The Mafia Devil's Possession novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: The Collar
In the chain room in Haeundae, Gwak Seo-jin buckles a collar on Si-on and makes him come, slow and tied to the bed, while an unknown number texts him to run.
The photograph of the page was the worst part.
Seo-jin held it out in the back of the car without a word, and Si-on took it because he had to.
It was a loan form, dated last Tuesday.
At the bottom, in blue ink, was the signature of Nam Hye-ran.
She made the same crooked N on every school form he had ever brought home.
Next to it, in the same hand, was his name.
Collateral: Nam Si-on, aged eighteen.
He read it until the streetlights smeared.
"She'd never," he said.
"That is her hand."
"She'd never, you fucking liar."
Seo-jin looked out of his own window.
The big man at the wheel, Du-sik, kept his eyes on the road and turned the radio up a little.
Si-on folded the photograph in half, then in half again.
He held it in his fist the rest of the way up the hill to Haeundae.
The house was white concrete and glass, and it sat above the sea.
Inside it was very quiet.
Seo-jin did not show him the kitchen or the garden or the room he would sleep in.
He walked up a flight of stairs and Si-on followed, because there was nowhere else to go.
At the end of the upper hall Seo-jin opened a door.
The room was bare except for a bed, wide and low, with a grey sheet pulled tight.
A lamp burned on the nightstand.
And bolted into the headboard, running down over the pillows, was a silver chain.
At the end of it hung a black leather collar with a ring on the front.
Si-on stopped in the doorway.
"No," he said.
"You signed."
"I signed to live in your house. I didn't sign to be your fucking dog."
"You signed body and bed." Seo-jin took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.
"I read it to you, and you tore the paper."
He began to undo his cufflinks.
He did it with the same slow care he had used on the orange.
"I'm not scared of you," Si-on said.
"I know. It's one of the things I paid for."
Si-on's face went hot.
He should have walked out then.
The door was open, and Du-sik was a floor below, and he had broken a man's knee tonight.
Instead he stood there and watched the Devil roll his sleeves to the elbow.
He saw the forearms and the old white scars on them, and his mouth went dry.
"Shirt," Seo-jin said.
"Make me."
Seo-jin crossed the room in three strides.
He took the front of Si-on's school shirt in both hands and tore it open down the middle.
The buttons rang on the floor.
Si-on swung.
It was a good right hand, short and fast, and it would have taken any man in the building off his feet.
Seo-jin caught it in the air.
He turned Si-on's wrist, walked him backward, and pinned him face first to the wall with one forearm across his shoulders.
"There," he said, near Si-on's ear. "Now we both know."
"Know what?"
"That you could hit me every day for three years and I would still keep you."
Si-on's breath came in short, angry pulls.
The wall was cool against his chest, and the heat of the man behind him was a solid line down his back.
Seo-jin's free hand slid the torn shirt off his shoulders and over his arms.
The Devil's bare fingers followed the bumps of his spine, one by one, down to the waist of his uniform trousers.
They stopped on the skin just above the belt.
Si-on shuddered.
"You're hard," Seo-jin said.
"Fuck off."
"You are," Seo-jin said. "For a man who has just been sold."
"Shut up."
"Turn around."
Si-on turned.
He leaned his back on the wall and kept his chin high.
Seo-jin looked at him with those flat grey eyes, from the split eyebrow to the flush on his chest to the line of his trousers.
Then he took the collar off the bed.
It was soft leather, worn smooth, with a steel buckle.
"Chin up."
Si-on lifted his chin, because it was already up, and he would not give the man the idea that he had been told.
The leather settled on his throat, cool and heavy.
Seo-jin's knuckles brushed his pulse as he fed the strap through the buckle.
The chain clinked once against the headboard.
"Too tight?" Seo-jin said.
"Go to hell."
"That's a no."
He took Si-on by the collar's ring and walked him to the bed.
He pushed him down on his back across the grey sheet, and Si-on felt the chain slide across his chest and tighten.
Seo-jin snapped the cuff on his left wrist and clipped it to the rail.
Then the right.
Si-on tugged, and the steel rang.
He lay there with his arms above his head and his chest rising.
His cock strained against his zipper in plain view.
"I hate you," he said.
"Good. Keep it."
Seo-jin sat on the edge of the bed and opened Si-on's trousers.
He pulled them down his thighs with the briefs and left them there, tangled at the knees, so that Si-on's legs could not open properly.
Si-on's cock slapped against his belly, flushed dark and wet at the tip.
The Devil looked at it without expression.
He drew the black glove off his left hand, one finger at a time.
"Eighteen," Seo-jin said. "Has anyone touched you before?"
"Yes."
"Liar."
"Girls." Si-on's voice cracked on it. "Twice. It's none of your..."
Seo-jin closed his bare hand around him.
Si-on's whole body jerked off the sheet.
The grip was dry and firm and perfectly slow, one long pull from the base to the head.
His thumb rolled over the slit and came away wet.
"Oh, fuck."
"There."
"Don't," Si-on said.
"Say it again."
"I said don't, you bastard."
Seo-jin did it again, the same slow pull, and watched Si-on's face while he did.
He was looking for something, and Si-on did not know what.
His thumb pressed under the head and circled, again and again, until the muscles in Si-on's thighs began to shake against his trousers.
The chain rattled on the rail.
Si-on's hips lifted into the hand and he hated them for it.
"You're loud," Seo-jin said. "Du-sik will hear."
"Then stop."
"No."
He leaned over, and his breath went across Si-on's chest, and then his mouth closed on a nipple.
He bit.
Si-on yelled, a raw sound that went up into the ceiling, and came into the Devil's hand in long hot spurts across his own stomach.
His back arched until the collar dug into his throat.
It went on longer than he thought it could.
When it was over he lay boneless on the sheet, gasping, with the chain slack across his chest and his face burning.
Seo-jin lifted his hand and looked at the come on his fingers.
Then he wiped it, slowly and carefully, across Si-on's mouth.
"Taste," he said.
Si-on bit his thumb.
Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough that Seo-jin's eyes changed.
Something dark and bright went through the grey for a heartbeat.
The Devil pulled his hand away and flexed it.
"Good," he said.
He stood.
He did not take off his shirt, and he did not unclip the chain.
He left Si-on chained to the bed with his trousers around his knees and his own come cooling on his stomach.
At the door he turned.
"Tomorrow is Friday. You will go to school. Du-sik drives you and brings you home."
"You're leaving me like this?" Si-on said.
"You'll sleep better."
The door closed, and Si-on heard the lock turn from outside.
He lay there for a long time shaking with rage and the other thing.
Then his phone buzzed on the floor where it had fallen out of his pocket, ten inches beyond the reach of his fingers.
He stretched until the cuff bit his wrist and hooked it with his toe.
He dragged it up his leg and pinned it against his thigh and read the screen.
Unknown number.
Don't trust the man who bought you. Run.
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