(Lyrics used: “Anarchy” by KMFDM)
The ruthless lash of a leather whip cracked loudly upon the pale alabaster back, branding a vicious scarlet mark upon the otherwise-flawless skin.
An agonized groan pushed out of lips clenched tightly between the ivory clamp of teeth and smoky grey eyes squinted partway shut, stubbornly refusing tears wrenched from the pain of the whipping to emerge.
Another lash, and with it came another groan. Dangling with arms raised high over his head, the ebony-haired owner of the body being punished simmered with inner rage charred black with flaring hatred.
His vision was clouded by swirls of pain, flashes of anger, but above all, the rising rush of shame. Yet even through his blindness, he could see him, the face of his punisher. It burned through his emotions hotter than a glowing brand, the face of the merciless, emblazoning itself within his mind to outlast a scar.
He could hear the gasps of his partner beside him. To him, they were more merciful. Instead of receiving the preliminary lashings, they simply threw Cain to the cold stony floor and began with him, binding his wrists together, then his ankles to his thighs before arching him painfully up to receive Lucifer’s punishment.
One more lash, one last groan, and they released him to sprawl upon the floor. It was agony just to breathe, and blood bubbled up from his throat in panting coughs. He felt his body strike upon the clammy stone in time to hear Cain’s scream. He could not help but squeeze his smoky-hued eyes shut in a futile attempt to block his friend’s cries from his ears.
And then it was his turn. He could feel the eyes of the spectators around them watching them, watching with amusement. How cruel it was that such pain could bring such pleasure, how devilishly cruel. They shoved him firmly into the ground and rebound his wrists to his back. He was wet with the sweat of agony, bloody from the lashes, and it hurt. Everywhere his skin covered seemed to scream with the stings of pain. Yet what was truly devilish was that he was soon going to betray his fury and hatred. They would hang his dignity up for himself to shred.
Strong, rough hands lifted his behind while at the same time keeping his chest firmly crushed close to the ground. Cain’s heated pants were not driving things any smoother for him, and he soon felt those defiling hands stroke about his upper thighs and pelvic area. He felt his own betrayal. He tried resisting when he knew he would lose. Those hands clasped upon his buttocks when he hissed a fertile curse and roughly shoved him open.
I've gone as low as you can go
Fingers, cold as ice, slid in. They drew a shudder from the rebellious dissident, working their way further in, softening him, stretching him, readying him. Soon, they shifted their activities and began to draw out, then slipped back in, out, in, slowly. Heat began to color shame onto his cheeks. Shivers claimed his throbbing body, traitorous shivers of blackened pleasure. His breaths were soon following the climb of Cain’s earlier, coming in tremblingly, pleasurably, slowly becoming yearning pants. No, he could not.. They would not..!
No sense of shame
Time's gonna wash away all pain
He could not fight it. It was too much. It felt too good and was such a welcome sensation contrasted to his whippings. As the fingers fucked him, he began to fall into soft, whimpering moans. Heat engulfed his entire body and he began to ache with rising desire. And soon, the hands getting their satisfied response, they drew out and began to travel to his front..
The icy cold hands clasped about the stiffening member, stroking it ruthlessly and delivering an occasional hard squeeze. The youth felt his breath quickly rising into gasps, and to his betrayal, his legs squatted out to further splay himself open for his attacker. Cain was screaming at the top of his lungs now, and he suddenly wanted to join him.
Now I sleep in anarchy
It rose quickly, swelling with traitorous desire. Panting with want even in his uncomfortable position, the black-haired young man could feel the dangerous foreplay of the cold fingers upon his entire member. They caressed him roughly, sometimes scraping him as the fingers got near his sensitive tip. He would let out his breath in a rushing moan when that happened, and then it would return to his lungs in a quick gasp. The stroking did not stop, bent on bringing him to his full swollen size, and he could do nothing as he hung heavier and heavier with rushing blood.
“Asrael..” came a seductive hiss into his ear. “What do you want..?”
The hands.. Ooh, gods, the hands.. They made him sweat and writhe, moans rising in his throat, and he heard himself whimpering for more, forcing him to betray himself. He grew in them, filled them, and the heat seemed to overwhelm him with lust. Asrael, as this black-haired youth was called, then felt the weight of his punisher lean over him to prepare straddling him, and he swallowed thickly. Ooh, right there..! He could feel Lahatiel dip in between his buttocks, feel his hardness pressing in against his tenderness. He wanted it. Lahatiel knew he wanted it. But would he give in to him so easily..?
Compensate to validate the loss
“Hmm..? What do you want..? Tell me now..!”
Asrael soon gasped as those stroking hands, made moist with dripping pre-liquid, suddenly slipped off from manually pleasuring him to grab at his thighs, flipping him over so he landed roughly upon his back, and then Lahatiel leaned in over him, cradled between the creamy, muscular thighs, and ran his hand tantalizingly down the length of Asrael’s entire torso, catching his member once again and stroking it in the direction it arched. There was a devilish smile upon his lips, malicious intent in his fierce eyes. Asrael tried to glare back at him with hatred, but all Lahatiel could see was the desperate lust of a young man.
Nail him to a cross
“I want..” Asrael finally managed to choke huskily between his gasping moans, his entire body trembling with weakness. He felt it, too, and was enraged at himself, both enraged and aching with desire.
“Yes..?” Lahatiel purred. “It’s alright, my precious. You’re free to tell me anything. Confess your sins to me.”
“He-Heh,” Asrael tried to laugh only to hear his voice drowned out by another groan as the hands stroked roughly down his shaft to nestle at his testicles. He felt so hard now that it seemed like he was ready to split open. But he restrained himself and finished his ‘confession.’ “To spit on and dirty Lucifer’s fuckin’ name. Now, you fucker, hurry up and come inside me..!”
Faction of hate
Deviate from the absolute
It was a shameless dance. Round after round, Lahatiel crashed into his hips with ruthless force. Asrael would let him in, so fiendishly willing, grunting with the strain of the initiation, then he fell through everything he had built up to take pleasure in the sex. He knew there were other members of their underground gang circled around them above the pit they were in, watching him tear up his own dignity, but he did not care. Cain, too, was being punished alongside him, being ravished by Lucifer, the leader of this sector of their Soraan race.
Raised on cement
Chaos created government
Moans erupted into deafening cries for more. Lahatiel was a sturdy thruster and he pounded well into Asrael. The friction of their flesh rubbed the younger man’s flesh raw. It sometimes hurt, but that was all the more aphrodisiac to both. Soon, Asrael could hear Lahatiel’s panting, and he knew his punisher would come, and once he did, he would enact his own revenge. Between squeezed eyes as he was being screwed, Asrael glanced over to Cain, who was through with his initial punishment and had fallen into the pit of lust so far that he and Lucifer were beginning to just enjoy themselves. A flash of jealousy ignited in Asrael’s smoky eyes, but they were soon to be covered by a blindfold.
Asrael’s climatic scream echoed throughout the entire pen as Lahatiel hoisted him up by his bound wrists, grinding behind him one last time, deep and hard, to initiate the young man into his climax. Blindfolded and dangling naked before the other Soraans, Asrael arched his head back, his legs curled up as he released his cry, and erupted into the cloudy liquid of mind-shattering ecstasy. Tired. He was tired.. but not too tired to claim his turn on Lahatiel.
Wake me up in anarchy
And he would have his turn.
Chapitre deux: fin.