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by Charles W Jones


  “You will set me free?” She asked, her intertwined fists held at her chest.

  “If you truly desire it.”

  “I do.” She paused, then asked, “And the others? Will you free them as well?”

  Belphegor’s lip curled, ruining his smile. Cody winced, hoping that he’d never again see the magnificent face look so deranged.

  “They weren’t part of your deal, were they?” Without waiting for a response continued, “As you wish.”

  Belphegor stood, stepping closer to her. The cerulean emitting from him turned to indigo, washing over her. She froze; the features of her face no longer undulated, the masses under her dress stopped pulsing.

  In a second, she was as she had been. Her ebony skin was supple and smooth — the hair pouring from her scalp, sleek and shiny. Her once robust and beautiful face fully restored with full dark lips and high cheekbones as it had been seconds before she had died centuries ago. The Empress of ages past had returned for a moment. Her features began to contract, wrinkling into itself, but she did not move or call out with the agony Cody witnessed in her.

  A brightness, painfully burning through Cody’s skull, filled the room, followed by shrieking pleads, so loud and shrill he covered his ears with his hands, barely squelching the melee. Then as quickly as the sounds started they ended, and the blast of light dimmed, no longer blaring red through his eyelids. Removing his hands from his ears and opening his eyes, revealed Mr. Bel at the window; the woman had vanished. The silence washing over the room was as unbearable as the horrific sounds which had threatened to puncture Cody’s eardrums.

  Cody’s skin prickled the way it had when he’d first encountered Mr. Bel, giving him the advice to leave before the man’s power spilled onto him.

  Without a word or looking at the man at the window further, he made his escape. The rapid thudding in his chest slowed as he paused outside the room.

  Belphegor seethed at the window. Leaves of ice formed on the pane. Fog swirled away from his feet into the room. His anger wasn’t only directed at Cody. Yes, he had taken something from Belphegor, which he had earned, by unwittingly making a deal with the old whore from ages past. She had manipulated many a man before Cody, but never had she been as brazen in her dealings.

  He was angry with himself for not paying enough attention to what the damned souls he owned had been doing. They couldn’t be allowed to spoil things for him. Still, Cody needed to be punished for his crime; thou shalt not steal.

  The door moved inward as Cody passed. He glanced inside, but not for long; he didn’t want to be a voyeur. A man wearing tight jeans, plaid shirt with an onyx bolo tie, and cowboy hat stared back at him with dark orbs reflecting little light, then he blinked, revealing cool blue. A smile stretched the sun worn face.

  “Howdy,” he said with a thick drawl.

  “Sorry,” Cody replied. “I didn’t know there were any guests in the hotel. Have a great day.” He started again down the hall.

  “No problem. I was airing out the room. Gets a bit stuffy with no windows.”

  “I can find a fan for you if you like.” Cody paused his journey to the stairs, half turning to face him.

  “Nah. I don’t much care for them contraptions.” He paused assessing Cody. “You know what you can do.”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Have a drink with me.” Cody’s cheeks warmed to the cowboy’s drawl. “I’m just passin’ through, and haven’t wandered around much to meet any town folk.”

  “I guess it’s ok if you’re sure I’m not intruding.”

  “Oh, not at all. Not at all.” He grinned. “I’m Wayne, by the way.”

  “Cody,” he replied, slipping by the cowboy into the room.

  “Huh, I knew another Cody once, a long time ago.” He shut the door.

  Cody studied the room. The door joining the other room was closed. Noting the state of the bedding, he understood Jen’s insistence on replacing the hotel linens.

  Wayne’s boots made soft thuds as he stepped across to the nightstand where a bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses waited. He looked back at Cody as he poured the liquor, then handed him one. They clinked the glasses together and downed the liquid in a quick flick of the wrist; the back of Cody’s throat burned. Wayne removed his hat—dark hair sprayed across his forehead—hanging it on the bedpost, then loosened his bolo.

  “Want another?” the cowboy asked, taking the glass.

  “Sure, why not.”

  They performed the same drinking ritual, then Wayne put the glasses on the nightstand. When he turned back, the front of his jeans bulged where they had not before, drawing Cody’s attention. Wayne winked, noticing where Cody had placed his curiosity. He unbuttoned his shirt.

  Cody made no gesture for him to stop. The plaid shirt landed on the floor, leaving the bolo tie dangling around his neck. A hint of soap wafted from his body to Cody’s nostrils. Something about the liquor and the scent from him caused an eruption of attraction. Cody untucked his shirt and lifted it over his torso.

  “Did I say to take your shirt off, boy?” Wayne asked with a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “Oh? I thought…” His face warmed.

  “Did you? How nice.” The sarcasm in his voice baffled Cody. “Tell ya what. You can make it up to me.”

  “Um, I should go.” Cody turned to the door.

  “I didn’t give you permission to turn away from me, boy.” Cody froze, wondering what was going on. “You came in here, wanting to play. And play we will, but we’re playin’ by my rules. You understand me, boy?”

  “Uh?”

  “What’d you say, boy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Wayne grunted, then said, “Now take off them clothes,” Wayne commanded.

  With shaking hands, Cody removed his clothes and stood before the man shivering while the blood rushed to his hardening member. He’d heard of role-playing, but had never participated; something about it seemed strange nonetheless intriguing.

  “You’re having fun already, ain’t ya boy?” Cody nodded. “Now get on your hands and knees and lick these boots clean.” Cody looked at Wayne’s brown-leather boots, to his relief they were relatively clean. “And keep your eyes on me while you do it. Come on, boy, don’t make me tell ya again.” Cody obeyed. His strong thighs quivered as he assumed the demanded position. His tongue, darting in and out of his mouth, tapped the surface of the weathered leather. “Ya ain’t gonna get them clean that a way. Use it like you mean it.” He leaned over, slapping Cody on the ass, embossing a ruby handprint on the pale skin. Another blow landed on Cody’s bare skin and another. Cody opened his mouth wider, and his tongue extended, heavily lapping a boot.

  “Good boy.” Wayne praised. “Real good. Here have another shot.” He shoved the glass toward Cody as he knelt. “I didn’t tell ya to sit up, back down on all fours, boy.”

  When Cody was back into position, the cowboy straddled him, entwining his fingers in strands of hair. Pulling back, lifted Cody’s head and opened his mouth. Wayne shoved the glass to Cody’s wide mouth, filling it with the harsh liquid. Wayne stood to put the glass back, and returned, kneeling next to Cody.

  His icy hands rubbed and slapped Cody’s shoulders. He spat on his hand, then hit his firm butt three times. Cold fingers stroked his sphincter, then probed in slightly. Again, he slapped his ass, the sound echoing in the room. Cody moaned.

  “Ya likin’ it, boy?” A hand found Cody’s thick shaft and gripped it tightly. “Yeah, ya do.”

  Wayne released him and stood. Cody focused on him. The stern masochist had lost his fervor and sat on the bed. The cowboy’s brows pushed together. Hoping for no reproach, Cody moved toward him on hands and knees, looking expectantly at Wayne, hoping the game hadn’t ended.

  Wayne returned his attention to Cody. The smile which had greeted Cody at the door had returned, and the wicked gleam in his eye had vanished. Something had changed with the cowboy, had he lost interest? Cody hoped not.

 
; “What are you waiting for, boy?” Wayne asked without the menacing tone. “You know what to do.”

  Cody stared up at him. He wanted the order. He wanted Wayne’s commands and permission to do them. Wayne smirked with half-lidded eyes. His strong hand took hold of Cody’s hair, weaving it through his fingers, and forced his head into his crotch.

  Cody nibbled at the treasure hidden behind the denim, moistening the spot he worked. His head jolted back. The strength of the movement threatened to pull hair from his scalp; tears bubbled up automatically from the sensation though he was not sad or afraid, and hopped Wayne hadn’t noticed.

  Wayne released him and shoved him to land sprawled on the floor. Still, Cody watched his every movement, waiting for the next sensation to arouse him further. The cowboy moved from the bed to the dresser near the door. Pulling something from the space between it and the wall, he turned back to Cody with a coil of rope clenched in his fist.

  “On the bed,” he said with a stern tone. Cody crawled onto the bed. “On your back.”

  He laid in the center of the bed, never averting his gaze from the cowboy; the bolo tie still hung loosely around his neck, swayed in the nest of dark hair between his pectorals.

  First, he tied the rope around the low bed-post near the wall, then, with little slack, wound it around Cody’s ankle. Next, the rope was twisted around the opposite short post, and his free ankle.

  The stiff rope pricked at his skin, shooting excitement to his brain. Moving to the side of the bed Wayne wrapped the rope, tightly, once around Cody’s testicles and penis. A groan escaped Cody’s lips as the head of his cock glistened with fluid.

  Wayne straddled him; the rope pressed into Cody’s abdomen. Cody’s hand, wanting to the feel of the man’s flesh, rose to his chest and stroked the cool skin.

  Forcing his hand back with a tight grip, the cowboy shook his head as he leaned nearly touching his slave’s nose with his.

  He released the wrist and looped the rope around it three times. Sure there was no slack, he ran the rope around the tall bedpost near the wall. For a moment, he stared at Cody, running the remaining coil across his chest. Cody’s eyelids drooped shut, then popped wide open, not wanting to lose sight of his Master.

  He moved off Cody to the floor, replacing his hat on his head. Pulling the rope snugly to the other top post, he coiled it around it three times, then secured the free hand stretching and begging to be tied like the other.

  Returning to the dresser, Wayne heard Cody whimper his displeasure at being left alone. He pulled open a drawer, but Cody didn’t have the correct angle to see what he had retrieved and placed on the worn surface. Wayne remained turned away from his slave as his hands worked the belt buckle and buttons of his jeans, loosening them until they slumped at his sides and slid down enough to give Cody a view of his pale butt.

  Pressing one hand on the dresser, Wayne leaned to the side as he lifted his foot to pull the boot free. He repeated the action for the other. The faded jeans slid down his firm thighs, revealing more of what was hidden by the fabric.

  He left them in a pile on the floor, and while still facing away from Cody’s expectant stare, stepped into his boots. As he slipped whatever he had taken from the drawer into his hand, he turned. The manhood standing at an angle from his body was more than Cody had expected. While his endowment was great, the cowboy’s was somewhat larger.

  His hand, holding a red handkerchief, rubbed it over his balls and cock. A glaze of perspiration covered Cody as Wayne returned to the bed. Leaning over him with parted lips, he stopped short of meeting Cody’s lips. Cody lifted his head, wanting to taste him, but the cowboy pulled back with a smile.

  Air expelled from Cody’s mouth in frustration, and he lay his head back on the bed. Wayne came over him again, closer still, all he needed to do was move his head a fraction of an inch for Cody to fulfill his desire.

  Taking the chance, Cody acted, and for a second their lips collided. Wayne was quick to pull away as he stuffed the handkerchief into Cody’s mouth. At first, Cody had been shocked by the action but settled into the role, and relaxed, enjoying their playtime.

  Wayne skimmed his fingers over Cody’s chest, down his abdomen to his fiery cock; the tightness of the rope caused the blood flow to slow, causing it to become full and enraged and purple. The slightest touch sent spasms through him. His muscles flexed in unison. More liquid dribbled from the tip. The cowboy swirled his finger around the head, then stopped, allowing Cody to relax and stop his muffled moans.

  Staring up at Cody as he leaned between his legs, his hand massaged the delicate flesh of his inner thigh with a hand while the other worked his prize. The cowboy’s tongue ran from below his tight balls to the top of his throbbing cock. Cody’s groans became louder through the gag. The tongue returned to the starting point and started over. His muscles tensed with the stimuli.

  The cowboy straightened, staring back at Cody who wanted to touch him, take him in his mouth, however, his bindings allowed no movement.

  Wayne tilted his head back, and a moan escaped his mouth. Heat grew in Cody’s groin as his muscles tightened. A splash of warmth landed on him. Unable to keep his focus on the cowboy, he groaned with the last convulsion of his body. Heavy breaths escaped his flared nostrils. His heart ran rapidly.

  The cool room slipped into serenity as he lay for several minutes. His softening member tingled. Waking from his short slumber, he found an empty room.

  In the few moments that Cody had lain silent as his body calmed, Wayne had left. His jeans and shirt were no longer on the floor. The only traces of him were the rope binding Cody, and the handkerchief stuffed in his mouth.

  “Shith,” he mumbled through the handkerchief. “Shith, shith, shith.”

  “He doesn’t like bad words,” Becki said from the door to the adjoining room. His head jerked the side. She came into the room, assessing his predicament. “Strange game you and Wayne were playing.”

  He grunted his request to be untied. Her pale finger reached out and poked his flaccid manhood.

  “Gross. Why’s it sticky?”

  His tongue pushed at the handkerchief as she stared at his naked body with a wrinkled nose. The cloth was far enough out of his mouth, and he could speak.

  “Hi, Becki.” She looked at him as though she’d never seen a naked man before. “Untie this hand, please.” He wriggled his fingers.

  Her fingers pulled the cloth the rest of the way from his mouth, dropping it on the wetness on his chest.

  Working with a grimace, she untied the knot. When it was free, Cody shook the rope from his wrist. The rope loosened its grip around the opposite bedpost and wrist. Sitting up, he unwound the rope from around his genitals, then faster, releasing his ankles. While pulling on his clothes, he glanced at her as she sniffed at the shot glass with a wrinkled nose.

  “Thank you,” he said, peaking at her over his shoulder as he left the room.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Who hate the good, and love the evil; who pluck off their skin from off them, and their flesh from off their bones.

  Micah 3:2, KJV

  Jen opened the basement door, holding a basket filled with bed linens. She peered at the closed door of Bill’s room. Wondering whether he was going to warn against going downstairs again, she waited, but not even a creak in the floor came from his room.

  The bare bulb stretched her shadow across the landing to meld with the gloominess of the room below. Across from the stairs was a stark, white washroom with a long porcelain sink sitting against the wall; mint-green, gleaming tiles ran around the room midway along the walls. The brightness of the room made her wish to be in the safety of its light.

  Florescent tubes buzzed overhead. Worn brown carpet ran against a wall with four doors. Where the rug ended was concrete with swirls of old, yellow glue.

  She couldn’t imagine anyone being excited about staying in the forbidding space. Careful to remain on the carpet, she walked to the far wall. To her surpri
se a small bathroom, complete with a shower, sink, and toilet, was nestled at the end, for a total of three guest rooms instead of seven, which she was sure Tyler had said was the count.

  Now there was no way to accommodate as many people as she expected, but at least she’d have extra bedding.

  Each room was thick with a musty, basement smell bombarding her sinuses as she made the beds. Maybe the basement had flooded, destroying the other rooms. She shook her head. The floor seemed level. Maybe there was another reason they had been removed.

  * * * *

  Hector stared at Cody standing on the stage. She was appalled she hadn’t been able to convince him not to go forward with this blasphemy.

  Cody had always been stubborn when he had something in his head he wanted. And no matter what tomfoolery she had done, it didn’t hinder him in the least bit.

 

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