🔞 🔞 IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DNI 🔞 🔞 Fish's NSFW Whump Blog (general blog @whumpfish) Features: Graphic Whump, Extreme Cinema, Giallo, Explicit Art/Photography Asks Open for requests, just be aware I don't do pet whump. I respect it but I can't get my head around it enough to make good content for it.
I'm sure that's true, but something tells me googling "nun tied up by other nuns" "hot wax" "confessing sins" will likely get what you might call rather un-academic results
I've been thinking about this and I think that a huge part of the reason that so many exploitation films are ahead of their time in their messaging, are feminist or class-conscious in a way that "respectable" films wouldn't be for a hot minute, is that they were exploitation films.
Nobody who would have shut it down was looking.
Obviously Scorpion, obviously, but also Stray Cat Rock: Sex Hunter. Both highly feminist and class conscious, and Matsu and Yuki openly have that genuine, caring and tender relationship in the first Scorpion film that conventional film had to hide behind the "gal pal" motif in Fried Green Tomatoes. In Jailhouse 41, the narrative chorus's line "women go to prison because of [things done to them by] men" fucking slaps, and the unflinching look at human trafficking in Beast Stable and how few options women in those situations actually had is not something that gets a lot of that kind of frank attention, and def not from the perspective of women trying to survive and utilize those sparse options, or the solidarity of Sasori's vengeance.
Nobody who would have said "Matsu is too brutal as Sasori, make her vengeance more womanly" or "she should go easier on those poor men" or "hear me out: what if she forgave him and just fucked off to live her life" or "we can't have an openly sapphic romance" was looking, and the writers/filmmakers got to tell those stories without the stifling oversight that would hold conventional film back for a couple decades yet.
If Gator Bait had been released in the conventional market, Desiree's final decision would have been made out of feminine mercy, out of good sparing evil because it's good, going high when the opposition goes low. But because it's made for the exploitation market, she gets to stare him down and say "Hurts more for you if I don't." She gets to be intelligent enough to make that assessment and have enough agency to follow through.
Nobody who over-prioritized flawless good and delicate femininity was looking. Nobody who would have said "do we need to go as far as implying that she exists because he raped her mother? he's already the bad guy" was looking. Nobody over-invested in man being good at his core was looking.
If The House at the Edge of the Park had been released in the conventional space... it would've just been The Last House on the Left. No class commentary. No depth for the villain. No effort into the villain at all beyond what the incredibly talented actor brought to the table.
And I'm going to be brutally real with y'all: the slut-shaming and creepin' at the beginning of The Last House on the Left really threw me. That's actually not normal for rape/revenge / woman's revenge films, for protagonist characters to engage in that. The first thing we see is the fucking mailman who is old enough to be Mari's dad basically calling her, 16, a fine piece of ass. Then her parents are like "something bad might happen if you go out without a bra" and then lo and behold. Even though the girls meet the gang because they're trying to score weed, not how they're dressed.
I'm going to invoke Gator Bait. Men make sexual comments about Desiree in the beginning, but they aren't ever characters we're meant to see as positive or even really neutral. It's to emphasize how unsafe "civilization" is for Desiree, not to suggest she is in any way responsible for what happens to her or anyone in her family, even as a means of foreshadowing. Which I realize is what Craven thought he was doing in the beginning of The Last House on the Left. Bad men making creepy comments foreshadowing bad men acting on said creepery: good, makes sense. Neutral and good characters making creepy/blamey comments foreshadowing bad characters being bad: nonsense, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?
Anyway, it's interesting what freedom exists when conventional film assumes you're too degenerate to be worth paying attention to.
The ladies' men casanova types in fiction aren't realistic. Not for getting laid so much but for how they approach it. There's a type of dude who'll fuck absurd numbers of ladies but the real way they do it is by checking every single person who seems like they might go by she/her, to see if she'd like a piece of that. The way a pelican tests whether something can fit into its mouth, as the sole standard of what counts as edible.
No shade to these guys, though. The incels who think they've got to be some demigod 2.5m Chad Thundercock to get laid have nothing on the dudes whose only standards are "female enough" and "consents". Leave him alone in a room with your grandma for 13 minutes and he's almost convinced her to let him show her what kind of shit he can do with that tongue piercing.
SA and religious themes, the best combo of tropes ever
- praying during the assault (my fav trope) either because whumper tells them to or because theyre still trying to cling onto something for comfort
- whumper mocking them for it, laughing in their ear about how no god is going to save them, how their body will remain tainted forever
- praying after the assault, quietly, in secret, while trying to hold in their sobs, using the remains of their strength just to utter the words
- forced to do stuff in a sacred place/surrounded by religious symbols which makes whumpee forever associate them with that
- after they get away, they are unable to pray again without being reminded of the assault
- whumper being a religious figure who convinced them its okay because its them doing it/the gods allow it, but that doesn't stop whumpee from feeling disgusted and ashamed
- whumpee who becomes even more devoted to their faith afterwards, but its not the same anymore, they cant pray like they used to
(Theres so much more i cant remember rn but I definitely will add onto it if I do)
The second explicit installment in my current BTHB series, continued from here
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
The Reaper continues his long-awaited revenge, unbothered by both of his victims' struggles
Warnings/Tags: Noncon: PIV, object insertion, forced participation (explicit), references to past grooming/dubcon, assaulted at gunpoint, used as bait, captive whumpee, restrained, tied, handcuffed, hair pulled, forced to watch, slapped, manhandled, spoilers for Kiriko's backstory
"Enjoying your break?" the Reaper murmured, tugging at her ear with his teeth.
She made a small noise of derision. As if he hadn't finished with that theatrical groan moments earlier.
He rocked his hips back, then forward, and she grunted softly as he pressed deep into her again. "Feel that…?" he purred as she glared up at him.
She didn't answer. He probably wanted praise, or something he could twist into praise. She didn't intend to oblige him.
"Notice anything different…?"
She blinked. Different? What the hell?
"No? Nothing dripping from this hole I'm buried in… but shouldn't there be?"
He grinned slowly as she realized, dropping down to hiss in her ear.
"I'm not done."
He started again. His mouth closed on her neck below the ear, teeth against her skin as he hammered into her with renewed force. She tried to gulp back the sounds of pain rising from her throat. Keep him busy. If she could just keep him busy. Maybe then Shimura could get the keys, and…
And she was just making excuses for the shame and the throbbing soreness that grew deeper with every new thrust.
He hilted in her again, panting. "You're so tight—still so tight—" He placed a hand on her chest. "I can feel how I'm stretching you in these pained little gasps you take under me—oh, you must be in agony! You're almost hurting me, you're such a tight squeeze. If I don't pause here—"
He removed the hand on her mouth and kissed her roughly, leveraging her jaw open with his, pushing his tongue past her teeth and along hers until she gagged. She bit him, and he struck her face again, so hard that she let go before she'd drawn blood.
Rearing back out of range, he studied her, hand still on her chest, feeling her try unsuccessfully to make herself take deeper breaths.
"Don't wish for it to be over too soon," he said. "You never know… when I'm done with you, I might just shoot him. Or pour gasoline on him and strike a match. That was a fun one."
The noise that left her then was one of impotent fury as much as pain.
He just laughed, and started to move inside her again, one hand on her chest and one on her neck, staring raptly at every twitch of pain that crossed her face with a deranged, obsessive spark in his eyes and wild grin.
"That's right—you were Daddy's special girl, weren't you? The favorite. His #2. So devoted, despite all your reservations… the reluctant princess…" He cupped her cheek in one hand, thrusting into her in leisurely strokes, focused now on the effect of his words. "I wish I could have seen your face that day… seeing all my handiwork… I know you know the fire wasn't all of it. Just the finale… I had him for weeks. Working slow… 'Too far'? He had no idea how far I can go…"
She wanted to tell him to shut up. She wanted to scream it at him. Shut up shut up shut UP!! But that would mean admitting he was getting to her. Her fists clenched under her until they shook.
"If I'd known about you," he continued, "Known what he was to you… known what you were to him… I would have dragged you into the mountains to join him… Thrown you at his feet… Raped you there, every day, every hour, just like this… Slashed you every time I came in you… Maybe then he would've given up his secrets. But he didn't even give up your existence." He leaned in closer. "Still. His face, when I told him your brother sent me… priceless."
She felt the heat of a deep, angry flush creep over her face. He leaned in, forehead almost touching hers, staring intently into her eyes.
"Do you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?" she managed through clenched teeth.
He sat up, and the hand on her cheek slid to the base of her neck, pushing her into the floor as his pace and force increased again. The hand on her chest slid down with the change of angle, resting on her cracked rib. Her back arched, head tipping back, and she let out a high keen, looking up so he couldn't make eye contact.
The Reaper turned back to Shimura. "Oh, if you could see her eyes roll back—Can you hear her? She's trying so hard to keep it down." He traced her collarbone with his thumb. "And you—Daddy's girl—reluctant princess—" He pressed deliberately down on her cracked rib, and she thrashed under him, trying to shift the position of his hand. "Did you know—you tighten beautifully when I do this—?" He pushed harder, and she tried again to buck his hand off. "Like a pleasure switch—so glad I'm learning your body—we'll have so much more fun this way."
Her chest was on fire. The pressure was like a knife digging into her. Her lungs wouldn't fill, and they couldn't empty, either. Her throat felt like it was being filled with molten metal. Black spots started to pulse at the edges of her vision.
"Please," she gasped. "I c—I can't breathe—hnnn—I c—"
"Sure you can," he replied in what, coming from anyone else, would have been a soothing voice. The pressure became a caress, but it wasn't much of an improvement. "Sure you can. This is a good thing. This intensity—it's good. You're just new to it. If you would focus—you could enjoy it. But we have time. And I don't want to come in you just yet." Cupping her face in one hand, he stroked her cheek with a thumb. "I can be merciful when it suits me."
His hand drifted up to the base of her neck on that side, caressing her collarbone with his thumbs. Holding her immobile, he returned to a pattern of slow, deep thrusts.
"Go on… Catch your breath… That's it…"
He held her still a long moment, hips flexed against hers, then relaxed and pulled out, climbing off of her.
It was almost harder to hold back evidence of relief than it was evidence of pain. It was finally over. She lay on her back, arms underneath her, soda tabs and bits of flooring and bottlecaps dug into her arms and shoulders, trying to catch her breath, then slowly rolled onto her knees. She edged away from him, out of the "spotlight" from the windows, trying to put distance between them, trying to move just a little closer to Shimura, to the implicit comfort of his presence.
Then the Reaper's hands seized her hips, dragging her backward, and he thrust into her again. She swallowed a cry and tried to squirm away, a dry sob rising to a lump in her throat, not able to escape.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said. "Did I say I was finished with you? No—I don't want our audience to get bored. That's all."
He gripped her throat with one hand, pulling her back and holding her against him.
"When I said every way, princess," he murmured in her ear. "I meant every way."
His hand slid up to grasp her lower jaw, turning her face toward Shimura. He was trying to crawl faster now, reaching further ahead to try to drag himself toward the discarded keys by more than two centimeters at a time. The gap between them still might as well have been a canyon. Might has well have been a ravine at the edge of a park on a snowy night, with him racing forward, only to hit the railing, too far away to stop the Reaper from slashing his partner's throat. Blood dripped from his hand where the cuffs bit into his wrist.
"Why don't you give him some futile encouragement?" the Reaper teased. "His partner died screaming his name…It wouldn't feel right, finishing you off before you do the same." He reached around her with his other hand, toying with her clitoris as he began thrusting again. "Of course, you're also free to scream mine. Might be more effective."
"Shut up," she grated.
"No shame in it," he said, drawing slow, insistent circles around it. "I'd say it runs in the family."
His speed and pressure increased, batting at it occasionally. Gooseflesh raced down her thighs from her core, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her breathing regulated. He made a noise between a moan and a growl in her ear, sliding his other hand slowly down to caress her chest, cupping and releasing her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumb, keeping them painfully taut. Heat blossomed between her legs in defiance of how sore she was. Her lower abdominal muscles tightened slightly. She bit down harder, and tasted blood.
The pressure and friction against her clitoris turned to light, deliberate tugs, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt a slickness amid his thrusts, and she hated it.
"That's right," he moaned into her ear. "Let him see you start to enjoy it."
"I'm not!"
"Then what's this I feel, easing my way? Hm?"
The tugging became more insistent. She was suffocating trying to swallow back sound. His other hand slid down her inner thigh.
"What's this twitching? Why are you struggling to breathe normally? There's only one explanation: Pleasure."
She shook her head. "That's—not—" She couldn't finish.
"Not what? Not happening? But it is." He nuzzled into her neck. "I killed your family. I tortured your father for weeks, then set him on fire. I seduced your brother, then shot him in front of you when he strayed too far from my side. You should be steeled against any advance of mine. Resistance should be automatic. Why would your body welcome me like this, if some deep… deep… part of you didn't like it? Didn't want more?"
She shook her head desperately, afraid to try to shut him down out loud, afraid of what her voice would sound like. Tiny noises had already started to rise in her throat. It was all she could do to keep them down. Her stomach churned, and if she hadn't emptied it in the utility room, she would have been sick as he described what he'd done, mocking the collapse of her body's defenses.
"See? You can't even protest. Just give in. Let him watch you come apart. Let him watch these slender little hips buck as you climax with me inside you. Let him hear you scream."
She shook her head harder as sounds of frustration and dread bubbled up from her throat. She couldn't help any of this! A healthy body responds to stimulation! The Reaper's taunts shouldn't be affecting her… but some irrational part of her was terrified that Shimura might believe him.
Half of the vile prediction came true. Her hips did buck, violently, again and again as his relentless attentions kept her from coming down. But she refused to scream. She refused to let out any noise loud enough for Shimura to hear. It was bad enough that she could see his desperation and fear and guilt, scrambling to try to get to her, she refused to twist the knife further. If she couldn't fight it down completely, she could at least keep it from reaching him.
"She's a good lay, I'll give her that," the Reaper called to Shimura, winding his arms around her as he let himself slip out of her for the moment. "I didn't think I could make her come so hard. Still just full of surprises, isn't she? Makes the cutest little mewling cries when it gets too intense for her. If you ever make it over here, I'll be sure to be extra rough with her so you can hear them."
The devastation and self-recrimination on Shimura's face gave way to anger. His fingers dug into the ground as he tried again to drag himself forward, pushing from his unbound knee as he pulled. Thrashing in frustration when he only gained a few centimeters' ground. "I'll kill you!"
The Reaper laughed. "Before or after you lay an egg?" One hand drifted down to feel the slick between her legs, and he moaned softly in her ear as he fondled her. "Mh… now that we're mutually aroused…" He dipped his fingers into her with a few rapid, shallow pulses to make her squirm, then brought them up to her mouth, working them past her lips at the corner so she couldn't bite him. After a pause, he pulled them out again. "Blood? Silly girl, did you bite your cheek trying hold back your screams of ecstasy? Oh, well. This should fix that."
He forced them back into her mouth, then reached down between her legs and guided himself in with a groan and a slow flex of his hips.
"Oh, yes. Much easier. You'll like this even more now."
"I don't like it at all!" she burst out, muffled by his fingers. "Get off me!"
The pretense of enjoyment made her furious, and her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. She tried to bite his fingers, but he pulled her cheek back, keeping them out of range. She tried to squirm forward on her knees, but he matched her movement.
"Enough arguing," he said, thrusting the fingers of his free hand into her mouth, pulling the other cheek back, making clear speech impossible. "Everyone can see that your body's eager for this… begging for more." He began thrusting in earnest. "See how easy you're making it! Even when you squirm!"
He pulled back hard on her mouth, almost bending her backward. He put a knee between hers, forcing them wide apart so that she sank onto him with little room for resistance. With an eager growl, he leaned forward, riding her easily with frenzied thrusts and increasingly wet impacts as her knees slipped wider apart.
"Listen to that! Do you hear how much you're loving this?"
She growled through his fingers, trying to shake her head. He placed his thumbs along her jawline and squeezed.
"Enough!" Shimura roared, hurling himself forward another few centimeters.
"Maybe a little too easy, now," the Reaper hissed in her ear. "Let's tighten you up."
He took one hand out of her mouth, and caressed her cracked rib. She whined and tried to twist away, and he pulled back harder on her mouth and grabbed her side, squeezing in pulses as his thrusts got faster and rougher, and her knees continued to slide apart.
"There you go," he breathed, leaning forward, putting greater pressure on her knees. "Perfect—keep tensing up—no, don't try to sit up—this angle is—" He leaned forward and squeezed her side hard. Her back arched and she let out a ragged cry of pain. "That's right, scream! Oh, but don't collapse yet—we're not finished, don't go limp now—keep tensing—more—I said more!"
He struck her side sharply with the heel of his hand as if applying a spur, and she doubled over, sobbing silently, head bowed, as his pace and force reached a brutal climax, digging his fingers into her side and biting down hard on her shoulder. He slammed into her with a grunt and stopped. His hand slipped out of her mouth and slid down her neck, squeezing her throat as he ground his hips against her.
"That was amazing!" he announced, out of breath, flexing his hips against hers in shallow thrusts. "You know, I think I felt her come before I did… she's still twitching around me. Oh, I wish I'd done this sooner! Maybe in the stadium, before you got there… under a security camera, as a souvenir for you…"
He let go of her throat and sat up, then pushed her off of him. She slumped forward, knees apart in a near split, jeans tangled around her ankles, head down, forehead pressed to the ground, gasping for breath. She didn't move or make a sound, lying prone in total stillness as her breathing gradually grew less labored. He gave her a "playful" spank, and she flinched.
"Come on, that was at least worth a 'thank you'… or did I literally fuck you senseless?"
He waited, but she didn't move or speak.
"Kiriko…?" Shimura's voice was worried, almost fearful. She was so far away from him. He couldn't tell at this distance how or how badly she'd been hurt.
She nodded faintly, not looking up, not trusting herself. She was alive and she could hear him. That was about all she felt comfortable communicating. Part of her wanted to correct the bastard, tell him those twitches were pain—you smacked a broken bone, you insufferable DICK—but it was as if her mouth had forgotten how to form words. It felt stupid arguing about the issue of her supposed climax anyway, with the evidence of his leaking from her. Did anything matter, now that he'd done that?
The Reaper grabbed her knee, and she whimpered, trying to curl up, violently shaking her head no more, not again—but he just turned her onto her back.
He sighed. "In a perfect world, I'd have the Showmen of the Dark here to take over for me. That's how I imagined it, back in the pen. By the time the last man finished with you, I'd be ready to start again. As it stands, we'll just have to wait a few minutes… I don't have any pressing appointments, do you?"
She rolled onto her side to face the far wall, not looking at either of them. Slowly, she curled up into a ball, lip curling in disgust the whole time because any movement, no matter the direction, contributed to the oozing between her legs. She wanted it gone. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint clink of the chain around Shimura's waist, imagining herself lying in a torrential rainstorm, water hitting her in sheets, washing it all off. Imagining the storm surge washing over her, filling her ears, rushing into her mouth, into her stomach and lungs, flushing every orifice until she felt clean again, current tugging at her hair as it rose higher and higher until the "spotlight" she lay under no longer reached that far down. Not drowning, just lying at the bottom, submerged and safe until he and Shimabukuro could pull her to the surface, wrap her in her fluffy Turkish spa towels, and take her home. It would be too hard on him if she drowned. She couldn't wish for that even if she wanted to.
She snorted softly. What a stupid fantasy.
She heard fabric tearing behind her, felt her hands being jostled. He was ripping up her shirt now. She didn't react. There were worse things he could be doing with his boredom. If his attention was on destroying her clothes, he wasn't hurting Shimura, at least not more than he already had.
He pulled her jeans all the way off, and she panicked, kicking wildly at him, heart hammering. He tossed them well out of the "spotlight," then caught one of her ankles, twisting hard until she yelped. He tied something around her ankle, knotting it viciously—her shirt. He'd been fashioning more restraints. He dropped to one knee, grabbed her other ankle, and knotted them together. Grabbing her by the back of one knee with his left hand, he hauled it up so that she lay on the other side, facing Shimura, then pulled the gun from his waistband.
"Remember what we talked about earlier," he told Kiriko. "In, and out. Hold still."
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head again. "Nn-nn-nnnn-nn-nn—"
"I'm only holding the grip. Be a good girl, and you'll have nothing to fear. Ready? In." He pushed the barrell of the revolver into her. "And out. In, and out. Good girl. Stay nice and quiet, now. In, and out."
"What are you doing, you sick fuck!!" Shimura roared across the space, equal parts fear and rage.
"Oh, relax," the Reaper said to him, continuing the motion. "She likes toys. Told me so herself. Didn't you?" He grinned. "What do you think of mine? You're shaking, that must mean something. Keep holding this knee up."
He let go, reaching between his legs as he pushed the barrel steadily in and out of her. Kiriko's heart hammered against her ribs, sending tiny tremors along her breasts as cold sweat rolled down the back of her neck. His eyes flicked from the movement of the barrel to her face as he touched himself.
"I knew this would do it—that abject terror in your eyes is so exciting—just another second—" He let out a long breath, and withdrew the gun, wiping the barrel on his pants and putting it back in his waistband. "Now we can begin again."
He stood briefly and rolled her onto her back with one foot. Putting his feet between her legs and sitting down, he pulled her into his lap, her bound ankles behind his back. Gripping her buttocks, he positioned her on him.
"But I'm tired of doing all the work." He grabbed the back of her neck with his left hand and sat back. "I'll hold you up, but this time, you do the fucking."
"In your dreams," she rasped.
"Yes, more than once." His right hand reached behind him for the gun, and he held it to her temple. "And now in reality. Ride. Me. Until I tell you otherwise."
She hesitated, and he pressed the muzzle against her skin.
"Again. There is little practical difference to me between raping you and killing you… although. Is it really raping you, if you're the only one moving?"
"Yes!"
He shrugged. "All the same… Get started." She shifted awkwardly, and he struck her with the grip, then pointed the gun again at her temple. "Rock your hips. Forward and back. I shouldn't have to explain this."
She shifted her hips forward, wincing as it drove him further into her, and immediately shifted back again. Her groin ached, and this type of movement wasn't helping.
"The object of the game is to keep doing it…?"
She shifted forward again, looking away. "Shut up," she breathed shakily. "It hurts."
"You're slick enough. Move."
She rocked her hips, falling into a slow but steady pattern, breath coming in deep shuddering gasps. Pushing him further into her hurt, but that wasn't all of it. The muscles in her inner thighs and groin were screaming. She knew she'd strained something when he'd first climbed on top of her.
"Faster."
She increased her pace slightly, sniffling, blinking back tears.
"Faster. You're not a virgin anymore, stop moving so gingerly. Thrust like you're trying to make one of us come sometime this week."
She looked back to him, anger burning in her eyes. "You did this!" she sobbed through clenched teeth. "You don't get to complain!"
"Would you rather do this with the hammer cocked?"
She shut her eyes against the pain and his stupid face, moving her hips as fast as she could, head bowed, lips trembling. His hand on her neck shifted, thumb pressing against her windpipe, tracing it up and down her throat.
"This is so much fun!" he said, letting her feel the threat in the pressure. "The element of fear that seeing this gun to your head while you ride me like your life depends on it brings to his expression… I don't know which of you is turning me on more! Keep it up, now. Fast as you can."
"I ha-have to stop," she gasped after she'd been going for well over a minute with no further instruction. She could feel her groin tearing further. "I c—I can't, it—h-urts too much—I c—I have t't'stop—please—"
It was completely undignified begging, and she was disgusted with herself. But the rending pain in her thighs with every rushed and desperate movement was nearly unbearable. She couldn't think of another way to get him to stop—to let her stop—except begging.
His hand slid up to cup the side of her face. "Poor thing, she says it hurts. But she's riding me so well, I don't know if I can bring myself to allow her to stop. I wonder how long it would take before this tight little body just gives out?" He sighed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Good girl… I'll be nice. You can stop now."
He put the gun back in his waistband.
Shimura let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It came out as a sob, and he fought back more. The memory of Anno's last moments kept playing in his head, feeling more like a premonition than a memory. The fear of history repeating was an ever-increasing pressure in his chest, looking for an exit, but losing it wouldn't help her. The only thing that could help her was getting to those keys. He reached out, got his unbound knee under him as much as he could, and dragged himself a few inches closer.
The Reaper wrapped his arms around her as she went almost limp in relief at the reprieve. Leaning her back slowly, he laid her down with what almost looked like gentleness until he spoke.
"It's my turn again." He leaned over her, letting himself slowly sink into her. "See how much deeper you can take me with your legs behind me? Doesn't that feel amazing?"
"No," she tried to say, but no sound came out.
He started thrusting slowly, raising his voice for Shimura to hear. "After I come in you this time," he said, "I'll take your anal virginity. And then I'll come in you again. Then I'll pick you up by your hips… slam you against that pillar… and eat you out until you're screaming… unable to hold yourself up… so I can bang you rougher than ever… throwing you around like the ragdoll you'll become! Break at least one more bone. You'll beg me to come inside you… just so you can get a rest!"
Her "I won't!" didn't sound like the vehement denial she wanted it to at zero volume.
"And then after that…" He cupped her face with one hand in mock affection. "I'll let you choose how I rape you next. Pick your favorite position. If you're good, I'll even let you decide how rough I should be. One I know your favorite style, we'll do it that way the rest of the day… maybe the rest of the week… until you decide you're ready for a change."
"No!" Again she couldn't summon sound. A tear leaked from the corner of her eyes.
He leaned forward, reaching behind him with his other hand to force her legs higher. "Look in my eyes. You're never getting out of this. You're never getting away from me. The only way this stops is if one of you dies."
The Reaper's plans and predictions made Shimura sick to his stomach. The keys were still so far away… at this rate he would end up having to watch most of it, even if he spent the whole time inching toward them. Worse, she would have to go through it. If he could just extend his reach!
He stopped. There was a way. It came with its own difficulties, but if it worked… He rolled onto his side, and used his free hand to unbuckle his belt, pulling it free.
The Reaper's leering grin broadened as he watched her lips silently move. "And if it's him?" he continued, leaning closer. "I'll just take you with me when I leave. Use you as a bargaining chip. Powerful men love tight little bodies like yours." He squeezed her left buttock.
Kiriko flinched. She was trying not to react. Trying not to listen at all. Everything hurt. Inside and out, she felt battered and torn, and it got worse every time he moved in her. Unsteady hiccups interrupted her breathing as she tried to consider whether focusing on that would help block out his taunts.
"I'll let one have you for an afternoon to hide me on his property," he said with an especially vicious thrust for emphasis. "I'll let airport security take turns with you to put me on a flight. Let the pilot bang you in the restroom to look the other way with Interpol." He let out a cruel, quiet laugh. "And once I'm in hiding abroad… then I can just charge a flat rate."
Shimura held the belt by the end, but stopped himself before he launched the belt at the keys. It would make noise if it landed.
"I should thank you," the Reaper said, trailing rough, biting kisses down her neck. "Because of you—because of this—" he reached down between them, rubbing harshly at her clitoris until her hips bucked and an unwilling moan passed her lips "I'll never have to worry about being recognized. I'll never need to leave the property for food or work. Any time I need money, I'll just make a few calls. Find a horny businessman or politician. Maybe some gangsters. Anyone with a dick and some cash."
Shimura slung the belt in a wide arc across the ground toward the keys. They were just beyond range. Newly hopeful and determined, he launched himself another few inches forward and tried again. Another near miss. Another tiny advance. This time the buckle caught on the keys. Carefully, as quickly as he could manage without making too much noise, he reeled them in.
"You're going to be an industry unto yourself." The Reaper forced her legs higher still, and she let out a helpless whine. "I should have done this at the stadium—you're such a good fuck," he breathed. "Deep for a little thing, still deliciously tight no matter how many times I've plowed into you. Any pimp's dream… You'll be my little goldmine. I'll let a doctor have you for a day in exchange for giving you an IUD. Johns pay more when they can come inside, you know."
Keys in hand, Shimura reached behind him. It was beyond awkward trying to do this backward with his left hand, and his first attempt put the keys in the chain linking the cuffs instead of the keyhole. Handcuff keyholes were small, and he was literally stabbing in the dark, but this was it. This was the solution. His chance to get to her and stop all this before it progressed to—he didn't even want to finish the thought. He just had to get to her.
"And when I get bored, I'll tie you up like this, bend you over a chair, and fuck you so hard—" he reached down between them again, with the same ruthless friction, making her arch her back and mewl "—that you'll swear to me that you love it, that I'm the best you've ever had, just to convince me not to come inside you, too."
His pace increased, now as intense and merciless as the friction. Kiriko didn't know if the soft sounds coming out of her were moans or sobs. It didn't really matter, one way or the other. She was in Hell, and the Devil wanted her there for keeps.
"Just think about it!" he exclaimed, grinning wildly. "Naked on my floor. Thrashing and begging. Two armed men holding you down. Another one raping you. Taking turns for hours… days… don't you dare look away!" He grabbed her face at the chin as she tried to turn aside, tried to distract herself by finding something—anything—else to look at. "Look in my eyes—this is happening. You can't stop it. That's it—that face, right there—that's the best one yet! Keep showing it to me—don't take your eyes off me—not for a second!"
She hated giving him what she wanted, but she wasn't at all sure she had the energy for argument when there was really nothing stopping him from doing every single thing he promised. She'd walked away with her life the last time he'd held her prisoner… clearly he felt remiss in not doing this then, so maybe. Maybe things were just catching up to her.
His pace was frantic now, his eyes wild, the cruel spark in them flashing with the thrill of victory. "Good girl—lift your ankles—take me deeper—oh, the despair in your eyes is—it's so good! Yes, keep thinking about it—all the fun we'll have—men fucking you raw—begging for mercy—never getting any!" He withdrew the hand between them and pushed his fingers through her hair, cupping both sides of her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, driving into her with a final savage thrust, staring into her eyes. "I love this face from you," he whispered. "Keep showing it to me. Keep showing it to me. You made me come so hard just now. Keep showing it to me."
She tried to will her expression into a mask of neutrality, but the images he'd put in her head ruined it. They weren't just images now. She knew how it would feel. The thought of being put through this for hours at a time—a whole day—with a constant rotation of aggressors, never getting a break, was like a corkscrew twisting into her stomach.
Death would be better. Death was short, finite, a one time only experience. Even if he killed her the same way he'd killed her father… nerves burned away at around 90 seconds if you were lucky. A few weeks of conventional torture and 90 seconds of fire was better than years of that.
Especially if the whole thing was kicked off by watching her best friend die at this monster's hands. If she had to watch that, she'd just attack him until he was forced to kill her too… or grab the gun and turn it on herself.
It wasn't that she thought she didn't have anyone else who cared about her. Rose, Mantaro, Shimabukuro, Ready-Cure… Even some of the broader team would probably try to rescue her. The new Chief had been fond of her from day one. It was that she'd rather be dead than have any of them exposed to him.
She looked away. "…get off me."
It came out as less than a whisper, completely defeated.
"Are you looking forward to being anally raped that much?" he asked, turning her head to the side so that her only choices were looking at him or looking at Shimura. "Or is it the gun you want inside you?"
She closed her eyes in defiance. "Stop it," she sobbed quietly. "Stop it."
"Open your eyes," he said, sharply pulling her hair. "Open your eyes and look at him, or I will shoot him, and hold your eyes open while he bleeds out."
She opened her eyes reluctantly. Shimura was… closer now? And reaching behind him instead of in front.
The keys! She couldn't see them anymore, and there was a trail of disturbed dust and debris stretching out in front of him.
He wasn't free yet. He needed time, and the Reaper's attention elsewhere… she just had to hide the hope she now had. She needed to provoke him into focusing on just her again. She could put up with this a little longer if it meant they both walked away with their lives. Even if the Reaper killed her, if it gave Shimura opportunity to save his own life, that would be worth it.
She looked back to the man on top of her. "I'll kill myself," she said hoarsely, trying to force her voice into something more clearly audible. "If you kill him. I'll kill myself. You won't get to use me."
He grinned. "Oh, I won't let you. I'll keep you locked in a small, dark room with only a mattress. If you're a bad little toy, not even that. Give you just enough drugs to keep you immobilized but still aware of everything that's done to you. In fact, I think we'll do a little experiment the first day in your new home. See how long you can endure being raped non-stop. It shouldn't take long to find enough clients to last several days and nights… and enough stimulants to feed you to keep you awake until your mind or your body gives out." He pushed further into her, and she groaned. "Speaking of which… I'll give you a choice of how to spend your break. Me, or the gun."
Distraction had its limits.
"Not the gun," she gasped. "Not—"
"Good. Then you can keep me occupied, moving inside you until I'm hard again." He leaned in close and took her lower lip briefly in his teeth. "Lift your ankles. Take me deeper. Learn to love it, because it's all you'll get from now on."
Hands curling into fists under her, she did as she was told, wincing when it had the intended effect. His movements were at least slower. It didn't mean they didn't hurt, though, especially with him laying on her chest. If she twisted just right, she could get her cracked rib out from directly under him, but not by much.
"Tell me it feels good," he ordered her in a low moan. "Beg for more."
"Feels good," she mumbled. "More."
The keys dropped for the fourth time onto his back, and Shimura rolled them back into his hand to try again.
"Tell me you want it deeper," the Reaper said, forcing her legs higher, until she sobbed from the pain. "Say rape me harder… make me scream…"
"Deeper!" she gasped, trying to recover. She stumbled over the next assignment. It was a hard thing to say even in total insincerity, after the vivid descriptions he'd given while raping her up until now. "R… Ra…"
"Rape me harder."
"Rape me harder," she whispered shakily. She was only doing this to keep his attention on her, she reminded herself. Just for now. It wasn't going to go on long enough for him to use this compliance against her. Hopefully. "Make me scream."
"Now moan," he breathed, driving into her until her hips curled off the floor. "Loud. Let him hear you. It's no fun if you keep these pretty noises between us."
The key went into the lock for the cuff holding his ankle. Trying not to think about the sounds coming from across the room, he held his breath, carefully turning it until he felt a click. Finally. Another half-turn, and the cuff holding his ankle fell open.
That was all he really needed. She didn't have time to wait for him to get the one on his wrist, too… and he no longer planned on arresting the Reaper. He didn't need a full pair of handcuffs. Just his fists, and the gun in the other man's waistband.
She let out a loud moan with the movement. It was less a concession to the demand than a noise of discomfort at how the curl pinched her ribs and strained her thighs. But let him think what he wanted.
"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured. "Deep in your core. Harder with every push. Almost ready for the next step. But what happened to that face I've grown to love? Do I need to remind you again that a lifetime of being used until you're sobbing and bruised to your core, and then used even rougher is going to be your reward for interfering with me?"
She let her eyes widen and shook her head vehemently, the picture of terrified victimhood.
"Better. One more, now… enjoy your final gentle movement while it lasts." He gripped her head and neck and flexed hard into her, rolling her hips off the floor, grinding against her, and held her there until an involuntary, shuddering moan escaped her as the pain in her ribs became white-hot, and her ears buzzed faintly while he pressed on her windpipe. Her eyes started to roll upward as the moan faded out, leaving her flinching and gasping like a goldfish on land. Then he pulled out and stood. "Now thank me. That's the best you'll feel for the rest of your life."
Continued from my BTHB series from here. [Part 1] [Part 2]
The Reaper comes back upstairs with Kiriko in tow to make good on his threats. It's Showtime...
Tags/Warnings: Noncon: handjob, oral, PIV (explicit), forcibly stripped, captive whumpee, begging, restrained, handcuffed, tied, slapped, manhandled, used as bait, forced to watch, creepy/intimate whumper, references to past grooming/dubcon, some spoilers for Kiriko's backstory (I kept the true identity of the Final Boss hidden, but the bastard does like to brag, and he's entangled with her family, so...)
The Reaper deposited Kiriko in a strip of sunlight from the upper windows. In the empty building, it was like a spotlight on a stage, and it was immediately apparent to both of them that he intended to use it as one.
Kiriko stayed down even when he dropped her ankle, groaning softly and tenderly holding her injuried side, trying to assess the damage. She definitely had a cracked lower rib on the left side, and the next two were probably bruised at least. Across the floor, Shimura was restrained by his right wrist and ankle with handcuffs, and the Reaper had taken the additional precaution of securing his left arm to his side by tying the chain he'd been using as a weapon around him. It was short and couldn't go around more than once, but he had knotted the chain tight across his back.
Seeing her, Shimura instinctively tried to get closer, but his bindings barely allowed movement.
"Kiriko!"
Her heart sank when she saw him chained and positioned far away from her. This was definitely happening now. All the same, she looked over at him and tried to smile.
"I knew you would come," she said, still wishing he hadn't.
Standing over her, the Reaper looked across the space at Shimura, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Do you know the story of Tantalus?" he asked, slowly retrieving the handcuff keys from his pocket. "For offending the gods, he was sentenced to be held in water up to his chin, in the shadow of a fruit tree. Every time he tried to drink from the water, the level dropped to prevent him. Every time he tried to reach for the fruit, the wind blew the branch just beyond his fingertips."
Shimura snorted. "So you're a god now?"
"Wasn't I?" the Reaper countered. "Police royalty, untouchable since childhood, officials and politicians at my fingertips. Enough skill to convince people to bend to my will, enough power to enforce it if they resisted me. With her brother under my thumb, I had control the Invisible empire, a Coordinator of both crime and the police. What is that, if not a god?"
"An egomaniac," Shimura shot back. "You're not special, just insane."
"Sticks and stones, detective. Besides, our respective positions at the moment support my argument more than yours." He glanced down at Kiriko lying at his feet, watching her try to get up on her knees. He kicked them out from under her, and she hit the ground hard, the pain from her broken rib like a knife in her side. "But then she showed up."
He kicked her sharply in the stomach to emphasize his displeasure, and she groaned, reflexively curling up.
"Her brother stayed worshipful and obedient, of course, but he got sidetracked trying to win her back. You lost all focus and restraint after I slaughtered Anno while you watched, but somehow… somehow." He kicked her again. "Once she got involved, you started to resemble your old self. You became a threat—one I didn't take seriously enough. I need to break you again, or you'll make trouble for me in the future."
"Let her go! If you want revenge, just kill me. You don't—"
"No!" Kiriko cut him off. She uncurled, looking over at him. "No. I'm not worth your life. The world needs you. It doesn't need me."
"Bullshit." It was said with the enviable certainty that had made him the sole arbiter of good and evil in her eyes, the one she trusted when she couldn't trust herself… and with a smile she'd never wanted to see again. The one he'd given her when Kirihito had tried to force a choice between his life and Toko's. Apologetic but peaceful. Quiet permission to sacrifice him. "You're one of us now."
"That's what I like to hear!" the Reaper grinned. "It's just too boring if I kill you. I need you to see her suffer the worst I can do to her, and I need her to see you shatter in real time. So, Tantalus..."
He flicked the keys a short distance between them, several meters from Shimura's position. Then he reached down, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and hauled her to her feet. Turning her to face Shimura, he unzipped his pants behind her back. His other arm wound around her midsection as he stepped closer behind her. She aimed a bare heel at his instep, and he squeezed her wrist.
"I can easily break this wrist and then rape you," he warned quietly, and she stilled. He took one of her bound hands and curled it around his shaft. "Good. Now let's play How long before he realizes what's about to happen?"
He started to move her hand, and a cold determination filled her, even as her pulse spiked and her stomach twisted.
"Shimura… look at me." Her eyes met his. "I need you to close your eyes."
He blinked. "What? Why?"
The Reaper had only undone enough of her shirt buttons to access her bra in the utility room. Now, slowly, he started on the rest of them, moving her hand behind her, slightly enough to not be obvious from the front, but enough to get the job done.
"Just close your eyes," she begged, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "He won't kill me if you're not looking, just please close your eyes." She tried to blink back tears, but one rolled down her cheek. She hoped he couldn't see it from that distance. "Please. I can't do this to you."
The Reaper's hand popped another button loose, then started on the next. "Oh, but he can't take that chance!" he crooned in her ear. "What if I go off-script?"
She shook her head. "You can! You know how he is with that, please… I can't do this to you. I can't—"
He undid another button. Another. Then the last. "You don't have a choice."
He pulled her shirt open with a flourish, then grabbed the back of her collar and yanked sharply downward, pulling her shirt down and off. It pooled around her bound wrists behind her back. Kiriko flinched in spite of herself with the movement. She could feel him going hard in her hand, and it made her skin crawl. Then his free hand was around her throat, sliding down to her bra. He hooked his fingers underneath it between her breasts and pulled slowly upward, spilling them one at a time while his other hand unhooked her bra from the back, its mission complete. It dropped to her waist when he let go. As he broke the straps one by one in savage yanks, then tossed it aside, she shook her head again, shivering and quietly willing Shimura to look away.
Shimura stared, frozen, processing the horror a few frames at a time. This wasn't part of his MO. As far as anyone knew, it never had been. He was a murderer, a torturer, but rape had never been part of that repertoire…
Or maybe he just hadn't been caught.
"Don't you touch her!" he distantly heard himself roar, heard how ridiculous it sounded coming from a man chained up several meters away.
"Nothing escapes you, does it?" the Reaper taunted. "But I want to touch her."
He spun her around to face him, then gripped both of her shoulders hard and pushed down, forcing her to her knees, his erection in her face. Grabbing her chin with his left hand, he forced her mouth open while his right hand reached behind him and pulled the gun from his waistband.
"I'd resist the urge to bite, if I were you," he said, thrusting the barrel of the revolver into her mouth. "Whether I rape you or kill you makes little practical difference to me in the end… of course, I much prefer the former."
"Don't!!" Shimura thrashed in his restraints, grasping at the chain behind his back, trying to pull it loose.
Kiriko snarled at him around the weapon, and he laughed.
"So fiesty! Yes, just keep giving me that baleful glare…. and hold still. Now, listen. It goes in—" he shoved the gun further into her mouth "—and out." He pulled it back slightly. "In, and out. Understand? Nod if you understand."
She gave a grudging nod.
He grabbed a handful of her hair, and thrust his erection into her mouth as he pulled the gun out, placing it back in his rear waistband. She gagged and tried to pull back, and he snaked the other hand around the back of her neck, guiding her head with a steady, forceful movement. He moaned theatrically as she twisted and struggled in his grip, looking over at Shimura with a gloating grin while she choked on his length.
"Lacks her brother's gag reflex control," he declared with disappointment. "I'd love to keep her at it until she adjusts, but I don't dare bore you… especially when her resistance could be a bonus instead of an inconvenience."
"Let her go!" Shimura raged, twisting in his own restraints, feeling along the chain, at last finding one end of it. The handcuff cut into his wrist as he struggled.
"Make me, detective." He released her with a harsh shove, and she fell to the floor, coughing. "Oh, that's right—you can't!"
He grinned as Kiriko tried to push herself up, only to fall again. Bending down, he grabbed her by the waistband of her jeans and the back of her neck, hauling her up to a kneeling position. He got on his knees behind her, still nearly a head taller even then. Snaking the hand on her waistband around to the front, he forced it roughly down the front of her jeans, curving it slightly so that Shimura could see its bulge move down between her legs. He planted a devouring kiss on her neck below her ear, and she tried to pull away, but the hand on the back of her neck gripped her tighter, holding her in place.
"The fruit may have the most tender flesh…" He nipped at her earlobe as his fingers probed every curve and crease through the fabric of her panties, making her shudder. "Trembling on the branch… Waiting for someone to pluck it…"
He pulled her sharply backward to hold her flush against him, and she couldn't swallow her small, startled yelp in time. She squeezed her eyes shut, silently berating herself for it. Unable to stop what was happening, with him unable to take his eyes off her, the best thing she could do for Shimura was to force down any outward evidence of the terror she felt. She shouldn't be making any noise if she could avoid it.
"…But Tantalus can never reach it." He moaned into her ear, holding it painfully tightly in his teeth. "He can only watch."
Kiriko's breath hitched as she tried not to whimper. "Shut. Up." she forced out in a shaky hiss.
He chuckled, running his tongue along the outer edge of her ear as he pulled his hand out of her jeans just centimeters at a time, fondling her until she felt an uncomfortable damp beneath his fingers. The hand on the back of her neck slid around to the front, sliding down to cup one breast, rolling the nipple between two fingers with unnecessary pressure. Her breath caught in her throat, letting it out only once he let go. His other hand cleared the top of her jeans and seized the zipper, tugging it down with a force that made her flinch. Both hands drifted to her hips, thumbs hooking beneath the waistband of her jeans while carefully avoiding that of her underwear. He shoved it down in one rough push until her jeans fell to her knees.
"What do you think?" he called out to Shimura over her shoulder. "Is she everything you imagined?"
Shimura snarled, tugging furiously at the chain. It didn't budge.
The Reaper grabbed the front of her panties in one fist, pulling them upward until they slipped between her folds. "That one wasn't rhetorical," he said, pulling them taught and relaxing them in slow pulses, sliding them back and forth between her legs. "Didn't you ever wonder what she looks like under the designer clothes, coming to work every day in your cheap suit? Hm?"
"No!"
The Reaper laughed. "Of course not… I don't think I've seen you so much as look at a woman as long as I've known you. All about the job, aren't you?" He pulled up hard, and she swallowed a whine. "But I wondered. Ever since she appeared, every time her brother came to my bed, I wondered… what is this treasure of his, that he won't share with even me…?"
He wound her panties around his fingers.
She shifted, trying to push herself further up on her knees to ease the uncomfortable tension, and the physical effect the constant friction was having. It was involuntary, she knew that, knew Shimura knew that, but somehow that didn't help. Feeling her efforts and what they clearly meant, he grinned against her neck and tugged harder. Gooseflesh swept down her thighs, and she swallowed hard. His other hand grabbed her panties at the hip, jerking at them until he heard a rip, then slowly tore the fabric the rest of the way. His hands shifted to her other hip to rip them apart there as well. She felt him chuckle more than heard it.
"I just had the funniest thought!" he exclaimed. "This would be so much easier with a knife." Gleefully, he tore the small strip of fabric, and tossed her ripped underwear aside. Hand once again firmly between her legs, he hissed in her ear. "But I'll take what I can get."
He spread her open with his thumb and little finger even as she tried to squeeze her thighs together to keep him out. His middle and third finger traced her opening with a deceptive lightness, then thrust roughly into her, making her gasp. Again she pushed up on her knees, trying to lift herself off of his hand, only for him to curl his fingers and jerk it upwards, plunging them deeper. She tried to swallow back a whimper and only partly succeeded.
"What's this reaction?" he grinned. "It's only my hand… surely it can't hurt." He partially withdrew, then roughly jammed them into her again. Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it to make it stop. His fingers began moving in a rhythm, pulling nearly out of her, separating, stretching her as wide as he could while she fought him, then digging into her with renewed force. "If you're this sensitive…" Thrust. Withdraw. Stretch. She tried to cross her knees, and he pushed them apart. "When it's just my hand…" Thrust. Withdraw. Stretch. Thrust. She stifled a yelp. "How will you handle the rest of me…?"
He withdrew his fingers and thrust them up into her again. With an eager growl, he wrapped his left arm around her, gripping her right shoulder and pulling her down onto his hand as his fingers moved with increasing speed and force. She squirmed and tried to cross her knees again, and he forced them apart with one of his. Gulping back the tiny noises that kept trying to rise from her throat, she turned her face up toward the dark, patchy ceiling so she wouldn't have to look at her friend's face.
The Reaper covered her neck with his mouth in what could only loosely be described as a kiss, attacking the sensitive flesh beneath her ear with a fierce suction as his fingers' assault became more punishing. Sickening wet noises filled her ears as he pumped them in and out of her until her back arched with a single, dry sob, and she felt her muscles clench around his hand. Thighs twitching, she tried weakly to twist out of his grip, feeling spent and disgusting, hating herself for what she knew she couldn't help, because it was on display. He dug his fingernails into her shoulder, and curled his fingers deep into her with a savage grip.
"Can you feel them?" he growled, squeezing. "These scars from your dear handler? I hate to admit it, but you two did manage to steal a precious joy from me… You owe me, after that." He raised his voice. "I think she wants me to let go. I was generous enough to give her an orgasm, but it appears she thinks she's done with me. I don't think I'm done with her, though."
His fingers began moving inside her again, thrusting slow, now, but just as rough, adding an index finger. She gasped at the added bulk, and he attacked her neck again, twisting and flexing his fingers, hooking them deep into her. Steadily, he pulled that arm up, still pushing down with his other arm, until she was straining upward on her knees as his erection pressed against the cleave of her buttocks. He kept up the motion, fingers deep but thrusts rough and shallow.
"I think I might need some convincing." He tried to add a fourth finger, and she whined with the strain. "I think someone might need to beg."
"Please," she whispered.
He pressed his lips to her ear. "Not. You."
"Stop!" Shimura yelled.
"Keep going," the Reaper replied, almost sing-song. "What else?"
"Please! Please stop." Shimura pulled at another segment of chain, felt it give. Hope rose in the form of a lump in his throat as he tugged harder on it. "You—You've done enough. Stop. Please. Let her go."
"Very good." With one final harsh thrust, he slowly withdrew his hand. "I think she can be excused from this activity."
"Fuck is that supposed to mean?!"
The Reaper dragged his right hand up her torso, letting her feel the slick film coating his fingers. She shuddered, and a small groan of revulsion escaped her.
"Ohh, don't make that noise," he cooed in mock reproach. "You're about to be so grateful for that. Slight, petite thing that you are, do you really think you could take me without help?"
He pressed his erection more insistently against the cleave of her buttocks. Then he seized her throat, lifting her up almost off the ground, allowing himself to slip between her legs, pressing against her entrance. She tensed as he reached between her legs with the other hand, spreading her to allow the head of his erection to penetrate.
"You lived in isolation for so long," he moaned into her ear. "Your whole life… If he's never had an interest in you… that must make me your first."
She gulped, and let out a shaky breath. She had to maintain control, had to minimize this, had to try something. It was only going to get worse from here. With a soft, derisive snort, she forced herself to mutter, "Hilarious how men are convinced toys don't exist."
"Oh, it's funny—?" He pushed further into her. "Then why is your breathing so shallow? If you've done this before, it should be nothing. If you've done this before, you should be able to take me with a smile." He laughed quietly, feeling her shift as he sank slowly deeper, seeing the twitches of discomfort on her face. "So why does it seem like you're struggling?"
His hand dragged down her throat to grip her shoulder again, pulling down as he rocked his hips upward, listening to her breathing become more rapid, more shallow. He withdrew slightly, then flexed his hips again, pulling her back down onto him.
"Look at her," he said to Shimura over her shoulder, cheek pressed against hers so she could feel his deranged grin. "Almost hyperventilating, when I'm being so gentle." He withdrew an inch, followed by another slow upward thrust. "She might not be ready for me after all… and I did promise to violate her every way I can."
He pulled out entirely, and she didn't have a chance to relax before he swept her knees out from under her, and she landed on the floor with a heavy thud, the back of her head hitting the ground hard. She groaned, wincing as he leaned over her. As he leaned in, she raised her head sharply, striking a hard blow to the bridge of his nose with her forehead.
"Fuck you," she breathed.
Anger flashed across his face briefly, then the grin returned. "What's the saying—Don't threaten me with a good time?"
Gripping her shins, he pushed her knees up and apart, kissing her throat, just out of the downward range of a headbutt attempt. He set his teeth against her jugular, slowly biting down, grinning againt her skin when he felt her hold her breath and stiffen in fear. He removed them and placed a mocking peck at the base of her throat, then locked eyes with Shimura. With a sly wink, he took her right breast into his mouth, curling his tongue around her nipple, rolling it around with the tip. She grimaced and thrashed under the attention, which only served to amuse him.
He took the nipple in his teeth and pulled up until her flesh was straining and she let out a soft whine. Gradually his bite force increased, and he flicked his tongue over the surface. Finally he let go, and placed his right hand on her lower abdomen. As he took her left breast in his mouth to give it the same treatment, he sank his thumb into her up to the knuckle. With an indulgent hum around her breast, he began moving it, alternately flexing it and drawing circles inside her with it as he teased her nipple with his tongue. She wriggled and kicked at him despite her bent knees. He took the nipple in his teeth and pulled sharply upward, biting down until she stopped, then released her, dragging his mouth further down. He paused to tease her navel with the tip of his tongue, then continued down, slowly removing his thumb in preparation of letting his mouth take over.
Across the room, Shimura had finally worked one end of the chain loose. He couldn't really see what was going on at this point, but he was also fairly sure she didn't want him to. More than that, if his vision was blocked, so was the Reaper's—for now. He twisted in his restraints, trying to pull his left arm free of the chain now that it was slack.
Kiriko bent her elbows under her and pushed herself backward, away from the Reaper, but he dug his fingers into her upper thighs and dragged her back to him, closing his mouth over her center, probing her with his tongue and sucking hard at the sensitive bundle of nerves above her entrance. Repulsed and dreading her body's response, she tried to kick him away, but he braced his forearms against her inner thighs and forced them flat to either side. She hissed as she felt the muscles strain. Then his angle shifted, lowered, tongue invading her over and over. He hummed against her skin as it pushed past her entrance in rapid pulses, and she mewled and shivered in spite of herself at the resulting vibration. Humiliated, she tried again to kick him, but he held her legs pinned.
He climbed on top of her, holding her legs in place with his, his weight bearing down straining the muscles further.
"I was going to enjoy you for another minute or so," he said. "Make you come again. Make it easier for you… But if you can't be appreciative, maybe it's time I got on with things."
He aligned himself, grabbed her shoulders just below her neck, looked over at Shimura, and hilted himself in her with a quick, brutal thrust that forced a short scream of pain from her. Kiriko shifted and writhed, trying to find a way to lay under him that didn't feel like she was being ripped in half. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and she felt the Reaper's hands drift to her breasts again as he leered down at her, fascinated by their heaving.
"Wonderful!" he grinned. "Now do that again."
He withdrew slightly, then slowly thrust into her again until he couldn't go further, grinding against her her. She held back her reaction to a soft keening noise. Tears stung her eyes, blurring his face above her. He brushed them away with mock tenderness. "What, tears? I thought you were prepared. Don't tell me this hurts…"
Of course he had to mention the tears. Of course he had to remove the one comfort that lay in the distance between her and Shimura. She didn't trust her voice to hold, but she shook her head, hoping it looked convincing.
"Are you sure? What was it you said earlier? Fuck me…?"
He withdrew almost completely, then hit her with another rough thrust. She let out a raw cry of pain and humiliation.
"With tears in your eyes, fuck me?" He thrust into her with enough force to push her back half an inch under him. She groaned. "While he watches, fuck me?" He grabbed her shoulders and slammed into her again.
"Well, now you are. And that face is everything I've dreamed of since we last met… Yours." He gripped her chin, grinning as he hilted himself in her. He looked off to the side. "And his."
She didn't look. She wasn't going to be baited into looking, into letting Shimura see her pain and her fear of what might happen when this wasn't fun anymore. He was right. She already was. There was nothing she could do, so she just looked up into the wiring in the ceiling above where a tile should have been. Trying to distance herself from it all. Something deep in her memory told her that she should know how.
He struck her hard across the face. "Ah-ah-ah!" he chided. "No checking out. I need to see that look you owe me, every minute of this, for all the time I spent cooped up in there."
"You're going back," she said hoarsely, then groaned as he hit her with a deep thrust.
"Oh? Who's going to get that done? You? You won't be able walk for a week when I finally roll off of you. Him? He'll be too broken."
"You don't—"
He clamped a hand over her mouth and dropped down on top of her, the other hand stroking her hair. His weight was crushing, and she let out a muffled gasp. "You really should look at his face," he breathed into her ear. "You're missing something spectacular."
His hand stopped caressing her hair and pressed down on the top of her head. She didn't understand why at first. Then he started thrusting again. He wasn't trying to feign tenderness. He was holding her still. Making sure every thrust went as deep as possible, grunting in her ear with the effort.
It was steady in the beginning, and while she flinched every few thrusts, whenever his skin ghosted over her cracked rib, she told herself it was bearable. Then his pace started to quicken, and while the depth of each stroke wasn't always the most he could get anymore, the force with which he slammed into her increased tremendously.
The assault of his hand had been nothing compared to this. Help? Grateful? Not even close! As much as his fingers had stretching her had been uncomfortable, the way his girth strained her and the unnatural position he held her legs at was painful. As rapidly as he had pumped them into her, the speed of each impact now was worse. As hard as it had been to fight his hand, under his full weight, she was completely helpless.
She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. All she could do was lie trapped beneath him while he drilled into her, grunting in her ear like a rutting animal, grinning sadistically at the man who had become her compass. Helpless, useless, whimpering under the force of the assault like a frightened girl. Like a beaten animal.
Like a victim. Not a Coordinator.
Suddenly, he stopped with a groan and a final, vicious thrust. He laughed.
"Go ahead," he called to Shimura. "Try it." He ground against her, biting down on her shoulder until she whined. "Come on, Tantalus… your fruit's getting bruised."
She risked a glance to see what he was looking at, and found Shimura trying to drag himself forward with one arm, the chain now tangled around his waist. He looked devastated, pale and wide-eyed, brows knit, and her stomach churned with guilt. Then their eyes met, and he gave her a slight nod and a tiny attempt at a grim smile. Devastated, but not resigned, he was telling her. He could get to her and they could turn this around, at least he wanted her to hope so. And the longer she looked, the more it seemed like maybe he had gotten a little closer to the keys.
«2-1-85, New York area - To me, this is still the best ad for House on the Edge of the Park featuring the ad line and David Hess in character. Director Ruggero Deodato's infamous Cannibal Holocaust would play NYC in the Summer of '85.»
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