Author's Notes: This story contains the following: Anal, Hermaphrodite, Demons, (Mild) Mind Control, Fantasy, Fellatio, Femdom, a little Bondage and some Romance.
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Hamid Abedi's first clue that something had gone seriously wrong was the headache he felt as he clawed his way back up to consciousness. The second clue was the blurred vision. He blearily tried to make sense of his surroundings. There was a dim memory of finally giving in to Randall's teasing and taking a few swigs of alcohol. It was his first drink ever, but surely it couldn't have affected him
this
badly.
He couldn't see much. It was a dim room, lit only by candlelight, and he got the general impression of red and black.
"Hamid! You're awake. Good."
Randall's cheerful voice seemed to chase away the last of his cobwebs, and Hamid blinked his dark hazel eyes as he fully woke.
He was in a small room, probably a basement since he saw no windows. The wall facing him was bare concrete and the other two that he could see were covered in cheap dark-wood paneling that had seen better days.
Hamid couldn't see the wall behind him, because he was currently tied to a steel support pillar in the middle of the room. He tried to move his limbs and test his restraints. Hamid was a big guy and plenty strong thanks to playing lots of intramural rugby, but he still had no luck in loosening his bonds. His wrists were bound behind the pillar with what felt like a belt. There was a rope around the polo shirt over his broad chest, and another rope around his forehead. A second belt was strapped around the top of his thighs near groin-level, preventing him from using his legs.
That was all very bad, but what really made the sweat start to appear under his short and curly black hair was the thing laid out on the floor in front of him. The worn shag carpet had been hastily ripped up to reveal bare concrete, and in the middle of that cleared area was drawn a pentagram in red ink. At least, Hamid hoped it was red ink. A large flickering candle stood at the point of each pentagram.
Randall's voice came again from somewhere behind him. "Sorry, my man, but you need to be awake for this. You can't just die without waking up. You see, your fear is part of what will seal the bargain."
The words penetrated into his mind like an icy dagger. Hamid wetted his dry lips. "Now, Randall. This is a good prank, okay? Whatever this is, this teasing or hazing or whatnot, ya got me reeeeal good. I'm scared shitless, so you don't need to keep on with the act."
"Oh, this is no prank," replied Randall. "I now have incredible power within my reach. And your life is the key."
Hamid swallowed. Randall had been one of the 'cool kids' on campus, a trust fund asshole with a strong chin and a cheerful smile. Hamid hadn't thought of him as
evil
, exactly, just kind of annoying. The guy had always shown a fascination for the occult, but Hamid never thought that interest would extend into Randall actually trying some sort of satanic ritual. Or, for that matter, into trying his hand at human sacrifice.
Hamid cursed himself for not suspecting something earlier. Randall and his hangers-on had always teased him, called him 'towelhead' and 'dirty Arab' no matter how many times Hamid calmly explained that his ancestry was
Persian
, thank you very much. Besides, his family had emigrated to America two generations ago so it was all moot anyway.
But then Randall's treatment had flipped a few weeks ago. Suddenly the guy was trying to be Hamid's best buddy, trying to get him to 'lighten up a little', in his words. The fact that Hamid wasn't a drinker seemed to offend Randall, and the resulting battle of wills culminated in that half-remembered drink.
And now Hamid realized that drink must have been spiked. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice calm. "Randall? This is as far as it needs to go. You let me loose now, and you can have a big laugh at the towelhead, okay? We all shake hands and everything's cool. If you do something...more than that, well then it becomes really serious. Please, just think about..."
"Shut him up," said Randall.
A person stepped into Hamid's view, someone wearing a black silk robe and wearing a goat's-head mask. In other circumstances Hamid would have found the get-up laughable, but he wasn't laughing now. Hamid caught a flash of green eyes behind the mask and was pretty sure of who this was. Lonnie, one of Randall's hangers-on.
"Lonnie?" he asked in an almost whisper. Then, in a rising voice, "Please, Lonnie, don't-"
The goat-masked man shoved a rag into Hamid's mouth and then slapped a piece of duct tape over it. Hamid's breath came faster and whistled through his nose as he looked around in panic.
Randall finally stepped into Hamid's view, wearing the same black silk robe as the goat-masked man. He held a large tome under one arm and a smaller notebook under the other. His blue eyes twinkled as he winked at Hamid. "Sorry, my man. I know gagging you is kinda rude but we can't have you screaming. This particular house is abandoned, but the neighborhood isn't." He nodded at someone behind the pillar.
Hamid felt someone seize his hand, which was followed by a sharp slashing pain along the ball of his thumb. He jerked and tried to wrench his hand away, but the belt at his wrist held him fast. Whoever had hold of his thumb kept massaging it and Hamid could feel the warm trickle of blood dripping off of his injured digit.
The third person released his thumb and then his black-clad form walked out from behind Hamid carrying a small bowl. This person had a mask that looked like a human skull. Hamid suspected that the skull-masked man was Wilfred, based on the spare tire he was clearly carrying under that robe.
"We need a bit of your blood for our ink," said Randall. Skull-mask held up the bowl for Randall to inspect. Upon Randall's nod, Skull-mask moved off to a small table off to one side. The table held several vials and jars of various powders and liquids. The skull-masked man started adding their contents to the bowl, stirring after each addition.
Randall sighed in mock regret. "Unfortunately for you, that's not all we need."
Hamid tried to talk, but the rag in his mouth kept him from saying anything at all coherent.
The blonde man smiled. "I know, you're scared. I would be, in your shoes. Anyway, let me describe what's going on here. The more you know, the more scared you'll get and the better a sacrifice you'll make." He waved the larger tome at Hamid. "This is a translation of some old Sumerian demon-summoning rituals. It describes how to create spells which bring demons through into our world. There's also some incantations which protect the summoner from harm, and it also describes how to set up contracts with those demons."
Randall gave Hamid a little bow. "That's where you come in. See, I'm going to set up a contract where the demon gives me power..."
"You mean, where the demon gives
us
power!" said the goat-masked man. His voice was a little muffled by the mask, but Hamid was now certain he was Lonnie.
Randall gave Lonnie an exasperated look. "Yes, of course." He turned back to Hamid. "The demon will give 'us' power in this world in exchange for your soul."
Hamid's breath wheezed in and out of his nose. He could feel his heart jack-hammering in his ribs as Randall kept talking in a breezy tone.
"Now, of course, the pentagram is not a Sumerian symbol. Ya see, according to the book all you really need is something with the summoning phrase written on it. But I figure this shows a little more style, eh?" Randall waved a hand at the pentagram behind him. "Our big breakthrough was a few months ago. Before then, we tried these rituals several times with no luck. But then Paul Haskell went and vanished about seven months ago. Did you know him? Skinny guy, bit of a wallflower, really studious. Anyway, he up and disappeared without a trace. No sign of him at all. The only things left behind were his clothes, some ratty furniture...and this!"
Now Randall held up the other, smaller book. Hamid could see it was more of a binder than a book, with several pages threatening to slip out of it. "One of my homies had a class with Paul and managed to score this before Paul's sister could get it."
Lonnie drew himself up and looked pleased, or at least as pleased as he could while wearing a goat-mask.
Randall continued. "Ya see, Paul was working on an alternative translation for ancient Sumerian. There's a rumor floating around that he got too successful and actually summoned a demon by accident and got taken back to hell. I'm going to try and see if I can get that same demon to come here for you. I'm sure it will work, now that I'm using Paul's translation
and
I have your blood in the ink."
He gave Hamid a gleeful grin. "The part I'm most curious about is what the demon will do to you. Maybe he'll just eat you, or do something worse. He might have me slit your throat." He got a thoughtful look. "Yes, that is likely. After all, a murder by me would be a show of good faith on my part."
He bustled off out of Hamid's line of sight, then returned with a large and very sharp-looking chef's knife. He set it on the floor next to the pentagram and right in front of Hamid. Randall gave him another wink as he straightened up. "It's best to be prepared, right?"
Hamid tried once more to speak, but now they were now ignoring him. He could feel tears at the corners of his eyes. His slashed thumb brushed over the buckle of the belt binding his wrists, and the pain snapped his mind back into focus. He could just reach the buckle with his thumb. Maybe he could get at the strap threaded through it?
As he pushed against the strap with his thumb, Wilfred brought the blood-and-ink mixture back over as well as a small paintbrush. Randall took the bowl and the proffered brush and began humming happily while he bent and began writing around the edge of the pentagram. The script looked somewhat like hieroglyphics to Hamid's untrained eye.
It seemed to take forever for Randall to finish the summoning phrase. Hamid didn't mind, since that meant it gave him more time to tease the belt apart. He managed to get the strap of the belt unthreaded, and then pushed hard to try to get the belt-prong out of its hole. He felt the belt loosen just as Randall finished up. His hands were now no longer truly bound, but he kept his hands behind him as if they were. He edged both of his hands down ever so slowly. Maybe he could undo the belt around his lower section as well.
Randall straightened up with a satisfied nod. There was one conspicuously absent patch in the line of script around the pentagram. As Hamid edged his hands lower, Lonnie brought him a large mask that looked like a deer's skull complete with large spreading antlers. Randall set the bowl down and donned the mask.
