(Erotic Sadistic Sketch for 5 Guys. NB : as in any sketch, there’s plenty of room for irony ! Please look beyond the surface meaning !)
Characters:
- Amir (leader of the terrorist group)
- Karim (his second-in-command)
- Youssef (group member)
- Malik (group member)
- Rachid (group member)
Setting: The raw concrete basement of a gay nightclub. Cracked walls with damp stains. Dim lighting from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering. Wooden crates stacked chaotically, labeled “Explosives” or “Danger.” A rusty metal table in the center, covered with tools, phones, and a bright red stick of dynamite. Metal chairs. A camera on a tripod, red recording light blinking, pointed at the group.
Scene 1: Amir’s Birthday (Amir, with a whip tucked into his belt, is haranguing three of his men—Karim, Malik, and Rachid. Youssef is absent. They are checking explosives.)
Amir (exalted, gesturing wildly, one hand on his whip): Brothers, the hour is grave! Today we strike the decadent West right in the heart! This gay club, this temple of debauchery, will be reduced to ashes!
(He pauses theatrically, scanning the others, waiting for a reaction while slowly stroking a bright red stick of dynamite.)
Amir (triumphant): And do you know why today? Because it’s… my birthday!
(He puffs out his chest, still stroking the dynamite sensually, a sadistic glint in his eyes. Malik exchanges an awkward glance with Rachid.)
Amir (provocative): Allah inspired me with this sacred date! I chose this particular temple of sodomy and leather precisely for my birthday… so their debauchery becomes our most beautiful explosion! Only real virile men like me will enter Paradise! The degenerates, the effeminates, the fags—they’ll burn in Hell!
(Karim raises a skeptical eyebrow. Rachid clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable.)
Karim (calm, sarcastic, arms crossed): Uh, happy birthday, Boss… but is that really why we’re doing the attack?
(Amir spins toward Karim, pointing the stick of dynamite at him like a scepter, still caressing it.)
Amir (theatrical): OF COURSE! Destroying this club is how we purify the world on my blessed day! The West wants to kill Islam with its lascivious dances and… its leather shorts!
(He waves the dynamite like a scepter. Malik lowers his eyes, nervous.)
Amir: We will be the flames of justice! And this camera… (he caresses the lens almost sensually) she will never betray me. She films everything for the glory… and for posterity.
(The others nod uneasily, avoiding his gaze.)
Malik (nervous, fiddling with a crate): Uh, Boss, what’s the plan exactly? We blow everything up, fine, but… does it have to be in front of the camera?
(Amir approaches the camera with a strange smile, adjusting the lens with an almost sensual caress.)
Amir (severe, murmuring): Yes, Malik! The camera must film everything. For glory… and for posterity.
(Karim frowns, watching Amir. An awkward silence falls.)
(A noise in the hallway interrupts them. All heads turn.)
Scene 2: Youssef Arrives (Karim reacts to the noise.)
Karim (calm, authoritative): Silence! Someone’s coming. Malik, check it—quick!
(Malik rushes to an offstage monitor and describes what he sees.)
Malik (stammering): It’s… Youssef. In the hall. He’s… reading something.
Rachid (curious, leaning in): Something? What?
Amir (exalted, still caressing the dynamite): A Quran, I hope? Speak, Malik!
Malik (embarrassed): No… a magazine. Guys in uniforms. Cops, soldiers… with handcuffs…
(Rachid leans in, interested. Karim crosses his arms, a smirk on his lips.)
Karim (ironic): Uniforms? Interesting. And what’s our dear Youssef doing with that magazine?
Malik (blushing): He’s… pulling his pants down.
(Rachid widens his eyes, pretending to be outraged. Karim chuckles.)
Rachid (hypocritical): Scandalous!
Malik (panicking): He’s… jerking off! With these crazy grimaces!
(Karim bursts out with a dry laugh. Amir narrows his eyes, a sadistic smile spreading.)
Amir (falsely outraged): An abomination! Describe everything, Malik! For the cause!
Malik (covering his eyes with his hands but spreading his fingers to peek): I can’t watch this! Youssef! Oh man!
Rachid: He does seem to have a nice piece of equipment though…
Malik: And now it’s exploding! He should’ve grabbed a tissue sooner! He’s wiping his hands on the magazine… and stuffing it back into his jacket.
(Youssef bursts in hurriedly, adjusting his khaki jacket, which has a suspicious stain. He’s clumsily hiding a rolled-up magazine under his jacket that falls to the floor with a loud thud. He bends down in panic to pick it up.)
Amir (authoritative, pointing at Youssef): Youssef! Why are you late? Where were you?
Youssef (nervous, stammering): Uh… I… was checking the perimeter! Yeah, the perimeter!
(Karim, quicker, picks up the magazine and slowly unfolds it with a mocking smile.)
Karim (theatrical): “Handcuffs and Nightsticks: The Guide to Sexy Uniforms”… Checking the perimeter, huh?
Youssef (panicking, gesturing wildly): No, no! It was… just lying in the hall! I was going to burn it to purify it!
Malik (snickering): Burn it? You looked like you were caressing it on the screen!
Youssef (startled, panicked): You saw me?
Karim (calm, pointing to the offstage screen): Of course! On the security monitor, you were… very busy.
Youssef (panicking, stammering): No, no! That was… an ablution! To purify my cock for a more fervent prayer!
(Karim holds the magazine with two fingers, pulling a comically disgusted face.)
Karim (mocking): An ablution? With this magazine soaked in… holy blessing? You poured all your religious zeal right in there! Ah yeah? And were you also studying the size of the service weapon?
Rachid (feigning shock, hand on his heart): Scandalous!
Amir (sadistic, stepping closer): An ablution, Youssef? Or a sin disguised as prayer?
Youssef (hesitant, after a pause): I was researching! On… on the enemy!
(Karim bursts out laughing. Malik shakes his head in disbelief. In the background, Rachid discreetly approaches the magazine on a crate, hiding behind a chair. He flips through it, caresses the cover, and slowly slips one hand into his pants, a guilty smile on his face.)
Malik (mocking): You were researching with your dick in your hand?
Amir (cutting): Confess, Youssef!
Youssef (defeated, after an awkward silence): Actually, why hide it? Yes, I’m into uniforms! Cops, handcuffs! But what’s the problem? I’m gonna blow myself up to atone anyway! So I’ll get to enjoy the boys in fatigues in Allah’s Paradise.
Amir (sadistic): Youssef! Weaklings like you have no place in Paradise! Only the strong, the real men, will rule there!
(Amir gives a signal. Karim and Malik start tying Youssef up as he struggles and shouts. In the background, Rachid intensifies his ogling, murmuring almost inaudibly.)
Rachid (under his breath): Mmm, that cop… so muscular…
(Amir suddenly turns around. Rachid drops the magazine, quickly buttons his pants, and whistles innocently.)
Karim (ironic, finishing tying Youssef): There he is, all wrapped up and tied like a birthday present! Happy birthday, Chef!
(Rachid and Malik join in: “Happy birthday, Chef!” Amir sets down the explosive belt and the stick of dynamite, still caressing the red stick with a sadistic glint in his eyes.)
Scene 3: Malik Too… (Karim brings out a chocolate cake with sticks of dynamite as candles, placing it down with an enigmatic smile.)
Karim (calm): Boss, for your birthday—an explosive cake!
Amir (exalted, stroking a stick of dynamite): My brothers, you spoil me! Dynamite candles?
(Youssef, tied to his chair, snickers and exchanges a knowing look with Rachid.)
Youssef (crude, squirming): Blow quick, Boss, or your birthday’s gonna go BOOM!
(Amir frantically blows out the “candles.” One fuse stays lit. He screams in panic. Karim calmly extinguishes it with a rag, smirking.)
Malik (nervous, kicking a crate): Fuck, that was close!
Amir (catching his breath, theatrical): Allah protects us! Back to work, so the strong may rule in Paradise!
(Malik’s phone vibrates on the table. He tries to grab it, but Rachid is faster, sparking a comical struggle. Malik kicks clumsily; Rachid dodges, laughing. Youssef and Rachid, already tied, imitate the slapping sounds with their mouths to mock him.)
Voice (sadistic voicemail, with loud smacking sounds): Malik, tonight watch your ass! Meet at 7. My leather boots are shining for your butt—PAF! WHACK!
(Rachid bursts out laughing, miming an exaggerated kick. Malik jumps, blushing with shame, and trips over a crate.)
Rachid (crude): Kicks in the ass? Are you serious, Malik?
Malik (stammering): It’s a joke! My cousin’s messing around!
Karim (ironic, arms crossed): Your cousin? Really? Let’s call him to check.
(Karim dials with a sly grin. A loud voice answers.)
Voice: Malik, my boots are ready! You ready to bottom? PAF! Want some more? WHACK!
(Rachid yells “Harder, PAF!” imitating the sound. Youssef, tied up, is howling with laughter.)
Rachid (provocative): You’re busted! You love getting your ass kicked!
Malik (desperate): No! The Mossad hacked my phone!
Rachid (ironic): The Mossad is trying to blackmail you?
Amir (sadistic): Confess, Malik, or I’ll make you submit!
Malik (defeated): Fine! I love getting kicked in the ass! But what’s the problem if I die for Allah? In Paradise the boys will kick hard, and I’ll be their eager bottom!
Amir (exalted): No, sinner! Only the strong, the ones in control, will fuck in Paradise! The weak will be crushed!
(At Amir’s signal, Karim ties Malik to a chair with ropes, knotting them slowly with an intense look. Amir pretends to put the explosive belt on him.)
Malik (screaming from the chair): No, Boss, give it to Youssef!
Karim (finishing the knots): Happy birthday, Chef! Another tied-up gift!
(Youssef, tied up, and Rachid join in: “Happy birthday, Chef!” Amir sets the belt down, caressing the stick of dynamite.)
Scene 4: Rachid’s Turn (Rachid, fiddling with a crate, looks up thoughtfully.)
Rachid (curious): Hey guys, what do we do if a fuse lights too fast? Can we disarm it without everything blowing?
Karim (practical, turning to him): Good question. We should check. But my phone’s dead… Pass me yours, Rachid, I’ll look it up.
(Rachid, distracted, hands over his phone from the crate. Karim starts typing, reading aloud.)
Karim (focused): How to disarm…
(He suddenly stops, surprised, and reads.)
Karim (astonished): “How to jerk off without Allah batting an eye?”… Wait… what are these suggestions?
(Youssef and Malik, tied to their chairs, snicker.)
Karim (louder): Hang on, let’s check the history… “How to ogle guys in leather without sinning?”, “Halal BDSM positions”, “Tight shorts for martyrs”… Rachid, you’re one dedicated researcher!
(Rachid, instead of panicking, straightens up proudly with a provocative smile. He runs one hand over his chest, then slowly slides the other toward his belt in an exaggerated obscene gesture, rolling his hips.)
Rachid (exalted, theatrical): Oh Karim, you’ve unearthed my secret! For months I’ve been dreaming of getting busted like this! Every search, every click was made hotter by the hope of this very moment… Being judged, exposed—it makes me throb!
(Youssef, tied up, widens his eyes. Malik, tied up, chuckles and taps his foot on the chair.)
Youssef (mocking, squirming): Throb? You look like you’re about to explode right now!
Malik (ironic, from his chair): Did you search “how to cum in public” too?
Amir (furious): You are the ultimate degenerate!
(Rachid grabs his phone back, slips it into the front of his pants, and pretends to stroke it like he’s masturbating. The screen light visibly glows through the fabric.)
Rachid (provocative): Thank you, Boss! Insults like that make me rock hard! Give me more!
Amir (furious, brandishing his whip): Blasphemy! Weaklings like you have no place in Paradise!
(Rachid, still exalted, squirms in place with a sadistic smile.)
Rachid (crude): Oh, in Paradise the leather boys will whip me, and I’ll scream with pleasure in front of everyone!
(Karim, smirking, grabs Rachid—who doesn’t resist—and ties him to a chair with ropes, knotting them slowly with an intense look.)
Karim (sarcastic): An exhibitionist martyr… We’ve seen it all.
Youssef (from his chair): Happy birthday, Chef! A gift who loves ropes!
(Youssef, Malik, and Rachid, all tied up, chant: “Happy birthday, Chef!” Amir approaches threateningly, whip in hand.)
Amir (sadistic): Silence, sinners! You will be punished!
(Awkward silence, then stifled laughter.)
Scene 5: Final Confrontation (Youssef, Malik, and Rachid are tied to chairs facing the camera. Amir harangues them, whip in hand, pacing slowly.)
Amir (theatrical, brandishing the whip): Abominable sinners! The camera will immortalize your punishment for my glory… and Allah’s!
(He pauses theatrically, scanning them with a sadistic smile. Youssef tugs at his ropes, frustrated.)
Karim (calm, solemn, slowly standing and beginning to unbutton his jacket): Enough, Amir. I know you’re one of us too!
(Amir jumps, the whip trembling in his hand.)
Amir (outraged): Blasphemy! I am pure!
Karim (revealing a leather harness underneath his jacket as he advances, knotting a decorative rope with calculated slowness while staring at Amir): Pure? Are you filming for Allah or for your private little cinema?
(Youssef jumps, mouth open, tugging at his ropes. Malik looks down embarrassed, then back up in shock. Rachid whispers “What?”, squirming in his chair.)
Karim (loud, pointing at Amir): At least I admit it! Yes, it’s time for me, Karim, to confess too: I’m gay, homo, a fag—just like you love to say.
Karim (loud, pointing at Amir): I love ropes, bondage. I’m a sadist in my own way. But the big difference is that you’re not just a sadist—you’re a perverted manipulator! You manipulate your men for your cruel pleasure!
(Youssef sits up straighter, fists clenched against his bonds. Malik nods as if finally understanding. Rachid stares at Amir in disgust.)
Youssef (accusing, shouting): You’re not a leader, you’re a criminal!
Malik (nervous, voice trembling): You want to jerk off to our blood!
(Amir steps back, stammering, the whip hanging limply.)
Amir (trembling): No… it’s… for the cause…
Karim (approaching menacingly, rope in hand): For the cause? Why the camera, Amir?
(Amir looks away, nervously adjusting his whip with shaking fingers.)
Karim: For the glory of Allah or for your twisted pleasure?
(Amir sweats, clumsily fiddling with the camera, muttering.)
Amir: For… for posterity…
Karim (voice rising): Why sacrifice us, your own men? To purify the world or to get off on our agony?
(Amir backs up, tripping over a crate, eyes darting.)
Amir (weakly): It’s… it’s Allah who…
Karim (towering over him): You want a show so you can cum from a distance, you pervert!
(Youssef, Malik, and Rachid stare at Amir in disgust. Amir lowers his head; the whip falls to the floor.)
Amir (defeated, voice breaking): So what? I love to dominate! But Allah is on my side! Allah is like me! Only dominants like me will whip and fuck the boys! You passives will be chained for our eternal pleasure! That’s what Hell is for! We will cum to your torments!
(Karim quickly helps Youssef, Malik, and Rachid free themselves. The three stand, unbound. Youssef snatches Amir’s whip in one sharp motion. Karim, Youssef, and Rachid surround Amir. Malik grabs one arm, Karim the other, and Rachid forces him to bend. They perform a short, comically erotic choreography: lifting him, turning him, bending him over, then tying him tightly to a chair facing the audience, arms and legs spread wide.)
Karim (calm, sadistic, knotting the rope): You wanted a show, Boss? You’re gonna get it… as the star! Imagine a leather boy squeezing you like this?
Youssef (crude, waving the whip): Does getting tied up make you hard, Boss?
Malik (ironic): You wanted to blow us up, but now you’re the one who’s gonna cum from the pressure!
Rachid (mocking): For your birthday, Boss—nice tight ropes, just how you like them!
(All three, plus Karim, chant with heavy irony: “Happy birthday, Chef!” Youssef taps Amir’s cheek with the whip provocatively. Malik and Rachid step back with mocking smiles. Amir is tied up, arms and legs spread, vulnerable and facing the audience, his face marked with shame.)
Scene 6: Conclusion (Amir, tied up facing the audience, screams. Youssef holds a big red stick of dynamite, brandishing it with a sadistic smile.)
Karim (calm, hand on Amir’s shoulder): Amir, you deserve your punishment. But we are merciful. So we’ll give you one chance! We’ll call the gay club and leave a message to warn them! If the bomb is defused in time, you’re saved. Otherwise… let Allah decide!
(Behind Amir, Youssef comically lubes the big red dynamite stick with a small bottle of “explosive gel” that appears from nowhere, exaggerating the effort, while Malik and Rachid, on either side, make theatrical grimaces as they mime pulling Amir’s cheeks apart. Amir, knees bent, facing the audience, grimaces—oscillating between fear and ambiguous pleasure—eyes wide.)
Amir (screaming): No! Not that! Not bottom!
Youssef (crude): It’s like you’re already in Paradise, Boss! A boy would shove this dynamite deep inside you until you explode with pleasure!
(Youssef laughs sadistically and winks at the audience. Malik and Rachid exchange a knowing look. Karim picks up the whip from the table and gives the chair a provocative little tap.)
Karim: One last birthday gift, Boss!
(Karim dials a number, holding the phone theatrically to his ear.)
Karim: Hello, gay club? There’s a bomb in your basement, explodes in five minutes. Good luck!
(Youssef lights the fuse, which crackles loudly, while all four shout: “Happy birthday, Chef!” Karim adjusts the camera to film Amir and briefly turns it toward the audience.)
Karim (sadistic smile): For posterity, Chef!
(The four quickly slip away, laughing, leaving Amir alone and tied up.)
Amir: No! Don’t cum! Above all I must not cum! I must not become a bottom, or it’s Hell! Aaah!
(The light intensifies on Amir. His grimaces turn into ambiguous pleasure; his hip movements betray his words. The curtain falls.)
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