The author narrates.
The light coming through the window was dim, as if the dawn refused to fully illuminate what had happened the night before. Vikram moved between the sheets, at first slowly, then with a start that left him sitting in the middle of the bed, panting. The blanket clung to his naked body as if it knew he didn't want to see himself at all.
His breathing was heavy, irregular. The flushed face was not from embarrassment, but from a mixture of discomfort and suppressed anger. Something didn't fit. Something had broken or transformed, and his memory still didn't reach it.
Looking down, he noticed the bandage on his left shoulder. The white fabric contrasted with her brown skin, and although the pain was mild, the discomfort was profound. He didn't remember how he got there. He only knew that that area burned as if it had been marked.
In front of him, on the floor, his clothes were lying in disarray. The shirt was wrinkled, the pants folded in on themselves, as if someone had taken them off in a hurry. He tilted his head to the left, his eyes fixed on that small chaos, trying to piece together the fragments of a night that was slipping through his fingers.
And then, without warning, Bi appeared.
The witch materialized in front of the bed, with a smile that was not entirely kind. His silhouette was silhouetted against the darkness, and although he did not make a sound when he arrived, his presence filled the room like an ancient perfume: dense, enveloping, impossible to ignore.
Vikram blinked twice, as if he needed to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating. Then he started, covering himself with the blanket as if it were an improvised shield.
Vikram: Shit! "You scared me," he said, his voice still raspy from sleep and confusion.
Bi cocked her head, amused.
Bi: I thought you already noticed me, you passive big guy.
The word fell like a stone in water. Passive. Vikram gulped. He didn't quite understand why that word gave him a shiver. It wasn't just the term, it was the tone, the intention, the echo that seemed to resonate in his body as if he knew him more than he himself admitted.
Passive? Who was he referring to? Him? What had he done? What had he allowed?
His gaze locked on Bi, searching for answers, but also wanting to flee. Because in that moment, more than pain or pleasure, what he felt was a new curiosity... dangerous, intimate, and deeply his own.
The word passive kept spinning in his mind like a cursed echo. It wasn't just the term, it was the weight it carried with it. Vikram closed his eyes, but the memory forced its way in without asking permission: the moans, the screams, the Executioner's body moving above him, the changes in position that had left him breathless, without control, without defense. The demon's pyramidal head, its strength, its rhythm... everything came back like a storm that could not be stopped.
His eyes shot open, as if the memory had hit him in the chest.
Vikram: It can't be! —he exclaimed, raising his hands to his head, his fingers burying themselves in his hair as if he wanted to uproot the night.
Bi, still kneeling in front of the bed, leaned in with a smile that wasn't entirely motherly, but was provocative. The softness of the mattress beneath his body contrasted with the tension emanating from Vikram.
Bi: Explain to your mom Bi... What's wrong? —he said with a light laugh, as if he enjoyed every second of his confusion.
Vikram looked at her with wide eyes, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and shame.
Vikram: I JUST GOT FUCKED BY A BIG BOY FROM THE UNDERWORLD! A DEMON! A CREATURE... MONSTER!
Bi was surprised by the tone. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Like he really believed that shouldn't have happened. As if he still thought he had a choice.
Bi: Oh, calm down puppy~ It's not that big of a deal —he murmured, with a sweetness that bordered on mockery.
Vikram looked up, his eyes alight with fury. The blanket clung to his body like a last refuge.
Vikram: This is all your fault! —he shouted, pointing at her with a trembling arm.
Bi didn't move. He only changed his tone, letting his voice become deeper, firmer.
Bi: Hey, you'd better watch that tone with me, Vikram. Besides... it was this or the loss of your soul.
The sentence landed like a hammer blow. Vikram lowered his hand immediately, as if the memory of that pact had seared his skin. Yes, he had accepted it. Yes, he knew what was at stake. But nothing had prepared him for what he felt... for what he responded to.
He blushed. Not from shame, but from rage. His cheeks burned, and that sensation confused him. How could he have enjoyed it? How could he have reciprocated? How could it have... ended?
He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, his breath ragged. He stared at the blanket covering his privates, as if it were a reminder of what had happened. He gritted his teeth, and for a moment, he thought they would break.
He didn't know whether to hate himself... or keep wondering why, in the midst of everything, he had felt something akin to pleasure.
Vikram struggled to his feet, as if the air weighed more than his body. He wanted to walk, to move, to escape the bed that still held the warmth of what they had just experienced. But as soon as he took the first step, his legs gave way. He fell to the floor with a thud, not from pain, but from bewilderment.
He turned slowly, observing his own legs as if they were foreign. The fall didn't hurt. What hurt was not understanding why he couldn't move like before. His body, the one that always responded so strongly, now seemed to betray him.
Vikram: "Bi... Why can't I move?" Vikram asked in a firm voice, though the tremor in his tone betrayed him. His seriousness crumbled into worry. Then into nervousness.
Bi looked at him from the bed, suppressing a laugh that escaped the corners of her lips.
Bi: Maybe... haha... the Executioner hit you so hard that... hahaha... your legs need a break.
Vikram frowned, fury mingling with embarrassment.
Vikram: So... I can't walk because of that damn bastard, demon?
Bi nodded with a smile that made no apology.
Vikram: You've got to be kidding me! - he exclaimed, slamming his open palm on the floor.
Bi: At least you enjoyed it - Bi added, as if it were a poisoned caress.
Vikram: Don't talk nonsense... Of course I didn't enjoy it!
Bi: Really?
Bi raised an eyebrow, and with a theatrical gesture pulled out Vikram's cell phone. He recognized it instantly, although he was sure he'd left it in another room. The witch placed it in front of him, playing a video that needed no introduction.
The screen showed Vikram, naked, panting, moaning, surrendered. The Executioner had him in a position that left no room for doubt. And then, his own voice emerged from the device:
"Ah~... Ah...~ It... feels... So g-good..."
Vikram froze. The sound of his voice, broken by pleasure, hit him harder than any fall. He roughly pushed the phone away, as if it burned him. He turned, threw himself to the ground completely, and the blush violently invaded his face again.
Bi was smiling. Not mockingly, but with a calmness that disarmed him.
Vikram couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand how he had responded. How his body had reacted. How, in the midst of horror, he had felt something akin to pleasure. And now, seeing himself from the outside, he hated himself. He felt dirty. Disgusted. As if desire had betrayed him.
The floor was cold, but Vikram barely felt it. His body trembled, not from physical pain, but from the shame that had seeped into his skin like a second layer. The image from the video still burned in his mind, though he no longer watched it. He couldn't. He didn't want to.
Bi settled on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs gracefully, as if this were a scene she'd seen a thousand times before.
Bi: You see? - she said in a soft, almost maternal voice. - There's nothing to deny. Your body spoke for you.
Vikram didn't answer. He just breathed rapidly, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if searching for a crack to escape through. His chest rose and fell violently, and his hands remained clenched in fists that already ached.
Bi: It wasn't your fault - Bi added, with a calmness that irritated him. - It was the pact. You agreed to it. And he kept his end of the bargain.
Vikram turned his face toward her, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage.
"I didn't know it was going to be like this! I wasn't so aware!" he spat, his voice cracking.
Bi shrugged.
"What did you expect? A kiss on the forehead and a caress on the back?"
The silence grew thicker. Vikram closed his eyes, and for a moment, he wished he had never opened them. He wished he hadn't felt anything. He wished he hadn't responded.
But he had.
And now, the echo of his own moans haunted him like a curse.
Vikram remained silent for a few more seconds, as if the floor were offering him a respite that the bed could no longer provide. His breathing, once ragged, began to calm slowly, as if his body were accepting what his mind still refused to process.
He didn't want to accept what he had done. What he had felt. What he had allowed. But there was no going back. The pact was sealed, and the night was now a part of him.
With effort, he got up from the floor using his hands, his muscles still trembling, and sat there, looking at Bi. She watched him with a smile that wasn't mocking, but neither was it comforting. It was a smile that knew more about him than he knew himself.
Vikram: Can you... I don't know... give me a hand? I'd like to get dressed, Vikram said, his voice softer, as if his pride had been left on the pillow.
Bi raised an eyebrow, amused.
Bi: Don't you like me seeing you naked?
A faint blush flickered across her cheeks, like a shy flame that didn't know whether to ignite or hide.
Vikram: I don't mind... since... you're a girl, and well... you're so quick to take advantage of me, right away, he replied, looking away, trying to keep things serious, though his tone betrayed him.
Bi: Aww... how sweet. "But it's okay," Bi said, with a gentleness that bordered on maternal.
She approached him effortlessly and lifted him as if he weighed nothing. Vikram froze, surprised. Being lifted by a woman made him feel weak, exposed, as if something in his masculinity wavered for a second.
Once on the bed, Bi placed some pillows behind his back, carefully positioning him against the wall. Then she covered him with the blanket, protecting his body as if it were a secret that shouldn't yet be revealed.
"Ah... thanks," Vikram murmured, crossing his arms, uncomfortable but grateful.
"No problem, little puppy," Bi replied, with a smile that seemed to hold more tenderness than irony this time.
That nickname... puppy. Vikram had used it before, of course. Playfully, amid laughter and caresses with girls he liked. But now, hearing it directed at him, from Bi's lips, provoked a discomfort he couldn't quite name. It wasn't just strange... it was as if it disarmed him.
Vikram: Don't call me that... - he murmured, frowning and his voice lower than usual.
Bi: And why not? Do I... make you nervous?
Bi approached slowly, as if each step were part of a game only she understood. She stopped near his abs, and Vikram shuddered. Not from fear, but from the heat that coursed through his body as he felt her so close. Bi's mischievous smile unsettled him, as if she knew exactly which buttons to push.
And without thinking, without measuring, without holding back, she said it:
Vikram: Do you want to fuck me?
Bi remained silent for a second. Not out of embarrassment, but out of surprise. Vikram, as direct as ever when desire took hold, had crossed a line without realizing it. She smiled, stepped back a little, and looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and superiority.
Bi: Don't get carried away, Vikram... I don't get involved with any humans. Honestly, I don't feel anything for any mortal. Besides, I knew you'd fall for my gestures and actions—she said, winking at him brazenly.
Vikram lowered his arms, feeling exposed. A blush crept up his neck again, and he barely realized how impulsive he'd been. He swallowed quickly, as if trying to erase the words he'd just uttered. He looked away, seeking refuge in any corner of the room.
Bi settled herself on the edge of the bed, still smiling.
Bi: Relax... I know there are many who would like to sleep with me! But nah~... I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone.
Vikram pressed his lips together, uncomfortable.
Vikram: Just go... I want to rest.
Bi didn't answer. He just looked at him for another second, as if he were reading something in him that even he didn't understand. Then he stood up gracefully, and his silhouette vanished into the shadows of the room, leaving Vikram alone with his body, his shame... and the echo of a desire he didn't know if it was his own or someone else's.
Vikram turned over in bed, his body still heavy, his mind trapped in a loop of thoughts with no way out. He stared at the wall as if waiting for an answer.
"Why didn't she fall for it?
All the girls I've ever met melted at the mere sight of my eyes, my body, a well-placed line I'd say, or simply my cock.
Why didn't she accept? Why did she leave me hanging?" Vikram thought.
He rolled over, lying on his back, his eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling that seemed to grow with every thought. He looked down at his feet. He tried to move one of them forcefully, but it barely budged a few centimeters. It was as if his legs weighed tons. He gave up.
Blaming it all on the Executioner who had fucked him.
His body begged for rest, and for the first time, he accepted it without argument.
Vikram: You son of a bitch... - he muttered, his voice thick with rage. He didn't know if he was referring to the Executioner, to himself, or to everything that had led him to this point.
The room fell into a thick silence, as if respecting his pain. Until Bi burst through the door with a shout that shattered the calm like glass.
Bi: Hello!
Vikram jumped, his heart pounding in his chest as if it wanted to escape.
Vikram: Are you crazy?! - he exclaimed, his eyes wide.
Bi stopped in the doorway, feigning innocence.
Bi: Why do you say that?
Vikram: I was calmly thinking, and suddenly you burst into the room shouting - he replied, still agitated.
Bi shrugged, as if she didn't understand the problem.
Bi: Look... I just came to ask if you were hungry.
Vikram stared at her as if she had just spoken in another language. Hungry? Her, asking for food? It was so unexpected that for a moment he didn't know whether to laugh or be suspicious. The same woman who had pushed him into the ritual, who had provoked him, who had recorded him... now offered him food as if they were old friends.
The crack in the ceiling was still there, but now it seemed less important.
Vikram remained silent, still processing what he had just heard. Hunger? The word seemed foreign to him, as if it didn't belong to the same universe where he had been branded by a demon. But his stomach, treacherous as ever, responded with a soft growl that Bi quickly noticed.
Bi: Was that a yes? - she asked, crossing her arms with a smile that seemed to mock the moment.
Vikram sighed, resigned.
Vikram: Yes... I guess I am hungry.
Bi entered with a light step, as if the earlier tension had evaporated. She approached a small table in the corner of the room - Vikram was surprised, since he didn't remember seeing that table there before - where she had placed a covered tray. When she uncovered it, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced meat filled the air.
Bi: I didn't know what you liked, so I improvised, she said, placing the tray on Vikram's legs, which were still covered by the blanket.
Vikram eyed her suspiciously, but the smell won him over. He took a piece of bread and bit into it slowly, as if expecting a trap. It wasn't. It was delicious.
Vikram: Why are you doing this? he asked, not looking directly at her.
Bi sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other.
Bi: Doing what?
Vikram: This. Being kind. Giving me food. Taking care of me... after what happened.
Bi watched him for a moment, as if weighing up how much to say.
Bi: Because it's part of the process. It's not just about breaking you. It's also about seeing how you rebuild yourself.
Vikram swallowed, the bread still in his mouth. That sentence chilled him to the bone.
Vikram: And you enjoy that?
Bi smiled, but this time without mockery.
Bi: It's not pleasure. It's curiosity. I like to see how humans confront what they don't understand. Some sink. Others... like you... resist. And that's interesting.
Vikram lowered his gaze, the bread in his hands, as if it were a symbol of something deeper.
Vikram: I don't know if I want to rebuild myself, he murmured.
Bi leaned closer, his voice softer.
Bi: You don't have to decide now. Eat. Rest. And tomorrow... we'll see what part of you remains intact.
Vikram remained lost in thought, chewing harder than necessary. Bi's words kept echoing in his mind: a lot could happen tomorrow. And he knew exactly what she meant. Another Executioner. Another ritual. Another body on top of his, treating him like a toy. The mere thought made his stomach churn... but his cheeks betrayed him. He blushed, and without realizing it, he began to eat faster, as if the act of chewing could drown out the thought.
Bi: Wow... suddenly you blushed and started eating like an animal, Bi commented with a mischievous smile.
Vikram: Shut up... he replied immediately, without looking at her.
Bi: So what were you thinking about?
Vikram: What's it to you?
Bi shrugged, remaining calm.
Bi: Okay... maybe you just need to eat. By the way... as you may have noticed, time passes very quickly here. It's not the same as in the real world.
Vikram stopped, surprised. The phrase disconcerted him. Was time different? Faster? Crueler?
Bi approached gently, took Vikram's cell phone—though he was sure he'd left it in another room—and placed it on the bed in front of him.
Bi: Look closely at how the minutes pass.
Vikram lowered his gaze. The screen displayed the digital clock, and what he saw froze him: the minutes changed every three seconds, as if time were running unchecked, as if the world were aging while he remained trapped in that room, in that body, in that pact.
Vikram: What is this? he murmured, without looking up.
Bi sat in a nearby chair, crossing his legs elegantly, as if he had already explained this a thousand times.
Bi: Here, time doesn't work like it does there. This place... is between layers. Between the real and the ritual. What you experience here can last hours, days... but there, it will barely be minutes.
Vikram frowned, processing. The bread was cooling between his fingers, but he wasn't as hungry anymore. Not from satiety, but from unease.
Vikram: So... all this... isn't happening in the real world?
Bi smiled, but didn't answer immediately. He stood up, walked to the window, and looked outside, where there was no landscape, no sky, nothing recognizable. Only a thick fog that seemed to breathe.
Bi: It is happening. Just not as you understand it.
Vikram swallowed. The clock kept ticking. His body still wasn't fully moving. And his mind... was beginning to understand that what he was experiencing wasn't just physical. It was symbolic. It was ritual. It was transformation.
Bi turned to him, her expression more serious.
Bi: Another Executioner might arrive tomorrow. Or maybe not. It depends on you. On how you process this. It depends on what you decide to do with what you felt.
Vikram pressed his lips together. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to remember. But the clock kept ticking, and time, like Bi, wasn't going to wait for him.
Vikram continued eating, distracted, until a memory suddenly struck him: the live stream. Yesterday he had been broadcasting live. He put down his bread, quickly grabbed his phone, and opened YouTube. What he saw left him speechless for a few seconds: he had received a lot of support, new followers, enthusiastic comments. But something didn't add up.
Vikram: What happened to the live stream? - he asked, without looking up.
Bi, sitting nearby, answered casually.
Bi: Well... I turned it off so I could record you.
Vikram looked up, his gaze filled with annoyance.
Bi: Hey, well... I needed something to remind you of your first time with a "man," as you call them - Bi added, with an unapologetic smile.
Vikram: I don't need to hear myself moaning while I'm being fucked! And I don't need that video! - Vikram shouted, his face burning with anger and shame.
He went to his phone's gallery, and there it was: the video. He selected it, deleted it. But instantly, it reappeared.
Vikram: What...? - he murmured, his voice cracking.
Bi shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Bi: Well then... I made sure that if you tried to delete the video I recorded while I was hiding... it would be permanently saved on the phone.
Vikram dropped the device. He was in shock, trembling slightly. His body rigid, his mind in a frenzy.
Vikram: What am I going to do if they find out I got fucked?
Bi calmly stood up, walked over to him, and looked at him with a mixture of mockery and coldness.
Bi: You're not going to go around like an idiot saying you got fucked. Relax. That video won't be visible to anyone else...
Vikram looked at her, even more confused. Every word that came out of her mouth seemed to open a new door, a logic he didn't understand. It was as if Bi were speaking in a code that didn't belong to the human world. As if everything she said made sense... but only in the Underworld.
Vikram: What do you mean by that? - Vikram asked, frowning.
Bi sighed, as if she were explaining something to a child who didn't understand a damn thing.
Bi: I'm saying that... everything you experience here won't be shown in the human world. If you record normally, it'll be seen, of course. But when you record something intimate... like sex with someone... it's automatically hidden, as if it doesn't exist. Although, of course... only if you say the right words.
Vikram raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
Vikram: And what kind of words do I have to say so that doesn't happen?
Bi turned around, picking up the empty plate with a tired smile.
Bi: Oh, man... that's a lot of questions for one night.
Vikram was biting into the last of his bread, but when he heard that, he choked. He spat what was in his mouth onto the floor, turned to the window, and saw that it was dark outside again.
Vikram: So fast...
Bi: Like I said... time flies - Bi replied, without looking back.
Vikram: Damn... but that was much faster than what happened.
Bi: Maybe it's because we talked... yeah, that's it.
Vikram wrapped himself up in the blankets, curling up like a cocoon. His body begged for rest, but his mind kept racing. Bi approached calmly and patted him lightly on the back, like a mother who doesn't get involved but goes along with the gesture.
Bi: Relax, tomorrow will be another better day... a new ritual.
Vikram: Don't mess with me... - he muttered, without opening his eyes.
Bi: Well, I'm off. Sleep well...
Bi vanished into the shadows of the room, leaving behind the scent of the unknown, the echo of the unspoken... and the promise that tomorrow, the game would begin again.
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One question: Are you enjoying the story?
I see that some readers are skipping chapters just to see Vikram get fucked 🤘😏 by the executioner. I can tell by the views; they skip straight to the sex scene, haha 🤣 and that's not fair.
But I won't deny it, I do the same thing, haha. But seriously, read everything else to understand.
That's all. Don't forget to leave your vote or a comment, as that will bring in more people and help the story grow.
Chao! Chao! See you later! Bye!