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Mika gripped the edge of his desk as the huge, bumpy cock of the demon invaded his aching ass even deeper. The next thrust punched a moan out of the very bottom of his throat—half needy, half pained—and Mika stepped from foot to foot, trying to ease the hot, slick pressure dilating his hole.
He was leaning on the desk with just his hands, fully dressed except for his exposed ass. He’d pulled the expensive, soft cotton of his best dress pants just under his buttocks. His mage robe, made of the finest white silk, was bundled in the small of his back and carelessly getting creased.
Another forceful thrust sent twinging shivers up his spine.
“Can’t you…ah…slow down?” Mika whined.
“Whatever for?” the demon asked, in a voice booming like faraway thunder. “This tempo pleases me.”
Mika fell on his forearms—which wasn’t exactly the wisest, since now his arched spine exposed his insides to the demon’s ministrations at a new, deeper angle. An especially vicious drive made all the muscles in his hole clench, and he immediately tried to right himself.
Two large, heavy hands wrapped like an over-tight corset around his narrow waist and pushed him back down. “Stay,” the demon growled. “Much better this way.”
Mika’s knees shook, and his inner thighs ached. His groin, wrapped in a tight bundle of spelled leather, radiated need and dull, denied pain.
A mage’s lot was to pay for his demon’s favor however the demon chose, and sexual services were considered a currency more acceptable than most. It was fortunate the demons Mika summoned didn’t require his suffering or blood, nor did they demand the forbidden sacrifice made of other humans. Mika had worked hard to achieve the current state of affairs; plus, it wasn’t like he found taking a cock up his ass completely unbearable.
If only he could cum!
The demon tormented his hole with rows of hot, fleshy bumps. The inhuman pre-cum made his insides tingle. It used to burn him, but frequent exposure had made him tolerant. Nowadays, it only heated his ass and messed with his head.
Mika bit his lip before a plea could escape him. It would be of no use—demons were beings of destruction, of decay, and they could only enjoy sex if there was no possibility of life attached to it. That’s why most mages were male, and why those who paid for demonic services with sex had to make sure they couldn’t ejaculate.
No demon would touch a mage with an unbound cock, and Mika thought that was mightily unfair. After all, his demons could cum as they pleased, and as deep in Mika’s hole as their inhuman cocks could go. And demonic cum was infertile, true, but it burned and swirled, and it was impossible to remove until its magic had been used up and the fluids fully absorbed. The upside was that Mika had a handy magical battery churning just south from his core. The downside…well.
Since Mika had become the chair of the council, he didn’t use as much magic anymore. He’d climbed the ladder, accumulating demon after demon until he’d reached the seven necessary to claim the position, but then it had turned out that the chairman’s duties were more administrative than magical in nature.
There were days Mika didn’t cast a single spell. This didn’t give him leave from paying his demons, though. Even if, at the moment, he wasn’t using their power, he had to make sure that, if push came to shove, they would do his bidding without hesitation. That was a mage’s first responsibility, which, now that he’d become the youngest chairman in history, weighed on him even more. All council members were supposed to be heavy hitters—ready for anything the world threw at them.
Especially him.
The demon fucked faster, his cock parting Mika’s flesh in long, easy punches. Back and forth, the bumps dragged over Mika’s slippery, oversensitive inner walls. It was Mika’s second demon of the day and the strongest of the bunch. With the rest of them, he’d negotiated down the number of fucks to once a week; this one demanded his due every single night. That meant taking him second from Sunday to Friday, plus a prolonged, hole-melting fuck on every Saturday, when the demon could have Mika all to himself.
The demon thrust, and Mika moaned, getting a full-body flashback to the Saturday four days ago. To the way his wet, twitching hole just wouldn’t close after the demon was done. To the pleasure pulsing hotly deep inside him for minutes after. How the damn creature had laughed.
Mika always masturbated after the demons had unsummoned themselves—except on Saturdays. After all that intensity, he couldn’t handle the incomplete pleasure brought by the strokes of his own hand. The memory of the dry, almost painful orgasms his Seventh pounded into him seemed too rich to despoil with something so inadequate, so Mika usually fell asleep with his balls still full and aching.
He didn’t know what it was about this one. Probably the bumps. They caressed all his nerves individually and all at once. They pleasured on the way in and ached on the way out. They touched everything. The demon’s cock was large, long and thick, maybe twice the size of the biggest human Mika had ever had, but in this case, it wasn’t the size that mattered. Mika’s Monday appointment had an enormous cock almost twice that, and today’s first demon was also significantly bigger, but it was this one that sent shivers of ecstasy up Mika’s spine. Mika was loath to admit it—least of all to the demon—but he both dreaded and craved the Seventh’s nightly visits. Especially on Saturdays.
Oh, the Saturdays!
“Yesss,” hissed the demon. “Clench.”
Mika clenched.
The demon thrust.
Mika’s knees almost gave way. “Fuck!”
He felt the sensations gather. Like clouds, like a storm. His bound cock throbbed, the cum within his pulsing balls having nowhere to go. The bumps dragged sparks over his prostate, kindling little fires, which then spread and spread. It was too much. He stepped off the edge, but there was no ground to fall on.
He shook.
He floated.
After, he leaned his sweat-damp forehead on the cool, beeswax-smelling surface of his own desk and let the demon support his weight. He felt like a doll in those large hands.
Seventh was built like a tree. Humanoid on the first glance, if taller and broader, he had smooth golden skin everywhere on his exposed flesh. It wasn’t the gold of something living, but of unworked metal left long to tarnish underground. Mika knew that, under the snug leather outfit, the smoothness turned to scales and an assortment of darker, startlingly symmetric bony ridges, which Mika found weirdly enticing.
The demon only undressed on Saturdays, and only then could Mika trace all those perfect imperfections with his fingers and tongue. The minute variations in texture and color, so similar to yet so different from the familiar shades of human skin, fascinated him. He liked comparing it to his own dark ochre, which was smooth and uniform all over.
Mika had a vain side, which prompted him to divert a part of the magic he harvested from his demons into maintaining a flawless appearance. He was beautiful, and he knew how to both enhance it and use it. After all, power alone could only take you so far; cunning, charisma, and physical appearance also played a part. Magic, manipulation, or beauty—he wouldn’t be where he was now if he had scruples in using all his assets.
It was odd how the demons attracted him with the opposites of his own qualities. Large and sturdy when he was lithe and delicate; their crude, dark clothing to his fair, carefully maintained elegance; his poised control versus their open carnality. Back in the day, when he’d accidentally summoned his first ever demon, magic had been the last thing on his mind. He just wanted to fuck. To touch, to discover all the nooks and crannies between the demon’s log-thick thighs. To feel that ugly, inhuman cock so deep inside his ass it’d tickle the bottom of his heart.
That first demon was long gone—Mika had enough sense to banish him before the weak creature demanded a contract. But the unnatural attraction had remained—not to power, like for most mages, but to the otherworldly otherness itself.
The demon kept fucking him from behind, and Mika whined. In this position, without seeing the large presence looming over him, he could almost imagine he was being taken by an overeager human—if it wasn’t for the cock. It punched white implosions of pain-pleasure into his pliant, sensitized hole, dragging his senses—kicking and screaming—towards another unsatisfyingly dry orgasm. In his white suede boots, Mika’s toes curled. His thighs were trembling.
He wanted to touch the demon!
He clenched his fist instead.
This position was his choice, no one else’s. He couldn’t let the creature know how much sway the demon had over him, or Seventh would demand further favors. He would demand more payment.
That a large part of Mika craved to pay him more was an entirely separate matter.
Mika didn’t let himself indulge his greedy side except on Saturdays. Usually, he welcomed all his demons dressed and only bared his ass enough for the taking. He didn’t allow himself the comfort of bed. He bent, he gritted his teeth, and he took them. Then, when they were done, he clenched his hole, fixed his clothes, smiled, and thanked them politely—even this one, this special one.
Usually.
He sometimes had trouble with Seventh, even on weekdays. At times, he even caught himself almost calling him by name—a great trespass with contracted demons. Names were taboo to them, and only written once on a contract with blood, the pages then ceremoniously burned. Aside from that, demon names were only used to summon and banish them. Demon names were powerful; some said demons could feel it even when you were thinking of their name.
Mika wasn’t sure he believed the last rumor. Still, to be on the safe side, he always tried to refer to his demons either impersonally or by a number, even in the privacy of his own mind.
Though it was so difficult in situations like this one, when Seventh’s cock plowed through him like a flaming piston.
Somehow, despite almost forgetting his own, the name of the demon kept lurking at the tip of Mika’s tongue.
Virkalon.
The demon growled. His thrusts sped up so much Mika’s ass almost caught fire. The iron grip on Mika’s waist, the hips slapping into his buttocks—it all hurt so good Mika cried.
Once more, Mika clung to the edge of the desk, trying to avoid braining himself. All thoughts left his head—all except that name.
Virkalon.
The demon came with a shout. He rammed into Mika—once, twice—so hard Mika saw stars. Then there it was, that familiar feeling of expanding power. Aching, bloating, and shamefully liquid.
When it crested, Mika trembled and came dry one more time.
The demon withdrew slightly, spanked Mika—hard—then slammed back in. “Don’t you ever,” he growled, “dare to do that again!” Still hard even after the orgasm, as demons were prone to be, he kept thrusting. “My name is not for you to say!”
Mika laughed—it sounded a lot like wheezing. “But I haven’t said it!”
The demon growled but spoke no more. He kept fucking Mika, each thrust delivered with deep, brutal strength.
“Oh, G—” Mika swallowed the blasphemy at the last moment. “Oh fuck! Will you quit that already!?”
“No,” the demon clipped back. “For that, you’re taking another one.”
“I can’t! My ass is too—”
The demon jerked Mika’s body up, and suddenly Mika had his back pressed against a hard chest. His legs were dangling in the air—despite that, the demon had no trouble pumping into him with sharp slams.
“You can. You will,” he growled into Mika’s ear.
“Oh, fuck! But I only thought it!”
“As I said. Your. Own. Damn. Fault.”
Mika clenched on each thrust. It worsened the ache in his hole, but that took his attention from the hot, bloated feeling in his lower belly. Demons came much more than humans, and having it accumulate day by day—fuck by fuck—meant Mika had been feeling stuffed before this exercise even began.
It was easy to sneak his hand under his sweat-soaked white tunic—his pants had slid to his knees, exposing Mika’s dark, trembling thighs—and feel the soft, vulnerable pouch of his underbelly.
Under the flesh and skin, he could feel that cock moving.
Striking against his palm from within.
“Fuck. This is…this is too much!”
The next thrust was so vicious Mika’s buttocks spasmed.
“I’ll decide when it is too much.”
“Against…the contract!”
“It is not,” the demon hissed. “You needlessly called me by name. By law, I deserve reparations.”
Mika wanted to bite his lip but stopped himself in time—with how the demon was jostling him up and down, he probably would’ve bitten through his own flesh. Even talking carried a risk of hurting his own tongue, so Mika stopped. He decided to grit his teeth and just take the thrusts, no matter how harsh, instead.
It wasn’t as if he could debate the intricacies of demonic law at the present moment.
This was, after all, just one more fuck. He could handle one more fuck—even if his overused, oversensitive hole screamed at him that it’s had more than enough.
Tonight, he had planned to dismiss the demon, then, on somehow weak legs, walk the short distance from his office to his house, delighting in the cool night air and in the tingling, slippery ache throbbing through his ass. He liked to do this sometimes—pay the demons not in the privacy of his own home but in the council building, in his own office, where anyone who stayed after hours could hear his moans and cries. It was good for morale to let everyone know the boss, too, had to keep his demons happy, just like any regular mage.
It also stopped him from indulging too much.
He had planned to masturbate today. It was easier after he let his skin breathe. After a short walk, the too-raw feeling would’ve melted away. Mika would’ve undressed and laid in bed, unwrapped his cock, then let it harden on its own accord. He would recall the harshest thrusts, that heart-quickening feeling of being held down, of being meticulously used, and run the pads of his fingers up the underside. He’d tease himself slowly, careful not to overwhelm, patiently waiting for the pleasure to mount, then for a real orgasm to explode out of him in a hot stream of thick cum. Then he’d lay amongst warm sheets for minutes, basking in the afterglow. When he was ready, he’d clean himself with a little spell. He’d go to sleep aching but satisfied.
Those plans went out the window now. First, he doubted he’d be able to walk after a fuck like that. He’d have to ask Seventh to carry him home—which in itself would be damn humiliating, even without accounting for the knowing, embarrassed gazes of whoever he’d meet on the way. Second, he could feel another surge of dry, painful pleasure approaching, and he doubted it’d be the last—no way he’d be able to make himself cum after all that, even with the most careful, lightest of touches.
And tomorrow, oh, tomorrow, he’d have to take two of his demons again—another and this one—inside a hole that was already beyond sore.
While it was true that, on Saturdays, Seventh used him long and well, even then he was hardly this brutal. On Saturdays, he took Mika like a lover, face to face, in deliberate, languid thrusts. He made sure to please Mika; he didn’t just fuck. True, after they were done, Mika’s insides ached like mad, but it was a welcome pain. He was exhausted and relaxed, body tingling and his head still spinning from the demon’s taste in his mouth. Mika slept well on Saturday nights, despite the throb of denial pulsing in his balls.
Sometimes, he even forgot to take the binding off his groin till morning.
Today it was different. It was like something in the demon snapped loose. He crushed Mika’s torso in his arms and drove into him like a rutting animal. Still, whatever the sensation of his name being ‘spoken’ did to Seventh, it must’ve been not all bad. From time to time he growled, quietly but with obvious satisfaction, and his cock was as hard as a steel pole.
Mika clutched at the demon’s leather-covered forearms and cursed the ground. It pulled him down—onto the Seventh’s relentless cock—just for a harsh slap of hips and balls to bounce him up. The sounds the sudden meetings of their bodies produced were loud and dirty. Not wet, exactly—all the demon’s cum was going to stay in Mika—but sticky and harsh. Sweat and spilled lube covered Mika’s butt. Each slap of the textured demonic skin against his hurt—first time when it landed, then when their bodies unglued. Mika had never been spanked, except that’s what this was.
Shallow breaths were being punched out of him in quiet grunts. His pants slid down his legs, and now dangled awkwardly around the top of his boots. His white robe—his pride and joy—got rumpled into a sad, wrinkly rag. If Mika was less, ah, busy, he’d have suspected the demon allowed it to hang to the side instead of ripping it off him only because it was so fine. It was a symbol of Mika’s newly acquired status—only the chairman could wear his robe white—and usually Mika was insanely fussy about it. Now, he couldn’t care less, and only an assortment of protective spells prevented it from being destroyed completely.
No spells would’ve stood against the demonic magic in its purest form, anyway. Had Seventh wanted, he could rend both it and Mika to shreds. But, despite what many said about them, demons were honorable creatures. Not only did they believe in the contract, most also felt some sort of obligation towards their master.
“Oh, God!” Mika moaned.
“You’re blaspheming,” the demon snarled into his ear. His thrusts sharpened their battering of Mika’s prostate.
Mika’s ass clenched.
His body spasmed.
Another orgasm blinded his senses.
When he came to, Seventh still moved through him, although now it was gentler. He’d laid Mika over the desk belly-first and had either removed Mika’s pants entirely or torn them in two. Mika whimpered as the cock rolled through him with all its bumps.
His magical sixth sense told him there was one more load of demonic cum churning inside his belly.
He whispered, “Will you stop already?”
“You haven’t yet paid me enough.”
“I didn’t even say it out loud!”
Seventh slammed in.
“Ou! The f—”
Another thrust.
“Names are a precious thing. That we give them to you, mortals,” he snarled the last word, “it’s already an honor and a sacrifice. You summon us with names, no?”
“Yes!”
“That’s because”—thrust, thrust—“names tug at our souls! How would you like your soul to be tugged at?”
“But I only thought it!”
“Same difference.”
Mika’s muscles felt like lumps of heavy, wet clay.
“The indignity of being summoned,” Seventh continued, “I can stand. It’s necessary if I want a nip of your delicious life force. During fucking, though—no.” He gripped the thin threads of Mika’s braids, which had unspooled from his ponytail. “No.” He snarled, “that’s not for masters. That’s for lovers.”
Mika was no longer listening. Each thrust fired a deep flash of darkness inside his mind. “Can you at least…can you at least let me cum? Just pull on the threads. It’ll come off if you just pull on the threads…”
The demon only laughed.
“If you like my life force so much,” Mika, half-delirious with need, wasn’t giving up, “then why wouldn’t you let me cum?”
The demon’s thrusts were unrelenting. Spaced but sharp. “You misunderstand.” He leaned down until Mika felt his hot, earthy breath on his nape. “I like destroying it. Piece. By. Piece.” His hips never stopped undulating in. “Only crushed and useless can I eat it.”
Mika closed his eyes and took the thrusts, quietly whimpering. He’d known that; he’d always known that—it was the first thing any new mage learned. Mika had accepted it. The trade was more than fair to him. Life force wasn’t actual life—just the energy life produced. He could’ve used it working, or running, or having sex with humans. He chose to spend it on his demons instead. It was just…it was just…
Usually, they weren’t running him so ragged!
“How much more payment do you need? How many more times do you want to have me?”
“Hmm.” Seventh took him unhurriedly. “Once.” Achingly pleasurable, mind-blowing friction. “Maybe twice.”
Mika whimpered. “Can’t take twice.”
“You will.”
“Please, I’ll die!”
More steady fucking.
“Tomorrow, then,” the demon said.
Mika full-body sagged. “Oh, thank y—”
“You’ll take me twice.” Seventh’s grip on Mika’s hips tightened. There was sudden cheerfulness in the demon’s voice. “That is, aside from your usual toll.”
“Oh, f—”
Thrust.
“Do we have a deal?”
Another thrust.
“Yes, yes, we have a deal!”
“Good. Now shut up and let me take my due.”
More strength in the thrusts, more speed.
“Afterwards—”
“Yes, yes, I’ll carry you to your bed. Now shut your mouth and take it.”
And Mika did.