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Language:
English
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Published:
2025-02-14
Words:
368
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
5
Kudos:
9
Hits:
161

What is Love to the Damned?

Summary:

Chatterer can't decide what he likes best about playing with his fellow Cenobites.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

He couldn’t decide which was best: the pressure, or the way that the latex wrap covered his face. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t need to. As a Cenobite, the Chatterer was immune to that mortal need.

Or maybe the best part was the wrapping process itself—sitting while having one’s feet wrapped, then being stood up while the spool of latex wrapped around and around, climbing up his body until it cut off his sight and locked his chattering jaws together. Only a small portion of his torso was left bare for other activities.

Maybe it was the feeling of hooks shooting into his arms and legs, after an indefinite period of blind waiting so he knew not when the pain would come, hoisting him up into the air as a canvas is set upon an easel.

Or maybe it was the kiss of the knife, cutting and raising his skin, peeling it back, severing the nipple from the pectoral. The Chatterer cherished the pain. His cock, which resembled his face, having been split in half and sewn together inside out, struggled to get hard against the confines of the latex. The blade continued to flay his skin, moving down his ribcage. He was not sure which Cenobite was wielding it, only of the exquisiteness of the pain.

Maybe it was the hand between his legs, taking him in a punishing grip, kneading and crushing him with brutal precision until finally, finally ecstasy—

Or maybe it was being let down to the ground and feeling the cold concrete of Hell’s labyrinth under him, or the knife that cut through the latex wrap, leaving a red line down his body like an aftershock. Maybe it was the stinging pricks of the suture needle, sewing him back up so that his chest would not be left flapping.

Maybe it was the love. They looked upon his ugliness and found nothing lacking. Sometimes they flensed the flesh away from his very face and then kissed the wounds, and afterwards handed him the knife, trusting him to do the same for them.

And he would follow them to the furthest reaches of the labyrinth. For them, he would risk losing Hell.

Notes:

Happy Valentine's Day! I wanted to write something about what love means to a Cenobite. Chatterer has the perfect backstory. The scene was also inspired by a couple pages from the comics that @misty-235 from tumblr showed me, where the 4 original Cenobites are flaying each other's chests for fun. Sorry it's not longer!