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Sep. 16th, 2011
Warning for Non-Con
"Are you ready to break yet Dean?"
The older Winchester brother recognised the voice immediately, his eyes snapped open. All around him were people in agony.
To his left about ten meters away was a naked young woman, nailed to the dirt through her stomach with a large spike. She was groaning in agony, her body marred by various cuts. One of her breasts had been sliced clean off.
To the right, a little closer than the woman was an old man. He was standing strapped with barbed wire to a rusty metal pole. There were hooks positioned randomly through the thin flesh his frail body, attached to them were small candleholders. The lit candles tilted so the flames were constantly in contact with skin, blackening the flesh.
Right in front of him was the creature that had spoken.
"Meg," he coughed.
Dean was suspended from the stormy sky by metal chains that disappered up into the rolling clouds. He was tilted forward at about forty degrees, the chains clamped around his wrists and ankles. He hadn't been sleeping. He had passed out from a torture session with a demon who called himself Alistair.
Meg was naked, she was using the visage of Meg Masters. Ordinarily Dean would have been pretty happy seeing an attractive woman naked, but the setting and knowing what she was put any happy thoughts far beyond him.
"How's it going champ, you hanging in there?" Meg reached out to Dean's crotch and cupped his testicles. She laughed has he flinched, her hands were ice cold.
"I've been better," Dean gritted his teeth.
"You know the human body is a remarkable thing," Meg said, fondling his balls gently. "It can take so much pain. But you're learning that aren't you." She spat on his face, Dean spat back, a glob of his saliva hitting her left check.
Meg laughed and raised her other hand to the cheek. She rubbed the saliva down her cheek to her lips. "And so messy. So many fluids." She tugged his ballsack downwards. Dean forced himself not to react. Everything he gave the demons they just used against him.
"You will break you know. Everyone does. Just a matter of time. Just a matter of wearing you down until..." she yanked his balls down, sending blazing lightning spikes of pain rushing up through his abdomen. He couldn't help but cry out.
Meg giggled and let go.
Dean rattled his chains, more a show of defiance than anything else. There was no chance at all that he would be able to escape. Even if he could there was no where to go. Hell was not a place you got out from.
Despite what had happened to him since his arrival, and the horrors that awaited him Dean didn't regret his decision to save Sam.
She spat on his face again and as he started to return the favour again she punched him hard in the face, breaking his nose.
Blood trickled down from his nostrils and over his lips. Meg ran the fingertips of her left hand over his lips. She licked the blood from her fingers and purred. "You all taste different you know. Like different kinds of wine. You Winchesters are a very fine vintage. When we had your father we used to have such delicious orgies, drinking glasses of his blood. Maybe we can resurrect those good old days with you."
Dean looked at her with hate and disgust. Meg walked around him, running her hand over his naked torso. "You're a sexy man Dean."
Without warning she pushed one of her fingers into his asshole. Dean hissed and wriggled against the chains, but still there was no escape.
"If you're a good boy next time I'll use some spit. Not this time though," Meg said and added a second finger, forcing it into his tight ring of muscle.
Dean screwed his eyes shut and grabbed hold of the thought that kept him sane: Sam is alive. It's worth it.
"Are you ready to break yet Dean?"
The older Winchester brother recognised the voice immediately, his eyes snapped open. All around him were people in agony.
To his left about ten meters away was a naked young woman, nailed to the dirt through her stomach with a large spike. She was groaning in agony, her body marred by various cuts. One of her breasts had been sliced clean off.
To the right, a little closer than the woman was an old man. He was standing strapped with barbed wire to a rusty metal pole. There were hooks positioned randomly through the thin flesh his frail body, attached to them were small candleholders. The lit candles tilted so the flames were constantly in contact with skin, blackening the flesh.
Right in front of him was the creature that had spoken.
"Meg," he coughed.
Dean was suspended from the stormy sky by metal chains that disappered up into the rolling clouds. He was tilted forward at about forty degrees, the chains clamped around his wrists and ankles. He hadn't been sleeping. He had passed out from a torture session with a demon who called himself Alistair.
Meg was naked, she was using the visage of Meg Masters. Ordinarily Dean would have been pretty happy seeing an attractive woman naked, but the setting and knowing what she was put any happy thoughts far beyond him.
"How's it going champ, you hanging in there?" Meg reached out to Dean's crotch and cupped his testicles. She laughed has he flinched, her hands were ice cold.
"I've been better," Dean gritted his teeth.
"You know the human body is a remarkable thing," Meg said, fondling his balls gently. "It can take so much pain. But you're learning that aren't you." She spat on his face, Dean spat back, a glob of his saliva hitting her left check.
Meg laughed and raised her other hand to the cheek. She rubbed the saliva down her cheek to her lips. "And so messy. So many fluids." She tugged his ballsack downwards. Dean forced himself not to react. Everything he gave the demons they just used against him.
"You will break you know. Everyone does. Just a matter of time. Just a matter of wearing you down until..." she yanked his balls down, sending blazing lightning spikes of pain rushing up through his abdomen. He couldn't help but cry out.
Meg giggled and let go.
Dean rattled his chains, more a show of defiance than anything else. There was no chance at all that he would be able to escape. Even if he could there was no where to go. Hell was not a place you got out from.
Despite what had happened to him since his arrival, and the horrors that awaited him Dean didn't regret his decision to save Sam.
She spat on his face again and as he started to return the favour again she punched him hard in the face, breaking his nose.
Blood trickled down from his nostrils and over his lips. Meg ran the fingertips of her left hand over his lips. She licked the blood from her fingers and purred. "You all taste different you know. Like different kinds of wine. You Winchesters are a very fine vintage. When we had your father we used to have such delicious orgies, drinking glasses of his blood. Maybe we can resurrect those good old days with you."
Dean looked at her with hate and disgust. Meg walked around him, running her hand over his naked torso. "You're a sexy man Dean."
Without warning she pushed one of her fingers into his asshole. Dean hissed and wriggled against the chains, but still there was no escape.
"If you're a good boy next time I'll use some spit. Not this time though," Meg said and added a second finger, forcing it into his tight ring of muscle.
Dean screwed his eyes shut and grabbed hold of the thought that kept him sane: Sam is alive. It's worth it.
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