Fallenescence by Toran
Amy Lay’s gaze, black with brooding Goth smudges above and below incredibly icy blue eyes, locked with Gwendolyn’s and Gwen couldn’t look away. Front row tickets to Fallenescence were compliments of Gwen’s girl friend, Penelope, and though Gwen had heard of the Goth band, she’d never actually heard them.
Amy smirked, pointed a finger at Gwen and screamed something about gagged lips and tears of pain into the microphone as thousands of Fallenites chanted the words in unison. The arena was rocking and Gwen was as caught as caught could be. Amy’s tight leather pants that had spawned spiked boots paraded the Queen of Goth around stage as her black leather clad band danced around her, power chords ripping and rolling over the throngs that pressed Gwen and Penny tighter to the front of the stage. Amy looked back over her shoulder from the far side of the stage and again pointed at Gwen. Gwen shuddered – it seemed that the gothrocker was pointing right at her. For just a second, Gwen wondered what those blood red lips tasted like, what Amy’s full and straining breasts felt like as Gwen tussled with a stiff nipple, whether Amy smelled the same way as she did when things just felt right, when the urgency suddenly felt needed, when the world meant only one thing, only one hunger…
Two sets of strong arms suddenly gripped Gwen’s shoulders and before she knew it, Gwen was being yanked out of the crowd and up onto the stage. Spotlights caught her, caressed her in spite of the cold openness – the pressing screaming throng was below her now, standing before her was Amy, beautiful Amy. And in the pause between lyrics that described the feeling of being eaten alive, morsel by morsel, Amy leaned in and kissed Gwen with her pouting, full, blood-red lips and Gwen felt a trickle of heat.
Then Gwen was briskly rushed to a small podium and a large feather quill was pressing into her hands, a parchment paper resting beneath her palms. Amy was behind her, rubbing the mike up between Gwen’s legs while the band raged on, the instrumental’s pulse mimicked by thousands of screaming faces. Spotlights pinned Gwen in place and with Amy’s hands helping her, Gwen signed her name on the blurry line - overhead, on the huge Maxitron screen, the completion of the waver of dignity was witnessed by all.
Amy twirled Gwen around and attacked Gwen’s mouth savagely, drawing blood the color of Amy’s lips. Hands found Gwen’s wrists and while her body exploded with urgent lust, her mind realized that she was being bound. Amy’s mouth devoured hers, the instrumental seemed to go on forever, the gothrocker’s hands found Gwen’s breasts. And pinched Gwen’s nipples hard. Gwen screamed but Amy’s mouth smothered the sound – Gwen’s nipples hurt and the ropes that tightly circled her wrists were yanking her elbows together as well. Dimly, she was aware that her jeans were being cut away from her hips and that other roadies were busy ripping her t-shirt to shreds.
Her world throbbed with the music and assault on her body – arms were lost in miles of rope, tied together so tightly that her breasts stuck out lewdly in front of her, t-shirt cut up and pressed into her mouth and wrapped behind her head, gagging her, spotlights catching her pubic bush for all to see. And that it was because Amy wanted her that way and that struck something deep inside Gwen. Someone wanted her to be helpless, someone wanted her so badly that they had taken her. That someone was the most beautiful creature in Gwen’s life. And that was why Gwen hardly protested, though protest was far from her capacity, bound and gagged as she was – that was why Gwen fought not at all when she was strapped to the heavy wooden horse on center stage.
The band launched into the heavy handed bass line that was Fallenescence’s current hit, “Whipper Will”. Gwen’s breasts were now bound with thin cord that made her flesh hard and sensitive. Her nipples had been caught, noosed, and tied off to the single support onto which she had been folded over - the single wooden beam pressed between her breasts, the thin line capturing her nipples passing beneath. Gwen’s legs were roped to one end of the wooden frame, her shoulders, anchored by the elbow bind, roped to the other end. It hurt Gwen badly, so badly that were Gwen not caught up in the urgency of her body fighting and clawing for that explosion of searing warmth that could only come from deep inside, she would have cried into the gag. Her stomach seemingly welded to the beam, she glanced sideways out at the throng as they chanted words that spoke of pain and thin red whip marks. Penny looked up at her, smiling, her face distant, distracted almost, only one set of eyes amongst the thousands of Fallenites. It was the hazy look that Gwen had seen on the countless boyfriends that had pistoned their dicks deep inside her. The arena was in a frenzy, ready to explode.
Amy was behind her, massaging Gwen’s ass, now fully exposed and helpless on the wooden horse. Loud electronic whipping noises rolled from the mountain of speakers on either side of the stage and as Gwen watched, the throngs seemed to pulse with the sharp electronic crack of whip on flesh. A cool hand ran up Gwen’s back as Amy pranced into Gwen’s vision. She had shed her shiny leather top, exposing two full breasts, silver nipple rings pinching two engorged nipples painted a cherry red. Amy leaned forward, close to Gwen’s ear, her breath hot and darkly wonderful.
“I’m going to hurt you, little cunt. Hurt you bad.”
Then her teeth sank deeply into Gwen’s earlobe. Gwen screamed through her gag, the urgency inside her knocked up a notch. Amy was going to hurt her, in front of everyone. Naked and helpless, before a filled arena, Amy was going to hurt Gwen badly.
Amy stepped back, turning towards the throng. Gwen couldn’t see what she had in her hand, but the arena erupted. “Whipper Will” entered the long ominous drum solo and Amy began gyrating her naked hips in the spotlight, only inches from Gwen’s gagged face. Gwen could smell Amy’s musky, secret smell and had to close her eyes – the electricity was racing through her but not nearly fast enough – more was needed, much more. Amy was turned on. It wasn’t enough that Amy wanted Gwen to hurt before all of her fans. Amy was turned on by Gwen’s pain. Gwen tried to grind her pelvis into the hard wooden beam but her pussy couldn’t get the right angle to do anything more than fuel the damning electricity that sparked and bit but never connected, never delivered the shot that would be white hot, the shot that would race through her, hungrily feeding on her nerves and flesh.
Amy turned around and Gwen grunted into her gag. Amy held a thin strip in her hand, long, and whippish, of wood or leather Gwen didn’t know. It would hurt. Gwen squirmed in her ropes but felt only the unrelenting bite of the coils around her body and the hard wood of the frame she was bound to. She wasn’t going anywhere and Amy wanted to hurt her. Amy rubbed Gwen’s cheek then grabbed a handful of Gwen’s hair, yanking Gwen’s head back. Then she disappeared behind her. Bound to the beam, head held by hair pulled by unyielding fingers, Gwen felt the first swing of Amy’s crop as it bit into her ass. Pain exploded in her ass flesh, radiating out with a swiftness that took Gwen’s breath away and had her head not been held in place, she would have likely smashed her forehead into the abrupt end of the wooden beam on which she was bound.
The crowd cheered, Amy howled, and a fresh line of searing pain slapped across her flesh. Gwen tried to scream but the gag stopped her. Gwen tried to move but the ropes held her. Gwen tried to lift herself off the horse but the thin lines tying her nipples together beneath the wooden beam kept her in place. Another streak of white lightening bit into her followed by another. Dimly Gwen realized that the electronic whipping noises had been replaced by the very real whipping she was receiving. Tears blurred her vision and the warmth of urgency was not even close to where it should be. Could she survive Amy’s pain, could she finish the race that she had started before the wave of pain stopped everything and left only a quivering body on overload and in misery? Cool fingers stroked her ass and the grip in her hair loosened.
Gwen let her head fall forward, her world filled with pain and a thumping drum beat. Then softly, as if it had no right to be there, Amy’s voice slid atop the driving drums, gentle and cooing. She sang of frustration, of yearning, and of constant agony and the Fallenites took up the chant, singing their anthem. Who guaranteed release, Amy cried, who wanted more than the blackness of pain and eternal sleep? Her words, rhyming and caressing the thump of the drums, lulled the throng to a restless silence. Where was the answer, Amy wondered into the mike and then the drums stopped altogether.
Amy knelt before Gwen, brushed her hair back away from her tear stained cheeks. Softly, she kissed Gwen on her gagged lips. The urgency inside Gwen pulsed deeper. But she knew there would be no release. Not now, not ever. The heavy black smudges framed steel blue eyes that screamed to her that urgency wasn’t enough, pain wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Amy’s fingers slid along the tight ropes holding Gwen to the horse, over muscles taut with the unnatural binding. Looking directly into Gwen’s eyes, Amy sang softly into the mike. Life was nothing more than a string of little urgencies fulfilled, she sang. Pain that comes and goes, awakening our nerves and flesh. For what? Sleep awaits us all, she answered herself. Sleep and blackness. Gwen felt new tears flowing as she looked into the face of her love.
The drums swelled into life, the single beam of light that had captured Amy and Gwen onstage erupted into swarms of multicolored comets, blazing about the suddenly frenzied throng. Gwen was jolted by Amy’s fingers – bound nipples suddenly pinched. Amy’s eyes danced and she screamed into the mike, her voice strong and carrying the weight of the world. We’re all fucked, she screamed. So let’s fuck.
Then she was gone and Gwen felt something thrust into her from behind, hard and filling her up. The urgency rocketed. Cool hands slapped both ass cheeks in unison, the band hammered away on their guitar, the throng screamed, and somewhere, sometime, the urgency inside Gwen exploded and was fulfilled. And Gwen wept with the power of it.
Later, after she had been untied, after she had been given official Fallenescence logo wear to cover her naked body, after the consent form had been properly notarized, after the last of the throng of Fallenites had departed, Gwen stood by Penny, unable to speak. She stared at the spot onstage where she had been bound, whipped, fucked. Where she had been consumed by a growling power dark and dangerous. Penny was talking a mile a minute and in spite of the loud buzzing in her ears, Gwen paid no attention. Amy Lay appeared onstage to retrieve something, looking now like someone at the shopping mall in tight jeans and halter-top. Gwen caught her eye and Amy nodded politely. Reaching into her stylish handbag, Amy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She smiled through the smoke billowing around her. Then she left.
“Come on, ladies. Time to go.” Two beefy men with Event Staff stenciled on their t-shirts sidled up to them. One tried to corral Penny by the arm but she swore and knocked his hand away.
“Come on, Gwen. Let’s get drunk.”
Gwen shrugged. Her head was pounding.