tagErotic HorrorLewis Kind: Servitude

Lewis Kind: Servitude

byKindofHere©

Pure Fiction

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An Unexpected Bang

"I asked, 'What's your name?'" She had a seductive voice.

Lewis Kind.

"I'm working," Lewis answered, continuing to ignore her.

"You think I'm not?" She leaned close to him and touched his arm. "I am. Sometimes we are what we appear. Sometimes we are not."

He turned his eyes toward her.

The woman's ruby lips captivated him. He heard Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz saying, "There's no place like home." Those lips held subtle promises of decadence and warmth meant only for him.

Lewis cast his gray eyes over the black-glazed woman. Her clinging red dress emphasized her braless breasts as it clung to her erect nipples. She had a narrow waist, an athletic frame, and endless legs. Her black hair fell in ringlets about her oval face. She had penetrating, doe-like eyes.

"I know," Lewis said. "I like your eyes." He whispered the statement as an afterthought. They were blue and hypnotic, capturing his attention.

"They are natural," she said. "I'm all natural, but my hair takes work."

There was nothing natural about the effect she was having on him.

"My name is Rey," she said. "We're at the Griffon in the hotel bar near the airport. There are a dozen lonely men around. I sat next to you for a reason, but you keep watching the lobby."

"I'm trying to," Lewis said, struggling to skew his vision away from her.

"We don't have to be long," Rey said, looking at his drink. "I'm inviting you to my room. I have tastier pleasures than bourbon to offer."

The scent of her perfume was thick, yet subtle enough to leave him wanting.

"Excuse me," Lewis said. He stood and left the ebony goddess at the bar as he exited into the lobby of the Griffin.

A pudgy man was walking through the lobby. He kept his head on a swivel but saw nothing. Lewis knew his name was Kent Harris. He watched Kent walk to an open elevator and then Lewis hurried after him, barely sliding his lean frame through the closing doors.

"Close one," Lewis said, hitting a random floor above Kent's destination.

"Yeah," Kent said. He was fidgety.

They reached Kent's floor and he exited in a hurry, never bothering to glance back at the elevator. Lewis waited until the doors began to close before stopping them and tilting his head beyond their cover.

Kent made a left at the intersecting hallway. Lewis followed; his steps a whisper on the carpeted floor. He reached the intersection and peered around the corner, spying Kent entering his room.

Lewis walked toward the door, pulling his .50 caliber Desert Eagle from his shoulder holster under his leather coat. He stood near the spyhole and knocked on the door with his left hand.

"Mr. Harris, this is security," Lewis said, knocking again. His tone was authoritative. "I'm afraid our parking attendant has damaged your car. We need you to come downstairs to survey the damage."

Lewis heard movement and hushed voices through the door. A few moments later the door started to open. Lewis stepped back and smashed the door inwards with a front kick, ripping the safety latch from the wall.

Kent grunted and tumbled backward into the room. Lewis followed, using a tactical stance he had learned while serving in the military. He scanned the room, stepping to the left near the wall and moving forward alongside Kent until the entire room became visible. There were two beds, standard furniture, and Beth, Kent's wife.

"Where's your child?" Lewis asked Beth. "Jordan is his name. I know everything about your family."

"He's not here," Beth said; her voice shaky. She was sitting on the second bed in a long nightgown. "He's with my mother."

"Please don't move," Lewis told her, looking for any signs of the child. He saw a small Spiderman backpack between the beds. Lewis looked at the closet and its closed doors. He didn't say anything. He nudged Kent's ribs and leveled his gun at him. "Crawl to your wife and sit next to her."

Kent's body was frozen. His bladder was not.

"This is a big gun," Lewis said. His finger was in the safety position, alongside the trigger and the finger guard. "It holds a big bullet. Don't make me use it."

Kent didn't move. Lewis gave him a sharp nudge with his boot, causing him to groan. He rolled over, crawled to his wife and sat next to her. Lewis made them pat each other down to convince him they weren't concealing weapons.

"Sit on your hands," Lewis told Beth. "Kent: put your hands in your pockets."

Lewis waited until they were comfortable before addressing Kent. "You owe money to Les Goodman. I'm here for the money."

"I d-don't have it," Kent said.

"You have something," Lewis said. "I'm not going to shoot you." He lowered his gun. "But I will hurt you enough to make you miss your flight."

"We can work something out," Beth suggested. She was braver than her husband. Her legs started to part, though her long gown hid the tempting piece of her she was offering.

"Don't do that," Lewis told her. "You're leaving Metro Central. You bought plane tickets. You're paying for this room. You have a rented car. I know you have money."

"The closet," Kent mumbled.

"No," Beth hissed.

"In a leather satchel," Kent said.

"How much?"

"Twenty thousand."

"Not enough," Lewis said. He looked at the closet beyond the other bed. He could picture that little pile of cash sitting in the closet, wearing a pathetic frown and begging him to leave it alone.

"You could let us leave," Beth said. "You can say you missed us."

I could.

"I'm not here for you," Lewis told her with something like sympathy. "I'm going to need your IDs, passports and plane tickets." He looked at Kent. "If you have painkillers—take them. If you don't, I have some you can take before I get started."

Kent made a blubbering noise Lewis did not want to hear.

Lewis walked to the closet and said, "Jordan, I'm not going to hurt you." He opened the door.

There was a flash and a loud bang. Lewis raised his pistol but stopped himself from pulling the trigger. He thought Beth screamed. Somebody might have fallen. Lewis sat on the bed in front of the closet and studied a young child who was on his knees and holding a gun that trembled violently in shaky fingers.

"Do it," Lewis whispered.

The child dropped the gun.

Lewis looked up as if to say, Fuck, that was stupid of me, and then he looked down. His body wasn't letting him feel the pain yet. Blood was leaking down his right side and maybe his back; it was hard to tell. It was a through and through shot right through his liver.

"Ah," Lewis sighed. He stepped on the dropped gun and pulled it under the bed. "Hand me that," he said to the child while nodding to the satchel Kent had described.

The child—Jordan—couldn't move. Lewis sighed again, stood and pulled the bag to him with his foot. He sat down and picked up the bag with his left hand, checked it and stood on hollow legs.

He turned to Beth and Kent. Kent was on the floor, leaning against the wall. His hands were still in his pockets. Beth had her hands to her mouth and her eyes on her son.

"You're a coward," Lewis told Kent. He nodded politely to Beth. He looked at Jordan and said, "It's okay."

He left the room.

The Devil Has A Name

Lewis felt light headed as he slid along the hallway wall. He stumbled away from the elevators, but he didn't care as he fell to his knees. There was a black door with a red frame centered at the end of the corridor within the intersecting hallway. It didn't match the other doors. It opened. Rey was standing there, looking at him.

Lewis stared.

"I'm inviting you to my room," Rey said, her words riding a current of air that circled his head and invaded his mind. She sidestepped her back to the door and offered him sanctuary.

Lewis grunted. A mixture of blood and spit dripped down his chin. He coughed and that hurt. He started crawling across the carpeted floor, dripping blood and smearing the crimson with his knees, shins, and feet.

"Salvation lies within," Rey said, her voice pulling at him with invisible chains.

Lewis crawled and crossed the threshold of Rey's room. There was music that sounded like wind chimes fluttering in the breeze. He thought he heard a distant howl. Rey walked past him, saying, "Have a seat."

I'm hallucinating.

Lewis studied his surroundings as his life drained from his body. He was in a living room that didn't belong at the Griffin. He was bleeding to death in a suite that belonged in some twisted, hellish version of a Las Vegas penthouse. He fell to his side and laughed.

"Sit," Rey insisted.

Lewis took several deep breaths and forced himself to his feet, nearly falling, but catching himself before he stumbled to a soft couch of some alien material. He dropped his hands to his sides, but never let go of his gun or the money.

"Bravo, there is still life in you," someone with a deep voice said. It was a melodic voice, tinged with sophistication and age.

Lewis looked around and saw a man in the shadows.

"My name is Kingmond Ahsu. Welcome to my home."

The Price of Life

Kingmond Ahsu was a tall, smooth-headed man with almond-wood skin. His brows and forked goatee were thick and as black as his eyes. He wore a dark, expensive suit that absorbed the room's lighting.

"Hello," Lewis managed to groan as his body slumped against the backrest.

"You're not looking well," Kingmond Ahsu said. He walked out of the shadows and sat on a couch across from Lewis. "That's a killing wound."

"Yeah," Lewis said. "I need to call someone."

Kingmond Ahsu smiled, stretching his full lips and revealing perfect teeth.

"I need my phone," Lewis mumbled.

"I can mend you," Kingmond Ahsu said.

"Sure you can."

"You don't believe me."

"Do you have an operating room hidden in here?" Lewis asked. He tried to look around.

"I don't," Kingmond Ahsu answered.

"The only thing you can do is watch me die." Lewis laugh-coughed and spat blood.

"There is a price," Kingmond Ahsu said. "You can have your life back in exchange for your soul."

"What is this?" Lewis asked. "Who are you?" He looked at his gun. I should shoot this elegant bastard.

"Observe," Kingmond Ahsu said.

He stood, walked to Lewis and leaned over, stretching his hand toward Lewis' wound. Lewis let go of the money bag and tried to push Kingmond Ahsu's hand away, but his arm was unmovable. Kingmond Ahsu swept open Lewis' leather coat and pushed his finger into Lewis' wound.

"Fuck," Lewis grunted. He tried to lift his gun, but the pain had frozen his arm.

He glared at Kingmond Ahsu, who twisted his finger into the bullet hole. Pain burned through Lewis and a strange, tugging sensation pulled at the meat Kingmond Ahsu was fiddling with. He removed his finger and Lewis sighed.

"Sorry," Kingmond Ahsu said, holding his finger up for study. He flicked his disgustingly long tongue across the tip and lapped at Lewis' blood.

Lewis made a face and protected his wound with his left hand.

"You've lived an exciting life," Kingmond Ahsu said. He worked his tongue around his gums. "You had a military career: served in two branches and three special operations forces." He paused to taste more blood. "You managed to earn a degree."

Lewis felt faint. "Cute trick."

"You never had a wife, but you came close."

He wants my soul. He could take it, couldn't he?

"Who did you want to be growing up?" Kingmond Ahsu asked. "Jason Bourne?"

Lewis lifted his gun, but it felt like an anchor in his hand. His movement was slow, but Kingmond Ahsu and Rey didn't appear to care as brought it to bear.

"That didn't work out well for you, did it? Boom"— he mimicked an explosion with both hands and spread his fingers—"lots of little bodies."

Lewis pointed the muzzle at Kingmond Ahsu, but then he toppled to his left. He tried to get up and instead rolled off the couch, falling to his back and spitting blood when the back of his head hit the floor. His heart was hammering. I'm cold.

"Would you like me to save you?"

Lewis wanted to shoot the fucker.

Kingmond Ahsu knelt next to him and put his lips near Lewis' ear. "I can save you at the price of your soul."

"It's not for sale," Lewis whispered.

"We can bargain for your soul another day," Kingmond Ahsu said. "Today, I will give you your life if you serve me for the remainder of it."

"Maybe he wants to die," Rey said. "Someone who has nothing to live for is no good to you, my lord."

They're crazy. Lewis was fading away. His vision narrowed and gray fogged the edges of his peripheral. Calm embraced him—this was the moment he had been waiting for since . . . Dying isn't so bad.

"Last chance," Kingmond Ahsu whispered. "It doesn't hurt to say 'yes.'" Kingmond Ahsu lips were against his ear. "Your blood reveals all to me. You have a son."

Fuck.

Kingmond Ahsu moved his head and held his left ear above Lewis' lips.

"Yes," Lewis said, the sound of his voice not registering in his ears.

"Bravo," Kingmond Ahsu said. He pressed his hand against Lewis' wound. There was a pain, an awful burning that caused teardrops to slide from the corners of Lewis' eyes. He could see his life, and he relived every moment he didn't want to remember, and then the pain was gone, and he was alive.

The Meaning of Service

"Stand," Kingmond Ahsu told him. "May I offer you food and drink?"

Lewis no longer felt like he was dying. His vision returned and his heartbeat slowed to a resting pace. The chill of death had been swept away by the warmth of new life. He touched his wound and found his body complete.

"Have a drink," Kingmond Ahsu told him. "We have things to discuss."

Lewis stood.

"Well done," Kingmond Ahsu said. "Would you care for that drink? Your blood tastes of bourbon."

"I'm going," Lewis said, picking up his gun and the money. He nodded to Kingmond Ahsu and then to Rey and turned to leave.

"No," Kingmond Ahsu said. "You belong to me, remember?"

Lewis looked at him.

"Sit."

Lewis stayed still, but he felt like sitting down.

"Sit," Kingmond Ahsu said in a more authoritative tone. "Please."

"Since you said please," Lewis said, but his body was struggling against his mind until he gave in.

"Service." Kingmond Ahsu clapped his hands together. He looked excited.

"A favor for a favor," Lewis said. He touched his healed wound. Maybe I passed out at the bar. Maybe I'm on my way to the hospital. I never went upstairs. "We can do that."

"No," Kingmond Ahsu said. "You have agreed to serve me for the remainder of your life. You can do so willingly, or I can compel you, but it's less painful to serve willingly."

"I don't like crazy," Lewis said, pointing his gun at the man.

"He rejected you at the bar, Rey," Kingmond Ahsu said. "She is going to demonstrate that you must serve despite your wishes."

Rey's lips pulled into a seductive ruby line. She took a rolling step forward, similar to a runway walk and then another. Lewis shifted his gun to her.

"Let her show you," Kingmond Ahsu said. "Let her suck your cock."

"What did you say?" Lewis asked.

Rey continued moving toward him. Lewis' arm trembled. He lowered his gun, though he tried not to. Rey stopped in front of him and spread his knees with her a high-heeled foot. She knelt.

"Don't," Lewis said, but he made no move to stop her.

"Serve willingly," Rey whispered.

"This is the easy way," Kingmond Ahsu said.

Lewis tried to speak and only muttered a grunt. Rey's long fingers undid his belt, his pants button and pulled his zipper down.

"Music," Kingmond Ahsu said and Another Day In Paradise by Phill Collins began to play. The man swayed back and forth, a pleasant smile on his face and a dreamy light in his eyes.

Lewis grunted. Rey looked into his eyes. Lewis' felt himself melt and relax under her gaze. Not natural.

Rey curled her fingers beyond the band of Lewis' pants and briefs and pulled. Her strength was surprising. His clothing fell about his ankles. She purred and circled the base of his thick member with her fingers, lifting his cock and bringing her head down upon the head. She licked him.

Lewis moaned. His hips bucked and Kingmond Ahsu watched, swaying with lucid grace. Look away, Lewis thought, trying to will the unwanted voyeur to leave the room as Phill Collins continued to sing.

Oh, think twice, it's another day for you and me in paradise

Oh, think twice, 'cause it's just another day for you,

You and me in paradise, think about it


Rey opened her mouth, and her breath fell upon Lewis' flesh in a wave of hot steam. She took him into her mouth, clamping her lips around his glans and pulling, stretching his hardening length away from his body. She slid her hungry mouth downward and wet his shaft with her saliva.

So fucking hot.

Rey's mouth had become a sauna around his cock. He grew to his full size, filling her mouth and she took every inch of his dick. When there was no more room, she let him into her throat.

"Mm, mm," Rey moaned around his shaft. She bobbed her head over his dick, her dark ringlets danced to and fro as she picked up the speed of her cock-sucking rhythm.

"Uh, ah," Lewis sighed through his gritted teeth.

Rey's mouth was too much for him. She was unnaturally gifted. Her tongue and cheeks were as wet and silky as any woman he had ever been inside of—more. She stroked his shaft under her lips and fondled his balls with her other hand. Lewis moaned and rolled his hips upwards into her loving mouth.

"Mm, hmm, mm," Rey hummed, slurping and spitting and bathing his cock in liquid heat.

Lewis couldn't take it. His balls tingled with pleasure as Rey rolled them and milked his shaft at the same time. He tensed and came.

"Fuck," Lewis groaned as the last of his cum spewed from the tip of his cock.

"It's just another day for you and me in paradise," Phil Collins sang, and his voice faded away, as did the music.

Rey swallowed and swirled her tongue around his cock. She smiled at him from her knees, pulled her lips from his member without spilling a drop of his seed and moved away from him.

"That was the easy way," Kingmond Ahsu said.

"Fuck you," Lewis said, grabbing his gun, standing and fixing his pants at the same time.

"Modern man has no appreciation," Kingmond Ahsu said.

Lewis aimed his gun at Kingmond Ahsu's heart and pulled the trigger. Click. He pulled again and again and again. Click—click—click. There was no recoil and no muzzle flash and no explosion from the bullet's primer igniting the powder charge in the casing to propel the bullet forward.

"Fuck me," Lewis whispered.

"Rey would have if not for this," Kingmond Ahsu said. "Sit."

Lewis tried to take a step forward, but his legs trembled, and he felt an invisible force dragging him downward.

"Sit," Kingmond Ahsu ordered.

His knees buckled, and Lewis' ass hit the couch cushion.

"Now I will show you the hard way," Kingmond Ahsu said. "Rey, knife."

Lewis followed Rey with his eyes. She walked to a rosewood cabinet, opened it and removed a serrated blade. She walked to Lewis, never altering her sexy sashay and offered him the knife. Beautiful. Lewis shook his head, angered he was interested in the way her dress clung to her body. He let go of his gun and took the knife.

"Sever your hand from your wrist," Kingmond Ahsu said.

"Go to Hell," Lewis answered.

"Slowly," Kingmond Ahsu said in a casual tone. His black eyes shined unnaturally and then flooded with red, like blood mixing with water until they were utterly crimson and burning with light.

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