Betting On His Demon (2 page)

“I thought you were much better at celebrating,” a voice said behind him after the last of the retching was done.  “You were the ultimate party boy, yet you’re reduced to this?”

Julian looked over his shoulder and saw Olivier standing there smiling.  “You promised me a decade.  Why are you here now?”

“Well, that’s another misnomer about signing one’s soul away.  The movies get it wrong time and time again.  I get so sick of explaining how this works.”

“Wrong?” Julian asked, another wave of nausea slamming into him.

The evil smile that rolled over Olivier’s face was the coldest thing Julian had ever witnessed.  “You are now mine.  I
own
you.  And you’ll do my bidding from this point forward, and into eternity.”

Another wave of nausea hit Julian.  “Your bidding?  What do you mean?”

Olivier snapped his fingers and suddenly they were in a dimly lit, opulent room.  Julian lay on a cold, gray marbled floor, the coolness feeling good to his heated flesh.  Richly brocaded velvet drapes covered all four of the walls of the expansive space.  A spotlight flooded over a poker table made from what looked like mahogany and gold, where Olivier now sat, one trim leg folded over his other, his elbow resting on the felt.

Olivier pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and motioned for Julian to sit at the table across from him.  Julian hauled himself up and took the seat, the softest leather he’d ever felt.  As he looked about the rest of the room, he saw chunky wooden furniture that looked like something out of a medieval dungeon, but the ill light made it hard for him to focus.

Suddenly Julian realized it was a dungeon, but one for sexual torment, not for the Dark Ages set.  He swallowed as he wondered why Olivier had brought him here.  “What is this place?”

“My rec room, of course.”

Rec room?
  This guy was definitely not sane.

“Sanity is a relative thing.  Your reality is different than mine.”

Julian shook his head.  His reality didn’t seem so far off at the moment.

Olivier took the cards from the box and spread them in a perfect arc face down on the green felt.  “I brought you here because I need your help.”

“My help?  In what?”

“My cousin
Carreau has beaten me at cards for the last two thousand years.  Every. Single. Time.  We have our weekly match coming up in less than an hour, and you’re going to help me win this time,” Olivier said.

“How do you want me to help you?  Do you want me to teach you what I know?”

“Teach me?” Olivier cried incredulously.  “I’ve been playing poker since its inception and you ask me if you can teach me?  Boy, I could play rings about you and take you for all you were worth and more.”

“Then I don’t understand why I’m here,” Julian said.

“Simple.  Distraction.”

“Distraction?” Julian asked.

Olivier smiled.  “My cousin and I oft go to Las Vegas, that wonderful little den of inequity; although its more recent turn in the attempt to be
family-friendly
makes me ill.  Yes, let’s bring the children to see half-naked women, booze, and gambling!”

“Perhaps it will create better gamblers in the future,” Julian said with a laugh.

Olivier smiled, holding his hand above the table.  The cards magically sprang back into his hand, perfectly in sync and in line with one another.  “Perhaps, but I don’t enjoy the white-washing.  The mobsters really knew what they were doing when they created the town. Give me more sin, more sex, and more death any day.”

Julian squirmed in his seat at the mention of death.  Was this the end?  He’d been promised ten years.

“And you’ll get your ten years, you little whiner.  As long as you do what I say.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, my cousin and I like to vacation in Sin City, where we can revel with all of the vice going on around us.  One day, we happened to catch a tournament you were participating in and I do say my cousin took a fancy to you rather quickly.”

“What?”  Julian was confused.

“Yes, I was a little shocked myself.  Carr usually has much better taste in the men he likes to fuck, but I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Julian spr
ang up from the chair.  “Why am I here?”

“We’ve been through this already.  You’re here to distract my cousin so I can win a hand of cards.  Now sit!”  The last two words were so loud Julian lifted his hands to his ears, the pain intense.

Julian was flung back into the seat, not under his own power.  He stared at Olivier, fear truly sinking in.  What had he gotten himself into?

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Oliv
ier said as he chuckled.  “Much, much more than you bargained for, trust me.  Why no one reads the damned contract before they sign it, I’ll never know.”

“What is it you expect me to do?” Julian asked.

Olivier waved his hand about, and Julian levitated from his seat.  His body was frozen, and he was powerless to do anything.  His clothes began to strip away from his body, leaving him completely nude within moments.  Once he was bare, Olivier stood and circled Julian, perusing Julian’s body.

“Actually, it’s better than expected.  You’re rather well built.” Olivier turned and stopped before Julian and glanced down at Julian’s cock.  “Aren’t you now?  Maybe Carr saw more in you than I realized.”

Julian sucked in a ragged breath, fear filling him.  “What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh, me?  Nothing.  I’m not gay.  I prefer to pillage from the opposite sex, not my own, although I can admire a nicely wrought male human form just like my cousin.  You are quite the muscled beefcake under all those clothes, aren’t you?”

Heat flooded Julian’s face. 

Olivier crossed his arms over his broad chest.  “Yes, if I were gay, I think you’d do quite nicely.”  Olivier smiled widely.  “I’ll win for sure.”

“What will happen to me?”

Olivier waved a hand, and a segment of the curtains along the wall parted.  Two chained cuffs hung from the ceiling, and a large marble rod protruded from the wall halfway to the floor. 

As Julian looked at it, his eyes grew large.  Was he going to be impaled on a wall?  As soon as the thought struck, his feet began moving.  He propelled himself to the wall, yet he wasn’t in control of his body.  Once there, Olivier drew closer and lifted one of Julian’s hands to the first cuff, which he closed around Julian’s wrist.  He repeated the task with the other and when Julian was bound, Olivier snapped his fingers.  A bottle of lube appeared on Olivier’s palm.

“No, you can’t do this!”

“Article five, section three.  Yes, I can do this, and yes, I
will
do this.”

Olivier opened the top of the lubricant and reached behind Julian.  Julian heard the squeezing sound of the lube being emptied.  Soon after, Julian’s body was lifted into the air and his ass was brought against the large phallus.

Olivier walked around to face Julian.  “Be glad I lubricated the schlong, Julian.  I would typically prefer to inflict more pain, but since you’d be no real good to Carr at that point, I’ll play nice for now.”

Julian stiffened, feeling his body sink on the phallus an inch or so, the tight band of nerves stretching and burning.  “I’ve never done this.  I’m not gay.”

“Oh, you will be before the night is over,” Olivier said smugly.  “And relax.  I hear it’s much easier to get butt-fucked when you relax.  But what do I know?”

Julian sucked in a deep breath as the fake shaft pushed into his ass.  He tried to relax some, but the pain was tremendous.  “Couldn’t you have started smaller?”

“That cock isn’t even as big as Carr’s, so I wanted you to be prepared properly.  Who knows where the night may lead?”

Isn’t as big as Carr?  Julian’s eyes rounded as the cock slid past the thick band of nerves and hit home.  His legs wobbled and he pulled on the chains, the power over his own body back in his control.

To a point.  He was bound and stuffed on a wall, so he really had no control whatsoever.

His knees shook, and he bit his lip as the pain ebbed.  But after a few moments, the pain subsided and began to be replaced with something else.

Pleasure?

Shame filled Julian as he realized the sensation of his ass being filled wasn’t altogether unpleasant.  His cock started to thicken and stretch before him, adding to his humiliation. 

“Oh, this is going to be delicious.  You
like
it!  You like that cock up your ass, you little closet-loving hetero-homo, you.”

“I’m not gay!”

“Says the man enjoying the cock in his ass,” Olivier said mockingly.  “But this will only make things easier.  Once Carr arrives, you need to use your masculine wiles on him.”

“My masculine wiles?”

Julian nodded, quite pleased with himself.  “Yes.  You need to
flirt
.  Bat your eyelashes.  Roll your hips so your cock sways.  You need to move up and down that mighty rod in your ass and fuck yourself as Carr watches.  He’ll be so distracted by the end, I’ll win for sure.”

“Do you always go to such lengths to beat your cousin?”

“If you hadn’t won a game in two thousand years, you would’ve resorted to these tactics long ago.  I’m due for a win, and I’ll have it, come hell or high water.”  Olivier stood straighter and chuckled.  “Oh, I’ve always loved that saying.  Come
hell
or high water.  You humans and your cute little idioms.”

Julian tried to ignore the burning pleasure coursing through his veins, the cock in his ass making him throb.  It had been at least a month since he’d had sex or even masturbated, not since the dreaded diagnosis.  Before that, he couldn’t even remember his last partner’s name.

“Cassandra.  She was a leggy blonde who stole your Mastercard when she left.”

Julian sighed.  “Will you
stop
that?” 

“No,”  Olivier said conceitedly.  “What reason would I have to stop?”

Julian went back to trying to ignore the sensation in his backside.  “If I do this—you know, wiggle on the wall and bat my eyelashes at your cousin—then you’ll let me go home?”

“Yes.  For now.  Until the next game, of course.”

Hadn’t he said weekly games?  Julian sighed, realizing he might be abused each and every week from here to eternity.  Somehow, the thought wasn’t as distasteful as it should be.  Julian’s cock was hard as a rock and oozing pre-cum to the marble floor. 

But then, he hadn’t seen this Carr, or
Carreau, or whatever his name was.  These guys were demons.  Just because Olivier was handsome and dapper didn’t mean his cousin would be as well.  Horrid images of movie monster demons flooded his mind.  Horrific figures, drenched in ooze, with gaping teeth and claws, came to the fro.  His heart sped up again and fear clenched him.

Olivier moved back to the table and pulled a container of chips from thin air, setting it on the table.  Lights flicked on and another spotlighted the table, bathing it in a halo of light.  Another set came on and spotlighted Julian and his predicament.  Julian clenched his teeth, more humiliation heaped on him.  He closed his eyes to the torment, but that only made the sensations from the cock in his ass more focused.

Julian tried to stop it, but his hips moved involuntarily and a moan escaped his lips.  His eyes flashed open, and shame hit in a fresh wave.  He wasn’t gay.  He
wasn’t
gay.

“Yes, keep telling yourself that, Julian.  Maybe you’ll believe it as you’re pumping that cock in and out of your ass shortly,” Olivier called from over his shoulder.

Air wavered beside the table, the space behind it growing blurry.  A popping sound echoed through the room, and suddenly a male stood where the blur had been.  Not just a man, but the most gorgeous specimen of masculinity Julian had ever laid eyes on.  Julian looked his fill, his mouth opening as he perused the male.

Carr stood a few inches taller than Olivier, wearing an ivory tailored suit jacket and slacks.  His white button down shirt was opened a few buttons and exposed his smooth, sexy flesh.
His skin was deeply tanned, almost golden.  It shimmered, a gilded effect that made him appear wrought from gold dust.

His hair was dark chocolate, with soft waves of strands curling around his ears and falling just below the collar of his jacket.  Dark brows slashed above his pale eyes and were split by a narrow nose that arrowed down to firm, succulent lips—lips Julian already wanted to taste.  He licked his own, wondering how it would feel to be under a male like that.  Tall and lean, the man was simply spectacular.

Olivier spun to face Julian, an eyebrow raised.  “Yes, Julian, continue to repeat your mantra over and over and over again, as much as you need.”

As soon as Olivier was done, Julian’s gaze drifted back to the specimen of male perfection behind Olivier.  Julian was not gay.

But for that man, he might reconsider.

Julian suddenly realized there were two small horns on either side of Carreau’s forehead.  Brown in color, they were covered up and blended in with his hair.  No bigger than Julian’s thumbs, they were barely noticeable.  But they made Julian wake up a little.  This was no man he encountered.  This was a demon.