Meat Hook Week
Author: 
jared4ever
Title: Meat Hook Week
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam/Lucifer, mentions of Michael and Adam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic torture, hurt!Sam
Genre: Horror
Spoilers: Based on one of Sam’s hallucinations in the season 7 premiere (Meet the New Boss).
Summary: I was thinking about Sam’s hallucination in Bobby’s house, the meat hooks and chain around his neck. The rest is just my twisted imagination tormenting poor Sam.
Warning: This gets a little brutal. Just fair warning for the squeamish. (And yes, I can be a sick puppy sometimes!)
Meat Hook Week
Sam used to be pretty good with time. Measuring time, keeping time, generally being perfectly aware of the passage of time. It was a useful skill for a hunter. He’d even been able to time car movements while a hood was over his head and trace the route back on a map later.
Dean had been impressed. Sam always remembered when he accomplished something like that.
But, even Sam’s machine-like time keeping had finally been overcome in Hell. Lucifer and Michael always shifted things around, day, night, this hour or that. Nothing was ever the same, so there was no way for Sam’s brain to lock onto something so abstract as time.
Lucifer had promised him a “guided tour” of Hell, all of it. And he didn’t even need to leave the Cage to do it. “That’s what I call service,” he had purred.
After the first explosion of fury from the two archangels-literally, Sam had exploded more than once-Lucifer had calmed down, and decided to let Sam experience Hell the way Dean had, at least for his first course. Later, Sam was promised, the angels would go outside the proverbial box.
So far, Sam had experienced one week of every available torture, a brutal, gory buffet, just for him.
Routines were always his style, since childhood, through college, and in hunting, so Lucifer had developed a nice, tidy one for him, tweaked a little by his big brother’s suggestions. The first morning of the week, whenever that was, Sam would be whole. Fully clothed in the manner that he’d fallen in the Pit.
Then came the fire. Something Michael had advised. Fire that started with his clothes, burning them to ash, then proceeded to Sam’s bared skin, then to his muscles and tendons, then his organs, then his bones. His nerves stayed intact at all times, and he remained conscious throughout. Michael had dubbed it “purification.” Always needed to be pure before starting something new.
The rest of the day would be a never-ending experience of whatever form of torment Lucifer had picked out. Over and over, until Sam was intimately familiar with the method and its every possible effect.
Finally, at night-whenever the angels decided it was night, Sam assumed-came more fire, burning away the blood and gore from his body, burning intensely until nothing was left of him but his perceptions. Then he’d be made whole and the ‘next day’ would begin.
Sam had no idea if Lucifer was sticking to the “one week of each” rule, since the pain was far too intense for him to track the days, and no day in the Cage seemed to be the same length. It was possible the angels were just joking about weeks, or screwing with his mind, but in the end it didn’t really matter.
The pain mattered.
He was in his twenty-eighth week or Hell-he was fairly sure. He remembered that many different tools of Hell’s trade, anyway. A rack, nails, needles, acid…yeah, this was definitely Number 28: meat hooks and chains.
The chains weren’t so different than usual. Lucifer and Michael kept a long chain wrapped around his neck all the time, dragging him from one side of the cage to the other, from one torment to the next.
Sam idly wondered if Lucifer had a book or something. 1001 Ways to Use Meat Hooks on the Human Body.
The first had been memorable. A chain with a hook on the end shot out of the shadows and impaled his cock, then hoisted him into the air. He’d swung there for hours, all 220 pounds of his body weight supported by his long, fully erect cock. Not the best use of his penis, if Sam were asked. He screamed with each throb of his pulse or every time he reached the end of a swing and changed direction.
Finally, mercifully, the mangled flesh had ripped and torn until he fell free of it and landed in a heap on a freezing cold stone floor.
His reprieve was short-lived, as always. The chain reappeared, shooting down and snagging his fully healed member again, this time yanking him upside down, so that he could not only feel the agony of being suspended, but also of his cock being bent parallel with his thighs.
Sam was amazed that his voice never went out from all his screaming.
After a day of that-again, so he assumed-two hooks appeared, catching him under his armpits and hoisting him up. It took longer for his shoulders to dislocate, and even longer for the somewhat thicker flesh to rip enough for him to fall.
Of the many different combinations of hooks he’d experience over the course of the week, Sam had to say that being impaled through his eyes had been the worst. That was a sensation he’d never been curious about, and thanks to Lucifer, never would be again.
It was the worst, that is, until today. Five hooks suspended him today, one through each nipple, one through his scrotum, and one along the middle of each quadriceps.
With his weight distributed across so many hooks, it would have been easy to grow accustomed to the agony and ignore it. But, Lucifer planned for everything. The second Sam’s brain learned to tune out the pain from the five hooks, the chains moved, dropping him and yanking him back, straining the flesh around his nipples and sack to the breaking point, digging ever deeper into his powerful quads. Sam was astonished at how resilient his skin could be.
Other times, the hooks would simply grow white hot, or freeze to absolute zero, or pull in five directions at once. Anything that kept Sam from adapting, from finding even a moment’s solace from the terrible ordeal.
Sam’s rapid breathing slowed. The pain was beginning to recede again, at long last. He always felt relief when it happened, though he knew better. He just couldn’t help it.
As he sighed gratefully, he heard a hum. The next moment, electricity raced down the rusty lengths of chain and into his helpless body. The current was incredible, many hundreds of times more powerful than anything needed to kill a human, but Sam couldn’t die here, no matter what happened. Most of the time, he couldn’t even pass out.
The agony that came next happened in mere seconds, but Sam’s all too efficient brain processed every last sensation. It had no choice.
The electricity from the hooks bled into his nipples and from there, spread across his pectorals, his shoulders, down through his biceps and triceps to his fingers, then exploded out from beneath his finger nails like some heinous impression of the Emperor from Star Wars, curled around and re-entered his body along his sides.
From the hook imbedded in his scrotum, it arced out and surrounded his testicles with an awful kind of intelligence, wrapping around the sensitive orbs three or four times until finally lancing up through the long axis of each. Semen boiled and shot out spasmodically, globs of steaming cum erupting from his penis, carrying sizzling arcs of current with them. When the scalding hot cum splattered on his abs and chest, melting skin where it touched, the electricity absorbed into his flesh and rejoined the rest of the currents ripping through him.
His quads seized when the current tore into them, causing the hooks to rend flesh and muscle. Sam’s thighs went rigid, clenching so hard his femurs splintered. His glutes flexed next, and the current separated. Some arced out from his ass, turned and ripped into his already tightening calves, following the lines of his veins and arteries toward his toes. The rest shot along his spine and travelled to his skull, liquefying his brain and erupting from his eye sockets.
Sam shrieked, writhing in unbearable agony, limbs flailing and muscles flexing until they shredded themselves or snapped the bones and tendons to which they were attached.
At long last, Sam’s thrashing did what it was meant to do, strain the flesh around the hooks until it tore. Sam fell, electricity still zigzagging across his tall, muscular form until he hit the stone floor hard. If he’d had lungs left, the air would have been knocked from them.
Twitching helplessly, Sam slowly became aware that his body wasn’t healing. He sensed rather than saw Lucifer appear over him.
“Well, wasn’t that a scintillating day?” the Fallen angel mused rhetorically. “Time for some purifying fire, Sam.”
Sam sobbed, the agony still pulsing along his ruined body as Lucifer spoke.
“Tomorrow is the start of a new week. I think we finally settled on crucifixion. And Michael’s bringing your brother Adam along to play this time. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
There was no time for any kind of answer as the flames appeared and lapped at Sam’s body. All he could do then was scream.
END
jared4ever
Title: Meat Hook Week
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam/Lucifer, mentions of Michael and Adam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic torture, hurt!Sam
Genre: Horror
Spoilers: Based on one of Sam’s hallucinations in the season 7 premiere (Meet the New Boss).
Summary: I was thinking about Sam’s hallucination in Bobby’s house, the meat hooks and chain around his neck. The rest is just my twisted imagination tormenting poor Sam.
Warning: This gets a little brutal. Just fair warning for the squeamish. (And yes, I can be a sick puppy sometimes!)
Meat Hook Week
Sam used to be pretty good with time. Measuring time, keeping time, generally being perfectly aware of the passage of time. It was a useful skill for a hunter. He’d even been able to time car movements while a hood was over his head and trace the route back on a map later.
Dean had been impressed. Sam always remembered when he accomplished something like that.
But, even Sam’s machine-like time keeping had finally been overcome in Hell. Lucifer and Michael always shifted things around, day, night, this hour or that. Nothing was ever the same, so there was no way for Sam’s brain to lock onto something so abstract as time.
Lucifer had promised him a “guided tour” of Hell, all of it. And he didn’t even need to leave the Cage to do it. “That’s what I call service,” he had purred.
After the first explosion of fury from the two archangels-literally, Sam had exploded more than once-Lucifer had calmed down, and decided to let Sam experience Hell the way Dean had, at least for his first course. Later, Sam was promised, the angels would go outside the proverbial box.
So far, Sam had experienced one week of every available torture, a brutal, gory buffet, just for him.
Routines were always his style, since childhood, through college, and in hunting, so Lucifer had developed a nice, tidy one for him, tweaked a little by his big brother’s suggestions. The first morning of the week, whenever that was, Sam would be whole. Fully clothed in the manner that he’d fallen in the Pit.
Then came the fire. Something Michael had advised. Fire that started with his clothes, burning them to ash, then proceeded to Sam’s bared skin, then to his muscles and tendons, then his organs, then his bones. His nerves stayed intact at all times, and he remained conscious throughout. Michael had dubbed it “purification.” Always needed to be pure before starting something new.
The rest of the day would be a never-ending experience of whatever form of torment Lucifer had picked out. Over and over, until Sam was intimately familiar with the method and its every possible effect.
Finally, at night-whenever the angels decided it was night, Sam assumed-came more fire, burning away the blood and gore from his body, burning intensely until nothing was left of him but his perceptions. Then he’d be made whole and the ‘next day’ would begin.
Sam had no idea if Lucifer was sticking to the “one week of each” rule, since the pain was far too intense for him to track the days, and no day in the Cage seemed to be the same length. It was possible the angels were just joking about weeks, or screwing with his mind, but in the end it didn’t really matter.
The pain mattered.
He was in his twenty-eighth week or Hell-he was fairly sure. He remembered that many different tools of Hell’s trade, anyway. A rack, nails, needles, acid…yeah, this was definitely Number 28: meat hooks and chains.
The chains weren’t so different than usual. Lucifer and Michael kept a long chain wrapped around his neck all the time, dragging him from one side of the cage to the other, from one torment to the next.
Sam idly wondered if Lucifer had a book or something. 1001 Ways to Use Meat Hooks on the Human Body.
The first had been memorable. A chain with a hook on the end shot out of the shadows and impaled his cock, then hoisted him into the air. He’d swung there for hours, all 220 pounds of his body weight supported by his long, fully erect cock. Not the best use of his penis, if Sam were asked. He screamed with each throb of his pulse or every time he reached the end of a swing and changed direction.
Finally, mercifully, the mangled flesh had ripped and torn until he fell free of it and landed in a heap on a freezing cold stone floor.
His reprieve was short-lived, as always. The chain reappeared, shooting down and snagging his fully healed member again, this time yanking him upside down, so that he could not only feel the agony of being suspended, but also of his cock being bent parallel with his thighs.
Sam was amazed that his voice never went out from all his screaming.
After a day of that-again, so he assumed-two hooks appeared, catching him under his armpits and hoisting him up. It took longer for his shoulders to dislocate, and even longer for the somewhat thicker flesh to rip enough for him to fall.
Of the many different combinations of hooks he’d experience over the course of the week, Sam had to say that being impaled through his eyes had been the worst. That was a sensation he’d never been curious about, and thanks to Lucifer, never would be again.
It was the worst, that is, until today. Five hooks suspended him today, one through each nipple, one through his scrotum, and one along the middle of each quadriceps.
With his weight distributed across so many hooks, it would have been easy to grow accustomed to the agony and ignore it. But, Lucifer planned for everything. The second Sam’s brain learned to tune out the pain from the five hooks, the chains moved, dropping him and yanking him back, straining the flesh around his nipples and sack to the breaking point, digging ever deeper into his powerful quads. Sam was astonished at how resilient his skin could be.
Other times, the hooks would simply grow white hot, or freeze to absolute zero, or pull in five directions at once. Anything that kept Sam from adapting, from finding even a moment’s solace from the terrible ordeal.
Sam’s rapid breathing slowed. The pain was beginning to recede again, at long last. He always felt relief when it happened, though he knew better. He just couldn’t help it.
As he sighed gratefully, he heard a hum. The next moment, electricity raced down the rusty lengths of chain and into his helpless body. The current was incredible, many hundreds of times more powerful than anything needed to kill a human, but Sam couldn’t die here, no matter what happened. Most of the time, he couldn’t even pass out.
The agony that came next happened in mere seconds, but Sam’s all too efficient brain processed every last sensation. It had no choice.
The electricity from the hooks bled into his nipples and from there, spread across his pectorals, his shoulders, down through his biceps and triceps to his fingers, then exploded out from beneath his finger nails like some heinous impression of the Emperor from Star Wars, curled around and re-entered his body along his sides.
From the hook imbedded in his scrotum, it arced out and surrounded his testicles with an awful kind of intelligence, wrapping around the sensitive orbs three or four times until finally lancing up through the long axis of each. Semen boiled and shot out spasmodically, globs of steaming cum erupting from his penis, carrying sizzling arcs of current with them. When the scalding hot cum splattered on his abs and chest, melting skin where it touched, the electricity absorbed into his flesh and rejoined the rest of the currents ripping through him.
His quads seized when the current tore into them, causing the hooks to rend flesh and muscle. Sam’s thighs went rigid, clenching so hard his femurs splintered. His glutes flexed next, and the current separated. Some arced out from his ass, turned and ripped into his already tightening calves, following the lines of his veins and arteries toward his toes. The rest shot along his spine and travelled to his skull, liquefying his brain and erupting from his eye sockets.
Sam shrieked, writhing in unbearable agony, limbs flailing and muscles flexing until they shredded themselves or snapped the bones and tendons to which they were attached.
At long last, Sam’s thrashing did what it was meant to do, strain the flesh around the hooks until it tore. Sam fell, electricity still zigzagging across his tall, muscular form until he hit the stone floor hard. If he’d had lungs left, the air would have been knocked from them.
Twitching helplessly, Sam slowly became aware that his body wasn’t healing. He sensed rather than saw Lucifer appear over him.
“Well, wasn’t that a scintillating day?” the Fallen angel mused rhetorically. “Time for some purifying fire, Sam.”
Sam sobbed, the agony still pulsing along his ruined body as Lucifer spoke.
“Tomorrow is the start of a new week. I think we finally settled on crucifixion. And Michael’s bringing your brother Adam along to play this time. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
There was no time for any kind of answer as the flames appeared and lapped at Sam’s body. All he could do then was scream.
END