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Title: Whether 'tis Nobler in the Mind to Suffer
Author:mamapranayama
Genre:
Sam/Lucifer (non-con)
Category: hurt!Sam
Rating: NC-17 (strong sexual content)
Warnings: rape, suicide ideation
Spoilers:
7x17 The Born Again Identity
Word Count: 1,900

Summary: To be or not to be, that is the question.

A/N: I wrote this from a prompt that ephemerall gave me regarding Sam and Lucifer's relationship in the cage where Sam might have some kind of Stockholm Syndrome and contemplating suicide while locked up in the psych ward. She was also kind enough to read this over for me and give me some much needed encouragement since this is a story that is out of my usual Gen comfort zone and I was a little afraid of writing something so dark. It was a challenge for me to write and I'm still biting my nails wondering if it's any good or not.



Whether 'tis Nobler in the Mind to Suffer

Sam laid curled up on his side and stared at the crimson trails of blood slowly trickling their way down the whitewashed, hospital room wall. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he prayed that when he opened them again that white would be the only color he would see.

He opened his eyes – blood pooled on the floor from the dripping walls, surrounding the bed in a sea of red so deep that he couldn’t move – too afraid that he might fall into it and drown.

He felt the bed dip behind him while a hand touched his thigh and moved up his hip, sliding its way around to his abs, the tips of fingers drawing small circles around his navel, the touch of the hand cool and soft, its lightness fluttering over his shirt in such a way that made him shiver. He closed his eyes and he really didn’t want to open them again – maybe not ever again. He wanted rest – sleep – any kind of escape.

But like so many things that he wanted – he couldn’t have it and a voice in his ear caused his eyes to fly open once more.

Hot breath tickled his neck, “I miss this.” He heard whispered in a deceptively soothing voice, “All those years … Those were good times, weren’t they?"

He tried to pull away, to get up, to move away from the unwanted touch, but the hand over his waist held him still, “No … stay. I know you miss this too.  Don’t deny it, Sammy … even when your mouth screamed ‘no’, even when you fought back as I fucked that sweet, tight ass of yours until you bled – even when you cried for your brother to save you – you always got so hot – so excited – so fucking hard. And you know no one can make you come as hard as I can, so why fight it? – just enjoy it.”

Sam felt lips on his ear lobe, followed by a hot, wet tongue tracing its way down his throat. His breath shuddered in his chest uncontrollably as the hand caressing his belly moved slowly downward, fingers snaking past the elastic hem of his pants and into his underwear.

He tried to not react – to will his body into not betraying him, but it was too late, the hand in his pants started in on a rhythmic stroking and blood rushed involuntarily to his growing shaft, coaxing the organ to fill and expand on its own.

“See? … You love this already.“

“Please … no … don’t …” Sam’s voice cracked.  Heart hammering in his chest, hot tears welled in his eyes and slipped down his face.

“Awww … Sammy …” Lucifer chuckled throatily, “I promise I’ll be nice this time if you cooperate.”

No matter how many times he heard that, he knew better. It was never ‘nice’ – it was never loving or tender the way sex should be --  it was pain, pure and simple -- a white-hot, searing, gut twisting agony inside of him that went on and on for hours -- days sometimes – a seemingly endless cycle that wouldn’t stop until Sam finally gave in.

Sam knew his tormentor wasn’t interested in pleasuring him or in receiving any kind of physical enjoyment in return from the act – his only purpose was proving to Sam that he had the power – that he was in total control over Sam’s body, mind, and soul. It was Lucifer’s favorite game – one that Sam had been forced to learn and play along with time and time again -- a game with only one rule --  all Sam had to do to end his torment was cum. He need only submit to the visceral sensations rocking through him and come to a gut-wrenching climax that admitted that he was too weak to fight Lucifer off -- and if Lucifer wanted Sam to cum all over himself, then Sam would cum, no matter how painful his treatment was – and Lucifer always made certain that his agony was exquisite and unique.

Over time – years, decades -- he couldn’t be certain, Sam trained his body to respond to the agony as he would to pleasure -- to get hard even when his insides felt they would shred to pieces, to reach the peak of orgasm despite the torment.  So much so, that even now he couldn’t get erect unless there was some measure of pain involved.

Each time – each fucking, damned time Sam cried out in release only to curl in on himself in shame afterward, Lucifer would laugh with wicked mirth, basking in his victory over the mere, mortal man who had tossed the fallen archangel back into his cage.

And for a little while, the only pain Sam had to endure was his guilt and disgust at himself for being so weak -- at least for a minute or two until Lucifer decided how he was going to torture him next.

Sam knew intellectually that it wasn’t really the fallen angel presently grinding up against him in the confines of his hospital room, pressing his rock-hard cock between his legs, grunting throatily and stroking him – he was only a hallucination --but it felt all too real – the way Lucifer kneaded his shaft, spiking his fingernails deeply into his sensitive and tender flesh and he couldn’t help his body from physically reacting.  It was a conditioned response, and like Pavlov’s dog salivating at the sound of the bell that announced the arrival of his dinner, Sam was the dog, and Lucifer was the bell.

But this time, Sam wasn’t gonna let that happen – he wasn’t going to give Lucifer the pleasure of seeing him humiliated like that again – of calling out Lucifer’s name as he came in on the waves of a guilt-ridden orgasm.

Whether his tormentor was real this time or not, he’d simply had had enough and was too tired to play the victim anymore. It all needed to end -- now.

Sam slid a shaky hand under his pillow until it gripped the edge of his bed and his fingertips touched the elastic hem of the fitted sheet covering the mattress. He pulled up the sheet and reached his fingers into the tear he had found in the mattress the day he arrived on hospital ward. Inside the little hidden hole, he felt around and found what he was searching for.

It had taken the entire week, but finally Sam felt that he had stocked up enough. The nurses that regularly fed him his medications three times a day were too busy to be bothered to check and make sure that Sam had actually swallowed the pills they served and since the meds in their correct dosage did nothing to put him to sleep or make the angel behind him go away – he stuck them under his tongue and collected them, hoarding them inside the hole in his mattress where no one could find them.

 They were his grim little insurance policy – a way out when there wasn’t one left. Dean had been so certain he could find help for him, but Sam knew a hopeless cause one he saw one and his brother hadn’t been back in days – maybe longer – he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what or who was real anymore – he wasn’t even sure if it had actually been Dean that had come to see him that day or he’d just been a figment of his imagination. Either way – the constant barrage of Hell, Lucifer, and the ever-aching need for sleep and rest was scraping away at what little of himself he had left and if he was going to fight back, it had to be now before he was too far gone to help himself any longer.

He dug around in the hole and gathered all of the pills that he had saved into his hand.

Lucifer stopped his ministrations and let him go, “What’s that, Sammy? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of taking the easy way out.”

Sam grit his teeth, and clenched the meds tight, “I’m not going to let you do this to me anymore.”

“Sam, Sam, Sam …” Lucifer shook his head sadly, resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder, “You know what happens to suicides … they don’t go to heaven, you know. You’d only be sending yourself back to the pit. Is that what you want -- to be with me again?” Lucifer sighed when Sam didn’t answer and he could feel him smiling, “Awwww, Sam … That's so sweet of you. I didn’t know you cared about our relationship so much.”

Sam shook his head, looking down at the pills shaking in his quivering hand, suddenly uncertain. It could all be over if he just swallowed them in one go – one quick swallow and he could take back what little control he had left.

“Go ahead … I’m not gonna stop you.” Lucifer cooed, sotto voce, stroking his shoulder, “I’d gladly let you kill yourself just so you couldn’t hallucinate me fucking you if it meant we could be BFF’s in Hell again. Think of it … just you and me for eternity, slow dancing under the spotlight. So, go on … take ‘em ...  taint what’s left of your soul and come on down. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

Sam closed his eyes, letting the tears flood and spill onto his pillow. Was it what he wanted?

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

He wasn’t sure he could he hold out much longer or take one more minute of Lucifer’s constant presence. Death was a forgone conclusion, but could he endure the devil in his mind until his body finally gave out? And how long did it take for someone to die from a lack of sleep anyway? Days? Weeks?

Or he could take the option that he held in his hand and let the pills kill him now --giving him a temporary peace and a tiny measure of control over the hold Lucifer had on his mind before his soul reawakened in Hell.

 “What’s it gonna be, Sammy?”

Sam raised his hand, squeezing the pills until he could feel them crush in his hand and with an angry growl he tossed the lot of them across the room where they skidded across the bare, tile floor, bouncing and scattering in all directions, making a sound like hail on a windshield.

Knowing what was to come next, Sam shut his eyes tight as he felt the fingers on his shoulder begin to squeeze him like a vice, painfully digging into his flesh, giving him no room for escape under the devil’s impossibly strong grasp.

All gentleness fled from Lucifer’s voice and he snarled, “I’m hurt, Sammy … here I was thinking you actually wanted to come back to me …”

Strong hands flipped Sam onto his stomach and manacles appeared on his wrists and ankles. Strapped by thick chains and spread out like a starfish to each of the posts, Lucifer pressed himself against Sam’s back and ground his hard member along the cleft of his ass, “That’s okay though,” He whispered into his neck before giving his earlobe a painful bite and pulling down his pants with a rough yank, “Maybe we won’t be enjoying each other’s company in Hell again, but for now … you’re mine.”

The End



Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
ephemerall
May. 2nd, 2012 01:58 am (UTC)
just dropping by to say again how much I loved this. You gave just enough without giving too much, and leave us in a place that leaves us wanting more, but we can go there in our own heads so we aren't left begging for you to finish. You have a really strong piece right here! I'm sure I'll come up with more ways for you to torture Sam :-D
mamapranayama
May. 2nd, 2012 02:02 am (UTC)
Thanks for the prompt and for the challenge, my dear. I also really appreciate your words of support and if you come up with more ideas, just let me know! :)
dont_hate_me01
May. 2nd, 2012 09:04 am (UTC)
To suffer so much from hallucinations to think of commiting suicide and then to realize that even that is not an option and then having to stick with that pain streaking hallucination of being raped - you did an amazing job describing it, making us feel it.
mamapranayama
May. 2nd, 2012 04:36 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much for reading -- this one was a really tough story to write and I appreciate the feedback! :)
medusafox
May. 2nd, 2012 11:41 am (UTC)
That was painful to read, in a way that was not offensive but, I thought, showed real insight into the kind of real torture Sam was probably put through. Sam is an intellectual being and something as demeaning as rape would hurt him more than most physical punishment, I think.

Well done.
mamapranayama
May. 2nd, 2012 04:38 pm (UTC)
Thanks for reading -- this story is probably the darkest thing I have ever written and way out of the norm for me, so your comments make me fee better about it. Thanks again. :)
LeighAnnWallace
May. 10th, 2012 02:27 am (UTC)
whoa
Very good. Well done. They've made references to what Sam suffered in hell. You bring it out very well here.
soniama
Jul. 7th, 2012 11:37 pm (UTC)
no output poor sammy
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )