Playing With The Devil

Chapter 1

The music was deafening. Seemed like it just became louder and louder with each step I took into the area. Everyone was either bobbing to it or yelling in each other's ears, all the flirtatious little pickup lines they could think of. It bored me. Perplexed me even. This was meant to be "the party of the century" and I was promised it would be worth it this time, but it was just a BDSM party that I could have gone without as usual. It was the same as it always was. People grinding up against each other. Some of the younger ones didn't seem to know what to do but must have been curious enough to check it out for themselves. Maybe they were invited by friends.

Newer ones were bratting where they shouldn't. I had two young women try it with me, but I couldn't deal with something like that, with people who just couldn't respect those around them. I'd had my fair share of Subs, and Doms, who didn't respect boundaries. I recognized a few people here and there; many I didn't enjoy being around because consent was thrown out the window at parties like this. Even with new moderation, the same bullshit kept on happening. I forced my way through the crowd and towards the locker rooms, hopefully, there was a bathroom I could use to wash up and leave. The party was being hosted in some sort of indoor sports stadium, so surely it'd be back here somewhere.

As I enter the locker room closest to me, I spot two men standing idly near one of the benches and look around the corner of the first set of lockers. A younger person sits at the end of the bench, back up against the wall. I'm not entirely sure whether they're male or female, or maybe I am correct in thinking genderless. They were wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and enclosed, simple slip-on shoes. A red and black plaid button-up shirt with some sort of red overcoat covers their upper half. A plain black beanie sits atop their head. I can see tufts of brown hair escaping from underneath it. My eyes drifted back to the shirt and spotted a pronoun pin, just making out he/him written on it.

With his back against the wall, it meant his legs were spread with the bench in between. He looked worried, his eyes open wide, staring between each of the men in front of him. I watched as he attempted to push his legs together, clearly getting more uncomfortable by the second. My eyes flashed towards the men, noticing their stance. They were standing up straight and staring the poor young man down. A clear sign of intimidation. These men had been at parties like this before, preying on younger people. Attempting to sway the newer submissives to join them in some of the more dangerous activities.

"Don't be so worried, Little One," the taller of the men said. "We just want to show you some tricks."

"He seems scared," the other chuckled. "We won't hurt you."

The young man didn't speak at all. I watched as he gulped. His lips parted but nothing audible came out. The taller man stepped forward and the young man raised his hands defensively, shaking his head. His bottom lip quivered at the advance. My eyes were drawn to the other man who had stayed where he was. His hands were in his pockets. He appeared to be toying with something in one of them. A knife maybe?

My eyes went back to the young man. He had begun writing in a notepad I hadn't noticed before. Surprisingly, the men were waiting patiently, somewhat amused by what they were witnessing by the smirks that crossed their faces. I knew men like this, why did they wait? Was this the only way they were going to get him to struggle? If they make it seem like they're willing to be patient, maybe he wouldn't be as much of a problem for them. I should say something.

"'Friend brought me here. Not interested please.'," the man read from the paper. "That's too bad, we just want to have some fun."

I step forward at those words, not taking no for an answer made me seethe. Consent will always be key in any form of relationship, and I won't stand by while someone's hurt.