Jonas couldn't believe the events that had just unfolded, and it was as if his brain refused to accept the outcome. The people in the auditorium slowly dispersed as their chatter filled the halls, and Jonas watched in horror as a tall, seven-hundred-pound man, pushed himself off two creaking seats that would no longer fold back up automatically, and waddled his way toward the stage, with a look of victory was written on his expression.

"When can I have him?" the giant demanded, his fingers were the size of sausages and he pointed one directly at Jonas.

"Just bring your vehicle around to the back of the warehouse sir, we'll load him up for you," said James as he motioned for his security guards to start rolling Jonas back.

"I don't need the cage," said the man, "Is he a runner?"

"No, Sir. You will find that Jonas here is extremely well behaved, and will not cause you problems at all," said James as he eyed Jonas with a menacing glare.

'What are you going to do if I'm not?' thought Jonas, 'You already fucking sold me.'

"Good," said the fatty, "Hold the chains then, I'll take your word for it," he tilted his head and looked at Jonas, "Don't worry Jonas, I'll be sure to take good care of you," and he smiled innocently, all while his seven chins bounced evilly like each one represented a cardinal sin.

"I-uh," began Jonas, "Look forward to it," and he sent the fatty a handsome, albeit slightly awkward smile. Soon, Jonas was rolled back to the hanger, and the large door was electronically opened, revealing the evening crimson sky of Hell, as well as a long black limousine parked just outside. A wild-looking man in a suit grinned as he unlocked the cage that Jonas was in,

"I'm so sad to see you go," said Rick.

"You'll see me soon enough," said Jonas with a cold smile, "I hope you enjoy living until then," and he slowly walked out of the cage and towards the opened hanger doors where he could see that the limousine was surrounded by security guards wearing black suits, each of them had a sword strapped to their back. Watching Jonas' receding figure, Rick cackled menacingly before giving his last words.

"If you ever come back here, I'm going to rip your tongue out of your mouth and wipe my ass with it the next time I take a shit."

"You do seem like the kind of guy who would want a boy's tongue in your ass," quipped Jonas as he walked away. Rick couldn't do anything now even if he wanted to, so instead he gave a dry chuckle and watched Jonas' receding figure.

"Enjoy Hell," said James the auctioneer, "I'll be sure to pass your love to Patrick, Amber, and Michael," his lovely smile and his pink suit accented the hate in his words.

"Enjoy the fifty thousand," said Jonas, "I'm glad I could be of some use," though deep down he was feeling a bit salty that he hadn't been cut in. As Jonas approached the limo, a man in black opened the door for him and gestured inside. For a moment, he considered whether or not he could make a break for it but seeing what appeared to be throwing daggers attached to one of the guard's vests, Jonas decided he didn't have a chance in hell.

Without looking back, he had a long deep sigh as he resigned himself to whatever situation he was about to get into, and poking his head inside the limousine, Jonas saw the fatty who took up the entire bench, he looked to be eagerly waiting for his prize to enter.

"Come inside and have a seat," he said, "Don't be shy," he added after seeing Jonas' hesitation. The young man climbed inside the limo and as the door shut behind him, he felt a bit like a small animal that had been trapped in a cage with a very large bear.

Jonas felt the limo take off and looking around, he decided to take a seat that was farthest away in the corner. Although he was extremely nervous, he also couldn't help but feel secretly impressed that there was enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably, the limo must have been custom-made for someone extremely large. "Champagne?" it wasn't a question, the fatty pushed a large mug into Jonas' hands and began filling it with alcohol from an expensive-looking green bottle, which he then poured the rest into his mug. Jonas had experienced his fair share of conniving tricks since he had entered Hell, and he wasn't going to drink anything given to him until he saw his new master drink first.

"Worried about poison?" asked the fatty.

"I let my guard down with a bottle of water, and ended up a slave," said Jonas, "Can you blame me?" and at this, the fatty gave a deep sigh.

"Don't feel bad," he said, "I'd say about half of all people who enter Hell will at some point end up being enslaved. You were just unlucky to have it happen too early," and he began taking massive gulps from his mug, which caused froth to dribble down the sides of his mouth and onto his black suit that was made of some stretchy material.

"My name is Phillip Glatorius, and I'm the head of the Glatorius crime family," but he quickly added, "Not that you can call us a crime family, considering this is Hell and crime doesn't exist."

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"There is no rule of law?" asked Jonas, "No police, or anything?" and he couldn't help but recall the previous conversation with Mr. Duran, his demonic lawyer.

"Not really," said Phillip Glatorius, "Only two rules in Hell: the first being survival of fittest, and the second being, don't piss off the government."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that," said Jonas, "How do you piss off a government that has no rules, to begin with?"

"Not paying your taxes is a pretty good reason," said Phillip, "But you also need to consider the usual suspects, such as killing government officials, causing huge public disturbances, and anything that makes the government have no choice but to act, less they look completely useless," he added, "As long as you are only hurting Commoners, ninety-nine percent of the time it doesn't matter what you do."

"Clearly," said Jonas as he sipped his champagne miserably. It was day two of his journey through Hell, and he had already been hit hard by the unequal treatment of Commoners.

"You're lucky," said Phillip.

"I don't see how being sold as a slave could be counted as lucky?" Jonas looked slightly annoyed, though he did have to admit the fact that not many other slaves were riding to their doom in a sweet custom limousine and served fine champagne before they were sentenced to an eternity of damnation.

"That woman who was trying to buy you, remember her?" asked Philip.

"How could I forget her," said Jonas, "She was quite attractive," though he wouldn't downright tell Phillip that he would rather have been purchased by her.

"Her name is Abigail Arnette, and she was a princess who lived in France fifteen hundred years ago before it was called France."

"Interesting," said Jonas who wasn't exactly sure why his new slave master was giving him a French history lesson.

"She's been busy for the last fourteen hundred years or so, ever since she died," Phillip began, "She often comes to slave auctions like these, buying young handsome men like you," he continued, "Where she proceeds to sleep with them, drug them, cut their cock off, and then eat it in front of her victim as they bleed to death."

Jonas nearly passed out as he felt his entire soul shake, recalling that pretty smile that he had once cheered for, he was almost grateful that he had been saved by the big fatty Phillip Glatorius.

"Thanks," said Jonas, his face looked pale.

"That's not even the worst part," said Philip Glatorius with a strange look in his eye, and although Jonas had never turned his gaze when watching a horror movie, he felt the inclination to cover his ears before his new master could speak.

"What's the worst part?" Jonas asked while he felt numbness spread throughout his body like his fingertips had fallen asleep.

"She sews the wound back up, and makes those young men serve as her attendants for the rest of eternity; cockless, and miserable."

"Fucking Christ," Jonas felt his manhood quiver in protest, "How has nobody tried to stop her?"

"Wealth, and power," said Phillip wisely, "And there's also the fact that nobody gives a rat's ass about whose cock she eats, as long as it doesn't belong to someone important."

"Like a government official," Jonas said.

"Exactly," Phillip nodded approvingly, "Or someone even more powerful than her."

"This place is the fucking worst," Jonas shook his head indignantly, "How the hell does a person like Abigail Arnette get to live on the first floor," he added, "Shouldn't she have been sentenced to the sixth where all the psychos go?" though as he said that, he almost forgot his older brother had also been one of those psychos.

"She was probably a decent person in her past life," Phillip said, "But perhaps she was always just a psycho in the making, and all she needed was the right circumstances," he added, "Are you hungry?" and although the conversation had turned Jonas' stomach, it wasn't enough to stem the hungry growls.

"Starving actually," said Jonas, "But I'm not eating anything until you've eaten some first," and this caused Phillip to chuckle while his jowls bounced merrily. He leaned over to a table that was built into the wall of the limo, and lifted the lid of a large silver tray, revealing massive cupcakes topped with an assortment of colorful icings and candies.

"Help yourself," said Phillip as he stretched a gigantic hand and grabbed two fist-sized cupcakes in one go. Jonas admitted that they looked too delicious to pass up, so he grabbed one as well, only he needed two hands just to hold it properly.

They were very tasty, and Jonas was quite content with the fact that his first non-poisoned meal since he entered Hell were gigantic fluffy cupcakes so sugary his face turned numb from a single bite.

"So," said Jonas through a mouthful of icing, "What's your plan for me?" and Phillip considered his new slave for a moment.

"What do you think I plan to do?" he asked.

"I doubt you'll put me to work."

"That's a good observation, I can buy much cheaper slaves to do work," Phillip said, but this didn't make Jonas any happier.

"You're also not using me to fight."

"I would have bought someone bigger if I needed a fighter," added Phillip who began helping himself to another massive cupcake.

"That leaves a personal aide, eye candy, or a plaything," said Jonas.

"You would be right," said Phillip, his voice still sounding pleasant and happy.

"So which is it?" asked Jonas, his heart began thumping very loudly.

"What if I said all three?" Phillip shot back, causing Jonas' stomach to sink.

"I'll be honest," said Jonas, "I think I'd prefer suicide than being raped by you," which caused Phillip to burst into laughter, specks of cupcakes went flying everywhere and the chunks that had been resting on his stomach exploded like a volcano.

"I'm not planning on raping you, silly boy," said Phillip, and although this made Jonas feel a bit better, he was still hesitant.

"Then?"

"This isn't a topic for explaining, but I'll show you later what I expect from you," which did nothing to make Jonas feel any better. "Eat some more," said Phillip, and he lifted the lids of a few more trays, each with various sweets underneath them; cookies, tarts, donuts, and sticks of fudge. Seeing all the food available to him, Jonas considered that death by diabetes might not be the worst way to go, and apparently, Phillip Glatorius felt the same.