The Grand Masters Chambers

For a single moment Aaralon wanted to refuse, he wanted to spit out one of the killing spells he had taught himself in secret. Then his eye wandered over the sad form of Mistress Pathfoot and a vivid image of what the demon would do to him filled his mind's eye. If the demon had simply killed Pathfoot that might have been one thing, a quick **** at the very least, instead it had done something much worse to her and would do the same to him.

The image of his classmates pulling him down to the floor, tearing his clothes away as they pulled at his hair painfully, forcing his mouth onto their cocks. The bitter taste as they fill his mouth with cum , the feeling of pain as cocks are roughly **** into his ass.

It is such a vivid scene that when he returns to the now he is sure that he can still taste the cum on his tongue. Focusing his eyes back on the demon, Aaralon suddenly became sure that the demon had planted that image in his mind as a warning.

“Yes, sir.” Aaralon said, moving past the demon and towards the door. He was suddenly extremely aware of the obvious erection tenting his robes but he could not do anything to make it go away.

As he lead the Incubus through the halls of the school towards the Grand Master's Chambers Aaralon reflected on his now subsiding erection. He knew for certain that the demon had twisted up his own desires, the fact that he could look at the nude form of Pathfoot and feel nothing but embarrassment was evidence enough of that. Yet still he could not bring himself to accept what he had become, it was strange that the thought of being homosexual made him feel much worse than the fact that it was nearly certain that he had sold his soul.

The journey to the chambers was surprisingly uneventful. It seemed that the men inside the school had tired themselves out quite quickly. They stepped around the odd mass of sleeping forms, the floor slick with blood and semen, before finally arriving at the ornate carved oak doors.

Aaralon had expected them to be locked, they were not. He had expected to find the place thick with wards and booby trap spells, it was not. He had not expected to find the place filled with tools of sexual deviancy, large carved cocks and complex devices of leather and metal. Yet that is exactly what they found.

The demon let out a chuckle that could curdle milk as it took in the collection of gear that would get anyone caught with it life in prison. The church took a very dim view of what it viewed as “sexual deviancy” and this, Aaralon thought, was about as deviant as it could get.

“I almost feel bad for killing him now,” the demon said before turning to Pathfoot. “Gag the boy and lay him on the bed.”

It took Aaralon a second to realise that “the boy” was him.