Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Mind Rape, Mind Manipulation, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Forced smoking, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Tom harm (I’m sorry my little baby), Dumbification, Burning, Classicism, Praise Kink, AFAB reader, She/her pronouns, Hurt No Comfort, Reader is only referred to as she/her/hers, Begging, Stabbing, Breeding, Not Beta Read
Can also be found on my A03 @sponkynun :3!!
The cave door creaks open, and a plume of dust kicks up from the floor. She enters and shuts the door swiftly, pressing it back into place and hearing the latch click behind her. She rushes to Tom, who is laying on the dusty cave floor. He isn’t looking too good.
“Tom? Tom?” She asks worriedly, “Please wake up, it’s me.”
Tom slowly starts to regain consciousness, he looks at her lazily.
“I…I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.” He confesses, and tries to stand on his feet.
The cave entrance opens roughly, pebbles clatter onto the floor. The two scramble to hide in the small space, but it’s in vain.
The ‘scorpion’ is back, baseball bat in hand. His blonde bang wavers in the cool night breeze, and his chest heaves with anger.
“What the FUCK?” He seethes, “why the fuck are you with MY property?”
His attention is focused on Tom, who tries to scurry away. He gets only a few feet, as Derek saunters over to him. Derek swings and smashes Tom’s left hand with the bat. Everyone in the room can hear the crunch of his delicate bones. Tom squeals in pain, recoiling his hand to his chest. He looks up at Derek with raw fear.
Derek scoffs, “Get out… GET OUT!”
Tom scrambles to his feet, and looks at his fellow captive. She’s standing near the ‘table’, but on the wrong side to try and make a run for the entrance.
“Don’t look at her, you fucking weasel. Get out of this fucking hole in the ground before I change my mind.” Derek snaps, as he turns his attention to her.
Tom silently sobs, and he uses his unbroken hand to push the cave entrance open. Fleeing into the open desert.
Derek smirks down at her, he holds his bat threateningly over his shoulder. He sees her tears pour down her cheeks, and takes note of her worried expression. But she’s obviously not looking at Derek, her attention is focused on the cave entry…on Tom. Derek can feel something rising in him, a childlike jealousy that makes his words catch in the back of his throat.
“How sweet,” Derek hisses, “Don’t cry, that idiot is getting off so much easier than you are.”
His words obviously do little to comfort her, in fact they make her feel even worse. She refocuses her attention onto her captor. Glaring at him, trying not to give away how terrified she is. He pulls out a pack of expensive cigarettes from his coat pocket, and bites the butt of a cigarette into his mouth. Never moving his bat from his shoulder. He shoves the pack back into his pocket, and lights the small stick.
Derek takes a long drag, and blows the smoke into her face. To his surprise she doesn’t cough, she doesn’t try to move her way out of the smoke cloud. She just looks at the cave floor, at the pebbles, inhaling the secondhand smoke.
“You’re…very oblivious, you know that?” He beguiles. “ I bet that’s how those freaks from the auction got you there, I bet you didn’t even see them. They just grabbed you, before you could even notice. You’re kinda…dumb.” He flicks some of the ash onto her hair.
“You didn’t even see me following you to this cave. I mean, you practically invited me in.” He laughs sardonically, and she can see the rage wash over his features in an instant, “to this disgusting hole in the ground, with your weasel of a boyfriend. Did you let him take your virginity? Just so I wouldn’t get what I’m owed?”
She looks puzzled for a second, he can’t really mean Tom? The man looks like he’s four steps away from dying of thirst. Exerting any energy on something like that feels more than pointless. She looks back into his eyes, and knows he expects an answer.
“What?” She asks exasperatedly, “No, he-we didn’t do anything.”
Derek doesn’t say anything, but his features soften just a little. He flicks more ash onto her, and can see her eyeing his cigarette. He smirks.
“You want one?” He beguiles again. His voice is sickly sweet, yet obviously filled with venom.
Despite every fiber of her being screaming no, she reaches out for the new cigarette Derek lit just for her, before she can grasp it he jerks it away from her slightly.
“Ah, ah, two rules: You have to finish all of it, and if I even think that you’re going to try and burn me, I will bash your skull into the floor. Are we clear?” He grins, ear to ear. It’s still not enough to turn her away from the comfort of a cigarette. She nods her head, but it’s obvious he wants a verbal answer.
“Yes.” She says dejectedly. Reaching again for the cigarette, but he pulls it just out of reach from her again.
“Yes, what?” Derek arches his brow as he asks.
She can’t tell what he wants her to tack on. She’s not a mind reader, and even if she were, Derek would still be a challenge.
“Yes please, sir.” She’s mortified, more-so when that creepy look washes over his face. He reaches the cigarette back out, and she’s finally able to take it from him.
“Wow!” He chimes, “that was very well behaved of you.”
She takes a long drags off her cigarette, eyeing Derek closely. She tries to keep the cigarette pointed away from him at all times.
“Hmmm..” he hums, reaching out to tossle her hair like an animal, “look at you…I found you. When the third day came, and I couldn’t find you, I seriously thought you escaped me. I think I gave you way too much credit.”
“What are you going to do to me?” She quivers, and she can see rage wash over his features again.
His harsh slap echoes off the cave walls and leaves a stinging patch on her cheek. She looks up at him pathetically.
“Don’t fucking talk unless I want you to, bitch.” He seethes. She takes the last puff of her cigarette and puts it out on the cave floor.
“Hmm. Have another.” He takes the pack from his pocket and lights another. Holding it to her lips this time.
“It wasn’t a question.” He warns, taking note of her hesitance. She immediately puts the cigarette into her mouth, grateful he gave her any warning at all.
“Finish it without taking it out of your mouth.” Derek chuckles. He pats her stinging cheek a little too roughly.
She holds it in the corner of her mouth and tries to only inhale oxygen through her nose. She’s significantly slower at smoking it this time, and Derek is beginning to grow impatient.
“Come on! Hurry up. There’s like…6 more in here!” He yells, and taps his bat threateningly against the cave floor.
She takes deeper inhales, and finishes the rest in under a minute. Before she can take it out of her mouth, Derek nabs the cigarette from her.
“Give me your hand…” he says impatiently, “or I’ll break it, just like I did to him.”
Derek rests the bat behind him. She puts out her hand for him, and watches in horror as he presses the lit cigarette butt into her skin. She screams in pain and tries to jerk away, but his firm grasp keeps her in place. Her skin sears and blisters against the ash until it’s finally put out. She shakily takes her hand back and looks at the damage. The skin is red, puffy in some parts and blistering in others.
“More.” He says curtly. Handing her two cigarettes at once.
She looks at Derek, bewildered. She can’t tell if he wants her to say anything.
“May I speak, please?” She asks quietly, swallowing every last ounce of dignity she has left.
His face lights up, “ Only because you’re being so good for me.” She curses herself for the way her heart flutters at his praise.
“Please, no more, it’s starting to irritate my cut on my…tongue..” She trails off, realizing as soon as the words leave her mouth that he’s not going to take any pity on her. As if he could ever feel empathy for anyone.
“Aww, it hurts?” Derek mocks, “Don’t you know what the word all means? Or are you that stupid?”
She can only look at the ground in response.
“Show it to me, now.” Derek demands.
She looks up at him pathetically, and he revels in it. She opens her mouth and slowly shows him the scab beginning to form. It’s a grotesque, painful, permanent, reminder of what he had done to her in the open desert. Derek runs his thumb over the healing wound, she whines in pain, but she dares not to move away from him.
“Haha, you’ve still got that pathetic look all over your face.” He gleams, “now take these fucking cigarettes, my hand is getting tired.”
She takes them from him, and puts them in her mouth for him to light. He reminds her not to use her hands again. Her strategy for inhaling oxygen is ruined by the second cigarette.
She lets out an exasperated cough as she finishes the first quarter of the two cigarettes.
“You’re lucky I’m even letting you smoke these. Do you know how expensive these are? I bet you couldn’t even afford them on your own.” Derek sighs.
The insult cuts a little bit deeper than it should. Obviously Derek had to be from money. He literally bought her in an auction, but being all but called poor by this sick freak really stung. He was expecting a ‘thank you’. She could read it all over his face, and in the way that he eased just a bit of pressure off his bat. Ready to swing it again.
“Thank you.” she mumbles, trying to keep the cigarettes pressed between her lips as she says it. She gags on the thick smoke again as it billows from her mouth and nose.
“Aww, you’re such a good girl,” he cooes, “but I guess the dumb ones are always the best behaved.”
Her loud coughs fill the room, and she accidentally lets a cigarette slip from her lips. Derek rewards her with another painful slap, it echos off the cave walls. He puts the cigarette back in her mouth.
“Thank you.” She says passively.
Derek laughs snidely. Even standing over her as she kneels on the floor is enough of a power trip for him. But he barely has to do any work, and she was already using her manners for him. It makes his cock twitch to think about it. He watches intently as she chokes down the last of the cigarettes.
“Hand.” He says, jutting his open palm, and putting the bat behind himself again. She screws her eyes shut and she reaches her burnt hand to him, along with the cigarette butts.
“Beg me to stop. Cry for me.” He grins.
He doesn’t have to ask twice. He probably doesn’t have to ask at all. She looks up at him, fearful of his next move.
“Please, please stop. I’m begging you, please have mercy on me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please don’t burn me again. I-it hurts so much, I’m begging you, please.” She chokes out. Her tears fall in puddles onto the dry floor. She tries to never break eye contact with him.
“Haha!” He cackles, loosening his grip just a bit, “You’re good at that! Just like when I fucked your throat. Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“You…” She whispers, her voice quivers.
“Aww, you’re kinda cute.” He cooes, but his hand re-tightens its grip, and he thrusts the cigarettes on to her skin again. They sear the same spot on her hand, but are put out much quicker. She wails in pain, almost doubling over onto her other hand. There’s black marks on her skin, and she can’t tell if it’s charred flesh or ash from her cigarettes. When she examines it, she can see where parts of her skin are almost melting together. Shallow craters form in her flesh, it almost looks fake.
“Please stop!” She cries, “please, I’ll do anything!”
“Quiet.” He grumbles and flicks the cigarette butts across the cave.
“I’m bored now.” Derek sighs, his hands return to his baseball bat, “Get on that…table thing.”
She gets onto the table, it’s hard and shockingly cold. She sits and suddenly feels a slight jab on her stomach. The knife! She had almost forgotten it, she prays Derek can’t see its wavy outline in her shirt.
But he can, his eyes immediately move to it.
“Aw….what do you have there?” He cooes, and quickly snatches the knife before she has any time to react.
“What…What the FUCK!” He growls. Derek shoves her down into a lying position on the stone table. The force he exerts whacks her head against the table, and disorients her for a moment.
He holds the knife in front of her accusingly.
“Did you think you were gonna’ stab me?” Derek cackles, “You are such a bitch! Where were you going to stab me, you little slut?”
“I wasn’t!” She lies, sobbing at the knife that is now pressed against her throat. She’s almost unable to form a coherent sentence with the way her head is spinning.
His smirk is full of malice as he presses the tip of the blade into her skin. Her flesh bends at the slight force, and eventually spreads itself around the very tip of the blade.
She whimpers at the stinging sensation. Derek’s silence is telling, his lustful gaze is even louder.
“Please,” she sobs, “don’t kill me. I swear, I wasn’t going to stab you.”
Derek eases up the pressure of the knife, but doesn’t remove it from her neck. He uses his freehand to lift up her thin tank top, exposing her breasts to the cold cave air. But she doesn’t have time to think about how embarrassing this is, she’s still so focused on groveling.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” She whimpers, “please, please forgive me.”
Derek jerks the knife away, now aiming at the center of her chest. His grin is evil, and spreads almost from ear to ear.
“Liar.” He says flatly, as he drives the blade into her skin, not deep enough to be a stab, just enough to slice through her skin. A pained scream erupts from her lips and her whole body tenses. Derek grabs a fistful of her hair and forces her to watch as he slices her.
At first his cuts seem unplanned and uncoordinated. He moves the knife around roughly, and each time he lifts and pierces her skin again it somehow hurts more. The cuts aren’t shallow, but only some are deep enough to warrant stitches. Blood oozes from each wound and smears across her chest.
“Stop bleeding everywhere, you’re messing me up.” Derek seethes.
She can only whine loudly in response. Any words would just come out as a broken, jumbled mess.
Derek finally sets the knife down, and takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork. He watches how her tears roll down her cheeks, and down her neck.
“Look. Do you know what that says?” He asks sweetly, as if he were teaching a child to read. His sudden change in demeanor almost gives her whiplash.
She shakes her head no, and Derek whips out his phone and takes a picture of her cuts. The flash of his camera is bright and feels almost blinding to her. He turns his phone around proudly.
She squints her eyes to look at the picture, but doesn’t even see the cuts at first. Tears well up in her eyes as she realizes he’s one of the only people that have ever seen her like this. Definitely the only person to have a picture of it.
“What does it say, can you not read?” He beguiles, and underneath his feigned sweetness is a sickening amount of arousal.
While she most definitely can read, the blood smeared across her chest and oozing from her cuts is not making it very easy. But after staring at it for a minute she’s able to make it out.
‘Property Of Derek Goffard.’
“No..” she chokes out a heavy sob. This sick fuck mutilated her, carved his name into her. If she even survived this long enough to get a partner, what were they going to say when they saw that?
“Now, everybody will always know you belong to me.” Derek hums. He delicately rests a hand on the open wounds at first. His hand squelches against the blood, and it coats his palm. He brings it up to his face to inspect it.
Tears stream down her face violently as she watches him lick her blood off his palm.
“Stop, stop, stop.” She repeats. Her head shakes no, and he lowers his hand to her face.
“Clean it.” He says coldly, his eyes half lidded in boredom.
“Fuck you!” She sobs, and tries to push herself up to smack his hand away.
She misses his hand and instead collides with his shoulder, he feels much more muscular than he appears. Especially with his slightly oversized coat hiding his arm.
“Fucking bitch!” Derek yaps, he’s unfazed by the hit, only upset that she’s disobeying him. He chuckles a little, out of a weird mix of anger, pity, and egocentrism.
“Aww, are you dehydrated or something? Did I not give you enough water? I didn’t even feel that.” He smiles. He thrusts his fingers to her lips.
“Drink up.” He cooes. He can feel the power rushing to his head.
She can’t hold back any sobs, even though she knows it’s only exciting him more.
She sticks out her tongue to lick her blood from his fingers. She wraps her lips around them, and sucks them clean.
“Better?” He feigns, and wipes the spit on his fingers onto her face.
Obviously it isn’t, blood can’t rehydrate her, but she feels the need to nod her head so he doesn’t make her drink more of it.
“Please, let me go.” She begs, even though it’s pointless. She hopes he will leave her like their last encounter.
“Shut up. You have something that belongs to me.” Derek barks, and slaps her across her face once more .
He eyes her crotch, covered by those uncomfortable grey boxer briefs. She immediately feels self conscious of his gaze and presses her legs together. Only drawing his attention to it more.
He waves the knife around threateningly, “Hmm, spread them.”
She violently shakes her head in disapproval, “No, no, please.”
Without a second thought he aggressively stabs her thigh. It goes all the way in, up to the hilt. A broken scream escapes her lips, as she feels the knife tear through her skin, fat and muscle.
“Fuck!” She cries out, “you fucking bastard!”
Pain explodes behind her eyes, it feels like every single nerve is on fire. It makes her dry heave, and curl up defensively. He’s pleased with the way she cowers at his hands. He’s not even mad she cursed at him, rather disrespectfully. He’s only enamored by her reaction. Derek taps the end of the knife with his fingers, and chuckles at her reaction. Her pain coated whimpers flood the cave.
“Do it, or I’ll stab you again.” He orders, and she can tell he’s more than happy to do it again.
With teary eyes she slowly spreads her shaking thighs apart. The movement alone makes her feel like she’s being stabbed again.
“Please don’t do this.” She begs.
Derek reaches out and slides his finger along the rough cotton fabric, right against her folds. It feels scratchy against her and she whimpers in discomfort.
“Stop. Please don’t, please don’t touch me.” She sobs quietly. She tries to stop herself from jerking away from him. Knowing it will just make him more volatile, and irritate the knife sticking out of her leg.
Derek again finds himself internally surprised. He usually would feel much more upset with her insubordination.
“Fuck,” he gruffs, his voice is sticky with lust, “I can’t even focus on being mad at you with all those cute noises you’re making.”
“Does your leg hurt?” He asks. His fake-sweet voice makes her stomach churn. He puts his hand on the handle of the knife.
Before she can give any response he tears the knife out of her leg. Blood that once slowly seeped from her wound now pours onto the cave table.
The scream that follows is inhuman, if Derek hadn’t seen her mouth open he could’ve sworn it was a wild animal outside. She places her hand over the wound quickly. She tries to apply as much pressure as possible, but her blood seeps from between her fingers.
“Fuck. Fuck. I’m,” She pauses, “I’m gonna’ die.”
She can feel herself becoming lightheaded from the blood loss. She feels like she barely has the energy to cry, and her sobs just come out as a broken, pained groan.
“I’m going to die.” She weeps. After she had made it so far. Surviving so much in these short three days, she’s really just going to die in this dank cave.
Derek can’t help but let out a genuine laugh. The kind of laugh that makes his stomach start to hurt. He almost doubles over and cackles on the cave floor.
“Haha, oh my god. No, you’re not going to die.” He removes his bandana, and finds a long, straight piece of rock on the floor. “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”
He’s almost purring. The sight of her blood is so arousing for him, it’s distracting. Derek slides his bandana around the fat of her thigh and uses the rock to make a makeshift tourniquet. The pouring of blood slows to a slight trickle. His sudden concern for her life, even if it’s for purely selfish reasons, is almost brain-washing. Accompanied by how light-headed, and out of it she feels, it seems he's put her under a spell.
“Thank you.” She fawns, and he can tell her words are sincere.
Derek doesn't reply, and he doesn’t really care. He’s too focused on how her blood seems to sparkle in the dim lighting. He delves his fingers into the pools of it on the table. He raises his hand to his mouth to again lick the mess off. She knows his preoccupation with her blood is a horrific omen, but it still disgustingly makes her excited that he enjoys such an intimate part of her.
Derek runs his index finger over her stab wound. She hisses through her teeth at the stinging sensation he’s reawakening. She tries to stifle a cry as he pushes the tip of his finger into the wound.
“Don’t be quiet now,” he flashes a devious grin at her, “I want to hear you scream.”
He pushes his finger deeper into her battered leg. She wails at the sudden intrusion. It burns her skin and the original pain is amplified by his sadistic actions. She’s unable to hold back any whines.
“Please?” She begs pathetically.
She feels almost winded, and she can feel how flushed her face is. Despite every other part of her body feeling cold, like she wasn’t even attached to it anymore. She can feel her head becoming fuzzier, and it lolls to the side as she slips into a gentle unconsciousness.
Derek’s rough tapping on her cheek startled her from her peaceful daze.
“Hey! Hey, what’s your problem?” Derek asks anxiously. In her drained state she can almost convince herself he is worried about her. But deep inside herself, she knows he sees her as an object. Her life has no real meaning to him.
“Are you seriously fucking dying? Already?” Derek barks, lashing out like a small child about to throw a tantrum. She can make out the frustration all over his face. He looks like he’s shaking from how angry he is.
“No! I’m alive.” She said worriedly, her speech sounds distorted, cloudy, it feels almost delayed.
His hand flies to her waist, and he leans over her figure. The strands of his blonde hair tickle the skin of her face.
“You don’t get to die until I want you to.” He whispers to her.
“Dumb bitches like you, you don’t want to have to think for yourself. It’s so much easier to let me choose for you. Isn’t that right?” Derek asks, his hand moves up to caress her cheek.
The foggy part of her brain is screaming at her reminding her how degrading this is. She’s so disoriented though, and has been stuck in fight or flight since he brought her here. It feels good to let go.
“I…yes. I don’t want to choose anymore.” She mumbles, her throat gets tight. If she had any tears left, they’d be pooling at the corners of her eyes.
“Beg. Beg me to own you. Beg me to let you be the dumb bitch you are.” Derek says excitedly, his hand moves from her cheek to his cock. It’s rock hard and throbs every time he catches a glimpse of the ‘memories’ he’s inflicted on her.
“Please,” she whines, and she can hear him unzip his pants, “don’t make me think anymore. Please just let me be dumb. Please just don’t make me think, and don’t kill me.”
Derek revels in the way her words seem to fall from her lips. They’re unplanned, unfiltered and so pathetic. He wonders if she knows just how pathetic she’s being.
In a moment that feels too fast for her, his pants are off. Discarded onto the cold cave floor. He yanks her upwards, so that only her head lays off the dirt table. She groans at the sudden movement. He positions her head between his thighs, his long erection rests gently on her face.
She gets the memo and parts her lips. Derek impatiently presses his length into her mouth. It doesn’t take long for the tip to fill up her mouth, then to fill up her throat. She feels how she’s struggling for air, but can’t manage to even tap him and silently beg him for a breath.
“I think it’d be nice to see you die on my cock. Should I suffocate you?” Derek purrs, finally thrusting the entirety of his cock down her throat.
She’s too weak to fight back, too scared to bite him. The slow oxygen deprivation burns her lungs and she desperately gags on his cock for air. A particularly violent gag causes more spit to coat the length of his cock. His hands twist around her neck into a choke hold, her throat was already tight but when he thrusts again the added pressure draws a moan from his lips.
It’s sloppy, needy, and loud. Even in her delirious state, she recognizes it. She can even recognize the disgust she feels when it makes her ache for him. His thrusts are shallow, testing how tight the addition of his hands is. They finally settle into a pace, and seeing her face turn to a shade of bright red excites him more.
“Look at me.” He orders.
She opens her eyes, and can’t hide the lustful look on her face. All her pain feels mellowed, she can only focus on the lack of oxygen, and wanting him to feel good.
“You are nothing.” He moans. “You’re such a stupid cunt.”
Spit drips from the corners of her mouth and sticks stray hairs to her face. Derek uses his grip to slide her head up and down his cock. The saliva her gag reflex is producing creates a thick coating of lubrication. Derek shudders as he lowers her down on it again. His thrusts squelch, she makes a lewd noise every time he rests too deep for too long. The choking sends vibrations up his length. He lowers her again, painfully slow. She can feel every last bit of oxygen escaping her again.
She gasps raggedly, the color slowly comes back to her face and she pants, and gazes up at him. The light in her eyes seems dimmer. She looks like a puppet, brainwashed, broken.
“Good girl.” He pants. He seems pleased, but his violent aura never dissipates.
“Thank you.” She says slavishly. Internally fighting to stay on his ‘good side’.
He smirks coldly, and moves away from her head, down to her battered thigh. He lets his dick slap against her open wound. It becomes coated in blood, and splatters droplets over the pair.
Derek has the urge to press his cock into the open wound. To listen to her scream as he rips it open wider around his painful erection. His fun however, it can’t be over yet. Irritating a wound like that with something as girthy as his cock would mean a much quicker death. He was surprised that fingering it hadn’t killed her, he couldn’t really afford to take more chances.
Against his better judgment he presses the tip against it, just a bit. The wound is barely affected by the new pressure. She hisses, but the pain feels so much duller than it did previously.
“No, not my leg, please.” She whines desperately.
Derek cackles, “What happened to not thinking anymore? You told me I get to choose.”
He applies more pressure to her pained leg, and she curses at the awful sensation.
“Aw, does it hurt? Should I just rape you instead?” He asks rhetorically.
Her head is swimming. Neither option is in any way pleasant, but dying still feels worse. She can’t bring herself to suggest either. She weeps dryly, waiting for him to steal the decision from her.
“You don’t get to choose.” Derek says impatiently.
He tears a hole in the rough gray fabric that covers her sex. Embarrassment crashes over her, and so does a strong sense of fear. Derek pauses, and just stares at her. It makes her more uncomfortable than if he were to just say something. He’s studying her, as if she were some scientific experiment.
“Don’t look.” She whimpers, trying to muster the strength to cover herself.
“Stop fucking telling me what to do!” Derek shouts. His face has a tinge of red to it, and he’s shaking again. His blonde hair is disheveled and falls into his eyes.
He smacks her pussy, and watches the way it jiggles. It isn’t particularly rough, as though he’s still examining her. She still squeaks at his touch. She fights to keep her pleas back, not wanting to upset him further.
He giggles, “I just realized you’re all shaved, did that bastard from the auction shave you?”
She can’t help but wonder why he’s so jealous, why does he really care? What did any of it matter? She knows he wants an answer.
“No, I did it.” She pauses, “before.”
He seems pleased with her response.
“Aw, am I going to steal your virginity from someone?” He teases, and flicks her clit.
“From me you fucking asshole!” She weeps, and she can feel her tears returning. Every tear that falls is a silent plea to god.
Derek can’t help but laugh callously. His eyes wide with excitement at the resumption of her crying.
“This isn't fair, this isn’t fair..” She cries, mostly to herself.
He laughs again, watching her break was just so funny to him.
“That’s now how the world works.” He laughs, “fair, not fair, it doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters to you now is what I want. No one is going to save you. I’m gonna’ fuck you, and then I’m going to kill you.”
He ends his sentence by shoving two fingers into her opening. He slides them around, she’s barely lubricated so it doesn’t feel good. He roughly slides his fingers around, exploring her most vulnerable and private area.
“Please, please no more” She weeps.
Derek ignores her and starts to settle into a rhythmic pace. He slides his fingers as deep as they can go, and scissors them open. She can’t hold back a small moan that escapes her lips every time he opens them.
“You fucking slut. You’re getting wet from this?” Derek barks out a laugh.
“I, I…” she trails off, her mind hazy from fear, lust, and blood loss.
She mewls around his fingers, and a slickness starts to form as he begins to move at a much faster pace. Derek pulls out the knife again, and without warning begins to slice her non-stabbed leg. She screams in a mix of ecstasy and agony.
“Please, please stop. Please? I’m sorry, please no more.” She babbles incoherently. Her hands move to cover her eyes.
Her begging only excites him more, without warning he rips his fingers out. Replacing them with his large cock at her entrance.
“No! No, no!” She cries as she feels him begin to force his way into her walls.
“Shut up whore! I know you want it!” Derek laughs, barely pressing the tip in. “Oh fuck, beg me to rape you.”
“What?” She asks, bewildered.
“Do it, or I’ll fuck your leg and let you bleed out. That’ll hurt more than me killing you with that bat.”
He laughs and cups her face.
“Please, don’t fuck my leg.” She sobs
“You dumb bitch! Are you even Listening? You know what I said.” Derek spits.
“Please,” she has to force the words out of her mouth, “ Please rape me. Take my virginity, just not my leg? I’m begging you, please, I’m scared.”
He stills for a moment. Before she can feel any sense of relief or dread he shoves himself in farther. A broken scream falls from her lips, and blood coats the half of his cock that’s inside of her.
“You really are a virgin!” Derek gasps a laugh, and thrusts into her shallowly.
She closes her eyes and begins to dissociate. She tries to focus on something, anything but the way he feels inside of her. Derek presses harder and is able to fit most of himself in. He wraps his hand around her neck as he begins a long stroke. Derek’s hips snap forward, and the force makes her rock underneath him.
“I want to watch you cry.” Derek moans, and uses his free hand to seat hers away from her face.
He thrusts more, they’re sloppy and with no real rhythm. She wonders how this can even feel good for him.
“Derek, stop.” She chokes out.
Derek tightens his grip around her neck, and thrusts harder. Her juices cover his shaved pubic area. He’s gripping her throat so tightly she can make any noise, each thrust in feels like he’s squeezing her tighter.
The pain of her virgin hole being forced open is beginning to subside, thanks to the lubrication of her arousal and the blood coming from her.
“Stick out your tongue.” He commands, and through the haze of oxygen deprivation she obeys. Fearful of the punishment that would result from her insubordination.
“You,” he grunts as shoves himself as deep as possible, “you look so fucking stupid. You’re my dumb slut.”
His moans are breathy and loud. The lewd sounds of slapping skin and squelching echo off the cave walls. His grip loosens and she’s able to gasp in a large breath.
“Say it. Say you’re my dumb slut.” Derek groans.
Maybe it’s the throbbing pain in her head, the lack of oxygen or the blood loss. But she can’t stop herself from moaning. She feels a pit in her stomach begin to form.
“I’m your dumb slut!” The words fall out in between involuntary moans from her violent orgasm. They sound like they’re coming from someone else. She definitely couldn’t have just said that out loud.
“Fuck, did you just cum from this?” He groans as he feels her shudder around him. His thrusts become impatiently fast. His hand returns to her neck as he snaps in and out of her.
“Fuck, fuck I’m going to cum inside you.” Derek grunts.
She has no energy to beg him not to, she just lays there and feels Derek’s cock throbbing inside her. With a last, particularly deep, thrust he comes undone inside her. He shudders and breathes raggedly. His grip loosens around her throat and he pulls out. Their juices fall out unceremoniously onto the cave table. She whines at the sudden emptiness, and curses herself for subconsciously wanting him back inside.
“Get the fuck up.” He demands, and the reality of her situation sinks in. He grabs the once discarded bat off the floor. She musters the last of her energy to push herself off the table and into a kneeling position on the floor.
The stab wound and her chest wounds ache from the movement. She buries her face in her hands and sobs. She feels pathetic, sitting on the floor and not even trying to fight back. What is there to do, she can barely move.
“Hey, hey!” Derek’s fingers snapping pull her from her thoughts.
“He’s almost here, get ready.” Derek barks. She’s confused, who was coming?
The man in the dog-ish mask bursts through the door. He’s covered in blood, and without asking she knows exactly which captive it belongs to. The smell of Jack’s cigarettes makes her nauseous as he circles her slowly.
“You really want to keep it?” Jack asks. Before she can question, Derek sighs.
“Shut up and grab her!” Derek huffs, crossing his arms impatiently.
“No, please, just do it already.” She weeps as jack manhandles her. He throws her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing.
Derek strides up to her and pats her cheek roughly again.
“I don’t think I’m finished with you yet.” He says slyly.
“i spoil you too much” fox says, cutting through the silence, you were watching some animated show together, and his words came out of nowhere. you look at him, worried, worried that he’ll take the little he gives you, and give you even less. it’s hard, being with him like this, but you try to make the most of it.
“i’m sorry, i—” you say, the word spilling out instinctively as it always does when you think his mood will turn.
“no, no don’t be.” he cuts you off. “it just… it could be worse you know, but i care about you. there are terrible people out there, i would know. don’t you think i would know?” he asks, prompting you. and there’s never room for any other answer than the one he wants to hear.
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