The Mafia Demon’s Human Slave

First Shot

The Mafia Demon’s Human Slave

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Chapter 3:

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Alaric raises an eyebrow. “You mean one this b***h’s incompetent slaves?” Keir sucks in a breath and the man barely keeps himself from sweating.

“Incompetent at chores, but they’re eye candy and I’m sure they can prove to be a good…hole…for you.” The man swallows but his voice doesn’t waver.

Alaric is impressed, and it’s for that reason only that he allows himself to continue playing this game.

He smiles wider, brighter. “Aww, that’s so thoughtful of you! You’re right, I do think they’ll have a better performance. They’re men too, so powerful batteries as well, huh?”.

It’s a direct jab at Keir and all of womankind, he knows, and Ciaran knows, but the woman doesn’t say anything.

The owner of the incompetent slave looks at Keir pleadingly, begging her to let him buy one right now.

Alaric half-wishes she’ll turn him down, smile wickedly and tell him that he can’t buy one. But unfortunately, the cold b***h does have a heart. She frowns and quirks her lip downwards, but mumbles for him to take his pick.

Alaric pouts at her for half a second, making it clear to everyone that he wanted her to say ‘no’. It’s more fun that way.

No one dares challenge him for one of the slaves. Had they been auctioning off like usual, it would be a rowdy bunch and a physical fight or two might’ve started.

But seeing as the slave is for Alaric, no one dares protest to whatever slave the man picks out.

Instead, the man looks at him. “W-which one would you like?” Next to him, Ciaran tsk’s at the waver in his voice.

He had been doing so well at keeping his composure.

Fortunately, Alaric is in a good mood.

Maybe it’s because everyone’s fear is radiating in bounds, or that Ciaran has gotten over his hurt from Keir’s remark, but he lays back, spreading his legs farther as if to showcase his soft d**k that sways.

He knows half the men in here want to pull out their guns and knives and kill him.

He knows a couple of them are considering. He also knows that they won’t try if they’re smart.

“Hmm, surprise me.”

Ciaran scoffs out loud, and many of the slaves and lower-ranked men (and women) turn to him in surprise that he dared to scoff at Alaric.

Everyone else knows that only Ciaran can do it.

Even the slave he was given as a gift looks up at him with awe, eyes darting to Alaric for a fraction of a second before realizing he’s looking right at him and looking away.

Alaric shifts his gaze back to the man, who’s starting to look like he wants to throw up. First mistake.

Alaric can sense everyone’s fears, but he prefers dealing with the pigs that like to hide it as if he can’t sniff it out. It’s another one of those rumors, that he can sense everyone's fear, and the man must believe it because he’s stopped trying to keep his composure.

However, it also means he’s immediately losing points in Alaric’s book.

The man takes a deep breath and points to a boy. Alaric turns his head to take him in, but keeps his face blank to get the tension going (if it wasn’t soaring already anyway).

Alaric doesn’t think it’s a bad pick. The boy is cute, pale, and small. Petite. He looks like he’ll die if Alaric so much as thrusted into him, but that might just be because Keir has a thing for starving her incompetent men.

Either way, Alaric can see himself f*****g that, though it won’t be much fun. He can still get off to him, he supposes.

The boy’s eyes meet his and he keeps his face blank and eyes narrowed, though Alaric can see the fear hidden in his face.

Ah, either his reputation is losing his touch or Alaric has just met two people who can somewhat keep their cool in front of him.

Either way, he’s in a better mood now. He likes the pick, and he decides he’ll show it.

He smiles once more, and decides to ignore the way the man’s shoulders slump in relief. “Fine by me.” He says, and then man pulls out his checkbook, looking at Keir as if to ask how much she wants.

Keir waves her hand. “That one’s free. You can have him.”

Alaric raises an eyebrow. “Is there a reason why he comes for free?”

Keir makes eye-contact with him, but because Alaric isn’t threatening her, she has enough courage to maintain it. “He volunteered to become a slave. I got him for free, you can have him for free.”

Alaric leans back even further, though now he’s less interested.

There's nothing more boring than a willing slave, a willing human being.

He prefers those that have lives ripped away from them, those who don't want what they have, those who fight.

“Yeah.” The man says finally.

On the floor, the slut that started this all begins trying to push herself up.

He beckons for his new slave to come closer.

A woman steps forward to unlock his chains, and then the boy starts walking towards him, stepping past the shoes of all these rich men and coming to kneel by Alaric just like Ciaran’s gifted slave had done. He keeps his head held high and maintains eye contact with Alaric the entire time.

Alaric has to keep himself from licking his lips. He’ll have plenty of time to do whatever he wants to the boy later.

Alaric looks back at the slut on the ground, reaches his leg out and brings it down on her ass hard enough a hip bone breaks. The crack is sickening, and it’s now that many of the men look away.

Some of them are bored, some of them are amused, others simply want him to go back to being passive and un-irritated.

Ciaran reaches a hand forward to card through his gift’s hair, to relax him. It works because the boy’s shoulders loosen.

He should be grateful that of all the men, he was given to Ciaran. It means he has the third highest likelihood of getting out of here alive, after Alaric and Ciaran.

In front of him and his soft c**k that’s still out in the open (Alaric should probably cover it up. Whether with his jeans or a hole, it’s getting a little drafty out here) his brand-new slave flinches, either at the act of violence itself, or the sound that comes afterwards.

He coos out loud, and then pulls his slave up, setting him on one knee.

He points towards the girl. “How do you think we should deal with her, hm? What’s your take?”

He’s getting a little bored of this himself, so it’s probably best to get this finished and over with.

The boy clears his throat, straightening in Alaric’s hold. “I think she should be thrown out.” He says, and oh.

His voice is deep, deeper than Alaric’s and raspy as well.

It’s directly opposite of what he looks like, and that makes Alaric like him even more.

He can already sense that his slave wants the girl to make it out of here alive, and he’s going to enjoy the look on his face when she doesn’t.

He brushes the slave’s hair behind his ears. “No baby, I’m thinking we kill her.”

“Ciaran.”

Alaric says, and the man immediately flips away his jacket revealing his pistol sitting at his waist.

In his lap, the gifted slave jumps and attempts to scramble off. Ciaran lets him, though he’s careful to make sure the slave doesn’t hurt himself in his hurry.

With a practiced ease, Ciaran throws his pistol at Alaric who catches it quickly.

Alaric reaches his arm around his slave’s waist and grabs his hand, pulling it up and forcing the handle of the gun into his hand.

That’s when the slave’s face cracks and his eyes go wide and he starts looking sick.

Alaric wonders if he’ll throw up. Man, then he’d get to kill two slaves in a day.

With his foot, he digs it under the w***e’s body and yanks her up, her head bobbing as she groans. Alaric widens his grin.

It seems he’s fed on her sin a little too much.

She barely has any soul left in her. She’s barely got a minute or so left.

“Shoot her, baby.” Ciaran says, loud and clear with the gun pointed at the girl’s forehead.

But his slave doesn’t.

So with a growl, he tightens his grip on the male’s hand until he’s crushed his bones (the boy’s raspy moan of pain was enough to make Hoseok want to kiss him), and then forces the gun into the girl’s mouth.

There’s about 20 or seconds left before she’s going to Hell, where her spiritual soul will remain in a jar in Hoseok’s collection to be forgotten for eternity.

“Baby, I advise you not to test me.” He doesn’t drop the smile, but he’s bordering on the edge of a blow-out, and he will kill everyone in here.

“Kill me instead,” the male whispers, hoarsely. 10 seconds left.

“No can do, baby. But here’s a deal: if you kill her, I won’t kill half of the people in this room. But the deal only lasts in the next 7 seconds.”

His baby looks shocked now, opens his mouth to protest but Alaric starts counting down, “6…5…4…”

BANG

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TBC