Bound in Brazil (Trixie & Morell)

[Trixie]

Jeanne groaned, feeling the current of pain spread down from the very crown of her head to the very tips of her toes. With it came a host of other fun little problems, such as nausea, dizziness, and a wave of panic mere moments later. She wasn't sure why she was feeling like this, but vaguely, she could recall just what had happened previously...

She had come to Brazil on the prompting of one of her professors; never much of an outdoorsy person, she was instead an English major on her break following the fifth year of her masters degree program. Her teacher had convinced her that she would love it down there, as that was where he had spent much of his time after his own stay in college, and he often waxed poetic on just how lovely the city of Rio de Janeiro was.

She'd finally broke down and had invited her family down to Brazil with her. They'd gone walking through the city, when they had been approached by a rather handsome, albeit on the older side, uniformed man who had introduced himself as the chief of police of the Rio police department. She couldn't remember just what he had brought them into the station with, but she was starting to gather that it couldn't have been anything pleasant.

She sat up, feeling her arms whine in protest, tied up at the wrists with a rough piece of twine. She was wearing a white and yellow floral print sundress, that bore her pale shoulders and much of the pale expanse of her chest; a good bit more revealing than what she normally wore, and more on the advice of her mother ("you should be more open! How do you expect to meet a nice man in your frumpy sweaters").

She vaguely recalled drinking a glass of water at the station that had tasted a mite funny, buyt beyond that... she had no idea where she was, why she was there, or just... just what all of this was.

-----

Figure Ref

 

[Morell]

Gabriel

Gabriel Felix had worked hard to achieve all he had. Becoming the Chief of Police in Brazil's corrupt government was almost as lucrative as the crime lords of the jungle. He was given carte blanche to do as he pleased so long as order was maintained in the city. Crime had fallen at an impossible rate since he took office. Though, how much of that was due to clerical errors and solid friendships with drug cartels was undetermined.

The square jawed, confident soldier took what he wanted, no questions asked. And when he saw that curvy American in the market a few days earlier, he knew he had to have her.

The room she was in was a stripped down backroom in a large housing complex deep within the Favela. All it contained was a ratty old mattress and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A window to small to fit through revealed rolling hills of these dwellings, seemingly built atop one another--each a different color from the last.The sun was just going down and one by one tiny lanterns dotted the confusing pathways of the slums.

Gabriel pushed the door open. He was dressed in his typical black tactical pants and black t-shirt. On his hip, his sidearm and badge. He looked down at the young American, figuring he was easily 10 years her senior. His muscled arms folded onto each other as the door swung shut behind him, making the light dance on his face as the bulb danced back and forth.

He reached down and grabbed the girl's purse, dumping its contents. He found her passport and studied it for a few seconds.

"Jeanne..." He mused. "Pretty name for a pretty girl. Such a pretty girl for a criminal." He let his first words to her fall on her ears, for her to take at her leisure as he stood back up, looking down on her.

 

[Trixie]

Jeanne gazed around blearily for more than one reason. Initially, it had to do with whatever it was that had knocked her out... additionally, she realized she was missing her glasses. She saw the silver frames sitting on the ground nearby to her, presumably having slipped off while she'd been passed out. But there was no way she was going to be able to get them onto her face just then. She turned the other way just as she heard the door opening, squinting up at the heavy door as she heard footsteps enter the room.

As she heard what had to be her purse upending over the ground, she made a whining noise in the back of her throat. "S-stop," she murmured, trying to get her tongue back under control. Muscle response was coming back to her, though she ended up falling onto her side on the mattress as she sought to get up. Turned out that drugged legs weren't easy to walk on.

She did recognize the voice, though. That of the handsome chief she'd met earlier that day. The thought brought a sick feeling to her stomach. "I'm... not a criminal," she said, feeling her heart racing in her chest. Meanwhile, she was trying to push herself to the far corner of the bed, compacting herself into a ball. She wished for a lot of things just then; to be with her family, to be out of here... heck, just to be able to see just then would be nice.

 

[Morell]

Gabriel set her ID in between two fingers as he listened to her. "Not a criminal?" He said, with no expression.

His eyes lit up and a mocking smile curved across his lips. "Not a criminal!" He started laughing. "Not a criminal! Let me guess, you're innocent, hmm? And that pound of cocaine your maid found in your hotel room? I suppose you were just holding that for a friend?"

His mouth turned back into a serious line immediately. His hand flicked out, shooting her ID at her like a bullet as it bounced on the floor with a subtle TICK-tick-tack. He pulled his baretta from it's holster on his belt and stepped over her, kneeling down on his ankles. He scratched his head with the barrel, letting it slide down his face and scratch into his beard stubble.

"Do you have any idea what we do with drug trafficers here?" He held the barrel under her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. "Hmm?"

Again, his smile returned, but to say it was a light-hearted smile would be a stretch. "Usually, we execute them, by firing squad. But you don't want that, do you? I'm sure we can find a more..." the barrel moved through a strand of her hair hanging off her face. "... suitable punishment, no?"

Suddenly, he stood up and picked her up by her arm. "On your feet... American." He said that last word with a mouth full of disgust. Holstering his weapon, he pulled out his knife and quickly started tearing through her dress carelessly like he was opening a stack of letters.

 

[Trixie]

"B-but I d-don't do drugs," she whimpered after a long moment where she was left agape at the idea. She was a clean, introverted girl that didn't go out much. She never had even gone to a party where there had been drugs. She watched as the blurry plastic card of her ID was tossed onto the ground. She tore at the twine around her wrists the best she could trying to get up... stilling immediately when the barrel was pressed under her chin.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered after a long, wordless moment of fear, as the barrel brushed her wispy hair aside from her face. "... c-can I please have my glasses back," she said after a moment. She just wanted to try and explain her so that they could figure this out. So that he could understand that she wasn't a criminal.

Her arms whined in protest as she was pulled up to her feet roughly, her legs a bit stronger than they had been a moment ago as her body woke more and more. She screamed outright when the blade cut through the floral sundress, the white and yellow scraps falling to the ground as her body was bared. She had pristine white panties and bra, holding up her sizable, plump breasts, but those two would be cut away in time by those rough, careless slashes, baring her pale skin, hardening rosy nipples, and her clean, shaven womanhood. She was terrified, and her trembling thighs told the tale as she tried to jerk herself away from him, her watery eyes full of tears.