Forbidden Fruit

The laces popped one by one, each time giving Frank another inch of flesh as Vendetta tried to move away. Her jerky movements had gotten her cut twice already, to which Frank had no sympathy. When the last lace was cut he yanked away the leather corset, tossing it into a heap on the floor. Her chest was bare to him, open for what ever he wanted to do to it.

Taking the dull edge of the knife, Frank drew a line down her chest. He could feel she wasn't enjoying this. The tears in her eyes. He had taken her back to a very painful place, but he didn't care. The tip fo the knife crest her left breast. He past the flat side of the knife over her nipple, the cold steel running chills through her spine.

Vendetta was lost, locked away from this now. She had gone through simular, sexual torture, raped before, but never like this. Never tied down, not by someone she had trusted. She looked at him, trying to find something human in his eyes, but there she only found what his victims find, Punishment.

He was punishing her! He was getting her back for what she had done! 'What a fucking bastard!' she thought to herself, whimpering as the knife slashed downwards, cutting the skirt and her panties away in one swipe, leaving a leaking line of red on her upper thigh. Frank was oblivious to this, however, cutting off the other leg of her panties, he threw them into a pile with her corset on the floor.

"You little whore," he growled at her in a way that made her fear, actually fear him. His knife past down the inside of her thigh before climbing higher. Her heart beat was racing as it touched her pubic hair. He wasn't that sick? Was he? Oh god, she hoped he wasn't.

"You're crying?" he slapped her across the face and laughed as she clenched her eyes shut. Yes, she was defiantly back in time. She bit her tears back and tried her best not to hyper ventilate. Where as, if she did pass out, she would be taken away from here, but knowing Frank, he might kill her if she didn't keep an eye open for a hole, a way to get out of this situation...

"I like it," he growled, dragging the blade along her cheek, collecting the tears in the small ridge that ran the centre of the knife. He brought it down once more, over the cut in her leg, the cut he had caused in her leg. He ran the blade through the wound once more, the salt of her tears only adding to the renewed sting as the sadistic Frank Castle laughed.

He undid his fly, pulling his rigid member out. He felt no need to get naked for her, no desire to make her feel like he was doing anything other than a job.

No gentle start, no kissing of her soft pubic hairs, no nuzzling or kissing at all. Just the raw, brutal action as he rammed himself into her. From the first push, he knew he was hurting her. The tears kept flowing, pain on several levels as he thrust in and out, ramming into her pubic bone with enough force to leave bruises. His strong hands gripped her around her rib cage, pulling and pushing her body with an equal force to that which he moved his own body, and the strength at which he held on would surely bruise as well.

Harder and faster he went and more she cried, silent tears muffled by the duck tape that was starting to curl around the edges where the salty tears were weakening the adhesive. He could feel himself getting closer to his climax, he didn't give a damn about her's. He was happier knowing that she wouldn't.

Brutally he ripped the duct tape from her mouth, hearing her cries was like a sadist's heaven. It was the sound which pushed him over the top.

Just as the first push of semen shot out from his penis, he with drew from her, shooting his seed up her body, spraying some into the cuts that she had sustained while trying to struggle away while he undid her corset. One shot had even reached the crevice in her neck and was starting to dribble down, collecting on the edge of her hair.

Her head was turned to the side, tears soaking her hair, staining her face. Her lips were bloodied from the slaps that had left large, bluish purple bruises on her cheekbones and chapped from the duct tape. Moving down her body, globs of jizz and blood mingled in a pink, puss-ish mess down her stomach, and a hand print could be clearly seen on either side of her rib cage. Bruising was also showing around the slice on her upper left thigh, along her inner thighs and her pelvis. Blood was seeping from her vagina, dripping on to his sheets.

He had certainly done a number on her. The strong, proud symbol of feminism brought down to the level of rape victim, brutal rape at that fact. Frank killed men who did things like this. Jade killed men who did things like this.

As he stood up, he felt sick to his stomach and he wasn't sure if it was because of her or his own actions. He cut the ropes holding her, thinking she had past out. As he cut her free, the woman rolled onto her side, assuming a fetal position, and Frank bit back the bile in the back of his throat again.

Part VI?