𝔑𝔢𝔴 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 - [ ʏᴜᴍᴀ x ᴄʜᴇᴠᴀʟɪᴇʀ ]

[Chevalier]

​

"You'll lose everything for this."

The French Captain stifled a chuckle, oh, how naive this girl was. "Then it is good that I have nothing to lose~" she purred, the vibrations from her lips tickling the heiress' lovely ear. Indeed, Amelie had lost friends... her family... her homeland. For what was life without these things? Fearlessly, her lips fluttered closer, before planting a kiss upon Alice's cheek. Her words demanded the French Captain to cease immediately, but the spy noticed well her flustered face... the shaking in her legs. "Mm... I think not," she remarked defiantly, the fingers clasped around her throat tightening instead. She hardened her grip, until the heiress' resentment fell into the incoherent melody of gagging. "You've caused enough trouble." Amelie smiled, her breathy whispers singeing into Alice's smooth portrait.

The next moments happened so quickly... her fingers leaving Alice's throat and grabbing hard upon the neatly groomed, brunette head. She controlled the heiress with ease, after all, this hadn't been the first time she had kidnapped someone. Before Alice could regain her senses, the French Captain was unlocking the door to her room with a single hand, pushing through the entryway before throwing Alice inside. She tossed Alice down onto her floor, the white carpet underneath softening the blow. The door was closed. Locked. Azure pools turning back towards General Weaver's daughter. "Scream if you'd like, mon chéri. You know that all of the walls are soundproofed." She raised her hand, before bringing the open palm across Alice's face. "There's much I want to teach you, little lamb. I suggest you pay attention." Anticipating a witty response, another hand struck Alice across the face.

She then moved to a nearby desk, pulling out a chair and swinging it in Alice's direction. "Sit." She ordered, waiting for Alice to comply. Yet, before the Heiress could even choose whether she wanted to, the French Captain reached down, plucking her head once more by the hair and pulling her aggressively into her seat. She was certainly much, much stronger than she appeared. In the world that she was from, strength was necessary in order to survive. "The world is a very scary place. You are fortunate to live here. Protected... sheltered. " Amelie revealed a roll of duct tape from her desk, holding Alice's arm down against the armrest as she began to wrap the tape around it. "Many of us die protecting you, keeping you safe... and yet... here you are: causing trouble." As she spoke, she proceeded to tape her arms against both armrests, then her ankles to the chair.

With Alice's legs forced apart, Amelie's hand brushed up the bottom of the heiress' dress, her coarse fingers moving up her thigh. "I think it's time for you to show your appreciation, little lamb." A malevolent grin found her lips, her hand moving dangerously close to the sensitive region between her legs. Her fingers prodded at the spot for several moments... teasing... playing, until suddenly the fingers hooked themselves just underneath the cloth, pulling until the sound of ripping fabric could be heard. It wasn't long until Amelie had pulled Alice's tattered undergarment from between her legs, holding them at head level for the heiress.

"Hold these for me, Princess." With that, the Captain forced the torn fabric into Alice's mouth, gagging her. "If you drop it, I'll use tape."

​

"Is it right for me to assume that you lost your eye on the front line, somewhere?"

The Commander pointed to his eye, "Oh this? No. I fell down the stairs." He lied, a vain attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Unsuccessfully, though the attempt was made. He kept silent as Lena pulled herself away from his grip, settling down upon the side of her bed. He listened as she spoke, her compliance the true tattoo of dishonor. "Your survival is how you fight. That little step out of line... it could potentially be worth far more than anything I've ever done." He knew his words would have little effect on Lena's conscience, "I'm not unlike the Nazis. All I know is how to kill. How to hurt." He bit his lip as he removed his cigarette pack from his pocket. "That's not something to be proud of." He subconsciously decided against the cigarette, closing the top before burying it back into his pocket.

"Thank you, Mr Winters."

The Commander had been staring at the ground, lost in thought when the words brought his attention back to reality... back to Lena. "Don't." He retorted, stepping closer towards her and once again invading her personal space. He moved until his larger form was all that she could see. "I didn't do it for free." His large hand found Lena's chest, pushing her backwards onto the bed as he followed suit, hovering over her as she fell backwards. As her head hit the soft embrace of her comforter, the Commander leaned just above her, hands just adjacent to her portrait. "You're mine now. Whether you like it or not." He growled, his eye glaring down upon her, "I don't care if you hate me. You belong to me, now. I'll never let anyone touch you again... hurt you again. Not the Germans... not the Resistance."

The Commander leaned inwards, his lips pressing themselves upon Lena's neck, his breathy words whispering into her ear. She was his. She was his. She was his. Ever since he had gazed upon her, he wanted her for himself. He was a killer, a man that did not deserve to be love or be loved. Yet, he wanted it anyways, regardless of the cost. He wanted someone to hold, a person who would see the man that was deep inside of him, clawing helplessly to the surface. Perhaps Lena was the last hope for Winters to find what humanity he had left. Or perhaps all he wanted was to rape her, like the monster he truly was.

After all, he was no different than the monsters, the Germans who raped and killed for the things that they wanted.

For he, too, wanted.​

 

[Yuma]

​

Alice seethed, her power complex stunted at her inability to do anything. She could not speak against the grip on her throat, nor could she move against Amelie's surprising strength. She wished that someone would appear, that someone would notice them, before being dragged away into privacy. It was an undoubtedly humiliating ordeal, and she resented every command she was given, for who would dare issue orders to one such as herself? She glared up from the floor with insurmountable anger -- there was, oddly enough, no sense of peril whatsoever in her features.

The woman had hit her. She had never once been struck, and her gaze grew wide, her cheek warm from the impact.

"You --" She hissed through her teeth, "I knew they shouldn't have brought you in." She gasped sharply as she was met with another strike, and her own hand reached to press against her now-tender flesh. Her other hand curled into a tight ball, and trembled in a cocktail of nerves and anger.

"Sit."

No. Her defiance was silent, and her eyes remained on the floor, unwilling to entertain any order which came her way. Even as she was forcefully seated, and bound to the chair, there would be only a slight give in her stoic demeanor. Small hints of anxiousness began to well to the surface, though perhaps under the naive fear that Amelie merely intended to torture her by conventional means. Only at the touch of the Captain's fingertips did her walls begin to truly crumble; goosebumps prickled at her flesh, and her thighs quivered against her feathery touch. She grit her teeth, trying to push her knees together against her restraints.

"Get off me, what do you think y--" Her words cut into a wavering whimper, her head turning to break eye contact as Amelie's fingers pressed between her legs. "Fuck you." She cursed quietly, inhaling sharply as her underwear was torn from her person. Her cheeks were reddened, and she no longer maintained eye contact. Despite her promiscuity, despite her flirtations -- she was perhaps a little more innocent than she made herself out to be.

Princess. Her anger seemed to come back in full flow, her teeth sinking tightly into the fabric after it was forced into her mouth.

She was furious, and... it suited her portrait well.

​

"I didn't do it for free."

In a moment, Lena was a deer in headlights. Wide eyes gazed up at Winters' imposing figure in brief silence, and she exhaled only as his hand pushed the breath out of her chest. Her back hit the sheets and her arms fell above her, staring up at the shadow he cast over her.

"What are you saying?" She murmured, shaken by the suddenness of the change of atmosphere, and how quickly his demeanor had altered.

"I don't care if you hate me. You belong to me, now. I'll never let anyone touch you again... hurt you again. Not the Germans... not the Resistance."

Her vision flickered across his features, trying to comprehend his actions. Her lips parted as she uttered voiceless words, wary of his intent, which soon came crashing down as he pressed his mouth to her neck.

"No -- wait!" She stammered, writhing beneath him in unruly panic. Why? Her hands reached and pushed hard against his chest and her knees rose to try and assist in the effort, though he did not budge. He was much larger than she, and she herself was weakened by exhaustion; though she had broken out of her frozen stance, there was little to be achieved. Lena whined softly at his contact, and in a final effort at freeing herself, she turned. She twisted her form in a way which might allow herself to crawl out from beneath him, and clawed hastily to pull herself away. In her blindsided effort, however, she tumbled from the bed and hit the floor in an unceremonious manner.

The floor hurt, as expected, and she had knocked a small vase from the end table as she fell. It shattered horribly, but the commotion would likely go unheard, deafened by the Resistance's affinity for security.

From her position on the floor, she looked towards the door, and then the window -- neither of which she would reach in time even if she tried.

"Please, Sir --" She swallowed, pushing her form up against the wall. "If I've offended you, somehow I -- I'm sorry."

 

[Chevalier]

​

The Commander didn't struggle as Lena squirmed underneath his strong grip, watching as the the girl managed to somehow turn herself around and writhe free from his embrace. She was scared... and she had every right to be. The man in her presence was not a savior... not a hero... but just another wolf laying claim to his prey. He watched with a frown as Lena panicked, stumbling over herself and falling upon the ground. He didn't flinch as the vase shattered, only stood, watching the frightened girl with an insatiable, primal gaze. "Sir?" He spoke plainly, as if pondering her words. He had been called that many times before, but the way that Lena said it... there was something about it that sounded endearing. "I quite like the sound of that." He mused, stepping closer towards Lena.

The Polish spy was indeed pretty. Even in her panicked, frightened state there existed a rather youthful innocence in her emerald gaze. Her eyes were kind, as if they were always searching for the good within someone... even when there was none. Her hair was attractively disheveled, a short head of brunette that complemented her soft portrait well. Most striking, the lips that pleaded for him to stop, that searched for some reason in his madness. He remembered how they felt against his own lips, soft and gentle... the way she whimpered and hummed in surprise. He wanted to feel it once again.

"If I've offended you, somehow I -- I'm sorry."

He moved closer, watching as the little spy attempted to merge with the wall behind her. It was the same look she had given him when they first met, when she thought that she was going to die. Once he was within arm's reach, his hand moved downwards, his strong fingers capturing Lena's soft chin. His thumb teased her lips, parting them slightly as he turned her face up towards him. "I should be the one apologizing." He swallowed, the small vestiges of humanity still left within him screaming at him to cease, to stop the horrible thing that he was about to do. But it was far too late to save Lena... to save himself. His finger played among her lips for a few moments longer, before his hand moved slowly downwards. He grasped her by the neck, pulling the defenseless spy from the floor and upright. He moved his hand upwards until she was standing on the very tip of her toes, unable to settle her feet flatly under the command of his strong hand.

"I'm going to hurt you... -- rape you... -- fuck you." The Commander whispered softly, "You're mine now... do you understand?" He pulled her towards the nearest horizontal surface - a desk that once held the now shattered vase. He threw her against it, pressing her down face first against the hard wood with a single hand as his other reached for the buckle of his belt. The belt came off quickly - and it wasn't long until he had pulled down the waistband of his pants to reveal his hot length. A moment longer and his hand forced her legs apart... and another he was positioned behind her.

"I'm sorry." His words were not without truth, as strange as they may have seemed given his sins. She didn't need to forgive him. Perhaps she shouldn't.

His large hand gripped her short brunette locks tightly, his hand pushing aside Lena's undergarments to make room for his sizable length. Without affording Lena a gentle entrance, he slammed into her -- roughly... most of his length invading her tight womanhood. He pulled her hair backwards, forcing the defenseless Polish girl to arch in painful synchronization at the mercy of his hand. Again he thrust, this time his hot, throbbing length penetrating deeper inside of her. The Commander growled, the feeling of Lena's tight walls pressing against him only encouraging the man further. He was larger than her, giving Lena no choice but to stand on the tips of her toes to meet his waist as he drove himself painfully inside of her.

"Fuck." A string of unintelligible curses emanated from his lips, mixed between his low growls.

He was just beginning.

​

"Fuck you."

The French Captain grinned once again, eyes watching the angered heiress quite attentively. "That... is the plan," she retorted with a low purr, a single eye delivering a coy wink as her hand slunk back down between Alice's parted legs. Her strong, blue gaze stayed locked upon Alice's own as her fingers slowly dissipated underneath the bottom of her dress once again. The fear in Alice's face had subsided, instead replaced with one of anger... of embarrassment. "Ah, did you not like that one?" Her hand extended out, grabbing Alice once more by the neck as she pressed her throat back against the chair. Holding her down so that she could not strike her with her forehead, Amelie's face hovered teasingly closer, "Princess." She repeated once more, watching as Alice's brows furrowed in anger at the word, as if she was flipping a switch on and off.

With glares embracing one another, perhaps Alice had forgotten about the hand that carefully massaged her thigh. Her feminine digits decided it was time to remind her, slowly moving between her legs to teasingly touch as her exposed womanhood. "Mm. Seems like you're enjoying this much more than you're letting on." Amelie raised her hand up from between Alice's legs, the visual drippings of her arousal webbed between Amelie's fingers. She held her hand up between them for Alice to see, before parting her lips. Slowly, she licked the small trail of wetness that hovered between her fingers. It was a sweet, almost intoxicating taste. She had been with many women before, but none tasted quite as sweet as her little princess.

"Mmm. You taste better than I thought you would." Amelie stepped back reaching into her pocket to reveal a small object - a switchblade. With a single flick, she brandished the blade from its hidden holster. "Oh calm down, sweet. I'm not going to hurt you." She rolled her eyes, bringing the knife closer to her new playmate. "But these are definitely in the way," her malevolent grin found her lips once again, the blade of the knife cutting into the fabric of her chest. Once the initial incision had been made, she closed the knife, tossing it onto her bedside before grabbing the fabric with both hands. For a woman of her stature, she was surprisingly strong, the sound of tearing fabric signalling the deed. "That's better, no?"

Amelie seductively fell to her knees, eyes still looking up at Alice as she positioned herself between her legs. Her hands placed themselves upon each thigh of her bound legs, her head hovering closer between them. She wanted to taste more of the spoiled princess.

 

[Yuma]

​

"I should be the one apologizing."

Lena's lip trembled beneath his touch, her head initially turning to one side, only to be redirected by the clasping of her chin. She was forced to look at him, and still she failed to comprehend his intentions. She was usually good at picking up on ill hints, at avoiding the wolves -- but he had offered her no such sign.

​

"I'm going to hurt you... -- rape you... -- fuck you."

Each word was met by a slight flinch, with Lena unable to find her own voice against the grip on her throat. Her chest rose and fell with every labored breath, and hands clambered at Winters' arm as a means of maintaining what little balance she was left with. Her face tilted up with a pleading gaze -- eyes looking for any reason why.

​

Dread truly fell awash upon his moving of her towards the desk. She hit the surface with a dull thud, her cheek pressed firmly against the woodwork and her palms laying flat at either side. She choked, whimpered, and tried to push herself upward with her hands. She could feel his form linger behind her, and her hands shook as her thighs were pulled apart. She could feel the air hit her bare flesh, with her skirt now bunched to her waist.

"No, no -- please." Her words were muddled and desperate, sent into disarray by the foreboding sound of a belt buckle and the feeling of her undergarments being pushed aside. "Sir, I'm begging you, I --"

His forceful entry was met with the brief seizing of Lena's entire form; her eyes grew wide and filled with water, and her teeth clenched and grit together tightly. It hurt. The invasion was met by the immediate tightening of her muscles, a reaction which made her feel as though she had been split in two. Her breath held, even as she was lifted upward by her hair, and even as she struggled to maintain her balance with broken shards beneath her raised feet.

He moved. Her body convulsed, and her legs briefly gave way, held up for a moment only by the tight grip on her head. Lena's hand slammed over her own mouth, suppressing her held breath as it exhaled in the form of a now muffled, pitched whine. She had poised the fingertips of her other hand upon the desk, supporting a little of her own weight against the Commander's assault, and every movement was met by a stifled, painful cry into her palm. She wanted to speak, to beg him to take it out, but no words managed to surface amidst her body's turmoil.

She had avoided such a thing for so long, by means of compliance and small manipulations. She had been threatened with rape more times than she could count, but there had always been an alternative -- a goal the Nazis had desired in exchange for her well-being. But Winters' had no such detectable motive; she sensed no punishment in his actions, nor any ulterior directive, only the desire for... this. There was nothing she could possibly barter with.

She had fooled herself into trust, having not beheld a friendly faction for many years. Of all the new world's joyless inhabitants, she had not expected to be pushed to the sheets by an ally. Her body shook with hurt. Everything hurt.

​

Anger and embarrassment was a volatile cocktail, especially for one such as Alice. She watched with a wavering glare as Amelie toyed with the wetness of her unwitting arousal; the result of her body's inward anticipation. Her fingertips curled in frustration, her nails digging into the chair arms.

The drawn switchblade had been met with the slightest waver of panic, her breath briefly hastening even when she was offered the comfort of knowing that it wouldn't be used against flesh, but rather fabric. A muffled whimper emanated against her gag; a blunt reaction to the sharp sound of her dress being torn from her figure. Her flesh prickled with goosebumps as it met the open air, her tapered figure almost completely bare, save for only the black lace of her bra.

The urge to spit her gag was overwhelming, but she did not wish for tape. If anything, the fabric in her mouth gave her something to sink her teeth into -- a bit to stifle her temper amidst her torment. Her eyes had averted, fully aware of her current presentation. She was bound naked, and for a woman, no less -- the blush on her face painted anger. Humiliation. Unwillful excitement. A strange knot of anticipation curled in her abdomen.

Her eyes followed Amelie as she lowered to her knees, and her thighs quivered at the gentle feeling of the Captain's breath against her womanhood. Blue eyes flickered briefly to the doorway as she could hear the muffled footsteps and utterances of passersby, beautifully unaware of the scene on the other side.

Perhaps, in time, Alice would be thankful for the gag, and the way it quietened her soft moans from those who passed by close enough to hear them.

 

[Chevalier]

​

"Sir, I'm begging you, I --"

Her pleading was met without mercy, the Commander forcefully thrusting against Lena from behind like a beast ravaging its prey. The hymn of silent sobs were beset behind the Commander's deep growls, his masculine hand clawing deeper into Lena's scalp as his invasive, hot length plunged further into her from behind. Ignorant of her chastity, his length conquered Lena's tight maidenhood inch by painful inch. When it seemed that his erection would travel no further, he retreated, only to thrust with greater vigor and proving her wrong. There was a part of him deep down that wanted to stop, to hold Lena and apologize for the horrible things he was doing to her. But his conscience had surrendered completely to his insatiable, lustful desire to hurt her. He wanted her... and he would have her.

It wasn't long until the violent piston had begun, the echo of his pelvis striking her rear echoing off the walls of Lena's new prison. The time between each thrust hastened - and it felt as if each one was increasingly harder than the last. The desk rumbled underneath the pressure, shaking violently underneath Lena as the Commander drove himself into her. "You're mine, now," he whispered into Lena's ear between heavier grunts, the feeling of her tightened walls against his hot shaft only encouraging the man to thrust more violently. With a final thrust, the Commander would remove himself from between Lena's legs, pulling her upright and spinning her easily in place.

"Mine." He growled once more, giving Lena no chance to collect herself. His hand found her throat once more, his other striking her across the cheek - reddening her soft features. He struck her again, this time harder, before moving his hand beneath her. With little effort, he lifted her onto the table, pushing the back of her head against the wall behind her. The desk was quite small, giving Lena very little space to occupy as the Commander positioned himself between her legs once more. The limited space forced Lena to arch her back upwards slightly, forcing her to watch what her once savior was doing to her.

His hand still placed upon her neck, he tightened his grip as he thrust into her once again, repeating the same process that had just taken place just moments before. The initial thrust was without mercy, though this time, the sounds of sex intermingled with a grotesque symphony of gagging and choking. He ravaged her once again, his manhood thrusting violently into her as he leaned closer, so that his eye could watch the horror that was in hers. "I'm going to cum inside of you." He loosened his grip just enough so that Lena could breathe, so that she could more accurately process the words that had just left his lips. He knew that she would plead against it, but there was nothing she could do to stave off the inevitable.

His pace quickened, his words foreshadowing his cruel intentions. He bit his lip as he pounded against her, his throbbing member threatening to burst inside of her at any moment. He ignored he shrieks... her crying... her pleading. Instead his hands found their way to her waist, his nails clawing at the skin between her skirt and her top so that she would be unable to writhe free from his grip. As Winters rapidly approached the point of no return, he leaned inwards, locking his lips forcefully against Lena in the same way he had back in the alleyway, when she thought better of him. With his tongue pressing deep into her mouth, the Commander thrust a final time inside of her, his erection filling her aching, violated hole with his hot seed. He growled into her mouth at his release, his pent up sexual frustrations finally unleashed upon his victim.

She was his now. Completely and utterly.

 

[Yuma]

​

Time had begun to blur for Lena, though her conscious was struck frequently by Winters' cruel methods of distancing his thrusts. She counted the seconds, though she made many mistakes in doing so, and bore little control over her silent sobbing and the way in which her eyes threatened to roll back into her head. The muscles in her abdomen tightened and her insides swelled against his assault, and if he had continued with his nigh predatory rhythm, she might've succumbed to numbness as a method of coping. But he withdrew suddenly, and she was dragged back to her full-feeling self, her thighs trembling at the removal of his length. Was it over? Of course not. She removed her hand to breathe properly just as she was turned around, and a wide, watery gaze bore upwards at her assailant.

"Mine."

Her lips parted, though her air was restrained quickly, barely mustering a whimper as his palm met her cheek not once -- but twice. Her re-positioning was rough, and she winced at the manhandling of her already sore form. Though she knew what was coming, the Commander's re-entry was again met with a stifled whine, his harsh initial thrust pushing hard against her already bruised walls. Held in place by the grip on her throat, she was offered little choice other than to meet the stare of his single eye, still somehow searching for some semblance of humanity within it. Her mouth held open slightly, her head beginning to spin at the deprivation of air, until he dictated otherwise. She reached for something, anything -- he was closer to her, now, and she gripped at his shirt with both hands, clawing into the fabric so tightly that her own nails began to dig at her palms.

"I'm going to cum inside of you."

It took a short moment for Lena to process his words in the time she was allowed to breath. Her head shook a little, and her voice finally emerged as a weak and inaudible whimper, beaten and broken down. "N-no... You can't." The words that could form were barely audible, shaken by his quickening pace, unable to do anything beyond silently wish everything away. Her body tensed, and her back arced slightly against the tight hold on her hips. Sore eyes closed tight as his mouth slammed against her own, her lips proving too weak a barrier against the assault of his tongue. She hummed, and shook, and sobbed at the heat of his release, which spilled against her ravaged insides.

She was a hot, panting mess; her face was reddened, her hair tousled, and her chest rose and fell deeply with every breath. Between her legs pooled the eventual leaking of his seed and her own wetness, along with the subtle crimson hint of her own stolen womanhood. She hurt terribly, and was wordless and dry-throated from the assault. Strangely, however, she had not let go of Winters' shirt; rather, her trembling form moved forwards, her head leaning inward so that her forehead rest against the front of his chest. Perhaps she was clinging to some form of comfort, or perhaps she merely wished to hide her face. Nevertheless, she was defeated; a sticky, trembling creature, betrayed by an ally.

Why, why did it have to be him?

 

[Chevalier]

​

The silence was unsettling.

The Commander could slowly feel his primal lust subsiding, the overwhelming feeling of guilt slowly bubbling to the surface. He attempted to say something... anything, but instead remained silent between labored breaths. It was then that her feminine hands reached outwards, grabbing him by his shirt as she trembled beneath him. He had expected her to push him away, to try to return some of the pain that he had caused her. But instead of attacking him, she leaned solemnly into his chest. What had he done? He was no better than the Germans, who murdered and raped. "I...--" His lips parted, wanting to apologize to her, but he knew well that he was undeserving of her forgiveness. He embraced her, wrapping one arm behind her timid form as the other gently stroked the top of her head.

"I didn't mean for this..." His words carried guilt, the realization of his deplorable sin chilling his very bones. He had saved Lena from wolves, but had never realized that he was one himself. "Not-- not like this." He tightened his grip around Lena, fearful of what would happen should he let go. The Commander did not cry, for he had shed his last tears during the war. He had lost so much, not realizing how maddened he had become. Even so, Winters had no excuse for his actions... no salvation for the horrible thing he had done.

Now he was the one who desperately wanted to disappear.

"I didn't want to hurt you..." his words probably felt like lies, more deception to the woman that he had betrayed. Even the Commander himself was unsure whether or not to believe them, whether or not he could trust himself any longer. He continued to stroke Lena's head, holding her as close as possible to his beating heart. "Lena... I-- I'm..."

His words were interrupted by a loud thud, the sound echoing across the room and from the doorway. The Commander felt his heartbeat cease, for it was a sound that could spell out his doom. "Is everything alright, Ma'am? We just wanted to check up on you," a voice bellowed from beyond the door. All Lena had to do was scream - and the Commander's life would be over as he knew it. Perhaps he deserved it - no, he certainly did. The Resistance was not kind to deserters and would be even less kind to Winters for what he had done. There were many things he could have done to save his own life. He could have threatened Lena, or answered the door himself. But perhaps... just this once, he could do the right thing.

He took a step backwards from the desk, lowering himself so that his head was leveled with hers. He knew what he had to do. There would be no running, no lies, no more disguises. He would allow Lena to tell the truth... and if he was lucky, the Resistance would allow him to leave with his life. "You better answer that," his hand reached outwards, catching Lena by the flank of her cheek. "Don't worry. I don't expect you to lie." He leaned inwards, lips gently pressing themselves against his victim's forehead. With that, he released her, waiting for her to move off of the desk and towards the door. Perhaps, in another life, things could have been different for them... perhaps he could have been the hero that he she longed for...

Perhaps...

but she could never be his.

 

[Yuma]

​

Lena's mind had become so trodden by conflicting emotions that she was rendered momentarily vacant, hollowed against the gnawing of hurt and anger. Her grip tightened, her hands trembling with the urge to hit him, to shove him away. But she didn't. Instead, she sunk further into his form, allowing him to touch her, seeking solace in the same man who had forced himself upon her. He was, perhaps, the only source of warmth within reach. She had fallen into him like a moth to flame.

"I didn't want to hurt you..."

Her teeth grit, slowly settling into the understanding that she had been used as an outlet. A release for his madness. His personality switch was frightening, yet she wanted to hold on to this side of him. She was sore, shaken, and startled sharply at the sudden knock at the door.

"Is everything alright, Ma'am? We just wanted to check up on you,"

It took her a moment to let go of Winters, doing so only as he pulled himself away from her. She made willing eye contact with him, finally, and followed his gaze with a tear-stung, tired expression. He was gentle, now; she pondered his movements for a while, again silently pleading to know why he had committed to what he had done. There was another, impatient knock at the door. She might've called out to them, had she found the voice to do so, but rather she moved slowly, grimacing as her aching legs slid from the edge of the desk and barely allowed her to stand. Her skirt fell back in place, and she pushed her blouse back into the waistband in a vain effort to tidy herself up a little. Fingers ran through her tousled hair, and she sniffled at the warm feeling of liquid trickling down her inner thigh. She awkwardly adjusted her underwear through her skirt to stave off the leaking, and walked quietly through towards the door.

What was she going to do? One hand rest gently upon the doorknob, the other lay flat against the door frame. She looked over her shoulders, briefly, her hesitant eyes glancing towards Winters by the desk, and then back again. What would they think, if she told them? Would they care? They had originally scheduled her death, after all. How many American deaths had she caused? A heavy lump formed in her throat. She turned the handle, and the door creaked open, just by a slither. She could've cried, pleaded, told them everything, but --

"Sorry, I'd fallen asleep." Her voice was dry from the assault, but could've passed for plain exhaustion. "I'm -- I'm doing just fine, thank you. I'll... have some pages ready for you by morning, Sir."

Lena's form cast a shadow in the narrow opening which shrouded both the desk and the shattered vase from immediate vision. The exchange through the doorway was brief, a small check-up on their pseudo-prisoner. The door clicked shut again and she lingered there for a while, her head leaning into the woodwork for a while, unable to fathom even her own actions. She turned in time, her arms folded across her aching abdomen and her tired eyes falling to the ceramic shards which scattered across the floor.

"Are you leaving?" She asked simply, wondering if he planned to slip away in the quiet. Would he ever regard her again, after this? Somehow, the thought bothered her, and the fact she was bothered left a vile feeling at the back of her throat. Every part of her current state despised him, but...

In the last few moments, he had held her in a way no one had ever done before. Her stomach twisted in resentment, nauseated by her own innermost thoughts. He had her completely overpowered.

 

[Chevalier]

​

The Commander said nothing as Lena answered the door. He listened, but was shocked to find that the Polish spy did not seek retribution for the crime he had committed. The exchange was brief, but the silence that would linger after she had shut the door felt like an eternity. It took some time for Lena to speak, but when she did, her words were not ones of anger. Instead, her first words to him were softly melancholic -- lonely, even. He dared not respond for a moment, for it was a question that even he naught knew the answer to.

"Do you want me to?" He remarked, finally, his words characteristically devoid of emotion. Yet, despite his stoic exterior, he was very much afraid of what Lena would have to say. Did she hate him? If so, why did she not say anything to the man at the door? In the silence, Winters searched for something to occupy himself. He knelt down, his leather gloves picking at the many shards that lay strewn at his feet as he waited for her to speak, discarding each fragment into the adjacent wastebasket. By the time he had cleared the floor of the shattered vase, Lena was still there, staring at him with conflicted eyes.

Winters stood, staring upon Lena with a cautious gaze. "I can disappear if you would like. You would never have to see me again." He moved slowly towards Lena, his single eye watching the frightened woman with great curiosity. "But you don't want that, do you?" He cooed softly beneath his breath, opening his arms as he approached her. When she was within reach, the Commander moved kindly, his arms slowly wrapping themselves around her form and pulling her into an intimate embrace. "I hurt you, yet you want me to stay." Indeed, the little spy was completely overpowered, dominated by the Commander... her guardian, a monstrous protector.

He allowed her to rest her head against his chest, once again stroking the top of her disheveled hair. "It's because you fear being alone... you fear it more than what I can do to you." His words were manipulative -- but he knew they were true, otherwise Lena would have outed him, casting him away to the fate of justice.

She stayed silent because she feared being alone... a fact that the cruel Commander was eager to exploit to his benefit.

He removed his arms from Lena, taking a step backwards so that he could gaze into her eyes once again. His hand reached cautiously forward, cupping the side of Lena's cheek between his palm. "This is a scary world we live in. You don't want to be alone... do you?" His words were once again filled with madness... or perhaps, this was simply his truest form. His hand navigated downwards, underneath the crook of her slender chin. "Do you really think the Resistance will let you go once they're done with you? If they don't kill you, then the Gestapo will find you... and they will remember what I did to their friends." He explained, knowing full well the fate that waited for Lena within these next few days.

"But I can protect you... I can make it so nobody will ever hurt you again. Except for me."

What choice did the poor Polish spy have? Indeed, if he had been a better person, he could have offered to protect her with no catch... no strings attached.

But he was not that man.

"I suggest you get down on your knees, sweetheart."

 

[Yuma]

​

"Do you want me to?"

She felt sick at her own indecision. Her eyes lifted beneath a tight frown, frozen in the path of his approach as he cooed point-blank observations in her direction. Lena could not find the will to argue, for the day had whittled her inward vigor to dust, and her lips only parted slightly in her failure to respond. She was deathly still even as he embraced her; amidst the gentle warmth of his hold, her body still quivered from her ordeal, and she stood nigh paralyzed by his sudden switch of demeanor.

But she had thrown away her first chance at escaping him, and had instead invited the beast to stay. Her hands reached upward, laying close to his sides and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Her grip was tight, and her knuckles turned pale with tension, leaning her form into his own in a conflicted display of both anger and insecurity. The mention of the ever-looming threat of the resistance's true intentions rendered her blood cold, ultimately soaked up by Winters' costly promise of protection. She did not want to die, and so faced a choice between monsters -- pillars which would varyingly delay the Gestapo's hunt.

She had felt an uneasy chill when he stepped away from her, and leaned ever so slightly into his palm even as she was made to look directly at him. Her pallid, tear-stained expression was distant, though her eyes would often flicker, still searching for some semblance of reason within his expression. Purpose. Lena could at the very least perceive his veiled madness; it was not unlike the Schutzstaffel, though not quite the same, either.

"I suggest you get down on your knees, sweetheart."

Her mind was dragged back into the present, and she blinked hard, her breath wavering as she swallowed the lump which had raised in her throat.

"... What?" She breathed, her hands lifting to grip at the arm which held her by the chin. "N-no. No." She declined his suggestion with a strangely firm stutter, and her head shook as she turned away from his grip. Still, Lena's gaze pleaded with unwillingness, clinging desperately to the slightest bit of resistance she could muster. "Please, Mr Winters -- sir. I've had enough. You've already taken everything I have."

She had been bruised, inside and out, within the walls of what she could only perceive as a glamorized prison cell. What more could he demand at that moment? Her strength had been sapped, and everything hurt. Humiliatingly, she could still feel the evidence of his assault drip down her inner thighs. Lena was in little state to refuse a given order, but she could still reduce herself to begging.

​

 

[Chevalier]

​

The Commander was indeed mad, for once again he had cast what little humanity remained to the wind, his singular eye watching Lena with a renewed hunger. She was so small compared to him... so pretty and at the same time, so vulnerable. Just watching the helpless fear swell within her innocent irises was enough to bring out the worst in Winters. In his twisted mind, he had already claimed her as his, regardless of the disapproval that would inevitably leave the poor girl's lips. Yet, even as the Commander towered over her, even after he had already violated her, she still pleaded to his humanity.

"Please, Mr Winters -- sir. I've had enough. You've already taken everything I have."

"Not everything." A grimace took hold of the Commander's lips before his hand reached outwards with surprising aggression. Before Lena could muster up any resistance or find any words to say, his hands had claimed her brunette head, fingers digging into her tousled locks and giving the poor girl nowhere to run. "Be a good girl for me and I won't hurt you, sweetheart." His hands were rough, but his words were gentle... endearing, even. On the outside, he acted no different from the cruel Schutzstaffel that Lena had been freed from and yet, Lena might be able to see the genuine care that crept behind his soft words and that permeated his lust-filled gaze.

Without much effort, he pulled Lena along, moving towards her bed before settling himself down upon the edge. He pulled Lena down as he did so, spreading his legs and bringing her between them. Between the Commander's legs, Lena was faced with his hot length, which had once again grown erect once more. The throbbing length towered against her face, the Commander pulling her face closer until her nose brushed against the center of the shaft, the tip reaching upwards to eye level. How Lena managed to fit such a large mass inside of her was nothing short of surprising to the Commander; and now he planned to force it down her throat as well.

"Open your mouth." His words were gentle, but he would be sure to teach Lena the price of defiance. Several moments passed as he waited, the strong aroma of fresh sex emanating from his still wet length. When the little spy's mouth didn't comply with his request, the Commander dragged her hair backwards, arching his body and neck forwards until his forehead was mere inches away from hers. "Don't make me ask again," his eye glared into Lena's, it was the cold gaze of a man who had taken the lives of many men; the gaze of a man who had seen things no person should ever have to see. They were staring at her now, devoid of pity or mercy.

Wandering thoughts would be interrupted with a resounding smack, the Commander's palm leaving a reddened mark upon his victim's face. "Would you rather I ravage your other hole instead?" He cooed softly, his hand reaching past her back and downwards ever more, until his hand would reach the waistband of her skirt. He hiked the pleated skirt upwards, unexpectedly, another crack filled the room as his hand delivered a sudden strike to her rear. "I can assure you that would be much less comfortable for you." He smacked her again, this time his hand reddening her other cheek before his fingers trailed down the center, digits plunging against her puckered hole through the fabric of her undergarments.

Winters leaned backwards, his face and hand moving away from Lena as he resumed his original position. His hand maintained its grip upon Lena's hair still, bringing her lips back up against his manly length. "Open."

He did not like asking twice.

 

[Yuma]

"Be a good girl for me and I won't hurt you, sweetheart."

But he was hurting her. Lena's breaths were dry and frantic as she was pulled away from the door, and she stumbled down to her knees as Winters seated himself before her. Her hands grasped at his wrist and she frantically tried to pull away from his grip, her legs pushing outward in her fruitless struggle. His grip on her hair was strong and painful, and her position between his legs allowed for little movement. Lena froze, faced with the sight and scent of his erection, and his frightening demand that she open her mouth.

She tried to turn away from it, her jaw clenched tight in panicked defiance. Her closed lips mumbled a low whine, refusing to open her mouth to even utter the word 'no,' and she tried to push her weight away from him. His physical retort was sudden, and she cried out as he pulled her backward, her neck craning as his portrait loomed mere inches from hers. She held her breath, exhaling only as he struck her face, her voice escaping as a startled cry.

The assault on her rear caused Lena's hands to fall against Winters' lap to better support herself, her legs trembling against the weight on her knees. Her back arched in response to the invasion of his hand, her eyes widening at his threat, immediately terrified of whatever consequence he had in mind. The thought of it was quick to break her resilience down, and she no longer seemed to clench her teeth. Her eyes peered into his own, cold gaze, and her face flushed red. And, in desperation, she quietly resorted to pleading for his initial intent.

"N-no. No." She shook her head, her lower lip quivering as she soon understood her situation. "Please, I'm sorry -- I'll be good." Her own words left a sour taste in her mouth, her fingers gripping into the fabric of his pants as she was pushed back towards his length.

Why didn't she cry for help?

Moments passed, and Lena hoped to open her mouth all while stifling sobbing breaths. Her lips parted, slowly, hesitantly, as her watery gaze lifted upward to meet his own. Her compliance left her defiled, dirty, and each second felt like an eternity. Still, she hoped to find some semblance of sanity in his gaze.