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Blood Copper [Verse | Dasha] [NSFW]

She took the finger rather well. He wouldn't have pegged her for it but there they were. He ground his jaws and pulled at her asshole to look into her. The lighting here was dark, but there was some charm to her small asscheeks and the feel of his palm being able to envelop the entirety of one. His finger stirred circles inside he asshole and then jabbed deep enough for the inserted digits to be stopped by the fingers left outside.

He snickered at her answer. "You're funny. You think that's going to work out for you?" he asked and then gave her another finger for good measure. He scissored them inside her and pulled out as though he was going to pull her intestines with him. This really was his favorite, non-wound hole in a woman. Dismissively, his other hand pulled at her hair and then dunked her forehead to the floor, like it was a pat on the shoulder.

And then he stood up. "You know, I can still get off with you and not really use you." he said as he did take his cock out. She' be familiar with the hulking meat by now. His pants stayed on as the balls dangled outside of the fliers, and the rod itself swung as he jerked the base. He kicked her to be on her back, and immediately when she was, his heel came down on her hand. the edge of his heel ground two of her fingers to the hard floor.

As he balanced his weight on that foot, crushing her digits, his other foot and its shoe came down to mash her tits like it was dogshit, keeping her in place. His cock was getting hard over her. "I can do this for the rest of your life, detective." he assured her and snickered, obviously aroused by his little game.
 
"Then get off with me and not use me. I don't fucking care."

Charlotte continued to grit her teeth and hiss at him from the discomfort. If he thought he could break her with a finger in her ass, he had another thing coming.

"Do you think I care what works for me and what doesn't? I know what's going to happen. The outcome is set already."

It was the terrifying truth. Unless some sort of miracle would happen, her life was over. The only thing she had some control over was how quickly it would end. Or so she hoped. But however quick that would come or not, Charlotte wouldn't give this monster the pleasure of seeing her break.

"So do whatever you want. Stick that cock in my mouth and I'll bite it off. Fuck you."
 
He tsked at her words. It was delicious to treat the formerly haughty detective like this, but it wouldn't really give him the satisfaction women were meant to, unless he did something about it. She held on to her pride, and she did her taunting well. But girls as smart as Detective Downing only acted like this, in situations like these, for one reason.

So he shook his head at her attempt at riling him. He had a point of pride here too, and it lived and died with the breaking of hers. "You drive a hard bargain." he commented, calm, as he looked down at the spirited piece of meat he'd curated in the box overnight.

He stepped off her. He let her fingers be in whatever state he'd rendered them in with his sole and his weight. Another kick to her stomach while he held his cock. And then, when she inevitably flipped on her stomach again, he toppled to cover her with his own body. Her laid on her, with his hips level with her ass, mashing it.

He had a hand on her head and crushed her cheek against the floor. His other gathered spit from his own tongue and went between them to lather his cock. It was rock hard by now on his command.

"It's time for you to squeal, pig." he assured her and lifted his hips, nestling the fat head of his cock between her asscheeks. The saliva on the glistening bulb would have to do, when he finally applied pressure, to pry her anus open while he kept her head down with his hand.
 
Her fingers were numb, at least her pinky and ring finger. They were bruised, at least, maybe more but Charlotte hardly felt it. Adrenaline was pumping through her body as she reeled from the next kick and felt him on top of her. She knew what was coming and the helplessness of not being able to stop it infuriated her more than anything else.

She felt him line up, his cock warm and her anus moist from his fingers. His digit had at least prepared her a little bit of what was to come but when she did feel him push inside, she couldn't help but moan and resist. Her body writhed underneath him, desperate to get away but not being able to. Charlotte tried to push herself up using her hands but with his weight on top of her, she had nowhere to go.

Her eyes were wide open, filled with fear and pain as she, not at his request but in a natural reaction, squealed like a pig, trying everything to get away from him. His cock slowly filled her anus and with each millimetre he filled her up with, his weight felt ten fold on top of her until, when he was fully inside and she felt his hips against her butt, she ceased her resistance.

Soft erratic moans escaped her lips as she panted underneath him, waiting for what would no doubt be him fucking her into the ground as hard as he could. Charlotte's eyes teared up, for her own discomfort and fear but also knowing that she had failed the other girls she had been trying to safe from this faith.
 
She was a lot more pleasant, going forward. Her body did as he wanted, when he wasn't telling her, but showing her. Pretty white skin on the ugly floor, with the dirt and memories of girls just like her. She was frustrated among all other things, and he liked that. Didn't mean she could do anything about it. He still got real comfortable, quickly ontop of her. Her ass was soft and welcoming. He didn't wait. He pushed into her shithole and it was as painfully tight as he knew it would be.

He grunted when she made her noises about it. He wondered if the drug helped her through it a bit. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back as he inserted fully into her. The natural lube really helped. She was a fucking natural. She had such perfect hair to hold on to. "You like it up your ass, detective?" he asked her as he lifted his hips, his cock almost popping out of her anus before her sunk in again, completely filling her stomach up once more.

He kept her head bent back as he started bouncing his hips against her ass, thrusting and retreating, using her asshole as masturbation around his dick. He huffed into her ear while she made her noises too. "Fuck, for such an uptight bitch your ass isn't half bad. Push me out though, it'll feel better for ya." Same advice he gave everyone who found themselves with his cock half way through their digestive system.

Eventually, without stopping his pushing into her, the hand on her hair forced her forehead to the floor, grinding her head down against the hard surface so he could use her hair as a handle to keep her where she was, his cock taking advantage of the taut friction her sphincter pinched into it. His other hand rested on the back of one side of her waist to keep his balance as he kept feeding her shithole the meat she'd try to reject.

And, while he was bucking into her, that hand on her waist left to fish something out of his jacket pocket. Soon she'd feel another sting of a needle, this time into her buttock, and a burn as he injected more of the drug that had kept her company in the box. He laughed to himself as continued to rail her ass.
 
She felt filthy and weak. Filthy because of how he treated her and weak because she couldn't put up more of a fight to resist him. Mentally she was still strong, her spirit unbroken and unwavering but physically she had no chance against the onslaught he was subjecting her to. He again used her pride and joy against her. Her hair. Using it as a handle to basically control her, Charlotte had little movement options without ripping out her own hair.

At least the friction was bearable with the lube he produced on his own. Still it was far from comfortable.

She felt the little prick in her butt cheek and almost immediately began to feel weak again. A slight sliver of panic fed through her veins as she knew what was going to happen. The arousal wasn't a problem, in fact, if he was going to fuck her some more, the extra lubrication and her body being ready for it would possibly make the rape more comfortable but the muscle relaxer would not.

With her blood pumping so fast through her body, it took almost no time at all for her to go almost completely limb, unable to move or raise any of her limps.
 
There was tension in her neck but he could tell she went along with his tugging to keep more of her hair. It might be a reflex, or it would be deeper than that. After all, hair like hers did clue him in to some kind of vanity. He had heard some of his sources say she had good hair for a woman who seemed to be rather practical about other things. Even holding it now, it seemed better cared for than most other bitches, whose tresses he liked to pull. It gave him an idea.

But his thoughts were otherwise occupied, given the current situation. Downing had a good asshole for someone he knew didn't get it in the back door nearly enough, if ever. He sighed with pleasure when the effects of the drug set in. Damn, this shit was fast working. He looked down at the little red bead on her ass and nodded with some gratitude toward it, and at the same time admiring his own work, stuffing her stretched crevice with the meat that assaulted her pussy yesterday.

He laughed when she lost use of her limbs again. "Yeah, you like this? You seem to take to it better than most. Just wait until you're on it and cumming. That's the real high and selling point. It's going to change your entire life. It's going to make girls beg to be part of our brothels." He said and dunked her head once against the floor. He let go of her hair dismissively, leaving it in a ratty nest at the back of her head.

He held on to her hips instead, and sat back, still lodged inside her. He gripped her waist hard, digging fingers into her stomach and his thumbs into her back to keep her in place as he got situated. And then he started bouncing her violently on his lap, reducing her asshole and entire body to nothing more than friction for his cock. It was fun to see her moving with his yanking. "And the kicker is, you're going to fucking enjoy this, aren't you, Downing?" he asked with labored laughter in his throat, as her complacent body tested the stamina of his seasoned cock. "Your ass feel good yet?" he asked and dug his fingers and thumbs in deeper, sure to leave bruises by the time he was done with her.
 
The treatment lasted through the day with Charlotte's body being used almost continuously by her captor who had given her a lot of attention. Eventually she had cummed as well, much to her own disgust but after hours and hours, there was little her tiny body could do against the onslaught.
By the time he was done with her, her body ached and was drenched in cum and her own perspiration.

He locked and left her in her metal coffin again for the night and much to her own surprise, Charlotte actually managed to get some sleep. The exhaustion was still in her body though when she woke up, as was the aching. It was impossible to tell what time it was and how long she had slept for. She tried to stay calm, feeling the lid and if it would open. When that didn't happen, she closed her eyes and just lay and waited for whatever was to come next.

When the lid finally did open, she didn't see her captor but instead was dragged out by some other men, no doubt henchman. She was blindfolded immediately and then, as if she was a piece of furniture, she was dragged out of the coffin and manhandled into a small dark room. Without the men saying a word, they tied her into a chair, legs slightly spread so her ankles could be tied hard against the chairlegs with zipties. Her hands were tied behind her back, again with zip ties.

The room was barely lit but still when the blindfold came off, Charlotte had to blink a few times before she had clear vision. The room was bare. Concrete on the floor, bare walls and the lightbulb was uncovered and hung from a single wire. It gave her the clue that she was still in the warehouse, still nowhere near where the other girls were hidden. In front of her was a large mirror and the only door leading into the room was behind her.


"Yes I'm sure she hasn't come home yet. She is a police officer! She works here!"
Alexandra was furious at the police desk clerk who basically told her she was probably worried for nothing. Officers sometimes didn't get home when they had a lot of work to do. But she also didn't want to check with the others to see if this had been the case for Charlotte.

"We can't do anything if she hasn't been missing for 48 hours."
"But she has been missing for almost 48 hours. She hasn't come home for 2 nights! Jesus... At least call somebody to check if she's still at work. I have already called the hospitals to check but they haven't gotten her!"

The young woman was almost in tears as she begged the woman to help her but got nowhere and eventually, frustrated and angry left the police station. She had already placed a notice out on some of her social media. The excuse that her sister might have been in a covert operation didn't fly with Alex as she would have told her something. Something was wrong, she knew it and the fact that nobody believed her made her angry and upset and gave her an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
 
Kenda enjoyed her. He had done it mostly for the novelty of hurting her in the beginning, but the more he fucked her, the more he was learning her charm. And her body learned to respond to his too. It wasn't like he couldn't find her pressure points if he tired. He was a practiced enough cocksmith that he'd developed the skill from the sheer volume of things he tried on willing or unwilling holes. He liked when he found the ember in her, and the slight change in her sounds. Not like she had a chance. The drug was made for exactly this. It was a sense of accomplishment for him too, both toward her humiliation and being able to make the motherfucker of a cop cum. He knew what made her body tick now.

She hadn't known what it meant when he tapped her on her head, after he'd laced her with his seed for the last time, that night, and locked her into the box to marinate. But to him, that last touch on her hair was significant. He would have handled her himself if he hadn't been busy. It took a lot of time out of your day to be the kind of criminal that had first warranted her full attention and vengeance. Two dead, and three more girls missing. Not that Detective Downing would know. Charlotte was done enforcing the law, and out of its net of information. His sources at the station down played her disappearance, and gave him a tidbit about a nosy sister.

He knew about Alexandra Downing. He smiled at the written tip he got from his source in the station, accompanied by a picture of the distraught sister. Going through her posts about it was easy. He fired off an emoji that suggested her cared. The younger Downing sure was pretty. It seemed a waste not to involve her somehow.

But right now he had bigger fish to fry.

The door Charlie had been looking at opened. Kenda was as dapper as always. His dirt earlier had been done with a gun, so there was no ruffle to his suit. He shed the jacket on his way, hung it on the handle on the closed door, and even unbuttoned his red shirt, and rolled the sleeves. Tattoos. Tattoos everywhere. She might find the knife in the black leather sheath attached to his belt more eye-catching, though.

He came up behind her. But the mirror let him look her in her blue eyes. "Hia, darling." he offered with dry humor and wrapped his hand under her chin to keep the back of her head against his stomach as he nodded at her in her reflection. Her hair somehow still looked pretty. The way they'd tied her up, he could even see her pussy now. Her blood on her split nipple had coagulated rather well.

She would both see and hear when he drew the knife from the sheath. A deliberate, deft pull. The blade was long for a knife. And thin. He tapped the broad side on her forehead. His hand slipped form her chin to gather her hair onto of her head and hold her by that, instead, as the edge of the knife rested on the front of her hairline.

"How long since you had a haircut, Charlie? I heard police women should keep it short..." he looked at her in the mirror with his chin raised, and made sure to keep her head still with his hold on her hair. "The way your pussy looks, you can't be a stranger to what's about to happen, right?"
 
When she felt the knife on her forehead, she knew what Kendra was up to. Everything about the set up and the way he held her hair was evidence of it and if there was anything she was good at, it was reading evidence. She swallowed hard, fearing it and desperately trying to think of something to bargain with.

Trying to find something though, only worsened her situation as she quickly realised she had nothing to offer. Forget having little to offer, she literally had nothing. She would offer him her body but he already owned it. He could fuck her whenever he wanted and money, he had more than she could ever get together if her life depended on it.

The other fact that scared her was how composed he looked. Sure his tattood chest was a sign of some emotion, Charlotte doubted it was the sort of emotion that would help her in any way. She swallowed hard and gently tugged at her bonds, involuntary. It was her body, probably trying to find some mercy in her captor while her brain knew very well she wasn't going to get any.

Unbeknownst to Charlotte, the mirror in front of her was see through from the other side and behind it was a camera, recording everything that she said or did in high definition.

"I.. yes... I.. I know what's going to happen."

For the first time since her capture, the blonde detective stumbled over her words and showed a different emotion than defiance. She was visibly afraid as her breathing had increased ten fold, her small bosom rising and falling quicker and quicker. Her eyes shot and rolled through their sockets, desperate to find something she could use, for anything at all and her long, slender fingers stretched and curled involuntarily in random patterns, a sign of just how scared she really was.

"Please... I..."

She shut up immediately, knowing there would come no mercy. What little willpower she had left in this moment would still control what little dignity she had left. There was no point begging, so she wouldn't.
 
There was a little tremble in his jaw when she finally fell apart. To think her pussy and ass had meant so little to her, that she could still be a bitch to him afterward, but when he so much as threatened to do something to her hair, she was basically pissing herself. It was making him hard in his pants, and while the fabric was black and his angle toward the cameras concealed by the reflective surface was unfavorable to record dimensions, it'd still show on the clip. He tugged a little more, side to side, which had her shaking her head, which in turned sawed the hairline. He held the knife lose enough that it wouldn't draw blood, but the first baby hairs started falling down.

"Oh, this is your breaking point?" he said, disappointed. "You gonna give up your police pussy and ass, but you're going to CRY when I make you less pretty?" he asked. "Maybe I should save it then, if you're a really good girl." he offered in her ear, seductive. The softest he'd ever been to her. He wouldn't, but he needed to make it believable. She'd never buy him suddenly wanting to be nice to her, that he cared, but she might, in her desperation, be convinced she could postpone this if that gave him control over her. "How does that sound? You be my grateful little whore, suck my cock like its candy, and I'll let you be pretty for just a little longer? Maybe you'll fetch a better price."

If she gave any indication for the memory cards in the cameras to immortalize, he'd pander to her. And then he'd tug the tail he'd gathered of her blonde hair that somehow still smelled good, taut. "You're stupid for a detective."

The blade was sharp. He made sure of it. He'd even told the weaponer what he wanted it for. Not like it was an unusual request. They had a fucking ovary hook in their toy bin. He drew the knife back over her scalp, over the top of it. It wouldn't even be that painful considering what he'd already put her through, but she would be there for all of it. Ever millisecond of her strands being severed sloppily from her head, visible in the mirror. A devastating place, too, not like the sides where she could fix it later, make another hairdo. And the length was obliterated to inch long, awkward stumps in the wake of the sharp edge.

Soon his hand detached from her when the last of the still holding hairs were cut and the outward force had nothing to combat it. He dangled the bouquet of hair at her, that golden spill, caught between his fingers, and the unmowed weedlike leftovers in a path over the top of her head, hair still long on the sides. To add to the insult of her being naked and tied up. He grinned at her in the mirror. "Now, isn't that better, detective downing?"
 
She felt the blade go through her hair and with it, her soul. Charly whimpered softly, tugging aimlessly at her bonds without any real effort to get loose. Sitting still wasn't an option but thrashing and fighting wasn't either. Her heart beat so fast and her eyes were big in shock as he held the hair, severed from her head in front of her. The reflection in the mirror was bad but not nearly as bad as the real deal.

Charlotte, still in shock and disbelief at what was happening tried to find proof that what she was seeing in the mirror was actually real. She tried to raise her right hand to feel her hair and head but the bonds stopped her from doing that. Her left hand gave the same effect and she began to fight her bonds a bit, still whimpering and mumbling words in disbelief.

Her captor was right. She cared little about her nudity, that was something she had come to peace with in the few days she had been his prisoner. She also knew that some of the girls he had taken were a lot prettier than she was so her nudity probably meant little to him either. But he had found something that would crush her spirit and hope if she wasn't very careful. Charlotte knew her nudity meant nothing to him but breaking her would. So despite the panic and the fear, she quickly regained her composure, took a few deep breaths and looked at him in the mirror.

"Go ahead. See how much money I'll fetch now."

She nearly scoffed him, not actually believing anything he said. He was bluffing about shaving her and selling her and although she had little bargaining chips, she was hell bent on calling his bluff.
 
She was coming undone inside her shell. She respected the sharp object, and in doing so, made it easier for him to free her from most of the length of her beautiful hair. He could see her heart break in her eyes. She had put a lot of herself in these strands, and he was sure it signified a lot of her individuality. Her humanity, even. He thought it was very telling when her reflexes had her tugging at the bonds. But if she had that option, then this couldn't have happened. She had guarded her hair with much more sentiment than her ass and pussy. How shameful. He supposed everyone had their priorities.

But she returned to form soon. It was harder for her though. She had been more of a bitch before. He looked her over, having the privilege of not having to do so through a reflective surface. There was a real confidence there, that her little talk-back would work. He breathed through his nose, amused at her naivety. She had to believe that. She had nothing else. He treated himself to an eyeful of her naked body, and her tits, asymmetric now because of the damage to one. He let her wonder if her little bolstering had worked.

"Alright." he said and let his free hand descend on her head. This time he pulled the hair still left on her right side. "You're nothing. You're going to see that soon." he promised calmly and pulled hard to make her hair straight. And then he cut as close to her scalp as he could. The sound it made was raw. And then he tossed the hair over his shoulder. Without even waiting, he started on the other side. Did the same there. Pulled hard, and cut it off. Now only a ratty tail of long hair was left in the back. And the uneven, short stuff littering her head.

He stood behind her and slapped her over the skull, looking at her in the mirror. "I can get money for you, even if I cut you up in pieces and let them use each part as a fleshlight." he said and pulled the tail in the back, which bent her head back too, and lifted her chin to look up at him. He spit in her face before he chipped off the last bit. "I'm going to take everything from you, Charlie." he assured her and threw the hair in her face.
 
The hair he held in his hand and draped over her shoulder, no longer attached to her head was one thing. One big thing for Charlotte as she looked in the mirror seeing her hair reduced to some finger length ragged strands. It took all of her to not break down, cry and scream and exhaust herself.

His words though, they hit her soul directly. She knew he was cruel, she had already experienced that but those words, that he would take everything from her, she believed them. Although she had no idea what he would take from her, she was already naked and now ruined, she knew she was going to suffer at his hands and that her ordeal was far from over.

She gasped, took a few deep breaths to gain control over her emotions again but her visible trembling betrayed her real emotions when she spat more words at him.

"You talk a lot for such a big mouth. Am I supposed to be scared? I'm a cop remember? People threaten me all the time."

While this was true, this situation was different and Charlotte was absolutely terrified.
 
He saw the momentary agony that rippled through her facial features when she caught a flash of herself in the mirror. He was in there too, to smirk at her, and weigh the residual strands in his curved palm, to mock her further. It was just a matter of time now. She was bound and naked, and she'd been fucked plenty. Soon she'd have no other choice other than to face the hard truth of it all, as he peeled off whatever layers she'd been protecting herself with.

He groaned with pleasure when his words got to set root, finally. That's what he'd been aiming for from the start. With whores in the import houses, even when they graduated to brothel workers, it was words you had to control them with. Violence was just a prelude. You couldn't beat a girl black and blue every time you needed her to suck a dick. She needed to have it beaten into her skull already. Something like that was setting in, in Charlotte's brain. He loved the feeling of a girl's gradual transformation. He'd always meant for Charlie to have this.

He cackled quickly when she bit back. "Oh, I forgot. Supercop here." he said and wrapped his arm around her head from behind. Her chin was the the groove of the bend of his arm, to keep her exactly still as he continued to drag the blade over her scalp. The ratty hair became shorter, and the roots that were a little darker than the rest became more prominent on her increasingly bare scalp. He blew to get the straggles away.

"Are you really a cop, though, still?" he asked as though he was sorting out the logic himself. She'd feel his voice and breath differently on her head, even, since there was no blonde curtains there to protect her, anymore. His breath became condensation on her skin. "Just look at you." he nodded at the image where he held her in place, and her tresses were a memory, and only the shadow of her formerly pampered doo was left. He looked into her eyes in the mirror as he lowered his own head and touched his tongue to her scalp. "You look more like the criminals you're supposed to book."
 
She looked at herself through the mirror but at the same time she didn't. The person in the mirror wasn't her. Charlotte still couldn't believe it. What little strands of her blonde hair had been left a few minutes ago where now gone as well. A bald naked woman, no hair anymore but eyebrows on her body. She still hadn't felt it and although she knew it had to be real, deep down inside, she still clung to the idea that it was all some sort of trick to break her.

The strong cop was indeed gone though, Kenda was absolutely right there. The rape hadn't broken her but the fact that her situation was bleak, at best, and the fact that her captor showed absolutely no sympathy or emotion had rattled Charlotte to her bones. There was no escape, there was no reprise, there was nothing but whatever he wanted for her. And she knew that it wouldn't be anything good.

The terror of what lay ahead had broken the cop and what was left now, was a naked, bald, fragile and scared young woman who could do absolutely nothing but shiver and resist for as long as she could muster, not to give him the pleasure of seeing her broken yet.

"You've not seen many booked criminals then. They look nothing like this."
 
He saw her pretty, watered-down eyes when they read the situation. Like someone uneducated looking at facts that were much higher than their learning could guide them through. Even though it was plain, even though she'd made her living out of situations like this. Only she'd been on another side of it, pursuing and stopping, though doing both entirely unsuccessfully, in the grand scheme of things. It was as clear as it could be in the mirror, but her eyes did not manage to hold on to the truth.

He was hard, inside his tailoring, just seeing her trying to make sense of it, to find another truth than the one staring back at her. She did not fixate on his image in there, but if she had, there'd be a fully clothed man taking in the view of his toy. She might be avoiding his expression exactly because of that. He licked his teeth and savored the small fear he saw in her, that she was trying to keep from becoming something that swallowed her. Oh, she'd felt this. She'd felt this more than his cock in her ass. A princess without her locks.

He chuckled and shook his head when she persisted with talking back. It was more out of amazement at her stupidity than her resilience. She did look ragged, at the end of it. "Oh? How do they look then, Cop?" he asked her, to see if her train of thought was actually one that could take her out of this situation, if it was a vehicle she should have hope on, to begin with. The knife rested with its broad side ontop of her head. "Do they look like this?" he had his face close to hers and his other hand went around her, so that hand could grab her jaw and then slide a thumb and a finger on either side, lifting her cheeks so that her lips would smile at her, in the mirror.

He took the knife from her head and shaved the edge down her throat, as though he was freeing her from a beard, and then her collarbone, over a tit, and down her stomach, until he could nestle the bottom of the handle between her legs. He started pushing it inside, which was made easier by how her legs were spread, either one tied to a leg of the chair. "I am going to fuck you for fun. But that's only going to be the start of it, Charlotte. I think you know it too. This is going to be the rest of your life." he said like a dark fate, in her ear.
 
She shivered again, the helplessness really starting to set in and gripping her with more fear every second. He would fuck her. Of course he would but Charlotte doubted she'd be lucky enough if that was all he would do. Her mind raced, thinking about what else he could do. Letting other people fuck her as well, using her as a fuck toy, a sex slave. That still was mild and given her situation, not too bad. Even gangbangs, in her current situation, didn't sound too bad for Charlotte as the other options were just too terrifying to even think of.

And when she did think about them, for however brief, the thought of torture immediately gripped her with fear.

She looked at him through the mirror, his head close to hers and as he said, she was coming to terms with the fact that this was her new life. For however long it would last. And for the first time in her life, Charlotte was praying for it to end quickly as again, the alternative was too horrific to come to terms with.
 
He saw it in her. She'd been pretty good at avoiding the truth up until now. She didn't have to say anything. He knew that expression well. The leaving of her security, the vacancy of her bravery and denial. For little bursts her eyebrows wilted and shot up in desperation, panic staining her white skin and dropping its young elasticity to something ragged, if just in attitude. He stared at those blue eyes, underneath the recently ruined hairdo. She had bet so much on getting to stay beautiful, like that was her shield. Now she was just this vulgar head, stripped of individuality. Just a head. Just something that was there for whatever he was going to use it for. Not a person. Just a wet mouth. It's what she needed to drink up the dire of her situation.

She didn't have an answer for him, not in words, anyway. But she understood, and he took it as a reward for the personal attention he'd been given her.

"Thereeeeee'sss that look." he breathed with reptilian delight in her ear. His breath was hot. It was intrusive and it didn't wait for her to be ready for it. While that puffing, wet heat can be gentle, it instead signified their relationship, in that it billowed into the shell of her ear as it wanted, with no regard to whether or not she invited it, or was ready for it.

"You understand now, don't you?" he asked as he stood straight and spun the knife around the axis of its handle once. She'd see a careless aptitude toward the weapon in his deft fingers. And then he bowed down quick, lips touching her ear again. "DON'T YOU?!" he shouted and if she looked at him in the mirror the skin around his mouth and on his nose wrinkled in a most animal, furious way, around the words, as his spittle crashed and hung on to that side of her face. While the ferocity of his wrath contradicted the promising threat of his calmer demeanor, the two extremes complimented each other in painting him as an absolute maniac. A maniac with all the control over her life. And her body. As proven by the hair on the floor.

He touched the tip of the knife to the scabbed-up nipple he'd played with on their first night. "Now, if I free you, are you going to be a good whore, and take cock to prove you can be trusted, or will I have to take something else from you? I mean, you don't need both your breasts and all your fingers where you're going. But I figure you might be sentimental." he laughed and dug the zenith of the cutting metal in under a flake of coagulated blood around her nipple, and locked his thumb over it, pulling it off like a scale off a fish to leave a fresh little wound open.
 
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