#saton

"So, you like to pretend you're a tough guy huh?"

"I think the term you're looking for is wise guy."

Satan growled and spun around, letting his hand land hard onto the back of the chair. Solomon smiled up at him, looking as calm and smug as ever, even with his hands tied behind his back. It only served to frustrate him further. “You really feel that confident? Even when you’re being interrogated?”

Solomon shrugged.

“Fine, be that way. We have ways of making you talk.”

Satan pulled back and walked over to the corner of the room behind Solomon and out of his line of vision. His fingers slowly tapped against the table. Which one should he use? Which one would break his little prisoner the fastest? Oh there were so many wonderful and fun ideas running through his head.

He would get Solomon to talk.

“Remember Detective, you can’t bring harm to a pretty little hair on my head,” Solomon sang from his chair, “Not if you want anything to hold up against me in court.”

“Oh I wouldn’t call this hurting.”

Solomon didn’t even see what was coming as Satan pushed the vibrator hard against his crotch. His body lurched back, but Satan was there to stop him. Slowly, his other arm snaked around his neck to unzip his pants, “I feel like playing good cop now. You can’t really feel this too well can you? Why don’t we get it closer to some skin?”

He pressed it to Solomon’s tip before slowly moving it down so it rested just below the head.

“Fuck,” Solomon bucked back, making the chair rock, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Satan was enjoying making him squirm, the way his precum gleamed under the interrogation light. A thin sheen of sweat started to gather on Solomon's brow as he grit his teeth and tensed his muscles, but Satan couldn't let him have so much fun yet.

Without hesitation, he turned the vibrator off and chuckled, "That's better, you don't look so irritatingly smug now." Pleased with himself, he walked back around to Solomon's front and plopped down in front of him. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Solomon looked so stupid sitting their panting with his dick out of his pants, precum dripping onto the denim. But instead of giving in, instead of admitting that Satan had won, he looked him dead in the eye and spat.

“Really? You think playing with my dick will make me talk detective? For shame. I thought you were better than that.”

Satan chuckled, not bothering to get up from the floor. Instead, he got on his knees and planted himself between his prisoner’s thighs, his hands placed firmly and pressing down on his legs. “Oh no no no. That’s what you thought this was?” he chuckled, “No my dear, I thought the promise of letting you cum would be incentive enough to get you talking.”

Solomon narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in what little ways the ropes would allow him to. “Then do your worst,” he said in a low voice, “You’re not getting a word out of me.”

Oh he certainly intended to. He licked his lips and gave Solomon no other warning before sinking his warm, wet mouth onto his cock. He didn’t need to look up to know his prisoner was twisting and writhing above him. He could picture the way Solomon bit his lip, trying to hold in any moans that might slip out. Satan knew that he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear his noises. He was a stubborn man, but then again, so was Satan.

Playing detective was one of his favorite games, and Solomon was one of his favorite playmates.

Who else would let him tie them to a chair only to torture them for hours? Who else would let him make them cum over and over again. Who else fit the role of suspect better than the shady sorcerer himself? When else was as stubborn and convincing as Solomon?

The best part?

Solomon always let Satan be the detective.