by Noah Harris
The question was directed at Anton, who nodded.
“Excellent idea, Sam,” Cliff said. “Now, we’ll let you think about it for a while. It’s late and I think we all need some rest. I’m afraid we’ll have to lock you in the summoning room downstairs as it’s the only secure place. You will be safe down there, I promise.”
“Safe with demons?” Georgios looked frightened again.
“No harm will come to you,” Cliff assured him. “I’ll put some bedding down there, along with some more food and drink. I’ve arranged for more hospitality as well.”
Richard and Georgios gave each other a curious look.
After a few minutes they were led downstairs again. The cultists had placed some cushions and a pair of sleeping bags on the floor, plus a thermos and a bucket they told them was for relieving themselves. An old-style lantern in the corner gave the room adequate light. Richard felt relieved that they hadn’t decided to illuminate the place with the candles that sat at each point of the pentagram on the floor.
“Yeah, real hospitality. I feel like I’m staying in a suite at the Milford Plaza,” Richard said.
“You’re lucky you faggots don’t get a bullet in the brain,” David growled.
“Now, now, let’s not have any unpleasantness,” Cliff said. “I apologize for the crude accommodation, but it’s the best we could arrange given the circumstances. If you merely give in to your desires, you can sleep on silk sheets and waterbeds for the rest of your lives.”
The prisoners said nothing. They bedded down as the door was shut and bolted. As soon as Richard lay down, the weight of his long day began pulling him towards sleep. Georgios lay on his own bedding, his back turned to Richard. They had left the lantern on by unspoken consent. Neither wanted to be in pitch darkness next to that pentagram.
Blearily, Richard looked at it. He saw no movement within, nor felt any connection to the demon realm. Did demons sleep? He had no idea.
Should he sleep? What if someone or something came at him while he was out? With a sigh, Richard realized it didn’t matter. He was helpless, as his newfound ability to walk between worlds was effectively curtailed by the silver bracelet locked around his wrist, and he himself was a prisoner of a group of armed men. There was nothing he could do to change any of that right now. It was best to sleep and gather his strength for the inevitable struggle still to come.
For a while, lingering fear kept his drooping eyes half open but at last, sleep pulled him under.
For a while his dreams came to him fragmented and confused. Faces from the past appeared before him—his family and a small circle of friends back in Missouri, his dying grandfather, followed by newer faces such as Adam, Steve, and Tyrone. Then his dreams clarified, brightened, and he was at that wonderful pond Anton had shown him in his vision. Tyrone was there, and a bunch of other hot guys from the New York circle. Many more men swam there who were strangers to him but in his dream world he knew them all, and they all greeted him with hugs and sly caresses.
Then, the dream changed again. He was in a parade, riding in the back seat of a convertible down Main Street in his hometown of Chillicothe, Missouri. Outlandish floats followed him, one in the shape of the New York City skyline, another a Greek temple, and there was a tropical beach. He and every other man on the floats was naked. On both sides of the street the men of his small town cheered him. A banner hung across the front of the courthouse saying “15th Annual Chillicothe Gay Pride Day”.
In the grassy square of the courthouse lawn, a giant orgy was taking place. Local farmers, truckers, and construction workers writhed on the ground. In the center, the old statue of a Confederate soldier had been painted pink and someone had strapped a black dildo to its ass.
Richard descended from the car, filled with happiness and well-being. Tyrone came to his side and took his hand. Together, they dived into the tangle of bodies and were embraced by the writhing, moaning crowd.
Richard tossed and turned in his sleep, feeling an increasing sexual desire that no mere dream could satisfy. The moaning grew louder and began to disturb him. His dream fragmented. He tried to chase it, wanting to hold on to that sweet vision of paradise, but the only part of it that stayed with him was the moaning.
Richard awoke. The moaning was real.
He opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. From the heaviness of his body he knew he had been out for at least a few hours. The lantern remained lit in the cellar summoning room. Richard turned toward the sound of the moaning.
Georgios lay on his back on top of his sleeping bag, his clothes cast aside. Three naked women writhed on top of him. They were the kind of women Richard had always pretended to desire back in his closeted days—buxom, with narrow hips and smooth, perfect flesh. They had long hair—two blonde, one black—that framed faces of classic beauty. One had straddled Georgios and was rubbing her pussy against his cock. The other two flanked him, their hands roving seductively across his chest. His hands roved too, cupping an ass, fondling a nipple, running down a sleek flank.
He didn’t look too happy about it, though. Although Georgios was living every straight man’s fantasy, his face was contorted with anguish.
Then Richard saw why. His penis was flaccid. One of the women bent down and licked it, kissed it, began to jack him off, but still his thick cock lay limp in her grasp.
“Damn it!” he shouted, springing up into a sitting position and waving his arms in the air. The three women immediately vanished.
Georgios cast a nervous glance over his shoulder and saw Richard watching.
“Relax,” Richard said. “It was another one of their tricks.”
“It was the drug, that acid. Plus I am tired. On a normal day I fuck all three of them one after another.”
“Of course, Georgios.”
“I am not the gay!”
“Of course not, Georgios.”
“These demons, they unman me,” He sobbed, curling up on his bedding.
Richard got out of his sleeping bag. He had stripped down to his underwear and a t-shirt. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and picked out a fifty dollar bill. Then he walked the few steps to where the Greek man lay weeping, his feet tender against the cold and rough floor.
He lay down on the bedding next to Georgios. The man edged away.
“Get away from me, sick man,” Georgios managed to say between sobs. He had his back turned to Richard, his pert ass deliciously close to Richard’s own cock. Richard lay there for a moment and admired the man’s olive skin and wavy black hair.
Richard reached his arm over Georgios’ shoulder so he could see the money.
“I need it, Georgios. I want to suck you off. Is this enough?”
His words got an immediate response. Georgios’ cock swelled. The man himself remained tense and unmoving.
“Come on, Georgios, fifty bucks. I won’t tell anyone. You get to be on top.”
“Those women, they were demons.”
“Or spells or something,” Richard told him in a soothing voice. “Of course you couldn’t get excited by them. You saw through that trick.”
“They probably have goat’s heads like your lover. I no want to fuck something like that. I go to Hell.”
Georgios sprang to his feet. He grabbed the money out of Richard’s hand and shoved his now fully erect cock in Richard’s face.
“Go get your money worth, faggot.”
Richard ignored his tone. Georgios was hurting, and he knew how to help. He took the thick shaft in his hand. Georgios, like other Europeans he had fooled around with, was uncircumcised. As he slowly stroked the Greek’s cock, the head appeared and disappeared within the folds of the foreskin.
“Mmmm, yes faggot. You like?”
From the sound of his voice, Georgios was liking it too.
“Real men are the best,” Richard whispered.
Georgios chuckled. Richard wrapped his lips around the Greek’s thick, musty cock and slowly slid his mouth back and forth, su
cking on it ever so gently so as to work up his partner’s lust.
“Oh yeah, you know this. You do this all the time, faggot.”
Georgios’ fingers ran through Richard’s hair, then moved down to caress his shoulder. Suddenly Georgios seemed to remember himself and whipped his hand away. Richard kept working at him, gradually picking up the pace of his movements.
He placed his hands on the Greek’s smooth hips. After a moment, Georgios tentatively touched Richard’s fingers with his own. They curled around one another, interlocking. Their hands were clasped together on Georgios’ hips.
Georgios shot early, all the pent up lust from the evening charging his body with an electrical storm of desire. Richard’s mouth filled with a thick gush of cum that he swallowed greedily. Another shot came, followed by a third. Richard took it all.
“Nice,” Georgios whispered.
He took a step back.
“I mean you think it nice, eh faggot?”
Georgios tried to put on a mocking smirk, but he couldn’t hide the smoldering desire in his eyes. The two of them remained silently in place for a second, Richard on his knees, Georgios standing in front of him, his half erect cock dripping cum. Georgios gave the pentagram on the floor a nervous look.
“You must help me, faggot.”
“How?”
“Protect me from the Devil. He want my ass.”
“All you have to do is say no. He can’t take you otherwise.”
Georgios shook his head and he looked away from Richard before he spoke again.
“They trick me. They give me more drug, or fool me with pretty pictures of vengeance. I don’t want to be tricked.”
With nervous, jerky motions, Georgios walked over to his sleeping bag and got down on all fours on top of it, his ass facing Richard.
“Fuck me. If you fuck me the Devil no want my ass.”
Richard, already hard from sucking Georgios’ cock, felt even more desire surge within him. Georgios had a beautiful body, like an ancient statue, and that ass was smooth and small and inviting.
Yet Richard hesitated. “But then they won’t have a reason to keep you alive.”
“They no know! And we get out of here.”
Richard had his doubts about that, but found himself moving over to where Georgios knelt. He pulled off his t-shirt and stepped out of his underwear.
He knelt behind Georgios and ran a hand over a smooth butt cheek.
Georgios slapped his hand away. “Pay me first!”
Richard snarled. Who did this guy think he was? Then he saw the averted face, and the slight tremble in those strong limbs, and realized the money was Georgios’ version of a darkroom in the back of a gay bar. It was his way of not seeing what he was really doing. He’d run to Anton’s photo studio as a way of getting out of hustling, even though hustling was the only kind of gay sex he could justify to himself.
Richard looked at him sadly. He felt like giving the poor guy a hug, but that would probably earn him a sock to the jaw.
“All right, Georgios. I’ll pay you. Is a hundred enough?”
Georgios nodded. Richard retrieved the money and gave it to him.
Richard looked around but there was nothing to use as lube. He spat into his hand and got his cock as slick as he could as he maneuvered himself closer. Georgios’ muscles looked tense and Richard ran his hand over the man’s shoulders, which felt as if they were made of stone they were so clenched up. He rubbed them, trying to massage away some of the tension.
“This is not what you pay for, faggot.”
“It will go easier for you if you’re relaxed.”
Georgios didn’t reply, but he didn’t object any further as Richard massaged his tight shoulders, slowly working out the knots in the muscles. Georgios gasped and his cock began to grow hard again.
“Now,” he whispered. “Do it now.”
Richard pressed against the man’s tight hole, only to find it firmly clamped shut. He massaged his shoulders a little while longer, and then let one hand stray down to the man’s cock.
The organ leapt at his touch, getting so stiff it slapped against Georgios’ belly.
Richard pressed forward again, and his ass flowered open for him.
With steady pressure he pushed inside. Georgios’ ass clenched as Richard got about halfway in, and then eased enough for Richard to penetrate further. He pressed forward until his entire length was inside the man’s smooth Greek ass.
He paused for a second, his meat pressed in a hot vice. He pulled out a little, and pressed forward again. He repeated the shallow, slow thrusts until he could feel Georgios loosening up, his ass opening up for him, relaxing and letting him in. He knew the inexperienced guy was beginning to cross the threshold from discomfort to pleasure.
Richard began to work up some speed. His thrusts became faster, deeper. His cock pulled out to nearly its full length before he pushed it all the way back in. His hands roved over Georgios’ smooth, bare back, finding his muscles there had relaxed too. There was no more hesitation or denial, only pleasure and eagerness. Richard thrust deeper, his own pleasure rising up within him. After all he had been through tonight, he needed this release as desperately as the near-stranger beneath him.
Georgios let out little grunts with each thrust. Richard couldn’t tell what was going through the mind of this closeted, confused man. Perhaps his mind was a total blank or maybe he was just feeling rather than thinking.
Richard picked up speed again, the thrilling approach of his own orgasm blanking out his thoughts for a moment. His cock burned a little for lack of lube, and Georgios must have been feeling it twice as much, but he gave no indication of feeling pain, only pleasure. His partner moaned and tossed his head. Richard ran a hand along the Greek’s back, spreading the glistening beads of sweat, then he stroked down one arm and over his splayed hand. Their fingers interlocked and they clasped each other’s hands until Richard’s body erupted in a powerful orgasm that shot a long stream of cum deep inside Georgios.
They both froze for a second as the last of Richard’s cum shot from one body to the other, their final connection before Richard eased out. Georgios lay down on the sleeping bag, pulling Richard down with him so they ended up spooning, with Richard’s nose nuzzled into Georgios’ lush wavy hair, his sweating chest rounded to the curve of the Greek’s back.
They lay curled up like that for several minutes, catching their breath and cooling down. Suddenly, Georgios leapt up and hastened to get dressed.
“Now that you have what you want, faggot, you will help me get us out of here.”
Richard looked around at the bare walls and bolted door.
“How?”
Georgios moved over to the lantern sitting on the floor nearby. He studied it for a moment, then popped the hooded top off, dropping it with a clatter and waving his hands in front of him.
“Did you burn yourself?” Richard asked.
“Real man no mind these things.”
Nevertheless, Georgios took the thermos Cliff had left them and poured some of the orange juice onto the lantern hood to cool it down a bit. Then, he unscrewed the top, disassembling it into two separate pieces—the button top that held the screw and the sheet of metal that made up the hood of the lantern.
He held that part up. It was a thin, round piece of metal with a slight curve.
“Our key to freedom,” he said with a smile.
Georgios moved over to the door, holding the piece of metal he had taken from the lantern. Orange juice still dripped from it.
“You’re going to try to push the bolt back? You’ll never get enough leverage,” Richard said.
“Leverage? What is leverage? Never mind, faggot, I do a different thing.”
He pointed to the hinges.
“The Devil men are stupid. See? These are inside. How do you say in English?”
“Hinges.”
“Right, the hinges. You be my English teacher.”
Richard smiled. “I’ve t
aught you a lot already.”
Georgios glared at him, but without another word he turned to the door and worked the piece of metal into the top part of one of the hinges. Richard stared for a moment before realizing what he was doing. He was prying the pin out from the hinge. If he managed to do it with all three hinges, they could take the whole door off.
“Can I help?” Richard asked.
“This is man’s job, faggot.”
Richard shrugged and looked around the room for anything he could use as a weapon. He found nothing.
After much cursing, a couple of scraped fingers, and several breaks to stomp on the piece of metal to get it back into shape, Georgios managed to pry off all three hinges. Together they slid the door out, wiggling it to yank the bolt out of its bracket. This took another couple of minutes as they tried to be as quiet as possible. Each scrape and thud sounded like a warning shout in the silent house. Richard pictured David standing on the other side, his .44 revolver in his hand and murder in his eyes.
When they finally got the door free, they saw nothing but the dark cellar.
They set the door against the wall and listened. Not a sound.
Georgios crept back and reassembled the lantern, which was still lit, and together they moved into the cellar. They checked the door leading to the backyard but, as expected, they found it locked and the key gone.
Richard leaned close to his fellow prisoner and whispered in his ear. “It looks weak. We could kick it down and run.”
The Greek thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Too risky. They might get us before we get away. And the dogs, they will bark the minute we go outside.”
Richard remembered how the three big Dobermans had caught their scent the instant they had rounded the house. If Cliff sicced those dogs on them, they’d get torn to pieces.
“At least let’s find some weapons in all this stuff,” Richard said.
They searched through the bric-a-brac in the basement. Richard turned up a baseball bat. Georgios found a rusty old crowbar.
“Now what?” Richard whispered.
Georgios pointed upstairs with the tire iron.