THE SATAN'S BARGAIN
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
"Awright, you mugs, get your asses in here!" came the call through the bar.
I looked over at Chisel to make sure that meant what I thought it meant. Yep, he was kissing his bike bitch and giving her his pool cue, and others were heading back to the back room of the bar where the call had come from. Another meeting of the Satan's Army was about to start, my very first meeting. I was in, at last, and while green as paint in the club's protocol, I knew they were some bad asses and didn't take guff from any asshole whether he rode a motorcycle like theirs or not. You were either a member of Satan's Army or you weren't worth shit. And I was now a member!
But any club, even a sort of loose one like the Satan's Army, had to hold meetings now and then, to keep everyone updated and plan events and so on. Like my chance to see and be seen by the other members and thus known not to be a wannabe wearing the S.A. emblem without permission, that called for immediate retribution usually resulting in either severe injury or death to the wannabe.
At the table at the head of the back room, ensconced as the leader (and you can be sure I didn't have any problem with that!) was Dirk Burke himself. His jacket was hanging on a hook behind him, forming an impromptu emblem of office (for the emblem on the back was fanned out to show itself neatly, a ravening demon with a bloody sword in one hand and a dead angel lying on the ground in front of him. The other major wall decoration was an odd one, a full-sized mattress was propped against one wall, reasonably new-looking but stained here and there, just propped there like it belonged.
We had no sooner filed into the meeting room (I looked around and pretty nearly every member of the club was present) than Dirk Burke (you had to say both names when you talked to him and "Dirk" was from the knife, not a person's name) bellowed out, "Okay, you know why we're here. Get your names on pieces of paper and shove it in the bucket!" A bucket was sitting on the table beside him, labeled "Fire."
I looked over at Chisel. "What's up?"
"Weekly drawing." Chisel said unhelpfully.
"So what's it for?"
"The King Hawgs." he said, busily writing his name on the paper and getting in line to get it in the bucket.
"King Hawgs?" I asked another member I knew, Buckeye Pete. I didn't need anything else, he'd heard my question to Chisel and he knew the King Hawgs as well as I did, they were the rival local motorcycle club. The Army held the north half of town, the Hawgs held the south and the central areas saw an occasional knife fight or barroom brawl over territorial issues. But that hadn't happened for several months, I knew. Some sort of treaty had been drawn up between the clubs and peace had reigned since.
"Later. Just write your name on one of the pieces, shove it in and hope to hell they don't draw your name."
They all seemed in a hurry to get this drawing (whatever it was for) over with in a hurry, and there was a nervous air about everyone here. I had to learn more about this and in a damned hurry! For now, Buckeye's advice struck me as sound for a newbie. Whatever this drawing involved, I did NOT want to win it! I needed to see what I'd win and it didn't look like the first prize was a million bucks here!
All of us had put in the names and Dirk stirred the names a bit, then drew out one and handed it unseen to the guy on his right (I didn't know him yet or what his role was in the club) and this guy opened the folded paper. I semi-recognized the folds as the way I'd folded mine but hell, once one way and once another, it didn't have to mean...
"Geoffrey Pike." the guy read out. He said the first name with a hard "G" instead of soft, but I knew my name when I heard it. "Who the fuck is he?"
"Over here." I said, raising my hand. Dirk motioned me to walk up toward him and I did so, making slow progress through the crowd.
"Poor bastard joined us four days ago." Chisel offered the gathering. "We ought to draw again. We can make him take next week instead." That second sentence came when a general sound of denial rang out on the first sentence. Whatever the drawing was for, nobody wanted to be the winner. Shit! And the second sentence only made the protests louder and fouler.
"No fucking way!"
"Let the fish take it!" "Fish" was a slang term for a new member.
"Give the fish to the Hawgs!" one man guffawed. "He's a pike fish!"
"Pike fish, yeah, yeah!"
I'd just gotten my club name. That was some consolation at least. I screwed up my courage.
Dirk slammed a big paw of a hand down on the table and made it boom. That won instant silence from the group. "The rule is, everyone's in the drawing, nobody gets a walk. My own name's in there every week, you all know that. He's getting a hell of a tough initiation into the Army, but hell, if he wasn't tough, he wouldn't be a good member of the Army, now would he?"
I felt better than ever with that commendation. "I can handle it!" I promised.
"Damned good." Dirk said. "Okay, tie him up and haul him over, give him to the Hawgs!"
I was grabbed and ropes began to bound me up. Give me to the Hawgs? I looked over at Chisel, my friend and sponsor, but his eyes were urging me to hold still, don't argue, don't fight it. And while I wasn't handled gently, I didn't struggle. Get through this.
Trussed up like a turkey, my upper arms at my side and my wrists bound behind me with one hand above the other, I had a burlap sack pulled over my head and in that state was marched back out through the front of the bar. I could see things a little through that sack, and the bitches were all trying to see who I was, trying to guess who'd been caught this time. They'd see their own men and their relief was palpable, I picked up that these girls all knew that being drawn was bad, and that they mostly didn't know why it was bad. Maybe that explained why Chisel hadn't told me about this drawing and wanted to wait until it was over to let me in on the secret. And the bartender had a grin on his face, a mean one, he knew what it was about and was loving every bit of it.
But I ran that gauntlet of eyes and out to the waiting car. They threw me in the back seat and the three guys (one was Buckeye, Chisel was with me in the back seat, and I didn't know the third one, another stranger) drove me through the darkened streets of the sleeping city toward my fate.
The three didn't say a word and after a time, I said, "Can you at least tell me where we're going and why?"
The stranger started to speak and Chisel cut him off. "No. He'll do better if he doesn't know."
"If I don't know what?" I protested. "Come on, tell me something, tell me anything!"
"Well, you weren't here last year. The Army and the Hawgs were in a real war." Chisel said.
"I knew all that." I said. "Then there was some kind of treaty and things have been better."
"Yeah, the treaty." Chisel said. "That's what this is about."
"So what does the treaty say?" I asked when he didn't continue.
"We're here." Buckeye said (he was driving) and Chisel took that as an excuse to not answer. Hell!
"Here" was an empty parking lot in the downtown district. Again, lights let me see things pretty well; another car was waiting with a hooded man between two Hawgs. I could tell this would be a trade, the hooded man was wearing a Hawgs jacket (as best I could tell from the front, at least). We got closer and I heard the man in the hood, sounded like he was crying.
Chisel heard it, too. "What the fuck's wrong with him?"
"It's the same guy we gave you two weeks ago." the Hawg answered. "Poor bastard."
"Ours is a brand new member." Chisel said. "So have fun with him."
"You too."
And with a rough shove from Chisel and Buckeye, I was propelled toward the Hawgs, stumbling on my feet, while their captive was pushed toward them, and I ended up held by the Hawgs. I was getting scared all over again, if their member was crying over coming back so quick, it couldn't be good! It had to be awful!
Again I was shoved into a car, but now my only companions were enemies. I was taken into a bar a lot like the one the Army held its meetings in, and taken through the same sort of bikers wearing the King Hawgs' jackets and their bike bitches, the women peering at me, this time eager to see who was the captive Army this week. To the back room that looked much like the meeting room of Satan's Army, only this time the mattress propped against the wall had been moved to the middle of the room. And it was this mattress that I was shoved onto the minute they yanked the sack off my head. I bounced some, my face hitting the sacking in lieu of my arms which were still bound behind me.
"All right, Hawgs!" came a call like a priest greeting his congregation, or a travesty of same, their leader I assumed. And the Hawgs around the room (maybe a third of the total) responded with grunting sounds meant to sound like pigs.
"We got us a Satan's Army fellow here, Hawgs!" the leader went on. "We ought to give him a real Hawgs' welcome here, oughtn't we?"
Another round of grunts mixed with jeers.
"Time for you Hawgs to show him how we treat those tender little Satan's Asses, isn't it?"
Amid the third round of grunts and catcalls, he went on with, "Someone get those jeans down off his ass so we can start rooting!"
Oh, God! This was worse than I'd thought! I was about to be violated here! I started to cry out, beg for them not to do it...and then I clamped down on it, kept silent. That's what they wanted from me. They wanted me to be like that Hawg being turned over to the Army earlier, crying helplessly at what was going to happen to me.
So I bit it back and I felt the heavy, hard hands at my waist, yanking at my belt, my jeans, my briefs. They weren't trying to remove my jacket, my boots, even my hat or t-shirt. They wanted to see the logo on my jacket and my jacket on my back, while they did what they were going to do with me. I had to be a credit to that jacket, that logo, to being a member of Satan's Army. Even while they did this.
So my pants were lowered and then cut off my body, leaving me bare from waist to my boots. I couldn't bring myself to care about that, I was still waiting for whatever they were going to do.
"Hang onto your balls, Satan's Asshole, you're about to get your first Hawg fuck." The leader said to me. "I hear we're going to be breaking your ass in for the Army, a virgin ass. Bet your buddies are going to love having our sloppy seconds when we take you back to them."
Take me back. That was some reassurance I wasn't going to be totally messed up here. You cling to any straw you can get at a time like that. "Fuck you." I said to him.
"No, Army Asshole, we fuck you." The leader said.
I could feel a man behind me, but I didn't want to look away from him, break this concentration. "I'll get my turn at you." I growled. "When they bring you into Army Headquarters." That wasn't what we called the meeting place (it didn't have a name) but it sounded neat. "I'll tell them I want to be first in line to fuck your ass and they'll let me do it. I'll be ramming you like....ah-GARRRGHHH!"
For the man behind me had just shoved his cock into my ass. Oh, God, no lubrication, no warning, just a stab that hit and then ripped me wide open!
"OH, AHA, AH, AHH-HAHH-RAHHHHHH!" I cried out as he pushed into me harder.
"Feel that cock, Army Asshole?" the leader snarled at me. "That's just the first one you're going to be taking tonight. Every last member of the Hawgs is going to ride your ass tonight. You're the Hawg's fuck-trough, and we're all going to root in you until your butthole is so much ground round. What do you say to that?"
I looked up at him, through the tears in my eyes (tears of rage, tears of shame, tears of pain and tears of a loneliness like I'd never felt before, welling out of a basin of the solitariness of my life and my choices, I'd walked alone for so long that even joining Satan's Army hadn't ended it, and this moment, this humiliation, would be my own cross to bear eternally, unshared, unlamented and unknown), and I snarled out as best I could, "You think your tiny little Hawg dicks mean anything to me? Go to hell and suck cock there!"
I broke off the last word some as that was when the guy with his cock in my ass began to hunch back and forth. He buried his full length into me, and I felt the hot heat of my blood lubricating the brutal shaft, and when he began to move, the pain was like knives sliding in and out of my anus. I screwed up my face and I bit back the yelps of agony I was feeling, I wasn't going to give these Hawg shitheads the satisfaction.
"Suck cock? Yeah, that's a hell of a good idea." the leader said to me. Blinking when the sense of that sunk into my pain-sogged brain, I looked up at him, and he wasn't as far up as before, he was kneeling on the mattress beside me and unzipping his jeans. Fishing inside with his beefy, hairy hands into that cheesy-smelling jock he had (I could smell it from nearly two feet away!), he was struggling to bring that trouser-salmon out into the air.
"I'm not going to suck you." I told him flatly.
He yanked his prong free, a hard shaft with a glans reddened and angry. "I wasn't going to ask you." He said to me. "I was going to fucking tell you! Now suck my cock or I'll bust your head wide open!"
He lifted my head up with both heavy hands, shoved that fish-headed prong at me and the head smeared its precome on my lip and the narrow strip of flesh under my nose, the aroma of male musk reeked into my nostrils. "Suck it!" he growled at me again.
I had my mouth partially open, he shoved that red knob at my mouth and it went in. I could have bitten it, I could have pulled away, I could have....
Hell. I was stuck here, their fucktoy. If you're going to be gang-banged, you might as well do what you can to enjoy it! First rule of rape, after all, when it's inevitable, relax and try to get into it. Doesn't turn rape into consensual sex, just makes it easier on you as the victim.
So I opened on up and this skanky, unwashed bastard leader of the Hawgs shoved his filthy dick into my mouth. "Yeah, that's it, Satan's Asshole, suck my dick, suck it like you know you want to do." he snarled down at me.
I sucked on it, but not because I wanted to. I just had to get through this and this was the quickest way to get through it. His cock was nasty tasting, he had to have skipped baths for a week to make his basket this musky and thick with his crotch-sweat, but I kept at it, enduring the heavy flavor on my tongue and after a time I had washed it all away, and he was bucking his hips back and forth and that made the guy fucking my ass move awkwardly, that made it hurt anew, and my grunts of pain seemed to spark him, he growled, "Yeah, get into it, love my Hawg cock in your ass, you lousy Satan's Army punk!"
"Give it to him, Hoss!" the leader urged him. "Pump his ass full, let your jizz lube him for the rest of the Hawgs to fuck him easier."
I felt his cock in my ass getting hotter, and I moaned and in a fury I could express no other way, I began to suck this leader's cock hard and fast as I could. He chuckled as I did this. "Yeah, the little fucker's getting all hot for our Hawg cocks. Fuck him harder, Hoss, he's ready for you. Cream his butt full for him." I felt his own cock growing warmer in my mouth. "Aw, yeah, he's really pigging out on my Hawg prick! Fuck, yeah!"
"Oh, ah, ah, I'm going to come, I'm coming, I'm cuh-uh-uh, KUH-UHHHHHHH!" The Hawg fucking my ass shoved his prick deep into me and I felt the hot jizz like a branding iron far inside my ass, he was coming, my ass was now a man's fuckhole and nothing else. Ah, shit! I've been fucked!
And I was about to have another one's dong spew in my mouth. The leader was getting all hot and worked up in his prick, and my head was his captive to suck it with, and I only had to hang on tight while he humped at my face, then he groaned and his cock erupted into my mouth, all hot and salty and as pungent as his groin-sweat had been.
Sucking in that hot jizz, something inside me shut down, the part of a man that rejects and stands apart from other men, that refuses to debase himself to suck on another man's cock, I was left with the part that accepted it and let it be something that happened, not evil nor good, delightful nor disgusting, just something that went on and it would happen and be done and over and gone. So he came in my mouth and I drank it down and it was hot and slimy and thick and nasty...and it was done and he pulled his cock from my mouth and I swallowed the last of it and it was done.
Only it wasn't done. The man at my ass was replaced by another man, he shoved his prong up my butt and I felt it squelching around the jizz that Hoss had squirted in there. Another man knelt and fed me his cock. This was going to go on for a while.
I could tell you in detail about every one of those men who fucked me or made me suck their cocks on that night, but the end result was the same. I wasn't fighting any of them, I just let them fuck me, sucked on them as best I could, even though my back ached, my neck ached, my ass, my poor ravaged ass, ached from the multiple man-rods rammed into it, and my jaws ached, every muscle around my mouth hurt, too, ached from sucking cock after cock, long ones, short ones, fat ones, slender ones, cut and uncut, skanky like the leader's or squeaky clean from a fresh washing. I didn't track or keep count, but the Hawgs' threat of having every one of their members fuck me wasn't out of the question by the time they finished with me, and there were close to fifty of them in that bar on that night. A couple may have skipped me, and a couple may have come back for seconds, but the total was about equal to the Hawgs' number.
I was overflowing with jizz by the end of it, too, my ass full and dripping with come, my stomach filled as if with a huge plate of spaghetti, but it wasn't pasta, it was human spunk in there, I sloshed and I dripped as I finally rose, my bonds cut from me, and staggered weakly to my feet.
The leader was there, looking weary in his waiting, for the hour was approaching dawn. "Tell your boss that the Hawgs agree the treaty has been kept." he said to me. "Until next week."
And I was semi-led, semi-escorted, outside, through the now-empty bar into the dawn of the streets. The car was still waiting, and I sat in the back and was taken into the Army's part of town, let out in the alley behind the bar which was our own meeting place. I was surprised by that, but maybe it was in the treaty, for when they left, the back door of the bar opened up and I was let inside.
Dirk Burke was in the meeting room waiting for me. He had a pair of trousers I recognized as being from my own apartment, Chisel must have gotten them and brought them in for me. "How you holding up, kid?" He asked me with what seemed genuine concern.
"Tired as hell." I told him. And something that had been eating at me off-and-on all night long. "You said your name is in the drawing every week. How come I didn't see you writing your name on a piece of paper."
"I put it in before the meeting." he assured me. "But it is in there." He paused, then said, "Of course, maybe the names on the bottom tend not to get drawn. You might as well know that, everyone else has figured it out."
I remembered how eagerly everyone had rushed to get their name into the pot, and nodded. "Thanks for telling me that."
"Anything we can do for you?" he asked me, still looking sympathetic.
"Just get me home so I can sleep this off." I said.
But the following week, I was right back at the club. Another name than mine was drawn and then I was waiting. When the captive Hawg was brought in, I made sure I was first in line.
I'd paid my part of the bargain with the devil between Satan's Army and the King Hawgs.
Now it was time for me to reap a few of the benefits.
THE END
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WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM