Legends of the Treasure Child : Demon Spawn

Those uneasy memories of first love. James had been thirteen. The schoolmaster has been a single male in his thirties, and the most beautiful man he'd ever set eyes upon. In his daydreams, James had enjoyed an entire love affair where the schoolmaster was his and only his. And the schoolmaster did not trouble himself with brooding over females. It was perfectly rosy red, where flaws were ignored and other traits passionately worshiped.

He understood very early that his schoolmaster was a learned man, a kind of prophet. A man who loved his occupation, who saw the perspective of things, understanding that education was the key to a man's success, while illiteracy led to ruin.

The schoolmaster was a man of temper. He could be cool as ice and reflected in one moment, for then to burst in anger over some witty young man's comment in the next. That was when he would fetch the cane. The pupils were forced to watch as the youth in question were stripped of his pants, bent across a chair and then dealt harsh blows on his buttocks according to the crime he was guilty of. Lesson was learned, discipline restored and the crime was never spoken of again.



Though the schoolmaster never went beyond spanking his students, he was well known for his barely restrained anger, his intense passion which almost brought him to the point of insanity when there was cause of jealousy. He was, at the same time, a man of modesty, who would be mortified to insult a lady, and he kept his tongue eloquent no matter what mood he was in. They said demons roamed in his blood.

Romantically attached to this strangest of men, James dreamt of being the schoolmaster's savior, often picturing himself as the one who sacrificed all, but at the same time being the one to help the schoolmaster bridle his desires. Without thought or question, James imagined himself to be subjected to the teacher's wrath, dreaming of tasting the cane on his backside.



Watching other students be disciplined in said manner, was always a bit of a problem to James, because he got an erection just from watching the scene. It was hard to tell precisely what arose his thirteen year old body. Was it the shivering, the pink buttocks of the boy, or the tall and strong schoolmaster and the way he swung his arm and the way the cane moved through the air? James found himself possessed by demons at night, the scenes spinning in his sleepy head until they rearranged themselves, putting James in the position of the punished, with the hands of the punisher roaming over his body. Always, always did James manage to make the angry schoolmaster think otherwise, to put the cane down and be seduced into a gentler state of mind. A peaceful state of mind.



The hearsay among the students worked as fuel to the fire burning within James. In the end, his obvious passion was barely restrained, and he decided to confess it all to the very object of his love. How little had he anticipated that the schoolmaster would turn away in revulsion! No sooner had James recovered from the initial shock at the obvious disgust plastered on the face of his love, before he realized that the schoolmaster had fetched his whip. His beautiful features were twisted in rage, revulsion and hatred, and the ensuing spanking was nothing but hurtful and disgracing. James felt his hopes, his dreams and his passion shatter with every blow until there was nothing left but bloody lines across his backside, ashes in his heart and tears pouring down his hot cheeks. The incident was never spoken of again. The schoolmaster would avoid his eye, avoid him all together until James felt invisible. Burying himself in his studies, James intended to forget it ever had happened, blaming demons in his chest - as well as in his groin - for his misery. As the lusts and longings in his belly grew into stubble on his chin, James sought solace in the the hands of God, praying to be set free from the demon's grasp. But love struck him again, and in despair James attended an education into priesthood, seeking to calm the bewildering emotions in his chest.



Looking up into the glowing eyes of the tall, long haired demon, James knew that he knew all this the moment the memories came flowing back.



″All your life you've been running from something which even God can't fix, and which was never meant to be fixed in the first place. There is no demon. No cure. And it is certainly not a disease. Now. What's it gonna be?″ The demon sounded rather calm, though a smile played across his lips, curling its way from one corner of his mouth, across his fangs and over to the other corner.

James shut his eyes as the image of the undead outside the cabin door forced its way back onto his retina. Swallowing his pride, he turned to face the half empty plate and the food scattered next to his knee.



″I- I will eat my food, Sir.″ James said, gritting his teeth. From the corner of his eye he watched the demon step closer. Hurriedly, James bent down to lick up the food, hoping the act of redemption would spare him. Without warning, the first blow fell on his buttocks, and James yelped in surprise. The blow left a stinging mark , but James found he was more surprised over the actual strike and the apparent absence of pain. Another blow hit him, followed by a stern command: ″I said: Eat!″ The demon growled at him, and another lash fell on his buttocks. James bent down to his plate, hesitating just long enough for the demon to strike him again.

He could not deny the exhilarating feeling of leaving his buttocks exposed, and soon another stinging blow hit him. He buried his mouth in the food, gulping down as much as he could. He felt the demon kneeling behind his backside, and he heard the cane drop to the floor. Greedy hands embraced his cheeks firmly, and he felt them being parted. James dared nothing else but to continue eating. He could not have anticipated the sensation which ensued! Swiftly it wrapped him in burning desire as he felt the tip of a wet tongue combined with hot breath skirting the edges of his puckered entrance. He almost choked on his food, and such was the enthralling sensation that James struggled to maintain focus. He stopped to arch his head backwards, drawing his breath and letting it out in a silent moan. He shut his eyes – the flicker of the flames in the fireplace danced as if they were the infernal walls of Hell – willing himself to relax and simply enjoy. The burning sensation on his buttocks heightened into lust as he felt John's tongue trace the red marks which zigzagged across his cheeks. His breath hitched in surprise by the sudden touch of a sharp fang grazing carefully across his skin. The hands of the demon continuously roamed across his thighs and caressed the small of his back, tracing his spine upwards and massaging the parallel muscles running along the spine on the way back down with skilled movements. James couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried, he had to, and it made him feel terrible. He had to push.



James whimpered in lust and in shame. He could not stop his rectum from rejecting what was inside. He had felt it ache for sometime, and upon watching what had happened to the sperm on Jamie's back, James gathered that something similar had happened to the sperm inside him as well. Now, it wanted out. Or rather, James' body wanted to be rid of it. He groaned, highly aware of the undignified situation he was in, and pushed – with as much dignity as he could muster. He heard the hardened sperm fall – plonk! - to the floor between his legs.



″Good boy!″ the demon told him softly, kneading the muscles some more. James felt he was entering a hazy state, as John's ministrations left him relaxed and feeling warm inside. He closed his eyes, willing the humility away. Plonk! It said again, and James felt his cheeks burn as shame flared up again. ″Now that ought to do it″ he heard the demon comment cheerily. Suddenly a pair of digits coated in oil touched his entrance. James tensed, opening his eyes wide as he felt the fingers roam and circle the puckered, swollen rose like a pair of scavenging birds over a half dead animal in the desert. The scented oil burned slightly, and James gasped as John inserted his fingers into the entrance, drawing in as much of the stinging liquid as he could. He twisted the fingers, making sure to coat the entrance all the way round. James shut his eyes again, swallowing hard.



″There's still food on your plate″ John grinned, scissoring his fingers inside James.



James bent down this time without question, and continued to eat. John withdrew his fingers, wiped them on James' shirt, and positioned his once again rock hard manhood at James' back door. He slid inside with great ease, earning himself a long moan of pleasure and a mutter about the lord above to have mercy on his soul. John grinned widely as James arched his back, tilting his backside upwards, allowing the demon better access into him. He took it slow, allowing James to get accustomed to the pace and to finish his meal. The ex-priest struggled at first, then he managed to time the thrusts and literally bury his face in the food, scooping his mouth full and swallowing it down almost instantaneously. He rested himself on his elbows, eating with his fingers. When the plate was nearly empty, John picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. He dug his fingers into the flesh on James' thighs, thrusting relentlessly. James thought he'd split in half any second, and could do nothing but to hold on the best he could, firming his position against the thrusts which threatened to shove him into the fireplace. The heat from the flames combined with raw lust made his pores open, and he was sweating heavily. He could not tell. Was this heaven or was this hell? Would his soul really stay untouched, or would he be condemned? The demon thrusting inside him, grunted and breathed laboriously, pounding away at great speed. Soon, he came, shooting his load deep inside James.



It was only long after, when Jamie had fallen asleep and John had gone outside the cabin onto the main deck, that remorse wrapped its clammy grip around James. He was sharing bed with Jamie, and he was quietly listening to the docile breathing of the sleeping man who apparently had a clear conscience concerning that of fraternization with demons.

His fellow priests were outside on that deck, and there was no question in James' mind that John wasn't going to fare as well with them as he had with him. Perhaps they were already dead, torn to shreds by the unholy? Perhaps they had already become monsters themselves? Perhaps they were being tortured, and perhaps it was John who was doing the torturing?



James had to know.



He couldn't just lie docile in bed and pretend he had no responsibility towards his fellow colleagues. His stomach and backside complained as he got out of bed. He looked around. There was nothing to dress in except the shirt he already was wearing. Whatever. Lives could be at stake, and he would have to brave the dangers half dressed. But there was an imminent need to reveal himself. He felt something wet trickle down the inside of his thigh, and bending down to examine it, he realized it was bloody dirt. He found a chamberpot, and squatted over it in the corner farthest away from the bed. Pushing, like he'd done in the company of the demon earlier, felt different now, more painful and definitely harder to perform. He gritted his teeth to avoid screaming in pain.



Plonk! The semen turned gold fell into the bucket along with bloodied droppings.



Plonk! It said again, and then it really began to hurt. More blood.



But what could he do but to push? James buried his knuckles in his mouth to keep from screaming. The pain in his entrance was searing, like a thousand needles. He labored hard, and had to feel his way with his fingers. He realized the gold was stuck, and it was slimy and hard to get a grip on. Still, he found a way to pin it between index finger and thumb, and he managed to force it out by dragging it. Looking at it with shivering fingers, he realized there were remnants of skin still attached to one end. Good God! The need was gone, but the pain was still there. He still bled, but he decided he could not wait any longer. He had to get outside. Absentmindedly wiping his fingers on his already dirty shirt, he ventured over to the door with his heart already in his throat. What waited outside?