Story: SB023 The Betrayal


Posted by Sawney Beane on May 16, 2006 at 22:41:59:

The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #23

THE BETRAYAL

by Sawney Beane

21 March 1995

1,896 words

DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.

WARNING: This story contains scenes of non-consensual male snuff. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Basically a man's stream of consciousness analysis of some very disturbing events. Not much else to say; it was put out very quickly on a whim.
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I wake up with a splitting headache and pain in every muscle in my body. I look, but I don't see. Blackness surrounds me. Lost contact? Dark room? No, worse. I feel the pressure on my eyelids and know that my eyes have been taped closed. There is some sort of cloth blindfold tied around my head as well. Odd.

I reach over to remove it, but the message sent to my arm is never acted upon. I try the other arm, but both are securely strapped to the corners of the bed. Legs too. I'm spread-eagled on my back, some obscene Christ-figure. This is serious.

Now that I begin to notice more and more of my environment, I realize that this is not the soft bed that I fell asleep in. I'm on a surface that is cold, very hard, and a bit moist from my perspiration. No wonder I ache. How the hell did I get here?

I struggle for a while, but my bonds are secure. Not a chance. I wait. What else is there to do? Soon, I hear a creaky old door open and close. Then I am aware of the soft slapping sounds of bare feet on a stone floor. The breeze from the door causes me to shiver, and my skin goes all bumpy. I'm completely nude. That's the only thing that isn't surprising; I was nude when I fell asleep.

The bare feet bring someone, a woman I think, closer to my table. I hear her soft sobs. I resolve not to say anything. My captors will not have the pleasure of hearing my voice.

She speaks, "Oh, God, I didn't want them to do this to you!" Shit! It's Gail. I've known her for a month or so now. We met at the Dugout, a bar I like. Sweet girl, but she always seemed to be hiding something, ashamed of something I never dragged out of her.

I'm shocked that she's here. Well, actually, we were in bed together when I fell asleep, so I thought she might be a captive like myself. But she's one of my captors! Damn me; I always pick the wrong girls. I remain obstinately silent.

I feel long hair, brownish-blonde I remember well, brush my chest. My Goddamn dick springs to attention. I hate the fact that a woman can have so much power over my body. So much for the dignified captive. She's grabbing it now, moving her hand up and down it. Why is she doing this to me? I don't want to be turned on now!

I feel it so well, so good, so perfect. The skin rubs up and down with her hand, crinkling one way or another. Not now! Quit it. I begin to feel heat in my chest and that odd hollowness behind my sternum that feels so good. Now I feel her teeth. Damn! She's got a good three inches in her mouth now. I feel the suction, like the tip of my penis will fly off never to be seen again. I feel like she's drinking my entire insides through a straw. I'm a juice-box. Now it's beginning to hurt. She goes too far; she always goes too far, every one of the seventeen times she's done this. But it's worth it. My headache goes away, and I've forgotten that I'm a prisoner.

She climbs on top of me, and I find that she has a dress on but no panties. I feel the velvety cloth of the dress on my chest and hips. Hosiery rubs my thighs. Only one part of her touches me. I'm inside her warm body. I want to curl up and die in that warmth. It's better than the cold table. She makes her noises; she's a noisy love maker. She's howling at her worst now, but my heart is no longer in it. She sucked all of my energy out already, and besides I'm too concerned about my predicament. But she enjoys herself, and I don't mind much. Not much else for me to do here.

She collapses on top of me. She's surprisingly heavy on my chest. I remember her as a small thing...gorgeous tits though. She's sobbing slightly. She often cries after sex. I have always found it odd, but it's worse now. I feel a drop of liquid hit my neck. It runs down the side and gives me an annoying itchy feeling.

She speaks again, "Please, Zack, say something! I don't want you to be hurt."

I feel the tears-pity and fear-well up in my bound eyes. I relent. "Why am I here then?" I say softly. I'm proud of how calmly I said that.

She seems surprised at first, then happy. "I had to! Can't you see? I had to!"

"No, actually I can't see much at all," I say, "why did you have to do what?"

"Bring you here to Them," she wails the last word as if she were saying "The Devil Incarnate". "They'll kill my brother if I don't give them someone else. Please understand, I couldn't let them do that!"

I know her brother somewhat. Seemed like a nice kid, four or five years younger than me. "Who? Why would they hurt Todd?"

"The cult," she said as if I should understand, "they need a sacrifice. I couldn't let them hurt Todd!" This is getting weird.

"So you let them grab me." I let a trace of emotion leak in there. Damn!

"No! Yes, I had to; he made me!"

"Who?"

"Rex, the leader, you met him once, remember?"

I do, and it is a painful memory. He made a pass at Gail at the Dugout, and we got into an argument, damn near into a brawl. Good thing we didn't too, because Rex is one hell of a big guy. Mohawk, leather jacket with a skull on the back...looks like a biker on steroids.

"He's captured you and your brother?"

"No, he's not exactly my captor," she says with audible uneasiness.

"What is he then?"

"My lover." It's meek, evasive, almost inaudible.

Goddamn! I'll never understand why women always like the biggest, meanest, dumbest, most worthless losers. I'm a nice guy, and I have a relatively hard time getting dates. This Rex was an animal. "What?" I say, forgetting to suppress my emotions.

"I know, but he's really sweet," she says dreamily.

"He wanted to sacrifice your brother," I offer.

"Yes, well there is that, but he has to you know, the cult makes him sacrifice."

She is getting really stupid, and it's making my neck hot. I wish she would leave me alone. I stop talking to her, sorry that I ever started.

She tries to talk to me for a while but finally gets the picture and leaves out the breezy door with that barefoot slapping sound and a few sobs.

I sleep, having nothing else to do.

I wake up much as the last time. I have no idea how long I've been sleeping. Soon, I become aware of muffled crowd noises. Cheers erupt periodically. A man is speaking loudly-far away and in a language I don't recognize. An especially loud cheer erupts. Gail is here. I hear her breathing near my ear. She knows I'm awake. "Don't hate me, please," she sobs. Pathetic.

I hear a distinctive noise: metal rubbing on metal and a click, click, click sound. What is it? A curtain opening. The cheers become louder and closer. The speaker is more understandable, "And now, my brothers and sisters, it is time!" Incredible cheer. He walks toward me. I hear the clacking of his boots. It's Rex, son of a bitch.

The crowd goes silent. I feel something, something good. Fingers on my nipples, female fingers, Gail's fingers. The fingers trace small circles around my nipples. I feel so good. Then I remember. Goddamn! Why do I have to have such fucking sensitive nipples? I feel the rage; I struggle. My chest and face are getting hot-from anger not arousal. But there is arousal as well. I feel it in my goddamn dick. Fuck! Why! Stop it Gail! Not now, not here. Tiny circles, slow circles; my chest goes hollow. I feel so good there. Gail does this so well. I hear her sobbing in my ear.

My nipples and penis feel like they will explode. I'm getting that uncontrollable feeling, orgasm. No, not now! I feel it. I feel the breeze on my vertical dick. I feel the hot eruption. I won't argue; it feels so good. I forget myself. Who cares about anything? I'm enjoying myself.

Gail keeps her little circles going. But now I'm done; I'm starting to relax. The hollow feeling gives way to the even better recovery feeling. Then something is wrong! I feel a strong hand grasp my messy penis. Then everything is engulfed in pain. That is not good. A different hot liquid covers my groin, and Gail cries out loud behind my head.

I fear I have lost my dick. Just fucking great! Rex speaks loudly to the audience, "Brother Thompson has caught the prize! He will do the deed!" A loud cheer. The fucker tossed my penis into the crowd! Footsteps herald the advance of a second man. He speaks weakly. The pain has faded to a dull ache throughout my body.

I realize that I'm going to die. I want to die! No, not really, not at all; I just want my dick back, and I want to go home. I hate Gail so much for killing me this way. But I still fucking love her, and that pisses me off even more. Why did it have to turn out this way?

I'm not religious, never have bought into all of that. Now I remember what they say about people who don't believe in God and what happens to them when they die. I try desperately to remember what that religious tract said. What was I supposed to say in order to be saved? I don't think I'll be able to sign the little thingy on the back. Oh, fuck it! I don't have time to worry about that now. Maybe I'll get lucky and there will be nothing after this life. God, I hope so!

I feel a sensation just below my navel. It moves up my belly slowly and bumps into each of my ribs. I start to feel like jelly. I think I'm being cut open with a large knife. I muse on this academically. But it is such an annoying feeling as my ribs are detached from my breastbone. The sensation stops near my collarbone. Well, this seems serious.

There's no pain. I thought it would hurt like hell to have something like that happen. Actually, there was pain for a bit, and it was excruciating. But it left. Now I just feel terribly exposed. A cool breeze hits me on the inside; my organs are all hanging out. Not good at all. I begin to feel a bit faint. Something happens...feel my organs jiggle about like someone grabbed something in there. Very faint. Head beginning to get light...feel like...losing...gone away...what was I on about? Oh, it's that...my blood...heart...leaving...going far away...like me...so tired...so cold...want to curl up...sleep. No more...what is it? No pain...nothing...nothing...good-bye.