They did say that your torture was picked out for you, personally, after all, and Eliot had certainly earned special treatment. Sam would cut his teeth on him, but in many ways that was fortunate--if it had been a decade later, he would surely have been much more hardened, much more capable, a true demon if ever there was one.

But he wasn't there yet. Eliot just thought he was damned, and while it was true that Sam had been corrupted, the way he clung to his own pride was in of itself very human. He still knew who he was, and what he meant to Lucifer, and as bedraggled as it was, his soul was still his own. Sam had never died, and so he'd never gone to Hell in the traditional sense. It made what was being done to him more abominable, for he hadn't earned it.

Sex destroyed pride, but being on the other end of it when it was forced? That was far more demeaning than being on this end. At least he had that to comfort himself. For once, the one being tortured in this situation wasn't him, wasn't that of an innocent, but someone who had earned their place here, damned themselves. Eliot should have expected torture, and Sam wasn't going to hold back on a punishment that he'd receive anyway.

He unbound his wrists with a touch, then lifted Eliot bodily off the ground, bringing his own knees up so that he sat across Eliot's calves, the other man sat in his lap. It didn't give him a very good angle, but then Sam was in no kind of hurry.

"Wake you up any?"