The Devil Made Me Do It

"Uhh."

"I ain't been sucked by a college fraternity guy this week. So how would that be in payment?" The driver laughed again, as if he'd made an award-winning joke.

"Uhh. Sorry. Just stop and I'll get out."

"You want out, you can just open the door and jump." Another spat of laughter; another sterling joke.

The semi was going something over the fifty-five-mile speed limit already.

"Them guys didn't just dump you out there, did they? Nice young, good-lookin' piece of ass like you. You had to give 'em something first, dinna ya?"

Aaron looked over sharply at the man. How could he know that? Country yokel like that.

"Why? Why are you talking like that?" Aaron asked, the distress cutting through in his voice.

"Oh, maybe jus' the devil gettin' in me. Maybe it's 'cause I ain't got none in nearly a thousand miles and seein' you near naked like that made me randy. Why else would I've a stopped? You gotta know what truckers usually want from hitchhikers. 'Specially in the middle of the night out in the countryside. So, what's it to be? Leavin' me at sixty or givin' me a blow job and getting' door to door service to the college?"

The driver had already unzipped himself and pulled a plump cock out. He was steering with one hand and fisting his cock with the other.

"Here? Now? While you're driving?"

"Sure. I could handle this rig in my half sleep while humpin' a slut's cunt. Ain't like I never did it before, son. I'se a professional driver. In more ways than one." Another brilliant joke, and the driver was laughing his head off again at his talent.

Aaron sighed and leaned over and took the cock in his hand and lowered his lips to the tip. The driver was right. It wasn't like he hadn't done this himself before—not even the first time tonight. He didn't have a whole lot of choices. He had to get back to the college somehow. Boy did he owe those fraternity brothers for this, though.

The driver gave him no warning that he was going to come, so Aaron took much of what he had down his throat. He gagged a bit, but then he sat back up on his side of the cab and ran a forearm across his mouth to wipe away the shame of it.

"See that, Cal?" the driver said over his shoulder. "Got a good look at that? Frat guy gave good head, did'n he?"

"Yep. Saw it all," a gruff voice answered from behind the seats. Aaron jerked his head back and looked between the seats and saw for the first time that there was a cubicle behind there. It was pitch dark, but he could make out a large hairy shape. The flesh he could see told him the guy back there was naked or near enough.

"Really turned me on, Irv," The voice said. "Pullin' on myself back here. Ready for my turn."

"OK, go ahead. Then you can relieve me, and I can get my nuts off proper."

Aaron reached for the door handle, ready to leap, speeding semi or no speeding semi. But the guy in the back was too fast for him. Aaron was wrapped in strong, beefy, hairy arms and pulled into the cubicle behind the seats. He could see little other than a pudgy, grinning face, but he could smell the man's foul, tobacco-sour breath, and he could hear his heavy breathing. He felt helpless as he was manhandled and fondled and controlled. And he felt the pain and filling of the guy's cock in his channel, after he'd been wedged into the back corner of the cubicle with the small of his back on a padded cushion, his pelvis rolled up, and his legs forcibly spread, with the heel of one shoe wedged against the back of the seat he'd been sitting in and the other dug into a hold bar at the back of the cubicle and near its ceiling.

The unseen assailant stroked him hard and fast and came quickly, Aaron thankful at least that he was wearing a condom.

"Finished," a voice croaked between heavy breathing. "Pull over for a minute and we'll change positions."

Irv, the driver, was more practiced and proficient and took his own sweet time, as he needed time to reload from Aaron's blow job earlier. He also was more insistent on Aaron pleasing him and taking several positions that taxed Aaron more than any of the other encounters he'd had that night.

Aaron was nearly comatose when the rig was pulled over to the side of the road again, and he was pushed out of the cab and landed hard in the scrub beside the road, his shorts in his mouth, where Irv had stuffed them when Aaron had become so vocal when Irv was at the height of what he had to give Aaron.

After the rig pulled off, Aaron lay, bruised and cut at the side of the road and just sobbed. He looked down the road. The lights on the horizon didn't look any closer than when he'd gotten in the semi. He was as abandoned and alone out here as he'd ever been. In a jerky motion, wanting to do something to respond to his feeling of violation and humiliation, he rose painfully and drew on his athletic shorts. It wasn't much. It was the best he could do to achieve whatever dignity that was left to him.

He was angry and frustrated. And he was more angry at his fraternity brothers than at Irv and Cal. His resentment of them, strangely, was more a matter of not living up to their bargain and returning him to town than in assaulting him. He'd been fucked so many times tonight, that what they took from him seemed to have little importance at this point. But his fraternity brothers. They had done this to him. Boy did he want them to pay.

"Are you OK? Do you need a lift somewhere?" The voice was rich and silky and, for some reason, filled Aaron with relief. He looked up. He'd been so worked up that he hadn't seen the sleek, black limousine glide up beside him and stop. The rear passenger door was open, and the voice reached out from the interior to enfold and caress him.

But Aaron couldn't reply. He was on the verge of tears again, whether it was from frustration and anger and hopelessness or from relief he could not say.

"You need help, I can see. And you need to get home. You should not be out here like this at night. And you're hurt. You need comfort. Come into the car, and I will take care of you."

Aaron felt his feet move, and he was climbing into the backseat of the limousine. As soon as he clicked the door shut, the limousine's engine purred and the vehicle slid out onto the road. It was only a short distance up the road that they came to a crossover, and the vehicle did a smooth, almost floating, U-turn onto the other side of the road and moved back toward where they'd come from.

"Uh. I need to go to the college. To Milbank."

"Milbank is in this direction," the voice purred. "Don't worry. We will see you home."

Aaron turned and looked across the seat into the darkness. His traveling companion was wrapped in a cloak and the dark shadows. Aaron only had the sensation of sharp features, dark complexion, a black goatee of a beard, and piercing eyes. He looked away from the eyes. He had the sensation that when they made eye contact, the figure in the corner held him in thrall. Hands appeared from inside the cloak—moving as the figure spoke in a soothing, melodic baritone. The fingers of the hands were slender and long, the nails well manicured and especially long for a man—and seemed to be filed into points.

The fingers were feminine, but the voice masculine. Aaron was confused.

"How did you . . .?"

"How did I what, Aaron?"

Aaron was nonplused. "I don't understand."

"It's enough now that I understand, Aaron. I understand all about you. I know you as no other person knows you. And I know what has happened to you this night."

"You know?" Aaron asked in a hushed whisper. "Who? How? Why are you here?"

"I am here because you summoned me, Aaron. I did not know you were capable of it. I'd never thought you might be one."

"I . . . I don't understand," Aaron croaked. He was beaten and fucked and totally exhausted. And now this. He was completely out of his element.

"No you're not, not really," the voice said.

"I'm not what?"

"Out of your element. I'm as surprised as you are. But there you have it. And here we are. And it looks like we can do business."

"Business? What in the hell are you talking about?" Aaron was angry now. Anger on top of confusion and frustration.

"See, you do have it in you," the voice said. And then there was a low, self-satisfied laugh. "If your fraternity brothers were here in front of you now and you had the power, you would make them suffer utter damnation, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Aaron blurted out.

"And, so, that's why we're here, why our paths have crossed. I specialize in utter damnation. For just a small consideration, I can give you all the revenge you want."

"You can . . .? What sort of shit is this? Is this part of the pledge hazing?"

"No, not at all, Aaron. This is part of your revenge. If you are interested . . . and if you are willing to pay the price."

"Interested? Price? I don't believe . . ."

"Yes you do, Aaron. Deep, down inside you believe. You summoned me. And you are willing to pay the price. I know that even if you don't yet. That's why I'm here. That's why when you summoned me, I came."

"I summoned you? This is ridiculous."

A heavy sigh was emitted from the darkened corner. "You certainly run deep, don't you? Such self-delusion. You need convincing. Here. You have cuts and bruises. Here, lean over toward me."

Aaron's eyes opened wide as the cloak parted and the man—no, the beast—leaned in to him and a long, forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. More of Aaron's attention was going to what else he could see, though: a swarthy complexion and trails of hair down a naked chest. Pointed ears, small horns at the temple. A centered, impossibly long, slender cock curved up from four heavy balls. The trail of chest and belly hair descending to fully pelted goat's legs and ending in cloven feet.

How in the hell did the fraternity guys manage this, was Aaron's dominant thought. And he thought he might laugh, but he was shaking too badly to do so. Thus, the only sound that came out of him initially was a frightened snort. "The devil you . . ." he then whispered huskily.

"Yes, precisely. Hold still. This won't hurt. You will enjoy this, and it will bring you relief—and, I think, understanding and acceptance. I'm not here to hurt you; I'm here to fulfill your wants."

Aaron leaned away from the monster, laying down on his back on the wide seat, but paralyzed, immobile to the hands that closed over his arms under his biceps and the warm, naked body that covered him and to the tongue and lips that moved to his body, sliding from bruise to cut, which cleared up instantly under the attention of the caresses of the monster's mouth.

Aaron couldn't move, not only from the horror of it but also from the comfort and sensuous healing touch of the devil's lips and tongue—and the warmth of his body and the silken caress of his body hair on Aaron's flesh. When he was done bringing Aaron's broken and cut body back to the height of rosy health, the devil's lips descended on Aaron's cock, and Aaron laid back and enjoyed a more sensuous and complete blow job he'd ever had from a mortal.

When the devil finished draining Aaron dry, he sat up and released his hold on Aaron and said, "Do you believe me now?"

"No . . . yes, how could I not. But I . . ."

"I'm here because of what happened to you tonight—in fact because of what the man you trusted led you in to. And because of the power of your frustration and humiliation and anger. You want revenge for that, don't you?"

"Yes," Aaron whispered. There was no use hiding this. The devil certainly knew it. It was time that he admitted it to himself. "But at what cost?" Aaron asked.

"Why, your soul, of course," and the devil laughed like the answer was obvious. "Don't you read your folklore?"

"Yes, but how, what . . ."

"I must possess you. Possess you fully. But in turn, you will be quite pleased with your life. After tonight that shouldn't be either misunderstood by you or all that difficult. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I guess I do," Aaron answered.

"And you are prepared for that?" the devil asked?

What else was there for Aaron to say. After what he'd already been through that night. Knowing what he wanted to do about it.

"Come here," the devil said as he sat back up and he held out his hand.

The fucking was divine. No pain, and the sensation of deep, filling completion. Again and again. The devil drew Aaron onto his lap, facing away from him, the devil's arms completely encasing him. And Aaron was fucked just the way he had hoped that Jack would fuck him earlier in the evening, in their room, before the hazing started.

But Aaron had no illusions. He knew that Jack could never fuck him like this. Touch him so deeply, stretch his channel so fully, pump him so long and completely, fill him to the overflow with sweet, calming nectar. Set him on fire. Again and again and again.

When the devil had come deep inside him, filling Aaron with a pleasure and calmness he'd never experienced before, the devil murmured, "Was that a price too high to pay?"

"Not unless it was given to me just that once and will now be a solitary memory."

Pleased at the response, the devil whispered, "That need not be. I require no waiting time." And once more Aaron was lying on his back along the seat, with his legs parted and hooked on top of the devil's hairy, bulbous buttocks, and the devil was on top of him, making Aaron moan and sigh at the heat of the devil's body and the feel of the silken hair on his body, and moving deeper, deeper inside him. And the slender cock was thickening into a mighty pole of taking, stripping Aaron of his very soul—with Aaron crying out, begging for the devil to take more of him—no matter the cost.

* * * *

Alert and smiling and on time, Aaron aced his chemistry exam the next day—and all of his exams and papers after that as well.

Bert was the first one to leave the fraternity—and the college, followed almost immediately by Tom. Bert, the brilliant student, was caught cheating on an exam—and was turned in by Tom. Bert was dismissed from the school. When he was called to task, he just hung his head and said, "The devil made me do it." The school administrators weren't impressed or amused. No more impressed and amused was the fraternity counsel when Tom was called on the carpet for snitching on a senior brother and gave the same "the devil made me do it" reply in defense. He was hounded out of the frat house and the college forthwith.

Pete was caught trying to steal a case of beer in open daylight from a grocery store near the college campus. He was looking glazed and muttering, "The devil made me do it," as he was hauled off to the goal, complaining that of course he didn't steal the beer of his own will; his family had access to all of the beer they could possibly want.

A special place in hell was reserved for Jack, when Pete went to trial and identified Jack as his accomplice in the crime. That same day, before he could be arrested, Jack slipped on his own sweat on the basketball court and came down hard on the floor, shattering his kneecap. He would never be able to play basketball again, but the loss of his scholarship and his planned professional sports career were made moot by his arrest. In the holding cell, he beat up Pete badly, mad as he was that the only reason Pete would give for implicating him was that the devil had made him do it—and this ace sent Jack to prison, where he became the favorite of all of the prisoners who hadn't had the privilege of going to college and playing competitive basketball.

Aaron was most pleased at the sendoff for smart ass ringleader Tony. The fraternity was already dissolving around their ears and Aaron had moved in with another guy in a nice apartment closer to the college, when Tony was pulled out of the burning fraternity house, naked and holding the lighter he'd used to torch all of the draperies in the house. The house went up in flames nicely, seeming to enjoy the flash sendoff from the indignities it had gone through. When Tony's angry father showed up and watched his investment go up in flames and turned on his son, all Tony could say was "The devil made me do it" with a big grin on his face. A disgusted father refused to cover Tony's bail, and Tony was given the undivided amorous attention of three bikers on four successive nights in holding before he crawled into his arraignment.

By then, though, Sam, the football star, and Aaron were humming along swimmingly in their new love nest apartment. Sam worshiped the ground that Aaron walked on. He took care of all of the domestic chores and bedded Aaron every night just as Aaron liked it—that was every night that Aaron wasn't off renewing his soul sale to the figure in the backseat of the sleek black limousine.