Racing with the Devil Ch. 03-04

"So I've heard," I murmured, as he reached out and drew me to him, his lips going to my belly, his tongue rimming my navel, and then moving down, through the blond of my pubic thatch and onto my cock. Just like Josef. Also like Josef, he held me there, inhaling the smell of my pubes. Pressing on my belly, he coaxed me to bend over backwards, my arms dangling toward the floor, my pelvis jutting out to his searching lips and teeth. Then he was sucking on my cock and fingering my ass, preparing me for his cock, until, with a shudder I came in his throat. He pulled me down into his lap and onto his cock, facing him, and he tongued and chewed on my nipples, as, my arms flung back, my hands grasping his knees, and leveraging off my calves, bent under my thighs, I began rising and falling, riding his cock to his ejaculation.

We lay on the bed in the pool house, in a close embrace, as I looked at the restraints dangling down at the four corners of the bed with some apprehension and he quizzed me about how much I knew about why I was there and worked his way into what I needed to do for him to assure him of my loyalty. He used the same term Josef had, of being willing to race with the devil wherever it took me—at his command—no matter the consequences.

He pointed out the restraints then and I shuddered again but reassured him that I understood I had to prove myself to him. That's when he asked me if I'd ever been doubled, and I needed for him to tell me what that meant. I trembled again when he said it wasn't just taking a dick at both ends but taking it in the ass from two men, both at the same time. I didn't answer him straight away, but he asked me again in a way that told me he was testing me—seeing whether I was going to give over all control to him, no matter what. I told him I hadn't been doubled—in any definition of the term—but, of course, if that's what he wanted me to do, I'd do it.

I didn't, in a million years, think he was serious about that.

I meekly let him restrain my ankles and wrists in a loose spread-eagle position, facing down, and then he wriggled in underneath me and I straddled him again and lowered myself on his cock.

I was lost in the fuck when the other man arrived and only was half aware of Amir inviting him to join us—to enter me from behind on top of Amir's buried cock. I gasped in surprise and writhed in pain as he slowly pushed his cock in. Turning my head to his face, my surprise was reflected in his face. I recognized him as the oil company executive, Tyler Haskell, the husband of one of the embassy's political officers—who I knew really was the CIA chief of station in the country. And it was obvious that he only now recognized me as the ambassador's son. I was in shock—and pain, although also experiencing the pleasure of a whole new, arousing sensation—but I was here for a purpose. And I was being tested. I turned a welcoming smile to Haskell, and he settled down to matching the rhythm in a counterpistoning inside me with Amir's cock. I did what I could to release the tension in my body, in my channel, so that I could handle both cocks at once.

Abruptly, Haskell separated from us. I stole a look over at where he'd gone—to the corner of the pool terrace, where the entrance from the car park inside the palace compound was. At the same time, I did what I could to make Amir believe I was fully absorbed in the continued churning of his cock inside me as he released me from the restraints only to turn me on my back, bind my wrists once more, wishbone my legs, and return to fucking me.

I suppressed a gasp of surprise when I saw that Haskell, standing next to one of Amir's guards, was talking to a young blond man who was very agitated and whose clothes were smeared with blood—and who remarkably resembled me. I recognized him, but it took me a few moments to identify who he was. It was Chris Carter, one of the U.S. embassy logistics officers. But if he was Carter, he must be part of all of this, as much a part of Josef and Amir's plan as I was. As Haskell must be too, it suddenly struck me.

How big was this operation? How deeply did this racing with Josef's perception of the devil penetrate the fabric of American government and business? All questions I would need to contemplate—but not just now. I could feel Amir's ejaculation approaching and so was mine.

I could ask him about Haskell and Carter later—although now, when I looked around, I saw that both had vanished. And, no, I couldn't ask Amir about them. If he wanted me to know about them, he'd tell me. What he was doing to me now, as I was trussed up and sheathing his cock, told me that I was here to follow his instructions, not to ask him questions about the operation.