. “Not only will you be pozzing humans like I would have inevitably done to you, but you shall be given more. You will help me in rescuing humans from their purity that they have used to enslave themselves. Behold the gift that I force upon your existence!” The skin tissue on Samael’s shaft started to harden as it expanded, forcing the brutally raped hole to stretch even further. Crystallized shards of demon cum started to emit from the slit and encased themselves in the blood drenched bowels to slowly transform the body into a malevolent being of darkness. The deep pants and groans coming from the dark beast grew rapid and quicker until a deep breath was forced and a shrieking roar bellowed from the jaws as an abominable orgasm ripped through him. Jets of demonic cum varying from potent yellow to toxic black rocketed from the slit and flooded the former human body it had mated with. The blood rapidly fused and started to change with a dark shadow genetic structure; the new demonic DNA spreading and corrupting other parts of the body in what would be a painful and masochistic thrilled sensation. The grim eyes of Kane slowly began to gain a sense of life as his spiritual entity was formed with a modified evolution. The former human feeling a sense of confusion, intense pain, and overwhelming sensations tying dark bliss and sadistic intent clawed at the surface of the altar as he called out in his state of wretchedness. He felt a slimy tongue wrap around him and invade his mouth. Kane suckled the tongue with intrigue, finding it almost calming to the overwhelming impacts that were erupting through his body. It was the only kindness he received as it guided him into a kiss with the mate that had remade him. The act passionately invigorated lust as it continued to plunge it’s rear member into him, forcing the seed it spawned deeper. It reassured the new formed demon of its place was well intended and in a way safe within the will of the monstrosity that had made him. With that it’s master allowed the sensations to overwhelm what was human to allow the new being to pass out in peace.
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Just for today, just for the holiday: It's not hard, he thinks, seducing these neg only safe-sex only clean cut types. Just lie to them. Tell them what they want to hear, say, "Yes, I'm clean and disease free" (Technically HIV is not a disease, it's a virus). Smile in your pictures a little mysteriously and nod at all the right moments, "Yes, I always practice safe-sex" (What does that mean anyway...like if we don't end up knifed to death...that's safe sex right...?). Start in quick but subtle with the ever tried and true, "So what kind of porn do you like? I love XXX and ZZZ" (bareback only studios that are poz-friendly). "Yeah, they're awesome..." "Yeah, bareback is the best." "Yeah..." They're mine...all the time. It's so easy to invite them over and have them look and stare and think, "He's so nice," and smile broad and say, "Come inside, the bedroom is this way," Leading them easily over and over again, into the bedroom, "Make yourself comfortable and take off your clothes." Casually do the same, and look at the monitors playing porn then say, "So what kind of guys do you like." Do the my type and your type game for a bit and then just nod slightly and kick back in bed and led the clumsy foreplay begin. Let them trip over themselves over and over again as they try to impress you and just keep glancing back and forth to the screens of porn and then chuckle aloud and say, "I've got something for you to try." Reach to the side of your bed and pull out that glass pipe and a micro torch and smile as you heat the pipe just so and then hit it just right, watch their eyes grow big and they never say anything contrary. Exhale a perfect white cloud of that fucking fantastic smoke and then pass them the pipe and say, "Here, hold it in your mouth like this," as you position the pipe in their mouth, and finally say, "I'll light it for you, just inhale when I say so." They barely nod but you can sense their excitement bleeding into the air. Heat the pipe again and then when that white smoke starts to rise to the top, say, "Hit it." Always "hit it" because that sets them up to fall so far down they won't ever hit the ground. And then ya just let the white smoke do its magic. Pretty soon Mr. I'm Safe Sex Only guy is on his back with his eyes dilated with fuck-lust saying, "Fuck my pussy! Fuck my pussy!" And it's hot because he's so straight-arrow clean-cut nicely dressed jock guy...with an ass so wet you can stick your raw cock in it at any moment. So you do while you hit the pipe and let him watch you in awe as you take the hit and slide into him and fuck him hit after hit. You fuck him doggy and sitting so that he can take some hits as well...you are after all, generous to a fault. It's so natural to just ask him, "You want me to knock you up? You want me to poz you?" It's so natural for him to say, "Yes. Breed me. Please breed me." So you do, and you smile as his pupils dilate and he smiles feeling your toxic seed spraying inside him and you both gasp and then you smile when he reaches for the pipe and asks you to help light the pipe. "Of course," you say. What else would an incubus do?
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