Writing, sorta.
After a few attempts to start writing my Sam/Baal Summer of Stargate fic, I am finally into the actual story. This....thing is the product of my previous attempts. It just came out of my brain but it is so totally odd and without context that I soon gave it up. It's totally over the top and slightly weird. I just thought I would share.
Title: None
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Rating: ADULT.
Warnings: Sex, violence, weirdness, love slaves, spelling errors, characters behaving OOC.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm too poor to bother suing.
Spoilers: Nothing really.
Summary: Sam and Baal fighting and being snarky to one another.
For weird Baalishness, step
Sam did not rise from her seat at the familiar thud of boots on the stone floor. The other women scurried about, falling to their knees and kowtowing low as Baal swept into the room in his usual grandiose fashion but Sam remained as always, singularly unimpressed by his arrogant swagger. She slouched back against the cushions on the ornate chaise by the window and nonchalantly flung her arm across the back.
Baal watched from the centre of the room but Sam paid no heed to his loud exhalation of breath. The other slaves shared furtive looks, their concern evident to all but Sam who merely flicked her fingernails together and examined her cuticles.
“My lord, we have prepared your bath,” one of the woman ventured cautiously, rising slightly to gently stroke her hand across his shin. Baal's nostrils flared and he shoved her away with his knee. The woman immediately planted her face on her hands in a show of submission as he stomped angrily towards the window.
“Do you not rise to greet your god?” he snarled angrily. Sam heaved a bored sigh and leaned her chin in her hand, staring out of the window at the garden below. Baal clenched his jaw, seething with anger as he reached forward and grabbed her arm, hauling her bodily out of the chaise. Sam let out a yelp of surprise as she collided with his chest, her palms clutching at his coat as he tugged her hair back and brought his face close to hers. “If you think your insolence is somehow amusing Samantha you are gravely mistaken!” he sneered through clenched teeth.
Sam smiled acidly. “I care nothing for your amusement,” she spat and Baal's eyes glowed as rage coursed through his body. In the blink of an eye Baal's hand collided hard with the side of her face and she fell to the floor, her cheek burning with the force of the blow. A rally of gasps bubbled up from the crouched figures of the other slaves who peered in concern across the floor towards the spectacle. Baal towered over her, his chest heaving and Sam clutched her hand to her face as she glared up at him. Blood ran hotly from the cut on her lip where his ring had struck her. She clawed at the floor with her palm, her legs tangling in the long fabric of her dress as she shuffled back a way but Baal stepped over her and reached down to wrap his hand around her throat. Sam wheezed as he hauled her to her knees before him.
“Yield!” he drawled through clenched teeth but Sam clawed at his hand with her nails instead. “YIELD!” he bellowed and squeezed his hand a little harder around her throat. Sam gasped and choked, her eyes bulging as his hand gripped tighter and tighter. Her arms flailed and she clutched at his coat frantically, her head spinning.
“Muh...muh...” she rasped. Baal eased his grip on her throat and raised his chin haughtily in expectation of her plea. “My lord...” she began, her vision coming back into focus and settling on his face. She ran her hands down his chest and smoothed the fabric of his shirt across his stomach. Baal's sneer morphed into a lazy smile and his shoulders relaxed a little. Sam glimpsed the hilt of his dagger beneath his coat and she licked her lips, exhaling slowly. “My lord,” she uttered again breathily, looking up at him through her lashes and tilting her head ever so slightly to one side in a gesture of submission. Baal's hand slipped down her throat a little way and a second later, Sam slid her hand inside his coat and gripped the dagger in her hand. Summoning all her strength she pulled it free and plunged it hard into the soft flesh of his side.
Baal roared in pain and surprise, his fingers clenching around her throat once more and Sam cried out as she was hoisted from the floor and hurled bodily across the room. She collided hard with a stone pillar. Sam felt her spine crunch as she impacted with the flat edge of the column just before the back of her head cracked against the carved obsidian statue that sat atop it. The ornate statue crashed heavily to the ground and the carved face smashed into the floor, shards of obsidian skittering across the tiles. The room erupted into chaos and Sam was vaguely aware of the screaming and crying as the other slaves began to mill about in panic. Across the room, Baal staggered, his eyes aglow with fury and Sam watched as he reached down and pulled the blade from his side, a spray of blood spraying across the floor as he hurled it away. Her vision swam and everything went dark and second later she slipped into oblivion.
When she awoke some time later her limbs were buzzing with an unnatural energy. She had lost count of the times she had been in the sarcophagus and with each exposure she felt more defiled than if Baal had forced himself upon her. He never had, no, he was too egotistical even for that. He wanted her to give herself to him, to be his willing slave and as Sam stared up at the glyphs in the wall above the bed she wondered how much longer she would be able to resist. With each exposure to the sarcophagus she felt her mind crumble, the memories she clung to gradually being replaced with a maniacal rage that, denied an outlet, she turned in on herself. It was the impulse that drove her to defy Baal with ever increasing frequency and severity, to the point where he had killed her twice but to her endless despair he would not allow her to die.
A shuffle of footsteps broke her reverie and she pushed herself up on the bed to see one of the other girls entering the room. The girl would not meet her eyes and but Sam was beyond feeling guilt for subjecting them all to Baal's ire, the sarcophagus had seen to that. The girl hung her head hung her head low as she spoke.
“Lord Baal commands your presence” she murmured and Sam sighed before dropping her knees over the edge of the bed and rising to her feet. She crossed the room and plucked a robe from the couch against the wall, wrapping it about herself before following the girl out of the room.
The next chamber was thick with smoke and Sam curled her lip in distaste. Between the opaque drapes that hung about she could make out the silhouettes of the other slaves writhing in an orgiastic dance. Naked bodies lay sprawled across the lush carpets and men and women rutted under gaudy statues of bulls, bowls of flame flickering and casting everything in a surreal glow. Sam clenched her jaw, irritated by the sweaty bodies that blocked her path as she crossed the hall into the chamber beyond.
Baal was reclined in a seat with a sour look painted across his face as Sam approached. A nubile slave girl crawled across his lap utterly nude but he shoved her angrily away. The girl whimpered as she fell back onto the floor and glared at Sam in displeasure before scurrying away. Sam raised her chin and quirked a brow at him and Baal leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his leg and planting his chin in his hand.
“Leave us,” he growled and the few fawning acolytes that lurked about shuffled quietly out of the room, bowing low as they closed the tall doors behind them. Baal stared at Sam intently for a moment, heaving a loud sigh as he leaned back in his seat and gripped the armrests firmly in his hands. “I am prepared to show you mercy, if you are prepared to beg me for it,” he said finally.
Sam chewed her lip and considered his proposal. “And if I won't?” Baal regarded her through slitted eyes.
“Why must you test me?” he asked in an exasperated voice.
“Why won't you let me die?” she retorted coldly and Baal tilted his head to the side, bemused.
“Is the thought of being my concubine so repellent to you that you would choose death?” he replied. Sam stared at the floor.
“Why do you keep me here when you know that I hate you?” Baal huffed in irritation.
“Why must we always speak in riddles Samantha?” She raised her chin and met his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but could not find words to reply. Baal rose from his seat and approached her slowly.
“I don't know why you keep me here,” she breathed in a mournful voice and Baal blinked slowly. “I don't know why you don't just take what you want, or why you don't make me a host.”
Baal regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Why would I give you to another Goa'uld?” he answered eventually.
Title: None
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Rating: ADULT.
Warnings: Sex, violence, weirdness, love slaves, spelling errors, characters behaving OOC.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm too poor to bother suing.
Spoilers: Nothing really.
Summary: Sam and Baal fighting and being snarky to one another.
For weird Baalishness, step
Sam did not rise from her seat at the familiar thud of boots on the stone floor. The other women scurried about, falling to their knees and kowtowing low as Baal swept into the room in his usual grandiose fashion but Sam remained as always, singularly unimpressed by his arrogant swagger. She slouched back against the cushions on the ornate chaise by the window and nonchalantly flung her arm across the back.
Baal watched from the centre of the room but Sam paid no heed to his loud exhalation of breath. The other slaves shared furtive looks, their concern evident to all but Sam who merely flicked her fingernails together and examined her cuticles.
“My lord, we have prepared your bath,” one of the woman ventured cautiously, rising slightly to gently stroke her hand across his shin. Baal's nostrils flared and he shoved her away with his knee. The woman immediately planted her face on her hands in a show of submission as he stomped angrily towards the window.
“Do you not rise to greet your god?” he snarled angrily. Sam heaved a bored sigh and leaned her chin in her hand, staring out of the window at the garden below. Baal clenched his jaw, seething with anger as he reached forward and grabbed her arm, hauling her bodily out of the chaise. Sam let out a yelp of surprise as she collided with his chest, her palms clutching at his coat as he tugged her hair back and brought his face close to hers. “If you think your insolence is somehow amusing Samantha you are gravely mistaken!” he sneered through clenched teeth.
Sam smiled acidly. “I care nothing for your amusement,” she spat and Baal's eyes glowed as rage coursed through his body. In the blink of an eye Baal's hand collided hard with the side of her face and she fell to the floor, her cheek burning with the force of the blow. A rally of gasps bubbled up from the crouched figures of the other slaves who peered in concern across the floor towards the spectacle. Baal towered over her, his chest heaving and Sam clutched her hand to her face as she glared up at him. Blood ran hotly from the cut on her lip where his ring had struck her. She clawed at the floor with her palm, her legs tangling in the long fabric of her dress as she shuffled back a way but Baal stepped over her and reached down to wrap his hand around her throat. Sam wheezed as he hauled her to her knees before him.
“Yield!” he drawled through clenched teeth but Sam clawed at his hand with her nails instead. “YIELD!” he bellowed and squeezed his hand a little harder around her throat. Sam gasped and choked, her eyes bulging as his hand gripped tighter and tighter. Her arms flailed and she clutched at his coat frantically, her head spinning.
“Muh...muh...” she rasped. Baal eased his grip on her throat and raised his chin haughtily in expectation of her plea. “My lord...” she began, her vision coming back into focus and settling on his face. She ran her hands down his chest and smoothed the fabric of his shirt across his stomach. Baal's sneer morphed into a lazy smile and his shoulders relaxed a little. Sam glimpsed the hilt of his dagger beneath his coat and she licked her lips, exhaling slowly. “My lord,” she uttered again breathily, looking up at him through her lashes and tilting her head ever so slightly to one side in a gesture of submission. Baal's hand slipped down her throat a little way and a second later, Sam slid her hand inside his coat and gripped the dagger in her hand. Summoning all her strength she pulled it free and plunged it hard into the soft flesh of his side.
Baal roared in pain and surprise, his fingers clenching around her throat once more and Sam cried out as she was hoisted from the floor and hurled bodily across the room. She collided hard with a stone pillar. Sam felt her spine crunch as she impacted with the flat edge of the column just before the back of her head cracked against the carved obsidian statue that sat atop it. The ornate statue crashed heavily to the ground and the carved face smashed into the floor, shards of obsidian skittering across the tiles. The room erupted into chaos and Sam was vaguely aware of the screaming and crying as the other slaves began to mill about in panic. Across the room, Baal staggered, his eyes aglow with fury and Sam watched as he reached down and pulled the blade from his side, a spray of blood spraying across the floor as he hurled it away. Her vision swam and everything went dark and second later she slipped into oblivion.
When she awoke some time later her limbs were buzzing with an unnatural energy. She had lost count of the times she had been in the sarcophagus and with each exposure she felt more defiled than if Baal had forced himself upon her. He never had, no, he was too egotistical even for that. He wanted her to give herself to him, to be his willing slave and as Sam stared up at the glyphs in the wall above the bed she wondered how much longer she would be able to resist. With each exposure to the sarcophagus she felt her mind crumble, the memories she clung to gradually being replaced with a maniacal rage that, denied an outlet, she turned in on herself. It was the impulse that drove her to defy Baal with ever increasing frequency and severity, to the point where he had killed her twice but to her endless despair he would not allow her to die.
A shuffle of footsteps broke her reverie and she pushed herself up on the bed to see one of the other girls entering the room. The girl would not meet her eyes and but Sam was beyond feeling guilt for subjecting them all to Baal's ire, the sarcophagus had seen to that. The girl hung her head hung her head low as she spoke.
“Lord Baal commands your presence” she murmured and Sam sighed before dropping her knees over the edge of the bed and rising to her feet. She crossed the room and plucked a robe from the couch against the wall, wrapping it about herself before following the girl out of the room.
The next chamber was thick with smoke and Sam curled her lip in distaste. Between the opaque drapes that hung about she could make out the silhouettes of the other slaves writhing in an orgiastic dance. Naked bodies lay sprawled across the lush carpets and men and women rutted under gaudy statues of bulls, bowls of flame flickering and casting everything in a surreal glow. Sam clenched her jaw, irritated by the sweaty bodies that blocked her path as she crossed the hall into the chamber beyond.
Baal was reclined in a seat with a sour look painted across his face as Sam approached. A nubile slave girl crawled across his lap utterly nude but he shoved her angrily away. The girl whimpered as she fell back onto the floor and glared at Sam in displeasure before scurrying away. Sam raised her chin and quirked a brow at him and Baal leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his leg and planting his chin in his hand.
“Leave us,” he growled and the few fawning acolytes that lurked about shuffled quietly out of the room, bowing low as they closed the tall doors behind them. Baal stared at Sam intently for a moment, heaving a loud sigh as he leaned back in his seat and gripped the armrests firmly in his hands. “I am prepared to show you mercy, if you are prepared to beg me for it,” he said finally.
Sam chewed her lip and considered his proposal. “And if I won't?” Baal regarded her through slitted eyes.
“Why must you test me?” he asked in an exasperated voice.
“Why won't you let me die?” she retorted coldly and Baal tilted his head to the side, bemused.
“Is the thought of being my concubine so repellent to you that you would choose death?” he replied. Sam stared at the floor.
“Why do you keep me here when you know that I hate you?” Baal huffed in irritation.
“Why must we always speak in riddles Samantha?” She raised her chin and met his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but could not find words to reply. Baal rose from his seat and approached her slowly.
“I don't know why you keep me here,” she breathed in a mournful voice and Baal blinked slowly. “I don't know why you don't just take what you want, or why you don't make me a host.”
Baal regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Why would I give you to another Goa'uld?” he answered eventually.