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The demon's eyes, even when he's pretending to be human, are black. Black pits that lead straight down to hell. John knows cause he's seen it once, when the demon had grabbed his arm and taken him on a "little trip to see where you're sister will end up if you don't behave." The hell fire hadn't even been reflected in its pupils. The brown so dark it was black simply drank up the fire and screams and grews ever more darker. "She'll be back here, Johnny boy, if you ever say no to me again."
John didn't fight anymore. He was a good little pet; bowing his head when his master came near, placing his soft hair under his master's hand, spreading himself wide on whatever toy his master choose for that day. His tan was fading, his hair darker from the months without sun, muscles disappearing in each second that he spent locked up in the tiny flat.
"Oh Johnny boy, I'm home!"
The demon didn't keep regular hours. John measured by the time between meals, how long it was before had felt the need to use the facilities, how many times the vibrator slammed into his prostate and the screams of orgasm overtook him.
"Have you been a good boy for daddy?" John moaned around the gag in his mouth, dribble sliding down his lips and pooling on his chin before it dripped, dripped, dripped onto the dirty floor. "What was that, pet? I couldn't understand you." John made more obscene noises. He couldn't see anything, but he could his masters hands trailing down his sides to settle just below the curve of his arse.
Suddenly, the hands pull back and slap him, hard, across the buttocks. John whines and rocks in his restraints, chains clinking softly as he swings, tears coming to his eyes. The demon chuckles and repeats the motion, digging his nails in this time, making John's whine turn into a gasp.
"Such a slut."
Slap, slap, slap. John rocks and moans, letting his body do all the talking the demon wants. Maybe today, he chants to himself. Maybe he'll grow bored today.
"Oh Johnny, I would never grown bored of you."
The hands slip lower, and now the hands are hitting the back of his thigh, stray blow catching his balls and John is arching away from every touch for the little good that does him. Every slap is harder than the last. John is suddenly, strangely grateful that he can't see past the blindfold. He doeesn't want to see how bad his body must look today. Last time he was permitted to see himself in a mirror, there wasn't a bare inch of his body without some degree of bruising. Bloodied, scarred, Harry wouldn't even call him her brother if she could see him like this. Whining and pitching himself as some monster literally from the depths of hell used him in every situation possible.
"That's right, Johnny. She'd never want you."
A hand leaves his butt. John's heart speeds up - what's he reaching for, what's he doing? Then he's being rocked between two hands; pushes on his chest whenever he swings forward from the wall. Fingers slap across his nipples, and keens join the wordless noises coming from his mouth.
"None of them ever wanted you."
Rocked back and forther and he's not even given the chance to reply. John closes his eyes. It feels like maybe he's got some tiny degree of control when he does that. He's choosing not to see the inside of the blindfold, the folds of fabric that are just barely illiminated. He's making a choice and it feels like he might surive this, if he holds onto that choice.
"Oh no, Johnny. You'll never survive this. Your mine, Johnny boy, all pitiful mine."
The words come hot and heavy in his ear. Despite himself, John feels himself hardening. The demon chuckles and stops pushing. The air is a cool breeze against John's skin, dulling the heat in his belly even as the wait makes him axious for whatever will happen next.
"That's it Johnny. You just wait for daddy to do everything. Take care of you," he feels the blindfold leave his face, keeping his eyes shut anyways. "Make you happy," pressure of nails on his scarred waist. "Protect you." The gag is gone. He gasps and sputters, drooling onto his chest as he takes a true breath of air.
"Look at me." Fingers force his head up. John keeps his eyes shut. "Look at me." Nails clench into his chin and John is obliged to give in. He blinks, even the half light of the room too much.
The demon is no where near him. The hands holding his head up are unconnected to the lips pulled back in a contented smile. "There's my little soldier." The smile widens and John feels a quiet pat from invisible hands on his cheek. "Such a good little boy for daddy, aren't you?"
The pat turns into a slap when he doesn't answer. "ARE'NT YOU?"
"Of course sir. I'll be good sir."
"I know you will." The demon picks with his cuffs, and John remembers what it had felt like to rub his head against the silk. "And what does daddy do with good little pets?"
"Lets them come."
"Good boy!" The demon stands, and the feel of hands on his skin moves from his face to his chest. "And do you want to come?"
John gasps as the hands play with his nipples, circling the little nubs and pinching them each in turn. "Y-Yes daddy."
The hands drop lower. His cock is taken in hand, but the fingers stop there. John bucks into the invisible hand and the demon makes a tutting sound. "Ah uh ah. What's the magic word?"
"Pl-Please daddy."
Just a few sconds later and John's coming, splattering his release on the floor, himself, the nearest wall. He shouts the demon's name as he does, bending his neck back and announcing to the heavens the creature who'd traded his sister's soul for John's freedom.
"Jim!"