Accidental Summoning Ch. 04

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A pesky notebook starts causing problems.
18.2k words
4.82
14.7k
32

Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 04/15/2017
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Author's Notes: This story contains the following: Anal, Hermaphrodite, Demons, (Mild) Mind Control, Fantasy, Fellatio, Femdom, a little Bondage and some Romance.

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Hamid Abedi's first clue that something had gone seriously wrong was the headache he felt as he clawed his way back up to consciousness. The second clue was the blurred vision. He blearily tried to make sense of his surroundings. There was a dim memory of finally giving in to Randall's teasing and taking a few swigs of alcohol. It was his first drink ever, but surely it couldn't have affected him this badly.

He couldn't see much. It was a dim room, lit only by candlelight, and he got the general impression of red and black.

"Hamid! You're awake. Good."

Randall's cheerful voice seemed to chase away the last of his cobwebs, and Hamid blinked his dark hazel eyes as he fully woke.

He was in a small room, probably a basement since he saw no windows. The wall facing him was bare concrete and the other two that he could see were covered in cheap dark-wood paneling that had seen better days.

Hamid couldn't see the wall behind him, because he was currently tied to a steel support pillar in the middle of the room. He tried to move his limbs and test his restraints. Hamid was a big guy and plenty strong thanks to playing lots of intramural rugby, but he still had no luck in loosening his bonds. His wrists were bound behind the pillar with what felt like a belt. There was a rope around the polo shirt over his broad chest, and another rope around his forehead. A second belt was strapped around the top of his thighs near groin-level, preventing him from using his legs.

That was all very bad, but what really made the sweat start to appear under his short and curly black hair was the thing laid out on the floor in front of him. The worn shag carpet had been hastily ripped up to reveal bare concrete, and in the middle of that cleared area was drawn a pentagram in red ink. At least, Hamid hoped it was red ink. A large flickering candle stood at the point of each pentagram.

Randall's voice came again from somewhere behind him. "Sorry, my man, but you need to be awake for this. You can't just die without waking up. You see, your fear is part of what will seal the bargain."

The words penetrated into his mind like an icy dagger. Hamid wetted his dry lips. "Now, Randall. This is a good prank, okay? Whatever this is, this teasing or hazing or whatnot, ya got me reeeeal good. I'm scared shitless, so you don't need to keep on with the act."

"Oh, this is no prank," replied Randall. "I now have incredible power within my reach. And your life is the key."

Hamid swallowed. Randall had been one of the 'cool kids' on campus, a trust fund asshole with a strong chin and a cheerful smile. Hamid hadn't thought of him as evil, exactly, just kind of annoying. The guy had always shown a fascination for the occult, but Hamid never thought that interest would extend into Randall actually trying some sort of satanic ritual. Or, for that matter, into trying his hand at human sacrifice.

Hamid cursed himself for not suspecting something earlier. Randall and his hangers-on had always teased him, called him 'towelhead' and 'dirty Arab' no matter how many times Hamid calmly explained that his ancestry was Persian, thank you very much. Besides, his family had emigrated to America two generations ago so it was all moot anyway.

But then Randall's treatment had flipped a few weeks ago. Suddenly the guy was trying to be Hamid's best buddy, trying to get him to 'lighten up a little', in his words. The fact that Hamid wasn't a drinker seemed to offend Randall, and the resulting battle of wills culminated in that half-remembered drink.

And now Hamid realized that drink must have been spiked. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice calm. "Randall? This is as far as it needs to go. You let me loose now, and you can have a big laugh at the towelhead, okay? We all shake hands and everything's cool. If you do something...more than that, well then it becomes really serious. Please, just think about..."

"Shut him up," said Randall.

A person stepped into Hamid's view, someone wearing a black silk robe and wearing a goat's-head mask. In other circumstances Hamid would have found the get-up laughable, but he wasn't laughing now. Hamid caught a flash of green eyes behind the mask and was pretty sure of who this was. Lonnie, one of Randall's hangers-on.

"Lonnie?" he asked in an almost whisper. Then, in a rising voice, "Please, Lonnie, don't-"

The goat-masked man shoved a rag into Hamid's mouth and then slapped a piece of duct tape over it. Hamid's breath came faster and whistled through his nose as he looked around in panic.

Randall finally stepped into Hamid's view, wearing the same black silk robe as the goat-masked man. He held a large tome under one arm and a smaller notebook under the other. His blue eyes twinkled as he winked at Hamid. "Sorry, my man. I know gagging you is kinda rude but we can't have you screaming. This particular house is abandoned, but the neighborhood isn't." He nodded at someone behind the pillar.

Hamid felt someone seize his hand, which was followed by a sharp slashing pain along the ball of his thumb. He jerked and tried to wrench his hand away, but the belt at his wrist held him fast. Whoever had hold of his thumb kept massaging it and Hamid could feel the warm trickle of blood dripping off of his injured digit.

The third person released his thumb and then his black-clad form walked out from behind Hamid carrying a small bowl. This person had a mask that looked like a human skull. Hamid suspected that the skull-masked man was Wilfred, based on the spare tire he was clearly carrying under that robe.

"We need a bit of your blood for our ink," said Randall. Skull-mask held up the bowl for Randall to inspect. Upon Randall's nod, Skull-mask moved off to a small table off to one side. The table held several vials and jars of various powders and liquids. The skull-masked man started adding their contents to the bowl, stirring after each addition.

Randall sighed in mock regret. "Unfortunately for you, that's not all we need."

Hamid tried to talk, but the rag in his mouth kept him from saying anything at all coherent.

The blonde man smiled. "I know, you're scared. I would be, in your shoes. Anyway, let me describe what's going on here. The more you know, the more scared you'll get and the better a sacrifice you'll make." He waved the larger tome at Hamid. "This is a translation of some old Sumerian demon-summoning rituals. It describes how to create spells which bring demons through into our world. There's also some incantations which protect the summoner from harm, and it also describes how to set up contracts with those demons."

Randall gave Hamid a little bow. "That's where you come in. See, I'm going to set up a contract where the demon gives me power..."

"You mean, where the demon gives us power!" said the goat-masked man. His voice was a little muffled by the mask, but Hamid was now certain he was Lonnie.

Randall gave Lonnie an exasperated look. "Yes, of course." He turned back to Hamid. "The demon will give 'us' power in this world in exchange for your soul."

Hamid's breath wheezed in and out of his nose. He could feel his heart jack-hammering in his ribs as Randall kept talking in a breezy tone.

"Now, of course, the pentagram is not a Sumerian symbol. Ya see, according to the book all you really need is something with the summoning phrase written on it. But I figure this shows a little more style, eh?" Randall waved a hand at the pentagram behind him. "Our big breakthrough was a few months ago. Before then, we tried these rituals several times with no luck. But then Paul Haskell went and vanished about seven months ago. Did you know him? Skinny guy, bit of a wallflower, really studious. Anyway, he up and disappeared without a trace. No sign of him at all. The only things left behind were his clothes, some ratty furniture...and this!"

Now Randall held up the other, smaller book. Hamid could see it was more of a binder than a book, with several pages threatening to slip out of it. "One of my homies had a class with Paul and managed to score this before Paul's sister could get it."

Lonnie drew himself up and looked pleased, or at least as pleased as he could while wearing a goat-mask.

Randall continued. "Ya see, Paul was working on an alternative translation for ancient Sumerian. There's a rumor floating around that he got too successful and actually summoned a demon by accident and got taken back to hell. I'm going to try and see if I can get that same demon to come here for you. I'm sure it will work, now that I'm using Paul's translation and I have your blood in the ink."

He gave Hamid a gleeful grin. "The part I'm most curious about is what the demon will do to you. Maybe he'll just eat you, or do something worse. He might have me slit your throat." He got a thoughtful look. "Yes, that is likely. After all, a murder by me would be a show of good faith on my part."

He bustled off out of Hamid's line of sight, then returned with a large and very sharp-looking chef's knife. He set it on the floor next to the pentagram and right in front of Hamid. Randall gave him another wink as he straightened up. "It's best to be prepared, right?"

Hamid tried once more to speak, but now they were now ignoring him. He could feel tears at the corners of his eyes. His slashed thumb brushed over the buckle of the belt binding his wrists, and the pain snapped his mind back into focus. He could just reach the buckle with his thumb. Maybe he could get at the strap threaded through it?

As he pushed against the strap with his thumb, Wilfred brought the blood-and-ink mixture back over as well as a small paintbrush. Randall took the bowl and the proffered brush and began humming happily while he bent and began writing around the edge of the pentagram. The script looked somewhat like hieroglyphics to Hamid's untrained eye.

It seemed to take forever for Randall to finish the summoning phrase. Hamid didn't mind, since that meant it gave him more time to tease the belt apart. He managed to get the strap of the belt unthreaded, and then pushed hard to try to get the belt-prong out of its hole. He felt the belt loosen just as Randall finished up. His hands were now no longer truly bound, but he kept his hands behind him as if they were. He edged both of his hands down ever so slowly. Maybe he could undo the belt around his lower section as well.

Randall straightened up with a satisfied nod. There was one conspicuously absent patch in the line of script around the pentagram. As Hamid edged his hands lower, Lonnie brought him a large mask that looked like a deer's skull complete with large spreading antlers. Randall set the bowl down and donned the mask.

"Everybody set?" he said looking around. Both Lonnie and Wilfred nodded their readiness. The deer-skull looked at Hamid and tilted ironically. The bound man froze, hoping that his slight movements hadn't been detected. "Hamid? You ready?"

Hamid watched with wide staring eyes as Randall turned away and dipped the brush in the ink once more. He leaned forward and sketched in the last few hieroglyphs.

Hamid's mind was filled with dread. What would happen when this stupid bullshit ritual didn't work? Randall was insane and he had two helpers who were just as nuts. If it didn't work the bastard would probably try to cut Hamid's throat, either to add more blood to the bullshit ritual or just out of sheer anger.

And even though Hamid had gotten his hands loose, he was still tied to a pole in the middle of three insane and murderous assholes. There was a very good chance that he was going to die here in this dingy abandoned basement. All he really wanted at this moment was to say to his father that he loved him. He wanted to hug his sister once again, to tell his grandma that she was the best damn cook in the world.

And then Hamid's mind went blank with astonishment as a demon actually appeared in the center of the pentagram, accompanied by a loud sound that sounded like 'VWAP'.

The demon reclined casually in the middle of the air while reading a small pamphlet, as if the creature had been reclining on a no-longer-existing couch. Upon appearing, the figure fell back onto its rear with a thump and a cry of surprise while the pamphlet flopped onto the painted concrete.

Hamid stared in utter shock, his fear momentarily forgotten as the demon quickly gathered itself...no, herself...and sprang to her feet. She was smaller than Hamid expected, at least a head shorter than himself. The demon had a lean and muscled physique that looked surprisingly human. The rest of her was very much inhuman, from her emerald green skin to her pale gray hair to her horns and her constantly-lashing prehensile tail.

Two glowing yellow eyes stared at them all with a decidedly unamused expression. "You motherfuckers have exactly ten seconds to explain yourselves," said the demon in a quiet and very controlled voice.

Randall stepped forward. "Hail and greetings, fearful denizen of the underworld! Be warned, I am a mighty wizard and I have cast a powerful spell to keep you contained. Hear me and-"

"That mask makes you sound like you're chewing on your own dick," interrupted the demon in that same controlled voice. "Take that ridiculous thing off."

After a moment of hesitation, Randall reached up and pulled off the mask. He set it down and drew himself up proudly. "As you wish. I have brought you here to make a bargain. You will grant me power in this realm in exchange for-"

While Randall blathered on, the demon locked her gaze with Hamid's. He felt like a rabbit being eyed by a wolf, even though he was six inches taller and had at least fifty pounds of muscle on her. A tear rolled down one of his cheeks while those bottomless yellow eyes bored into his soul. He realized that this demon was absolutely furious, but somehow knew that her rage was not directed at him.

The demon interrupted Randall by raising one slim arm. "What. The Fuck. Is. This?" She pointed at Hamid. Her voice now sounded like an oncoming freight train.

Randall gave a panicked look back over his shoulder at Hamid, then looked back in confusion at the demon. "He's our sacrifice to you, of course. Quid pro quo. You give me power, I give you his blood and his soul. I can kill him for you, if you like, or prepare him however you wish-"

"Shut up and don't move." Her voice had quieted back down, but now held an odd timbre to it. Randall stiffened slightly, but otherwise obeyed. His hands were still held out awkwardly in front of him and now trembled slightly.

Hamid got back to work on trying to get loose. His hands just contacted the buckle of the lower belt, and he tried to feel out where the strap was.

In the meantime, the demon shifted her gaze to the other two present. "Both of you. Masks off. Then don't move again until I tell you."

As if in a daze, the other two pulled their masks off as well and stood stock-still. Just as Hamid had suspected, Randall's minions were indeed Lonnie and Wilfred.

She stalked forward out of the inscribed script around the pentagram, which earned a shocked twitch from Randall's paralyzed form. The demon paused next to Randall and gave the blonde man a nasty sideways smirk. "Oh, you expected your stupid little containment spell to work? Yeah, the Sumerians thought so too...which is one reason ya don't see that many Sumerians around these days."

Based on their twitching hands, both Lonnie and Wilfred looked like they were trying to move and not succeeding. They also looked like they were trying to not shit themselves, and fortunately were succeeding.

The demon walked up to Hamid's bound form, and he froze in the middle of his surreptitious attempts to free himself. In spite of his fear, Hamid's libido had not missed the fact that she was stark naked. Her nipples were the same shade of gray as her hair, and started to crinkle as she gazed up into his eyes. There was a little strip of curly gray pubic hair at the junction of her thighs, and that was the only body hair he could see. The demon tapped her chin with a finger as she regarded Hamid, and her lashing tail slowed to a more methodical rhythm. "Hmmmm. I must say, he is a very cute little present. He's even gift-wrapped."

Then she smiled, a real and friendly smile this time, and gave Hamid an exaggerated wink. "Don't worry, kid," she muttered. "I'm just foolin' with ya."

Hamid felt a little bit more relaxed at that. At least this entity didn't seem to be hostile towards him. As she turned away, he redoubled his efforts at the lower belt. He just managed to tease the strap out. If he gave it one good yank it should come right off. But he didn't dare move, not with a actual demon of unknown power standing right in front of him.

Lonnie started to babble in fright. "Look, Miss Demon, Randall told us-"

Her voice cut him off. "Shut up." Lonnie's jaw closed with a click. "And you shut up too," she added as Wilfred began to open his mouth.

The demon sighed and walked back around to stand in front of Randall. She crossed her arms under her small, perky tits. "I will ask you questions. You will answer them directly and not speak otherwise. How did you get the correct phrasing for ancient Sumerian?"

Randall's response was monotone. "I used Paul Haskell's translation."

"And how do you know Paul?"

"I don't know him directly," said Randall. "Lonnie had a class with him."

"And how did this 'Lonnie' know Paul's translation?"

"Lonnie got ahold of his notebook."

The demon sagged. "Shit, of course she forgot to take his damn notes. Desdemona always was a forgetful little thing. So you used Paul's notebook to set up the proper summoning phrase around this pentagram?"

"Yes."

"And where is the notebook now?"

"On the table over there."

The demon glanced over and nodded. "So that's one hole plugged. Now what do I do with you all?" She stared over at Hamid thoughtfully, and after a bit of pondering she looked back up at Randall. "What were you going to do with him?" She pointed at the bound young man.

"The towelhead? Whatever you wanted me to. And if the ritual didn't work I was going to slit his throat and add his lifeblood to the pentagram for more energy-"

"Hush." Randall obediently shut up as she kept speaking. "I'm not up on the lingo in this particular timeline, but 'towelhead' sure sounds like a racial slur. Which is a nice little shit-covered cherry on top of your whole plotting-a-murder sundae."

Randall didn't respond. The demon looked deep into his eyes and finally nodded.

"Yep, you're a fucking sociopath all right," she mused. "You're a big man on campus, always with a smile and a ready handshake. Got a lot of people following you around who think your shit doesn't stink." She glared at Lonnie and Wilfred in turn. Then she looked over at Hamid and smiled. "Does that sound about right?"

Hamid shrugged and nodded as best he could with his head tied up.

The demon turned back to Randall. "And of course, you're a hit with the ladies. But once you get 'em alone, oooh, then you show 'em your dark side. You show 'em good and hard. And then you make 'em too fearful to say a damned thing afterward."

Randall didn't move, except for his eyes which darted around like a trapped animal.

The demon nodded as she came to a decision. "Right, then." She stepped back from Randall and into the center of the pentagram. She pointed with one sharp nail at the chef's knife on the ground. "Pick that up. Now."

Hamid didn't dare breathe as Randall turned with odd twitching movements. He was clearly trying not to obey, but his body was also clearly betraying him. Randall's wide, pleading eyes met Hamid's gaze one final time as he bent and retrieved the knife.