The Devil’s Bargain (Stefan)

Book 1 Story 2 – An introduction to Stefan (18+)

         Stefan stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the grounds, his lip curled in annoyance, one of the four expressions he typically wore. Maniacal glee, cold calculation and blinding rage made up the other three.

         He had reason to be irritated. Countless man hours and eye-watering sums had gone into creating the perfect sprawling grounds before him. Imported trees with their carefully tended foliage graced the edges, while gleaming white paths wound between them. Lush emerald grass beckoned the wanderer to come sit and enjoy. Various apparatus for assorted bondage and play were dotted about, waiting to be used. 

         So why wasn’t there a single person out there?

         It was ten o’clock at night, comfortably warm, with only a slice of moon to light it. Shadows abound offering privacy to those who sought it. Other areas were bathed in light, for those who preferred to be seen. The Manor was crawling with sexual deviants. Surely one or two of them would find an outdoor playground to be an irresistible draw. At the very least, there should have been a couple or two fucking somewhere out there. Perhaps even a mistress, stringing her poor subject up a tree for a good lashing.

         A wicked grin crossed his face. If I nailed Scott to a cross at the crossroads, his screams should draw a crowd. Hell, I could turn it into a show, take a few wagers on how long he’d last.

         His glee faltered fast when he considered how many guests might be stupid enough to do the same. The Manor’s insurance only covered so much.

         Still. Not much sense letting a good idea go to waste. He could still enjoy the boy’s suffering in the privacy of his personal dungeon. 

         Stefan’s fiendish giggles were interrupted by the sound of feet approaching. One set was most certainly a woman. She walked with short, quickened steps, the clack of what sounded like sensibly moderate heels tik-tik-ticking on the polished stone. The other could be a partner, with a confident, even stride, the sound of his footfalls preceding the others by a split second or two. 

         You’ve got yourself a little submissive, have you? Stefan smirked. The poor girl seems to be having trouble keeping up.

“Master Stefan, I presume?” 

Stefan stiffened immediately, the tension in his shoulders evident as he pressed his crossed arms into the polished railing. Outlines of carefully sculpted muscle became clear in the bright outdoor lighting.

Five-foot-five with a delicate frame, Stefan was not one who blended in. His waist-length dark brown hair had been parted into sections, slathered with generous quantities of styling gel then formed into two-foot-long spikes, pointed out and downwards. A style that defied both fashion and gravity, leaving one to wonder how they could withstand hours of active living.

Bare-chested as always, to make his lean muscled physique very clear, Stefan’s only item of clothing was an exquisitely soft and supple pair of leather pants, the same colour as his locks. Hitched to his belt, a custom-made coiled whip, specifically designed to ensure its end could wrap around troublesome things and yank. Things like fleeing ankles.

Curiously, his feet were unclad, though anyone familiar with him would know why. To properly strike fear, one cannot know he was coming. That, and he preferred to feel every outline, every collapsing layer of spongy flesh when he kicked someone in the scrotum.

In short, he was not a man one would mistake for another.

Rising to his full, diminutive height, Stefan rumbled with an inaudible growl, turning to face this evident idiot. A growl which turned to a groan when he saw what approached. A limp-wristed whale of a man, with his entitled nose held high in the air, his nervous wife following behind. Unlike her husband she seemed suitably fearful of the dom, slowing to keep her distance, as if worried he might try to strike her with that fearsome whip.

Her partner on the other hand brimmed with arrogance. He looked like the type not used to hearing the word ‘no’. Not for his strength of character, or the feeble power he exuded, but the money he surely had in his bloated account.

“My good Sir. Your establishment is quite impressive,” the newcomer declared in a nasal southern drawl. 

Deeply annoyed by the man’s apparent uncertainty as to the dom’s identity, Stefan gritted his teeth, crossing his arms over his firm pectorals.

Unperturbed by the resort owner’s threatening tone and cold glare, or perhaps not noticing, the man continued. “I seek relief.”

“My staff would be happy to cater to your needs,” Stefan hissed between clenched teeth, making it abundantly clear by the ferocity behind his statement he wanted an end to what was certainly an upcoming proposition. Now.

“You misunderstand. I wish to employ YOUR services.” the newcomer replied with smug confidence.

With tensed fists, Stefan stepped forward, close enough to remove the man’s gaudy bolo tie then strangle him with it. “My services are not easily bought,” he spat.

The man didn’t react beyond a single raised eyebrow. He was prepared for this.

“I assure you Master Stefan, you would be well compensated.”

“I think YOU misunderstand,” Stefan growled. “*I* choose who I take on, and you are not my type.”

The man huffed, insulted. “I beg your pardon?”

Stefan moved towards him, predatory and snake-like. He leaned in close, sniffing the air in a pointed gesture. “I can smell your experience” he growled, lip curled in disgust. “You’re titillated by soft floggers and light bondage. You cum like an obedient puppy at the word of your mistress, quivering at the feet of red stiletto heels.”

Outraged, the man replied, “I’ve endured far wor…”

“Can you withstand THIS?” Stefan interrupted, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the nearby wall. 

“How about THIS?!” he roared, shoving his hand into the irritant’s groin, grabbing his cock and balls, twisting hard. The man’s eyes popped open wide, letting out an agonizing screech. Stefan merely chuckled with malicious satisfaction. 

There was a shocked whimper from behind. He turned to see the wife clutching at her chest in fear, her handbag landing on the stone, a few essentials spilling out. 

Stefan narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t fearful, she was excited. Her chest rose and stayed there, her aging breasts pushed forward, with hardening nipples evident through her white silk blouse. Her mouth twitched upwards at the side, trembling. It wasn’t a reaction to her husband’s fate, though. Her eyes were squarely fixed on the sadist, eyes roaming across his sinewy back, arms and shoulders.

With a deliciously evil grin, Stefan turned back to the poor man gasping for air, allowing a slight relief.

“Tell you what,” he purred. “I will personally lock you in a cage and fill every one of your holes. Then, you can watch me abuse your wife for free until SHE CUMS SO HARD SHE PASSES OUT!!” he concluded with a screech, eyes burning with fire, his grip renewing its strength with every word.

Struggling for breath, the man sputtered “M…wife??”

“TICK! TOCK!”

The panicked man’s eyes darted from his wife to his captor.

“5….4….3…” Stefan sang, teeth bared.

From behind, the wife shrieked, “He’ll do it!!”

Stefan immediately let go, dropping the man to the ground. 

“Nice doing business with you,” he purred, before collecting his prize.