Blood Copper [Verse | Dasha] [NSFW]

[Zavaya]

It had been a good day. She had managed to get the breakthrough she had been working on for so long and was finally closing in on whom she was sure was the brain behind the whole operation. Lately a few young women had gone missing in the city, never to be heard from again. Until today. She had been working on hunches and very blurry CCTV images which really didn’t prove anything. All it had done was make the suspects of her investigation more nervous. Especially after she had arrested a man based on some different minor crimes.

“Downing! Good work on that witness! You finally got a lead now.”

Charlotte looked up from her desk and thanked her colleague. It was a hollow compliment, she knew that. Nobody was interested in the case as there was nothing to go on. For all they knew, the young woman had just ran away from home. The witness though shed a whole different light on the case. This man had seen a young woman matching the description on the flyers. Although this was initially good news, Charlotte soon realised that it really wasn’t. The witness had described her as being used as a sexslave and hardly responding to anything. He suspected this was due to drugs and the constant abuse. The location where she was kept was in a derelict part of town where industry used to be booming. Today though, most of those warehouses were abandoned and the brick factories and buildings were overgrown with weeds and plants.

Obviously she had immediately sent a team of trained officers to the location to give her back up but when they all arrived at the location the witness had given her, there was nobody and nothing except a few empty beer cans, cigarette buds and the fresh stale taste of urine. Lots of people had been there, not too long ago but they were all gone now. It was another disappointment for Charlotte and her research and back at the office, her failure to again bring in solid evidence that there even was a case was beginning to annoy her chief. The witness could have seen any woman. He was probably drunk and or stoned and wouldn’t recognise his own mother. Charlotte knew that the critics could be right but she refused to give up. If these women were still alive, she was going to find them.

She was halfway through typing out the witness report when the power in the old building went out. Even though it only took a few seconds, her computer had already shut down and all her progress was lost. Cursing at the shitty state of the police office she wanted to start again when her phone beeped, letting her know she had received a text message.

Charly, the window in your house is open?

The number was from a friend of hers who lived nearby and it alarmed her enough to call it for the day and go home. She packed all of her stuff, swiped the notebook with the witness report into her bag and quickly made her way to her car. As the young, tall and rather skinny blonde officer in the black Ford left the parking lot of the police station, a homeless guy quickly shed his blanket, grabbed a phone from his pocket and sent a text message.

Charlotte was oblivious to the eyes watching her as she pulled her car into its space and began walking over to her apartment. She wasn’t totally at ease however, still mindful of the apparent open window. She had spent the whole drive home wracking her memory to try and remember if she may have left it open, but she was drawing a blank. As such, she approached her apartment cautiously. It was probably nothing; and even if someone had got in they were likely long gone by now, but it was better to be careful.

Under her coat, Veronica’s hand rested on the handle of her gun as she unlocked her door and slowly swung it open. She was met with a scene of total normality; within, her modest apartment seemed totally undisturbed. Charlotte realised that she was probably overreacting, but her time on the force had taught her to be alert - not to mention living alone as a young woman in a city with a crime problem.

The apartment appeared untouched. She went to the small bathroom and closed the window. Maybe she really had just forgotten to close it? She peered at the ledge under the window and there was no dirt or dust on it so either no one had crawled in (most likely) or they'd done it expertly (less likely). Who would want to do her arm anyway? She was a nobody cop with a nowhere case. Sure that mobbed up Puta (could an EyeTye mobster even be a Puta or was that just Colombians and Mexicans?) had scared her with the ferocity of her annoyance at being picked up and with the sharpness of her lawyer's suit but still, she'd got out the same afternoon and even mobsters (actually especially mobsters) understood that cops had a job to do as well. No, she was just being paranoid.

She checked the kitchen, the living room, the laundry room (Fargo Season 1, always check the laundry room!) and there was absolutely no evidence of anyone having been in her place or that anything had been taken. She chuckled to herself and took her hand off her pistol. She really was being paranoid. She headed off towards her bedroom.

Now she wasn't the most tidy person on the planet. Having a job that had no respect for working hours and non-working hours meant that she'd often leave clothing laying out (or laying on the floor) for several days before she had enough time to sniff an item to see whether it needed washing. Her bedroom at the moment was in one of those 'presort' periods. Mind you, now she was home while it was still light she could do a sort now and get a jump on the weekend washing. She picked up several items and decided that two could be worn again and one could not. Anything underwear related and on the floor got an immediate 'wash' label attached to it. She was a busy woman, she wasn't a slob.

She picked up a few more things, discarded those that needed washing, and had several items draped over her arm when she opened the closet door to put them back on hangers.

The man in her closet was on her immediately and there was not even time to scream in surprise before he'd injected her with something cold and hot at the same time. She lost consciousness and slumped to the floor.

 

[Verse]

He was immortal.

There was no other way to be, if you wanted to live just one night in his Echelon. Grown up on these streets, running all over them. Little snot nosed japanese kid, to and fro, counting fucking scents until they amounted to the pity discount for a wonton basket at the dingiest hawker stalls. At least the chinese quarters were good for that. So if you lived though the nonsensical calorie waste of walking TO those dirty food courts, to get something steamed and hot, all the while doing all kinds of other dirt, you had to be immortal. You earned it.

He was from the red sun country and so he had a little in with the Yakuza. You learn quickly a little is a fucking fortune when you got nothing. He made something out of it. Had to be strong, and wontons don't pack that punch, so he had to pull at his own grit until he was this ragged hyena, laughing in the dark. Ran these streets. RUN these streets. Another sad story but he'd endured, at least. They let him have a handful of other boys, and then he'd made a few moves that looked like something, to someone higher up. Gotten a nod from Keijin Lenaka himself once. The dream. They were contemporaries but Keijin was under Yuji Honu himself, under Kagaeyama, the Shadowmountain.

Kenda Rijin's operations weren't much, but they were his. And he could draw on the rest of the families under the Yakuza for help, if he had something for them in return. That's how he paid his way. That's how he made his way. Tall boy now, with a life time of suffering, both lived and given, behind him. Built his mountain of gold on overflowing graveyards. So that's why it was

FUCKING BULLSHIT

that model dyke looking, prissy, daughter of a whore cop got to take him away from a meeting with the Changs. Peaceful times among some of them after the criminal element had won a firefight against the fucking military for the soul of Yareli City. She had no idea what she'd done to herself and her family when it happened. He'd been talking shop with the mid-tier Triad outfit when Officer Charlotte Downing had come into the location. Asking questions that were obviously about the Import Houses and their pop-ups. Booked him on some violence he'd wrought outside a legit nightclub. Used it as an excuse to take him to the station, and then the Changs had gone to another Yakuza for the same wares he'd been selling.

All it did was line his laywers pockets. But the damage had been done, he knew that, walking out. What a day, that you'd get the only uniform within twenty fucking blocks not on the take.

He liked her though, after that. Kind of affection you give your deadbeat girlfriend when your boss chews you out. So he put tails on her, and made sure he knew all of her. The eyes and ears available to you in the Yakuza network was a bit like being omnipresent. Whereas some of the outfits were about big drug runs and other large shit, Kenda liked his Houses. Like putting people out there for other people to use. Usually meant he wasn't in someone's way, and also that they thought of good times, when they thought of him. He still did his deeds in the night, had to stay sharp, adding bodies to his legend. Hard controlling horny men if they're not afraid.

So here he was, by himself. Breaking and entering was fucking hazing shit. He could do it high off his scalp and hopping on one leg. Someone on the inside, in the station had warned him she was coming. So he'd finished the apple he'd been eating and put it back in her fridge. Washed it down with the rest of her beer. Burped on the magnet picture of a little sister and her, hiking. Both of them could be good money in the Import Houses, but this was personal now.

He remained a long, jagged shadow when she came in. Cop in the precinct where legendary Danny Davis had been, the man who almost made a dent in Yareli criminality. Kenda should have known there'd be trouble from that office. He'd even abstained from smoking so she wouldn't smell him. Broke ass cop with no real security system. She thought her reputation and gun was enough?

He savored her silhouette when she was getting warmer, finding her bedroom. Her closet door had slats. She dropped her guard in here. Pretty woman just going about her life. Kind of sexy the way she smelled her own clothes and handled her underwear.

And then she opened the right door, and he could start the rest of her life.

He looked into her eyes as they rolled back from the concoction. Fast working, but she saw his face, maybe even the tattoos riding up his neck. For sure the vengeance in his eyes. In some low lights, one of his eyeballs could gloss over white because of a punch, once. He hoped she had nightmares inside the soft coma he sent her into. He realized he was holding her gun when she sailed to her bedroom floor.

He cussed loudly and kicked her in her side a few times. It moved her among her clothes. He must be more upset than he thought.

It took some time to get her here but here they were.

The same warehouse she'd raided on that dead Johnny Talky's tip. Same pissy stench too. She was hanging from a beam in the ceiling - this place has been chosen partially because of the practical floor designs - and still wearing her uniform. The clap he added to her awakening was deafening. He beat her like she was a man. "Charlyyyy." he said. All 6'3 of him, dressed in a good suit, with the shirt unbuttoned to show off the ink he'd gotten from the River Parlor. Her toes were barely touching the floor, her hands were roped and taking all her weight, wrists crossed. "You remember me?" he asked, low, and the punched, low. Fist in her stomach, just below the apex of her ribs. That'd lift her toes a bit. "You cost me my time, and that's money, I hear. Kind of amount I don't think you can pay back on your pig salary."

He had wanted to fuck her raw while she was out, but he owed her more than that.

 

[Zavaya]

As quickly as the drug had knocked her out, as quickly did she wake up. There was no grogginess, no sleepy or weakness. Nothing. She was wide awake and immediately gasped for air in pain as the adrenaline washed over her like a tidal wave. She swung and rocked slightly from the impact his fist had made with her body. Charlotte looked around, the warehouse looked familiar. So she had been in the right place? Maybe she could find out where the girls were taken.

Then she looked up to her hands, the rope, knot and hook to which she was suspended looked solid. There was no escaping that. She looked at him, knowing who he was from the files she had seen on him, which in fairness, wasn't that much at all. But his attitude, the way he stood there, dressed handsomely and seemingly unphased, Charlotte knew what that meant. Even if she wouldn't know a thing about him, he would still have scared her.

Her brain worked overtime, trying to figure out what had happened and what was going to happen. Was the message about the open window a trap? Did a colleague really set her up for this? If so, this man standing in front of her had the police in his pockets. A lot of things began to make sense to Charlotte right now.

"You went through a red light and didn't have ID on you. I'm sure you can afford the fine."

She knew he didn't mean that but what he did mean was too terrifying for her to comprehend yet.

"What do you want? Kidnapping a police detective isn't a good idea."

Charlotte also knew that he knew that. Meaning that he had deliberately taken the risk because he either knew nobody would find her, like the other girls, or that he was confident enough that nobody would even look for her. Both ideas terrified her and she was desperate not to let him see her fear as she hung quietly, trying to at least tiptoe on the floor to take some weight off her wrists.

 

[Verse]

She was pretty, feeling the effects of his abuse. Like the pain had been waiting for her eyes to open. He nodded like Yeah, that's it, when she gathered her wits after the initial pain, and then gathered the facts of the situation. He smirked. She had cost him some money, some pride. But he was going to make all her dreams come true. He was going to give her every clue she had been looking for. It'd just cost her everything, and a little more. He did like how her current expression was so different from how she'd looked when she brought him in.

And then she saw him.

He tilted his head. Logical woman. She had to be. Would she be proud, too? He waited for her little girl brain to marinate in the big world facts. If she had some sense she would be scared, and he was sure he saw that, but that wouldn't help her. She should have been scared before she even interacted with him. He sawed the corner of his lips with the blade of his tongue and looked her over, while she stared at her fate. He was happy for her, when part of that painful confusion subsided, and a kind of abandon took her pretty features instead.

Her tune was rather friendly, when she finally spoke. So she did understand the severity of the situation. None of that heroic talk-back that some of her more testosterone ridden colleagues had in the beginning. Yareli sometimes got hero types. They lasted as long as they could float with other dead bodies tied to them. He did love the sound of her voice when she was playing dumb.

"Right. Right. Red light." he agreed, asinine. He even let her words pelt his chest when he got closer, and started undo her uniform. He liked the beat-cop dresscode much more than the detectives. Made them more of a stereotype to play with, like nurses and nuns. First her tie and then all her buttons. He was eager to know just what kind of underwear he'd see. Practical, fancy. He pulled the shirt to either side to get a good look.

And then he'd start on her belt. Like she was a doll he was playing with. Like her will was nothing. Her stomach was tense from trying to stand on her toes. He stroked the valley that divided her torso all the way down to her belly button with his knuckle. "Arresting someone in the Yakuza isn't a good idea, Officer Downing." he said with a tired sigh, like she'd been spouting stupid shit for a while. He looked her over as he unbuttoned her pants and unzipped them. A push would have them around her ankles. What kind of panties? Piss stained? Hah. He discovered her pretty hair and let it lose from the band she'd tied it in. His eyebrows raised at the look. "You take good care of your hair don't you? Kind of unusual for a female police officer, right? Bet you're proud of it." he muttered. This close their height difference would be underlined, and his calm in this absurd situation would be more severe. His features were knives, and his eyes were unforgiving even though he was rather casual.

And then suddenly he put that face against hers, and she could see minute scars on his skin and the rare, pale qualities in one of his eyes.

"YOU COST ME A BUCK AND HALF!" he barked, leaving a spray of spit on her lips. The short burst of anger subsided almost immediately, and he corrected his posture to glance her over again.

 

[Zavaya]

Charlotte was scared. Of course she was, who wouldn't be in this situation but she had to keep her wits about her. Fear wasn't a good motivator, a thing she had learned on the force. Rationality would save your life in situations like this.

Then he began to undress her, which is what she had expected. The way how though, was different. He took his time. Almost meticulously taking off her tied and undoing the buttons of her blouse. He wasn't going at her like some rabid animal, which for Charlotte was a big disadvantage. Being rational against somebody who isn't is a big advantage. Being rational to somebody who is rational as well, that could be a problem. He was acting with his head, not his heart. She swallowed as her pale skin was revealed over her tensed and tight stomach. Charlotte was what people called lanky. Tall and thin and with her arms tied above her head now, her rib cage protruded out, leaving her stomach almost retreated into a concave hollow below her ribs.

"I didn't know you were Yakuza did I? There is no mention of any of you working in the city. So it stands to reason, one could forgive one's mistake on arresting one. To me, you were a guy running a red light. Not a Yakuza on their way to a meeting."

It was a long shot but what choice did she have? As he undid more of her clothes, she had to keep talking, keep her mind off her fear. When he undid her ponytail, Charlotte's white bra and panties were already revealed. Unstained, hugging her pale skin tightly.

Her hair was indeed her pride. Many colleagues had commented on it but she was a detective, not a street cop. The way he mentioned it almost caused her to shiver, especially as he stood so close to her. She could feel his warmth and his breath on her skin and though not being short herself, he towered over her nonetheless.

She may have yelped out when he barked at her, she wasn't sure. It came unexpected and out of the blue. He'd kept his composure all the time, even while undressing her. Most men would have lost it as her near perfect body was revealed more and more but not him. So his outburst was all the more shocking. It took her a moment or two te regain her composure and to find her balance again. The outburst had her instinctively back away, causing her feet to lose what little grip they had on the floor.

Tiptoeing again, her pants now on her ankles and her long legs revealed she looked at him.

"Had I known what I know now, I'd have obviously let you be on your way. Can a gentleman like yourself not forgive an honest mistake?"

It was a pathetic attempt, she knew that but what choice did she have? She booked him in to scare him. To let him know he was being watched and as a result, make a mistake so he could be properly arrested. It was a proven tactic. Except this time it had backfired completely. This man wasn't scared of the police or the authorities, leaving Charlotte with little to no leverage at all.

 

[Verse]

She was collected under his fingers. It would have been harder getting her clothes undone if she had been rabid. It was almost as though she wanted this, on some level. Whatever the reason, he was happy for the assist. Her smallness stretched out over her bones was pleasing. He celebrated the inviting ribcage by riding the spokes on one side with the tips of his fingers. She was frail but it was a good design. All that policework had eaten away at her flesh, and left only her pretty, basic structures. Lovely skeleton with soft skin. She dangled like an ornament. And the ornament talked. He snickered, it filled one of his cheeks. Such a calm voice for a woman who'd seen her last bit of freedom. White underwear. How neat.

"Oh, my mistake then." he gave for her absurd attempt at negotiating. "I'll just let you go." he muttered. Even to very hopeful ears, it'd be unconvincing.

She easily gave away her affection about her hair. Good to know.

And then he assaulted her with the sound. In this room, it almost rattled the walls. She had made a pathetic sound during his yell. Shouldn't a detective be more composed than that? The smugness in him would let her know he'd noticed. He was feeding off her distress, crackling her veneer of calm. He let her swing from her retread, and it had her bump into him, even. Her exposed body felt warm against him during the short impact. She had no friends her. Not the beam that held her slight weight, and not gravity that strained the length of her toes. He let her motion settle.

He took in her new plea, but more than that he savored her face when she asked for forgiveness. "See, if you'd stopped me and been like this, we could have had something. You look like a practical woman, and sometimes practical women suck cock pretty well." he explained. His foot nestled between her shins to press down on her pants. He pushed her stomach to lift her back, and free her feet from her pants. Then he kicked them to the side. Her shirt was left, and her underwear.

"You owe me. And you're going to pay me back." he concluded and hooked his fingers into the side of her panties. The way they cut her, they underlined her prominent hip bones. Very pretty. How many girls had heard the same sentence? How many of them were currently on dirty mattresses with thumping base rattling the floor under them, while uninvited cocks further wrecked their holes? He leaned down to slide the fabric toward her knees. When he'd gotten them all the way off her long body was swinging again. He was eager to see the state of the triangle between her legs.

He found places to rip on her shirt, until he could discard it, and then undid and mercilessly pulled at her bra. It was painful, and it left a few welts, but eventually that was off too. Charlotte would be nude, hanging from the beam now. Maybe her breasts would be the last vestiges of roundness on her, when the rest was lanky. He was very much looking forward to see them, unprotected, when her current state could do nothing to hide them.

"How do you propose you'd do that, since you no longer even have the clothes on your back?" he asked and looked as though he was honestly curious.

And, just as she was going to answer, he fist shot out, upturned, catching her in the vault of her stomach, under the overhang of her ribs. Hard. She hadn't been conscious for his kicks before, she he figured he owed her. Girls like her didn't know the real violence on the streets they protected. She'd have a taste now.

 

[Zavaya]

Charlotte let him mock her. There was little she could do about it anyway and she wasn't in any mood to play along with his games. As he took off her final pieces of clothing, he revealed in no uncertain terms what she had to do to pay him back. Sex. That was her chance. Pick your battles. Lose a fight, win the war. The first round was for him, no doubt, as she was now stark naked and suspended from a solid hook.

She regretted shaving the day before, her bare and smooth sex now on display for him. Her eyes followed his every move, determined not to be taken off guard again. She saw it coming. The punch. But she had a fraction of a moment to react and in her suspended state, she couldn't do anything, not even prepare for it.

The blow was vicious and hard and Charlotte was sure her heart skipped a beat or two from the impact. She swayed from the hook again, coughing and catching her breath. Charlotte took her time catching her breath and looked at him again. She smirked, spat on the floor and narrowed her eyes a little.

"You hit like a fucking woman..."

 

[Verse]

She was compliant, but not catatonic. He could sense, and almost smell the resignation in her. She was thinking, scheming, underneath that thin exterior. He let her dream up all the scenarios she wanted. He licked his teeth while all her protection was peeled away. It would not have helped her if she was a sobbing mess, but it wouldn't hurt his fun either. It'd come. It always came eventually. And this bitch wasn't as tough as her look would have him believe.

When she looked at his eyes, and observed the trajectory of his attention, she would discover he was transfixed at her pussy, when it revealed itself to him. Taut outer, small, rather unused, with the delicious, delicate pouting folds, pinched in between and curling out ever so slightly. He would make sure he'd get a better look at officer Downing soon, when she was wide spread and available.

There was tension in her when his balled hand hit. He had seen a flash of dread on her features before. No wonder. You can be tough, but if you're a blonde, soft thing, you can't be that tough. But she kind of was. After she took it, and gave him the physiological reactions he was owed, she showed a bit of gusto, after all.

"Yeah, but you should see how hard the women I hang with hit, Charly." he said with a grin.

His arm went back, and barrel forward again. Nothing secret about his aim. Another ramming of her diaphragm, denting it real deep, compromising the cartilage at her sternum, lifting her again. Making those pretty tits jiggle. He scooted to her side, and swung twice, this time open handed, and his palms landed on either buttcheek. Made her swing more. To think she'd been a detective, not long ago. Now she was meat hanging from a hook. Would she liked to be spanked?

He got in front of her again, and reached inside his back pocket. She could assume any number of weapons. But when he brought the hand back, it was her badge. "See, I'm not a monster. I'm going to leave you with some of the pride of your worktitle." he promised and pulled the shield out of the leather fold, and threw the leather away. He put the back of the badge to his mouth, while looking her in the eyes.

His teeth and tongue and lips worked a bit, and undid the long, horizontal pin from its latch. He waved the brass ornament that gave her authority to stop him in traffic, while the pin flicked back and forth, still attached in one end in the little hinge. His other hand supported her left breast from underneath. "Now anyone who finds you will know you're a copper." he muttered before he very efficiently pulled at her nipple with one set of fingers, so another could stab the needle on the back of badge through that protruding bud. He locked the small metal spear into place and backed off to see his handiwork. And let her react.

 

[Zavaya]

Charly coughed again after the impact in her mid riff. He knew violence that much was sure and she knew it would leave bruises. She also quickly realised that he didn't care about her well being. She was going to be fucked for money, like a sex slave but he seemingly didn't care in which state she would be. Quickly she pushed the thought out of her mind, it being too scary to even contemplate for now. She had to keep her wits now. The slapping on her butt hurt but different from the punch. This was a burning, searing pain that quickly faded, whereas her mid riff was bruised after the two punches up to a point where she could feel it with every breath she took.

As he took out her badge, she had no idea what to expect. A gun? A knife? Would he kill her right there? The badge was a surprise and again unexpected. What did he need her badge for? The idea that he had outsmarted her, caught her off guard a few times already scared her probably more than anything else. There was no way to anticipate to him if she didn't know what to expect.

The badge in his mouth made even less sense but when he waved it around in front of her, pin unhooked, it suddenly hit her what he was planning. When he took her small breast in his hands, she had no doubts and had to forcefully tell herself not to beg and cry. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.

When the sharp metal began to pierce her tender soft pink nipple, Charlotte balled her fists, breathed hard through her teeth and took look deep breaths, desperate not to give him the pleasure of screaming in pain. When he looked it and stepped back, Charlotte composed herself as best as she could.

White hot pain still searing through her nipple, she opened her eyes again, blinking away a tear or two as she looked at him. Her eyes shot fire, still defying him. She took a deep breath through her teeth.

"Fffuck... Mother fucker... Ahh..."

She exhaled the rest of the breath out and tried to relax again, looking down at her now pierced nipple.

 

[Verse]

She acted stoic, but her body didn't lie when he applied his abuse. It was fun to test her asscheeks and the sound they made for his claps, though. Maybe he was happy she'd been a bitch in traffic, because now he got a new doll to play with. It was always fulfilling, seeing how each individual girl would react to have everything taken away from them. This lovely, skinny bitch was on the first legs of her journey, and he thought he saw flashes of fear in her eyes, even if she swallowed them down rather efficiently. There'd be no backup coming for her, and she knew that. There was always hope in the beginning, because they couldn't imagine not being alright, ever again.

There was a painful confusion in her lovely features when he flashed the badge. It wasn't really a hard object, especially with the leather casing. Maybe she would have appreciated the irony in him showing off the shield to a detective, if she'd had the presence of mind for humor. But she was though, he had to give her that, when he held up the needle to her small tit. She thought her will would save her. As long as it kept her from kicking too much, he was grateful for her naivety.

Her hissing breaths and tension was impressive. Still made him hard in his slacks. She was making this rather pleasurable for him, trying to endure. It had almost been like she wanted to have her nipple pierced. She did look the part of a captured cop, now. And it was certainly an improvement. Her withheld reaction was still erotic, seething with her growing anger, but also dripping with the pain he'd provided. Blood did turn him on.

"You look good like that." he chirped and reached out, flicking the shield and thus tugging at the wound with the bar through it. The hand went across to the other, dainty breast and glommed on. "How long has it been since you got fucked properly, Det. Downing?" he asked. Before she was given much time to answer, the other hand whacked her over her face, to encourage.

He pulled at her nipple and twisted it, able bring her entire body toward him and off her toes just a little, he was pulling so hard. His other hand poked at the shield, pushing it into her breast and applying more stimulation to the wound. "Maybe it's time we get to know each other better. Get this sexual tension out of the way?"

 

[Zavaya]

After she had recovered from the smack to the face, her eyes still shot fire. If not more than before.

"I'm pretty sure this counts as fucked properly."

Immediately after she gritted her teeth again as he pulled her off her feet by her nipple. She could see a few drops of blood running over her stomach, no doubt coming from her freshly pierced other nipple and when he pushed against it, Charly hissed again.

"Fuck you...'"

She mustered some spittle from her bone dry throat and spat it towards his face, knowing full well his reply wouldn't be pretty. Charlotte just had to let him know she wasn't going to give in that easily. If he wanted to break her, he'd have his work cut out.

"I've been fucked better by drunk college boys than I will be by you. Fucking coward. Keeping me tied up... Fuck you!"

 

[Verse]

There was still so much fight in her. She was raw with it. He had expected as much. He enjoyed her face more than he thought. And her natural, lean body was a treat, too, especially with the silver ornament he'd hung from her nipple. He grinned at her retort and shrugged in defeat.

"You do look pretty fucked right now." he admitted and admired his handiwork. She let him move her, she had no choice. He nipple stretched inside the pulling punch. She didn't have many weapons left, so he saw the tension in her cheeks before the spray of saliva she offered him. Such a vicious face when she shot it off. He was interested in other moisture from her body, though.

She gave him something about herself. "Oh?" he asked and then cupped her between her legs. It was easy to nestle his hand between her thighs, that had a distance between them naturally. "I'm not sure I asked about your sexual history, officer." he pointed out.

His hand massaged her there, exploring her. The belly of a finger lifted to part the cleft between her pussy lips while his other hand carefully pulled at the shield hanging from her pierced nipple. Like he was stimulating them both. He wanted to see what that'd do to her. But eventually he stopped, dismissively, letting her dangle.

"Alright, let's get this over with." he said and started unzipping.

The cock he produced was his pride and joy. It was an ugly limb, darker than the rest of him, with a sick color to its head, large enough to still protrude and wrinkle his foreskin like a scarf around its neck. The entire thing was half filled, bulky, hanging from the open slacks, and the balls were tight, caught between the cock's weight and low of the fliers. "I'm just going to give you the fuck of your life. Don't mind me." he said and snorted in self amusement.

 

[Zavaya]

Had it been in any other situation, his cupping of her mounds would have aroused her. Maybe she had even found it erotic and pleasurable but in this situation, there was nothing but disgust and fear.

His words could have been her own. It had been inevitable that this would happen and Charlotte wanted to get it over with as well. Anything to get out of this awkward position in which she could do literally nothing but hang around.

She looked at his cock, briefly, not being too interested in it knowing she'd feel it up close soon enough. In her mind she was already looking for a safe place to retreat to while he would fuck her. A shiny white beach, palm trees, crystal blue sea. A nice lounge bed, the sun warming her skin and a refreshing cocktail. One with a little umbrella stuck into it.

"I won't."

Charlotte spat the words back at him when he told her not to mind him. She had no intentions of minding him. Her plane tickets had been booked, her luggage was checked in and she was ready to board the plane.

 

[Verse]

He could see the vacancy in her eyes when she looked at him, his flesh. He hadn't expected her to emote much, and nodded to himself when he clocked her escape already. That in itself was a kind of victory for him. She couldn't claim to be very formidable, if she fled the first chance she got. But the thing was, with cops, even with detectives, they hadn't had the kind of training that would help them with this.

So he parted her legs and wound them around his waist. It was easy, since they were so long and thin. She finally had some relief for her wrists when he lifted her with his hands on her ass, supporting. His cock was caught between her shaven cunt and the low of his pelvic, showing exactly how far up into her stomach it would go, once inserted. "Last chance to lube it up." Not suck on it, of course, but if she was smart, she might spit again, this time down, on the head looking up at her from between their bodies, with its one eye.

He raised her higher against him, and made sure the bulb of his cock was aligned with that pretty, unprotected cunt. Had to hoist her quiet a bit. And then he looked at her to see if she knew what would happen next.

And then it did anyway.

He slammed her down. He was sure she wasn't wet, and part of the delight was ripping into her while she only had her body temperature and soft folds to offer him. He had long since learned to appreciate the delight of tearing open a yet-to-be-willing cunt. His fingers dug into her asscheeks and then he started bouncing her onto of him, savoring the labor or having to break in her pussy. He thrust back, every time he had her descend. He would find her cervix if she was shallow, but he'd still pound the shit out of her, if he didn't. He owed her for what she'd cost him. It was good to finally pay her back.

"You wanted to find out what happened to those girls, didn't you?" the monster that was already inside her asked her, breath rather level given his current activity of rearranging her insides with his hardness. "This is how it started."

 

[Zavaya]

Of course this was how it started. From the moment Charlotte woke up from her drug induced slumber, she had known that she was sharing the faith of the women she was so desperately looking for and that they had been raped in one form or another. She was next and that was fine.

He pinned her onto his cock after he wrapped her legs around his waist. She sat on his cock as he fucked her hard but Charlotte didn't care. Her breathing increased only because it was a natural process but her attitude remained unchanged. There was hardly any response from the naked young cop as her captor raped her, impaling her onto his cock and then pulling out only to ram his cock inside hard and deep enough to reach Charlotte's limits.

It hurt but nothing she couldn't handle and she knew that this much force against her cervix would cause him some discomfort at least, which made her feel marginally better, as far as feeling better in her position was possible.

She stared into the distance, her face blank and emotionless as she lay on the beach, sipping a lovely cocktail while the sun warmed her skin. Instead of a damp dark warehouse and a rape.

 

[Verse]

He liked that he could measure her depth with his cock. Her entire value as a woman could be surpassed by the length of his dick. She was going to make a perfect doll, making him feel like this. A constant reminder of his triumph. And he'd never have to forgive her. She was his. Her entire life would be his game, from now on. And she had a lovely pussy. Too bad it wouldn't be when he started sharing her. He grunted and maliciously pushed up into her, and held on to her hips to make sure she was at an angle that he liked. But she had left, somewhere.

He laughed and leaned back, one hand on the low of her spine so he could see her as he thrust. The shield on her nipple waved at him, slapped her underboob a little during the rocking, sadistic motions. He was beating her cervix up. Shallow pussies were all the rage these days. He wanted to see if he could lift her stomach. What waste for her not to be mentally present when she got to try out his fat cock.

He spit her on her face, targeting her distant eye, to see if she'd come back for that. Didn't matter much. He continued to masturbate his cock with her young vag, testing the head of his cock against the door to her womb. He put his teeth together and raised the pace for her. She should be grateful for the effort of his legs, beating her up from the inside.

And when he came, he grunted. But with only one hand on her back, the other was free to hurt her more. He grabbed hold of the shield he'd fastened on her tit, and pulled it off, splitting her nipple as he came. He was sure the rush of cum into her belly, and the agony of having her nip opened up, might at least remind her where she was. And who she was with.

He rolled his hips to stir the fruitful cocktail inside her, and then unhanded her, and shoved her stomach to get her off him, as though she was the one holding on with her legs. Maybe she did. Some bitches had strange reflexes when there was a good cock in them.

"Not bad for a detective." he said and tucked himself in. Next thing she'd hear was the scraping of a metal box, more of a coffin, over the floor as he pushed it toward her. It should be ominous to her. He wouldn't let her off so easily though. Once he'd gotten it by her feet, had them dangle into it, he pushed a cart holding different torture methods. He chose a rusted blade and looked at her, to see what she'd assume. And then he snickered and picked up a full syringe with his other hand. "Stay still, Downing." he warned and jabbed it forward, the needle landing and sinking into the split nipple as he injected. A drug he thought fit her.

And just when it started working, he'd cut off the rope to let her land in the crate so he could kick the lid on and latch it.

"See you tomorrow." he said and chuckled to himself. He wasn't anywhere near done with her. He dropped the shield on the lid, and a smear of blood adorned the metal.

 

[Zavaya]

The ripping of her nipple indeed brought her back to the damp warehouse. She howled in pain and gritted her teeth immediately after as she felt his cum gush inside of her and immediately began to drip down and out, helped by the gravity and the rotational forces as he pushed her off his cock, sending her swinging on the hook above her.

She had little time to recover as she saw the metal box being dragged towards her. Her heartbeat increased, causing her modest chest to heave and sink more intense. The box of tools didn't help either and even though she tried hard, her captor might catch a glimpse of some fear in Charlotte's eyes.

After she got the injection, she immediately began to feel a little weird. She had expected it to be a sedative but in stead, it felt like something else entirely. As she was processing what it was coursing through her veins, her captor cut her bonds and she landed in the metal box hard.

The drug began to work in earnest now and as the lid closed and left Charlotte in complete darkness, she felt her muscles get weaker and weaker up to a point where she couldn't move her arms and legs anymore. At the same time, she felt an unbridled arousal inside of her. She almost cherished the cum inside of her, aching to feel more of it.

As the hours progressed, Charlotte got more and more aroused but was unable to touch herself because of the muscle relaxer also coursing through her veins. The sensation was maddening and her willpower and urge to resist anything quickly faded with each passing hour.

 

[Verse]

It was sweet to see her call out from the abuse. Her nipple broke, that motherly nub, and he liked that she couldn't keep the pain a secret from him, despite her attempt at escaping in her mind. The blood was pretty, coming down in a line over the underside of her soft, modest orb. Of course, getting to fucking seed her as it happened wasn't half bad, either. She was currently doing well in her new job as his fuckdoll.

She was coming apart in every way she had hoped not to. The box was scary to her, because her detective mind knew its implications. But she didn't know just which of those paths he'd take. But she knew it wouldn't be good for her. It moved blood around in his softening dick and it was gratifying and painful at the same time. That's right. She was not so tough.

She couldn't avoid the needle. He liked the way it sunk into his previous damage and deposited the elixir. She was getting first hand knowledge of the future scourge of her narcotics team. Who knew, maybe someday she'd be in a schoolbook about it, teaching recruits what not to do. Perhaps it'd say "don't fuck with Kenda Rijin at a redlight". He chuckled at her stupid, wondering face when she tried to expect the effects and failed.

He got to hear the dullness of her landing in the box, and smiled at her, and the view he had of her cum-leaking pussy, before he closed her up for the night. He knocked on the lid twice to tell her goodbye.

He had forgotten about her by morning, but was reminded by the video he'd taken. He showed some of the men in the car, the same crew that followed him around in his work all day, until he got to go back to her that night.

It'd be torture, really, he'd seen girls with aptitude for it go insane, but he supposed he owed Detective Downing no real consideration. He was wearing a black suit with a green shirt when he opened the lid. The scents of her living in there for a full day were lovely. They'd partially be his cum, after all. He'd timed it so he'd be in sync with when he dosage would be winding down, at least as far as the paralyzing agent went. Her arousal, though, would have become psychological by now, since she would have obsessed for it enough it wouldn't just leave when the drug stopped working.

"Hia, Charlie." he said and tilted his head, eager to see what it might have done to her. He tossed her a protein bar from his jacket pocket and then a plastic water bottle he'd remembered to bring. "How was your day, honey?" His expression was dark around the grin, and he was honestly curious.

 

[Zavaya]

Lesser people would have gone insane but Charlotte was close as well. She had lost all sense of time as the arousal continued to wreak havoc on her senses. An ever so slight itch and warm glow between her legs, her nipples sensitive and aching for a touch but her hands unable to move and ease that feeling. There was nothing to ease her arousal, no sound, no light, nothing. She began to imagine breaths of wind, ever so subtle to blow through her metal coffin only to realise it was her own breath and it wouldn't reach to her sensitive nipples. Even the pain had completely faded and had made room for arousal.

When the lid finally opened, Charlotte just whimpered, squirmed and blinked her eyes at her captor. The arousal wasn't gone, not at all, but the fear was now back as well, causing her to make more rational decisions. In the dark solitude of her coffin, she had already agreed to herself to surrender to him. To beg him to fuck her to ease the maddening arousal. Now though, looking at him, there was still some defiance left.

Her hands barely had enough strength yet to reach for the protein bar and the water bottle impacted hard on her ribcage. Slowly she began to peel the wrapper off the protein bar, not wanting to admit how desperately hungry she was as well. Eventually she managed to bring the bar to her mouth and take a bite but it was still obvious to her the drugs were still in her system, making her movements slow and sluggish. She chewed the first bite, scanning the surroundings as far as she could. In reality though all she could see was the ceiling of the warehouse, the hook she hanged from the night before and her captor towering over her.

"I've slept great, darling. Thank you for asking. The bed's a little hard but I suppose for how cheap it is, I can't really complain."

 

[Verse]

Her state as he opened the box was very telling. And the fact that she wasn't feral. The drug had done its work, and he liked the woman better, this way. She took his gifts and he let her take in the surroundings. She was still trying to rely on her training when this would be the rest of her life. She would not be saved, by herself or otherwise. He saw the glistening of the little light hitting her pussy folds when she shifted to get up. Just the fact that she was still in the box when she took the first bite of the bar spoke volumes of her new state of mind. He grinned while she made conversation. It was sarcastic but better behaved than yesterday.

"Good girls get better beds." he assured her. But he wasn't sure she'd ever get to see much better. Maybe a piss stained mattress? The new function of detective Downing wasn't exactly to enjoy herself. Her motions told him she was at the tail end of the drug's effect. Good thing he got the dosage right. He leaned down and stroked his fingers through her hair, a mess after the night and day she'd had. The touch alone might be a lot for her. He looked into her blue eyes. "What kind of dreams did you have?" he asked and raked his fingertips over her scalp. He had already figured out what new hairstyle he wanted for her. She seemed vain about her hair.

And then dismissed her head with a slight shove, and stood up straight again. Her tit had stopped bleeding but there were still obvious traces of the damage the pin in her badge had done. The badge itself was in his pocket again. He'd taken it off the lid before opening it. At this height, his crotch would be at a opportune height, contra her face. Her mouth was occupied with her chewing. He thought that was a waste of its potential.

"I think you've learned your lesson, but I can't be sure. How about you show me just how fast of a learner you are." he offered and waited. He'd let her be creative about it. She was so sluggish he'd see any attempt at fighting a mile away, and if he did, with her under him like this, her would simply just stomp her back into the box. She looked adorable, sitting in it like a fort.

 

[Zavaya]

He couldn't really believe she was docile now. At least not in her mind. So his question confused her. She was still sluggish, and so was her brain but this made no sense. It was a trick question. She had ignored his question about her dreams. One, because his next was scarier and two, she hadn't slept anything at all.

She sat in the box, chewing the bar, unable to open the bottle that was lying in the small pit between her legs and nether region. After thinking about it for too long, she looked up at him.

"If you want me to suck your disgusting pathetic excuse of a cock, you're going to have get it out for me or wait until what you drugged me with is out of my system."

 

[Verse]

She wasn't being unreasonable. Not really. It was a perfectly good trade she was offering. He'd still be in the black. And maybe it'd be worth it, to have her compliance, when the next hole he tested in her had teeth. For all intents and purposes, she was being amicable, and well on her way to become the whore he meant to make her.

But that wasn't enough.

He wasn't here to gently guide her, like one of his trafficked girls, like the ones who might do well in Imports Houses. She was here for a completely different education. The currency she was here to collect wouldn't be money. Besides, he didn't like her tone.

He reached down and grabbed her hair, and looked into her face as she chewed her food. "Don't think you're in a position to stipulate conditions, officer." A droning verdict.

When he pulled her out the water bottle rolled off its privileged place between her thighs, against that recently raped cunt. She hadn't stood a chance when she was healthy and alert. Still feeling the drugs, there wasn't much she could hope to do against him. He dragged her nude body over the rough edges of the box, and let her fall on the cold floor.

"But if you want me to wait, I guess I'll have to entertain myself meanwhile." he said before the first kick. He liked her stomach. It was soft despite being flat, and it gave in in a stratifying way when his shoe tip sunk into the tissue. He wondered how much mobility for retaliation she had to offer in return. He'd see it a mile away, they way she must be feeling.

"Just tell me when you're ready." he offered and huffed when he stomped her shoulder, to see if it'd flip or turn her to expose another part of her that he could bare down on. She was pretty. And he was sure she'd be glorious to kick around.

 

[Zavaya]

Charlotte tried to grab his wrist when he grabbed her precious long blonde hair. But instead of a firm grip, her fingers barely wrapped around his wrist, almost gently stroking it rather than trying to pull free. She was helpless and that feared her more than whatever potential treatment lay ahead. Not being able to control or protect herself. She grunted and huffed as she was dragged out of the box and landed on the rough and cold concrete floor, barely registering what he was saying.

For some reason, her slurred brain managed to hold on to the protein bar she was given and when she stopped moving, she tried to get another bite in as he spoke again, something about entertaining himself.

The kick came unexpected and completely out of the blue. Right in her stomach and she had no time or chance to react to try and dodge it. Instead she curled up in a half foetal position, her body trying to protect itself where she couldn't. Then came another hit, hard and violent this time and again she couldn't do anything about it so her body had to fend for itself. She rolled on her stomach, her body, without its mind to control it, thinking this position would protect her stomach and shoulder.

What it had done instead was make her small ass bare and vulnerable for another assault and while Charlotte realised this was going to happen, she couldn't yet do anything about it. She tried to turn over, to move her arms and hands but she still hadn't the strength to even roll herself over.

"Please.. I'll do it when I can... Give me time to recover. Please."

 

[Verse]

He liked the way her hand tried. It hung on his once she'd secured the grip, and he looked at it for a second, expecting more pressure but realized there wasn't. It was a perfect measure of her current physical state, and it was pitiful. Compliments to the Korean chemist that had provided the streets with this concoction, though. Maybe he thought he was doing his bit in their commerce by keeping a nosy cop out the system? But if he was being honest, this was just for him. His day jammed up by her clever distraction by the red light, and his cock that was about to get wet on her tab.

He laughed loudly when the bar remained in her mouth despite what he was doing. She came over the edge because what other fucking choice did her pretty, slim body have? Her tits jiggled upon impact. And then again when he kicked her. It made him hard how she automatically shrunk from the abuse. In her state, it was probably the smartest thing she could have done. He didn't stop, and she understood that. He liked watching as she tried to protect herself. This was a good release of his frustration. Beating on someone he'd paid for just wasn't the same.

He was about to say something smart, he still had all his properties and time to think, after all, but then her pert butt presented itself. He squatted down and grabbed one cheek, tearing it to the side to expose her pucker. This was his favorite part in the female anatomy. That and their broken hearts and minds. He went about ruthlessly slapping the other cheek, palm hammering down repeatedly on the rounded, athletic piece of flesh, aiming for it to blush blood red.

He spit, quite accurately, to down the valley between her cheeks, still held apart, with his foamy saliva. And then stabbed his longest finger inside. It'd be the first stimulation she'd had. His hand on the asscheek let go as he started roughly fingering her shithole. "Time's running out, Downing. You can still suck me off with a finger in your ass, can't you?" The hand finger fucking her dirty decimal was now clapping against her ass in the rhythm which which he was probing her.

 

[Zavaya]

Again the assault and again all Charlotte tried to do was escape to her safe place. This time though it was a little harder but if he really wanted her to comply, he had another thing coming. There was still fight left inside Charlotte and as long as she had, she wouldn't voluntarily give in to him. Besides, right now she still had the excuse of the drugs so instead of doing anything, she just lay still and let him assault her skinny butt.

She gritted her teeth, soaked up the punishment and pain which was better than feeling what he was doing to her simultaneously and then when he finally spoke, she thought a moment for a witty answer, to show him she wasn't broken yet.

"I can, can you be sucked with a finger in my ass though?"

Charlotte wouldn't go down easily like perhaps some of the missing girls had done. She'd fight and resist until whatever came next. There was a void though as she didn't want to think about what came next. The chance of her being found was slim, especially if his man had help from inside the police. So the way she saw it, she had two options. Bend, or break. Or maybe a third, a simpler, easier way. Get him so angry with her he'd kill her.

Maybe Charlotte quietly preferred that one to be saved the horror of breaking.