Waiting for Death

The nervous young man sat in the corner of his dark cell, waiting to die. His hands trembled as he tried to clasp them in prayer, his full lips quivering as he choked back the tears. He didn't want to die. He was only twenty. His whole life should have been ahead of him. And yet, in a few short hours when the sun rose, he would leave his cell and meet his executioner and the guillotine. The tears burst forth with that thought, and Henry began to sob, deep anguished cries that rocked his whole body and filled the fetid darkness with their sound.

"You know, they say your head survives for a few seconds after it's cut off." The voice came from the other end of the cell, and Henry heard a rustling noise, as the man sat up. He could feel the weight of his eyes through the darkness, and Henry stopped sobbing, though the salty tears continued to stream down his dirty cheeks.

"It continues to see, and hear, and they say, if you lean real close, it will even speak to you, telling you everything the soul perceives as it ascends to heaven - or in your case, hell." There was a long, bitter laugh, and then the man continued. "But that is superstitious nonsense, as you know. We don't have souls, there is no hell but this world, and God is dead. The Philosophes have told us so."

Haltingly, the young boy said, "I believe in God."

"Ah, then you are stupider than the Philosophes." The inmate cackled again, his horrible laugh filling Henry with a deep sense of unease. He wanted to curl up in a ball, and be away from the cell, and the crazy man he shared it with, and most of all, his black fate. But there was no escaping any of it.

"How can you believe in a God when there is such suffering in the world? You lived through the Revolution. You know what I mean. Children starving on the street. Sickness and poverty and filth everywhere. Murder and rape in the streets. The parasitic nobility on the one hand, and the violent, mindless mob on the other. They burned the Churches and raped the Nuns. Where was your God then?"

"I ... I .... do not know." Henry stammered.

"I tell you, he is up in his heaven, or he doesn't exist. Either way, no one cares about you. Or me, or anyone in this awful world." Henry heard the man clear his throat, and then spit on the floor. He knew that was not the worst thing on the black, grimy cobbles. The place stunk of shit, and piss, and dampness, fear and death, and he could feel the weight of it all closing in around him. "You are a sinner anyway, my sweet young boy. Christ has cast you out to burn in the fires of hell. There is no point in calling on him, even if he did exist."

"That's not true. Any who call out to Christ the Intercessor will be saved. You have only to believe in him."

"I watched a Nun die once. She called out to Christ as they beat her. She pleaded with him to save her, as they ripped off her clothes, and raped her. A whole group of lusty Revolutionaries fucked her, and then, when they had finished with her, they slit her throat, and left her to die. She was still whispering Jesus' name as the life left her body. It did her no good."

Henry's hands went to his neck, to find comfort in the cross that hung there. His hand found only air, and he closed it into a tight fist, and clamped his eyes shut, wanting to cry. They had taken it from him when they tossed him in this awful place. Everything of God was gone from his life. There was only darkness, and pain, and soon there would be death. And then .... nothing.

Henry heard the man get up, and watched in the darkness as he crossed the length of the cell, and then sat down beside him, a lumbering shape against the shadows. "I am Michael." He said, and then spat again.

"I ... I am Henry."

"It is good to meet you, Henry." The man replied, his voice cordial, friendly even, as if they were meeting on the street at the market. "So what terrible thing did you do to end up here?"

Henry's breath caught at the question, and he almost started to sob. But then he took several deep breaths, and steadied himself. He had cried enough as it was. It had done him no good. "I killed a man."

Michael chuckled and said, "Wow, I'm impressed. I never would have imagined you were capable of such a thing. A little guy like you? Are you sure you didn't just steal a loaf of bread? That'll get your head cut off too."

"No, I am quite sure. The blood of the man stained my hands, and cries out to me even now." He held out his hands, and looked at them, though in the darkness, he could not make them out.

"Go on." Michael said, after a long silence had developed between them. "Why did you do it?"

"I was in love." Henry said, looking over where the prisoner sat. "He was the husband of the woman I love."

"Ah. There is no evil, that has not had love as its motivation."

Henry nodded, and continued. "It drove me mad that she was with him. I loved her, he did not. He was a fat old merchant, who never made love to her, and he beat her. I couldn't stand to see the bruises he left on her body. And so, one night, I broke into his shop when he was working late. And I .... and I killed him. Bludgeoned him over the head with a silver candle-holder, broke his skull, and his brains spilled out. His blood was everywhere, on the floor, on my clothes, on my hands. I hurried back to her house, and told her of what I had done for her, and how much I loved her .... and she screamed, and called for the constables. They locked me away, and now ...." As he finished his awful tale, the tears were flowing, and his body once more shook with sobs. "Now, I am to die."

"It will be a quick death." Michael said. "The blade is sharp, at least early in the morning, and your head will come right off. You'll hardly feel anything, my boy."

Somehow, Henry did not feel reassured. He spat on the floor, and then turned to Michael. "What did you do to end up here?"

"I've done many things. I've stolen, I've beaten people, raped. I've even killed a few men. But it wasn't any of that that got me here. It's who I am."

"Who are you?"

"I am an abomination before the face of God, and the new Regime. A pestilence, a plague, a great evil. I bring the corruption of morals, and the downfall of society. It was my kind who caused the decay of the Nobles. Or so the Revolutionary government holds. And they want no part of that in their new France."

"I do not understand. What are you?"

"I'm a homosexual, a Sodomite, a faggot."

"You mean ... you .... "

"Yes. I fuck young men. And I like to be fucked by them, too."

"My God, " Henry sputtered. "How could you?"

"You did not have any trouble fucking that merchant's wife, did you?"

Henry did not respond for a long time, and then, finally, he said. "I didn't."

Michael laughed, slapping his thighs. "Oh, that is too funny. You killed her husband, and you never even got to put your little dick in her pussy. Hahahah. I bet you are a virgin, aren't you? You are. And you're going to die, without ever having had sex." Michael fell over, laughing so hard he began to cough, a wet and ragged sound, the beginning stages of consumption.

Henry sat there, blushing in the darkness, furious and embarrassed. "That is not something to laugh about. I was saving myself for marriage, like a good Christian. Something you would know nothing about, you dirty faggot."

"Ah, you are right. I have never been a Christian, wasn't even baptized. But tell me, is a good Christian supposed to covet his neighbor's wife, and commit murder? I was not aware that these were the values of your Church."

"No, they are not." Henry said, lowering his head in shame.

Michael did not say anything, and a long, unpleasant silence ensued. Finally, Henry spoke. "What is it like?"

"What is what like?"

"Sex."

"Ah. Sex. People make far too much out of it. It's a biolgical function, like shitting or pissing. And yet, people do all kinds of crazy things to have it. Like kill the husbands of the women they love. Or even worse, get married in the first place!"

Henry thought about that a for a moment, and then said. "But what is it like?"

"A fire in the body. When you are fucking, you are for once, truly alive. For those brief moments, the whole world recedes, and all that exists is you and your partner, and this great connection between the two of you."

"Even with men?"

"Yes, especially with men."

Henry went quiet again.

"Why so many questions?" Michael prodded.

"Well, as you said. I ... I'm going to die. And I've never done it. I .... wanted to know what it was like, before my time comes."

"And you want me to help you?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you worried about being damned to hell as a Sodomite?"

Henry's head went up, and he stared in the direction of the other man. He bit his lip hard, and then said, "No. You're right, God is dead - or he doesn't care. I don't know which is worse. But either way, I don't care. I don't want to die a virgin. Will you ..... will you ...."

"Will I .... what?"

Henry blushed, and lowered his eyes. "You know."

"Yes, but I want to hear you say it."

Henry was thankful for the cover of darkness. His face was bright red, and yet, he could feel the closeness of the other man, hear his steady breaths in the darkness, and he desperately wanted to feel his hands, and mouth on his body. Henry swallowed hard, and said, "Will you touch me?"

"Is that all you want me to do? Touch you?"

"No. I want you to ... to take my penis, and ... and do whatever it is your kind does."

"Do you mean like this?" Michael asked, and suddenly he was right next to Henry, his hand touching the boy's leg, moving up and up, until it slid inside his pants and found his hardening penis. It stiffened as the prisoner's hand came in contact with it, and Henry let out a moan when the hand encircled his shaft.

"Mmm ... you have a nice one, boy. It's a shame you won't be putting it to much use." And Michael yanked down the boy's trousers, freeing his cock. His ass came in contact with the slimy floor, and he thrust his hips up, trying to get away from whatever puddle he was in. This drove Michael's fist all the way down to the base of the penis, and the springy patch of hair that grew there. Still gripping Henry's tool, Michael worked the pants all the way down and off his legs, and then he began to stroke him, running his hand up the thick shaft, to the head. He reached over with his other hand, and pealed back the boy's foreskin, then lowered his mouth, licking all along the head. Michael's tongue slid down along the shaft, then up and around, getting it nice and wet, before he lowered his mouth again, and swallowed the head. As Michael's warm, wet mouth closed around his penis, Henry pushed back against the wall, clutching his fists, and moaning. It felt so incredibly good as Michael sucked on it, his tongue flicking against the head as he accepted more and more of it into his mouth. Henry whimpered as Michael let his teeth graze the sensitive shaft, and then went all the way down on him, taking him into his throat. Henry's hands flew up, resting in the thick curls of Michael's hair, massaging his scalp as Michael bobbed his head up and down, letting the shaft slide out of his mouth, then taking it back into him. One of Michael's hands went up, and began to rub the boy's hairy thighs, as his other hand went down and cupped the cheeks of his ass. Henry began to moan and whine, his breath coming harder, in ragged gasps, butting his head against the wall. Michael heard the sound, and though he could not see what kind of a reaction he was causing in the boy, he knew. Smiling around the cock in his mouth, Michael slid a finger up and into the boy's ass.

"Holy Christ!" Henry shouted, the pain of intrusion making him bite down on his lip, and tug on the hair he held in his hands. Michael just sucked harder on the cock, and continued working the finger past the boy's tight sphincter.

"Relax," Michael said, the cock slipping out of his mouth. "You'll enjoy this."

Henry nodded his head, mumbled "yes", and relaxed his grip on Michael's hair. Michael took the hard penis back into his mouth, and after a couple moments, his finger slipped in. He worked it into him, wiggling it around as he sucked, licked, and nibbled on the boy's cock. In no time at all, Henry felt a pressure build up in his balls, and he began to cum. As he came, his ass spasmed around the finger, gripping it tight, and then letting it go. Michael thought how great it would be to fuck that tight little ass, and then Henry's semen began filling his mouth, and he was swallowing it as fast as he could, but some of it spilled out of the corners of his mouth, and down the quickly softening penis. Michael licked all of the semen up, kissing the boy's penis as he went, and then he pulled away, and let his finger slide out of him.

"My God, my God!" Henry panted, shaking. "That was .... there aren't words to describe how great that was."

"Would you like to return the pleasure?"

"You mean ... suck you too?" Henry's voice was uncertain, a little afraid.

"That's not what I have in mind."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over like a girl, and fuck you in the ass. You will enjoy it, believe me. You thought it was great to be sucked off. Wait until you feel my hard cock pounding away in your ass. You will fill this cell with your cries of pleasure."

"No way. There's no way I could let you do that to me. I don't want to be a girl. It would hurt too much."

Michael leaned forward, so his body was close to Henry's, his face just inches from his. His breath was hot, and foul, as he spoke, slowly, carefully pronouncing the words, so there would be no mistaking what he said. "I am not a nice man, Henry. I have done many bad things in my life. Many things far worse than forcing you to take my cock up your ass. It's going to hurt, boy. But it's really going to hurt if you make me force you."

Henry swallowed hard, and felt his stomach become an empty pit. There was something about the calmness of this man's words that frightened him more than if he had screamed and hit him, and acted like a mad man. Something far more lethal. And he knew there was no way he could fight him off, and the guards certainly wouldn't do anything to help him. So it was either submit to this beast, or suffer unimaginable pain, and perhaps death at his hands. Henry lowered his head, and said, "I'll do it."

"You'll do what?"

"Let you .... let you fuck me."

Michael reached down and grabbed the boy's testicles in his hand. He gave them a light squeeze, and Henry screamed. "You don't let me do anything. I'm taking your ass because I want to, and because I can. Now, get on your hands and knees for me."

Terrified and in pain, Henry did just that. He put his hand down in a wet pile of something he soon recognized as human waste, and he began to cry. Michael got up on his knees behind him, and took down his pants. His cock was hard, and he let it graze the boy's cheeks. Henry shuddered, and tried to move away, but Michael reached out, and grabbed him by the hips, pulling him back against him. He ground his hips into the boy's ass, his thick cock rubbing against his crease. It was warm against his cool skin, and so large. He was scared. There was no way it would fit inside him, and yet, he knew that Michael was going to make it fit. He began to mumble a prayer, and Michael gave him a hard, stinging slap on the ass. "When I'm drilling you, I want you to call out to Christ, my little bitch. I'm sure he can appreciate the pain you're going to feel as I split you apart."And with that, he bucked forward. The head of his penis found the hole, but the anal ring held strong. He gripped Henry tightly about the waist, and leaned down, forcing it in.

Shooting pain went through Henry's body, as his ass was torn apart. It was like white pokers were driven into his eyes, and for several long moments, he couldn't breathe, let alone cry out. He thought the pain would cause his heart to stop, and he knew that he was half-way to hell already. And then, finally, Michael was inside him. The thick bulbous head had torn the sphincter, allowing the veined shaft to slide through. Michael paused for a moment, adjusting to being inside the tight sheath, and Henry finally managed to breathe again. With it came a loud, ear-piercing scream, and tears pouring from his eyes. He mumbled incoherantly as Michael drew himself out, and then plunged back in, going deeper.

The virgin hole was tight, and dry, and it resisted his thrusts. But Michael was very persistant, and before long, his solid tool had loosened him up a bit, or perhaps the blood from the torn walls lubricated the passage. He settled into a steady rhythm, reaching around and stroking the boy's cock, pinching his nipples, and forcing his fingers into his mouth for Henry to suck on. As the fucking proceeded, the pain didn't exactly lessen, as much as become transformed into something like pleasure. And though it was a betrayal, his body began to react, and his penis grew hard as Michael stroked it, his nipples tingled with pleasure, and he sucked on Michael's filthy fingers as if they were tiny penises. Then, slowly at first, he began to grind his ass back against Michael's cock, and then more persistantly, working the cock like the best Parisian whores. The cries that tore themselves from his throat were those of the most intense pleasure, and he did as Michael had said, screaming, "Jesus, oh Christ, oh sweet and merciful Lord. My Christ, my Christ! Oh, fuck me Jesus!"

Michael furiously stroked the boy's cock, his hands slick with the precum that leaked out. He timed it so that he'd go down on the shaft, just as he thrust his cock into the boy's ass, his hand pushing down, as he pushed up. That drove the boy wild, and he quickly shot his second load, thick white cum pouring out over Michael's fingers as he pumped the shaft its final times. The boy's crashing orgasm went all through his body, causing his ass to squeeze Michael's shaft within him. The tight channel milked him, like a velvet-gloved hand, and Michael felt his own orgasm approach. He pushed Henry down hard against the ground, his face slamming against the wet, filthy cobbles, as Michael plunged deep into him, trying to claim the farthest depths of the boy's ass before his hot semen spilled into his bowels. As Michael came, he pulled his erupting cock out of the boy's no longer virgin ass, and began to shoot along his cheeks and the small of his back. He rubbed his cum into Henry's skin, and then collapsed ontop of the boy, and they both contently passed into slumber.

***

That was how the guards found them when they came to take Henry away. They shoved Michael off of the boy with the hafts of their spears, and then one of the guards cracked him on the skull. Lightning tore across his vision, and he lay there in the filth, nude, clutching his bleeding head as the guards made rude comments, and taunted him, saying it would soon be his time to meet the executioner, but not to get a hard-on, because then he'd cut that off as well as his head.

Henry was terrified, as they pulled him to his feet, and parted his buttocks, revealing the dried semen, shit and blood from the night before. They all had a great laugh about that, and then made him get dressed.

As the young man was led away, Michael got to his feet, and then clutched the bars of the cell, watching the boy leave. He wondered what Henry would say in the moments after his head was cut off, and then he went back into the corner to wait for death.