Chapter 2

"Ornias (trans. "pesky"), the first demon mentioned in the book of Solomon..."

I had tried getting the demon to tell me about itself, about the ring, about why its symbol had been drawn on the last page of Sara's journal. However, despite being unable to break the ring's hold, it refused to utter anything but threats concerning what it would do to me when the ring no longer stayed its hand. So I decided to employ the tool most often by writers when they are sniffing for just enough facts to make the impossible plausible.

I started surfing the Internet.

"Solomon... began to pray to God to that He would hand him authority over the demon. His prayers were answered, as God sent the archangel Michael to deliver a ring to Solomon with the seal of God, so that he could imprison demons and force them to help construct the temple."

A ring given from God to Solomon to imprison demons and bend them to his will? Holy shit!!

"Solomon than sealed the demon with his ring and ordered him to cut stone for the temple."

Sealed! The demon Ornias must be connected somehow to the ring, and subject to its commands. But... why won't it do what I say?

"Solomon then commanded Ornias to bring him the Beelzeboul, the Prince of Demons. Ornias was able to throw the ring at Beelzeboul, who winced in pain, and then returned with Ornias to Solomon."

The other symbols on the ring must stand for demons that have been trapped and forced to do the will of Solomon! From the number of symbols on the sides of the ring, that must be dozens!

The cone of force emanating from the ring held steady with Ornias in its grip. He had lost interest in my search on the computer, and had turned his back to me inside the light coming from the stone. I stood up, thinking that what I was about to do needed the formality of being on my feet. Then I sucked in a deep breath and said in a loud voice:

"Demon Ornias, I command thee with the power of the ring of Solomon to do my bidding!"

The demon turned toward me, hissing in what I mistakenly thought was pain.

"Impudent whelp! Nothing you can say can make surrender my powers to your will!"

As it continued hissing, I realized that it was not in pain... unless laughing itself silly constituted pain for a demon.

I left my two newly sculpted wax beauties immobile in the small office and returned to my prowl around the house, knowing that my next stop would yield at least a few of the regulars. I again touched my power source mentally, and made myself invisible to those I might come into contact with.

The small back bedroom was known as the "encounter" room. A small futon sat on one side behind a wood and glass coffee table, and folding chairs were set up in a semi-circle facing it. Arrayed on the walls were various implements of S/M Gerry had collected... actually, that he had bought with the group's money and hung on the walls of his house. Floggers, single-tails, cuffs, chains, clamps... here used for decoration, but within easy reach should they be needed. Still, the area was mostly used for conversation and cooling off after intense sessions either in the living room or in the dungeon.

Surprisingly, only three people were in the room. One was someone for whom I felt great affection, if only because of how nice a person he was, even if his sexuality was a bit confused. Everybody called him Sam, if only because it made it easier to treat him in a more gender-neutral fashion. His birth name was Samuel, but if he could, he would rather have been born Samantha. Sam was a pre-op transsexual, taking the hormones and hoping for the day when he could afford the cost of the actual operation that would completely transform him. In the meantime, he lived his life as normally as most of the rest of us, saving his true passions for nights like this, when he dressed in full drag.

Having seen drag queens before, the sight of a man dressed as a woman would generally not startle me. However, given that Sam was 6' 7" if an inch, it was hard to think of him as feminine in nearly any way. Still, he worked at it, wearing clothes that complemented his body's lack of curves, wearing tasteful makeup instead of gaudy drag-queen pancake. More than that, he was truly a submissive at heart, liking to sit on the floor at the demonstrations, to volunteer for anything that required a modicum of pain or humiliation. One time, apparently out of need and longing, he asked if he could worship my feet. I was about to say no when Sara gripped my hand and shook her head slightly. So I accepted, and Sam gratefully bent over my feet, removing my shoes with care and ceremony, and then rolling my socks carefully down, kissing each inch of skin lovingly as it was exposed. It was a curious experience to say the least, made more so by the fact that he knew what he was doing, and it felt fantastic. Afterward, the three of us sat in the encounter room and talked about it, with Sam offering to do it anytime I wanted. I thanked him for his offer, then nodded at Sara and whispered, "But it might make her jealous!" and we all broke up in laughter.

On this night, though, Sam was in a lather. Even as I was trying to walk in, he blew past me, whizzing across the hall into the master bedroom and slamming the door behind him. Inside the encounter room, the two men left behind laughed uproariously at his departure.

In my mind I knew them as Frick and Frack, though their real names could have been Smith and Jones for all I knew. They were a couple, but both were submissive, and loved to come to the monthlies so that a male or female dominant could treat them to the masochism that they couldn't physically inflict on themselves. Most often I would see one of them running from the dungeon, either clad in a pink thong or nothing at all, displaying the angry red welts of a thorough beating and grinning at the discomfort some felt at their fleshy exhibitionism. Then, after the rough stuff was over, they'd wind up in this room on the futon, wrapped around each other, occasionally kissing, reliving their night with anyone who would care to listen. None of it would have bothered me, except for their unconscionable teasing of Sam, who they thought aberrant because he wanted to be a woman and submit to a man, while they wanted to be men and submit to anyone. It irritated me that they could be so condescending, so completely without sympathy, while they pranced and paraded around the house like they owned the place. In my thoughts, they were pigs, snuffling and oinking in someone else's pigsty.

Perhaps the ring picked up on these thoughts without my conscious direction, while my attention was focused on what was wrong with Sam. When I turned from the closed door of the master bedroom to look into the encounter room, I was surprised to see that Frick and Frack were undergoing some sort of transformation. They flopped around on the futon, writhing as their bodies were forced to change. Their faces morphed, their eyes getting beadier and more pig-like; their noses were grew more bulbous, transforming into snouts. Whiskers sprouted from around and under their new noses, while tails started to sprout from their asses. Their fingers folded into fists, then hardened into hooves. Their voices, so high-pitched when they laughed at others' misfortune, turned harsh and guttural as their cries turned into grunts and squeals. They were not men, nor were they pigs... they were pig-men, knowing nothing now of dungeons and dominants, only knowing the needs of pigs: to eat, to wallow, to shit... and to rut.

Even in the dim light of the encounter room, I could see Frick's penis extending, as Frack turned over on the futon and put his ass up in the air. They both grunted eagerly as Frick approached Frack from behind... until Frack let out a high-pitched squeal as Frick drove his cock home in the other pig-man's ass.

Not being into homo-bestiality, I pulled the door closed and left the pair to their new lives as carnival act curiosities.

Leaving Frick and Frack to their piggish antics, I crossed to the door of the master bedroom and stepped inside. Sam was huddled in the middle of the immense four-post bed, crying silently.

Like the rest many rooms that uninvited guests would never see, the master bedroom was decorated in BDSM-chic. Above the bed were mirrored panels; anchored to the ceiling was a naked wooden beam, over which ropes could be thrown and tied. There were all manner of hooks and pulleys attached to the beam, which could be used for immobilizing or displaying the bound in various positions. Again, Gerry had used club funds to equip his bedroom with many different types of toys, which were either displayed openly or were within easy reach in various chests and bureaus around the room.

Sam remained ignorant of my presence, which was what I wanted for the moment. I stood at the end of the bed and looked down on him, empathizing with the pain he felt. I didn't really have to look into his mind, as his sadness was being broadcast with such force that those without powerful supernatural forces at their command could feel it.

But I was struck by an image in the front of his mind. Sam saw himself as a kind of Pinocchio. However, instead of being a puppet boy wanting to be real, he saw himself as a fake person, a limbo person... neither male nor female. And what he wanted with all his heart was to be a real woman, one that could move forward in fulfilling the desire to be submissive to a powerful, desirable man.

Of all the people in the house on this night, Sam had always treated me decently, though he had done it as much because of his friendship with Sara than for any other reason. But, looking deeper into his mind, I saw that he genuinely liked me, and found that one time that he had worshipped my feet to be genuinely erotic... and his invitation to do it again was not in jest. He would have gladly knelt before me tonight or any other night and kissed and licked my feet until I told him to stop, and his only complaint would be being told to stop.

To this point, I had used the power of the ring in anger. But, looking at Sam huddled miserable and alone on the bed I decided one thing. If nothing else good came of this night, I would use the powers I had been given to try and make one very decent person happy.

I stepped up beside the bed and let myself become visible to Sam, then sat down beside him. He looked up in alarm, and might have tried to roll away from me on the bed if I hadn't been sending calming thoughts into his brain through the ring. I took his hand and squeezed.

"Frustrating night, huh?" I began. "I saw you run out the encounter room. Frick and Frack on your case?"

New tears formed at the corners of Sam's eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths and then, as if afraid his voice would fail him, simply nodded. Then, recalling all the drama surrounding Sara and Ramon and me, his eyes widened. "Daniel, you really shouldn't be here..."

"Shhhh. I've already heard that from Gerry, and I told him where he could stick it. By the time we're done here tonight, everything will be settled once and for all." I reinforced that more soothing thoughts, and he settled back on the bed, still troubled but much less agitated.

I didn't know exactly what to say... how to begin offering Sam the chance to live his heart's desire. I could just change him and be done with it, but... I wanted this to be something he chose for himself, rather than have it forced upon him. At least that much I could do in the spirit of being his friend.

"Sam... do you believe in magic?" I blurted out.

He looked at me curiously from the bed. "Sometimes, I guess. Sara's into that sort of thing, you know, and she's occasionally given me books to read and stuff. But... magic? I don't know."

I squeezed his hand again and smiled. "I know what you're saying. I suppose that, up until a few days ago, I would have said the same thing. But something's happened to me, Sam. Something that's wonderful in some ways, and extremely scary in others." I lowered my voice slightly. "I've found true power, Sam. Mystical, mythic power. And I've been using it."

Sam looked at me as if I'd lost my mind, for which I couldn't blame him.

I stood up and pulled him easily to his feet, aided by the power of the ring. That startled him even more.

"Come with me. I want to show you something." I lead him across the hall into the encounter room.

The demon Ornias scowled at me from its prison of light, knowing that I had found a bit of leverage upon which to open a dialogue.