Triggers: non-consent, kidnapping.
(For those who are horny for villains.)
He said he'd rape me if they found me. Personally. I had committed a crime and needed to be punished, it was strictly business, that was the vibe I got. We'd been on opposite sides a while now and we'd become familiar with each other, as much as enemies can, and the threat lacked teeth. Though I knew there would be painful consequences if I didn't hide well enough.
And my hiding spot right now is compromised. I'm crouching behind a car, clutching a bag of supplies, while two goons search the car park not far from me. I swear profusely in my mind. And fuck me apparently there was a third, and before I can get away he grabs my arm and then the other two are almost here. I kick him in the shin and he lets go, but I don't get far before the other two grab me and I lose my bag of supplies in the struggle.
I'm rushed into a van, a bag is thrown over my head and I'm shackled, I have no chance to get away. Breathing hard and hurting, I scowl under the bag as the van starts up and wait for either my opportunity or my verdict.
After some amount of time the van turns off and lets me know we've arrived. My heart beats fast as I prepare myself for action, but I'm grabbed securely by two of the goons, who obviously don't know how to treat a lady. They shuffle me out without removing the bag and we enter a building.
I'm thrown unceremoniously to the ground and the bag is ripped off my head. I blink and squint into the light, assessing my surroundings, my bound hands held in front of me. The place looks like a tacky motel room, dim yellow light and only one exit.
"Well look what the cat dragged in." The drawl comes from my right, and there he is. Lounging on a run-down sofa, not even looking at me. He looks like an unremarkable forty-something-year-old guy, other than a burn scar that covers a third of his face and something about him hinting he is not to be fucked with. His eyes flick over to meet mine, coldly. Eyes still cold, his lips draw up in a slow smile.
"Now, there's no need to be impolite; let's untie our guest shall we?" he says, watching me but directing it to his henchmen. I snarl at the goon as my hands are released, not very gently, then rub my sore wrists.
He stands up, and strolls before me. "Now," he says, looking down at me. "I don't believe in playing games; I like honesty. I like to get to the point." He paces slowly. "You know what you did. You know why you're here. And you know the consequence. You take something from me, you cost me something, and now I take something from you." He looks me in the eye, restrained rage in his face.
Sweating nervously, I bluster, "Well maybe you should've taken better care of your shit, Jeremy, instead of making it so easy to fuck around with that my dead grandma could have done it. Ever think of it that way?"
Looking at me dispassionately, he ignores me and gestures to his henchmen. "Hold them down," he says simply.
I try to make a run for it, and manage to get one or two punches in before I'm grabbed and hauled onto a table. Swearing, I struggle viciously but they turn me over onto my belly and hold each of my limbs in place. I turn my head and see Jeremy standing behind me, unfussed.
"Valiant effort," he says. "But there's no escaping this."
