Fuck you, I\'m the Chief of Police
folder
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Games
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,198
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Games
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,198
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the anime/manga that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
He spat on the index and middle fingers of his right hand and rubbed the moisture around with his thumb. Reaching down, he began to massage the skin behind Mark’s testicles with his wet fingers, loosening up the skin. He spat again, and used the wetness to insert the tip of his index finger into Mark’s tensed anus. Unable to move properly, Mark was reduced to weak twisting and squirming, which was utterly useless when it came to outmanoeuvring the other man’s violating hand. Even if he’d been able to escape the fingers, Gant still had a firm grip on him.
A few minutes later and several re-wettings later, Gant had managed to insert two fingers about 2 inches deep into Mark. The crying had intensified as soon as the second digit had entered, and the piercing cries of the horrified victim sang their sad song in the air. Gant was rather enjoying the sensation, because every tense scream caused the muscles in Mark’s rectum to squeeze around his fingers, almost to the point that he couldn’t move them. He was greatly looking forward to taking their place.
Gant released his hold on Mark and began touching himself with his free hand, preparing himself for the next step. Between his manipulations with his left hand, and the continued slow thrusting of his right, he was excited and ready in barely a minute.
Mark’s screeching had ceased being exciting for Gant, and had begun to irritate him, so as punishment, without warning, he roughly ripped his fingers out of Mark, changing the room’s noise from a high-pitched whine to a hollow shout, and then near silence, the only sounds being the panting of both men.
Gant’s patience was at its limit. He spat in his hand one last time, and rubbed it over the head of his penis, before sidling himself behind Mark’s shaking body and shoving the first inch of himself inside Mark’s warmth. The loudest cry of them all roared through the room, as the crippled man protested the violation in the only way he had left. A few squirming moments had Gant settled comfortably, with both hands holding Mark’s hips still. Using persistence, moisture and not a small amount of brute force, the Chief managed to get himself deep inside Mark’s anus, where he could feel every twitch and movement, every sob and moan, and every weak, futile attempt at escape; each and every sensation was heated and erotic perfection.
He began to thrust properly, slowly withdrawing before slamming back in, savouring the heat and tightness. As the hole loosened and flexed, he sped up, feeling the muscles flexing and grasping at his flesh, almost like his own hand. A sudden deep thrust rewarded him with a tight pressure on the head, as well as a deep bellow of pain from his unwilling partner. The sweet cry of agony was all the incentive he needed to push each subsequent stroke as far as possible.
Some minutes of unceasing shame and violation later, Mark’s effort to escape by any means possible gave him some reward. He twitched at the same time as Gant withdrew, and the penis quickly slid out of him. He felt a tiny moment of relief, before a fist jabbed him in the back of the head, knocking his face into the wooden desk, causing even more pain.
His pleasure toy now still, Gant reinserted himself and continued his rapid thrusting. The smell of fear and horror in the air were as exciting to him as any of the physical sensations. The growing air of hopelessness was threatening to push him over the edge. Gant slowed his strokes, allowing him to lean forward against Mark’s back, and reached around to feel Mark’s penis. He was pleased, although unsurprised to find it erect, and he grabbed a hold of it. He began to squeeze it, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, while the awful moaning that escaped Mark’s mouth made him quiver. Mark was feeling it. He could feel his anus being distended, he could feel the rough cloth of the glove on his hard penis, he could feel the hot breath on his neck… and his body was reacting to it. He knew, consciously, that it was rape. It was repugnant and terrifying. But his body was reacting to it, and that thought was the worst he could have imagined.
Gant had been thrusting for near to ten minutes now, and the physical feelings were starting to catch up with him. Combined with the terror and complete surrender of his victim, he was getting close to completion. Deciding not to delay it any longer, he returned to his deep and fast thrusts, feeling the grip of the muscles around him, and getting closer to the brink of his stamina. At the same time, he changed the angle of his hand on Mark’s erection, focusing more on the head, bringing him closer to a scared and reluctant orgasm.
A muscle spasm in Mark’s back, caused by a spike of pain from his knee, caused his whole body to twitch, and the force of it finally pushed Gant over the edge. He pushed hard into Mark, forcing the head of his penis deep up against the hot walls of Mark’s anus, and exploded, firing thick semen into the crying man. He also reflexively squeezed his fist, and the friction pushed Mark over the gaping precipice, causing him to empty himself into Gant’s hand, leaving him ashamed beyond all measure.
Still pulsing, an almost exhausted Gant held still, feeling small spurts still exiting his body. He hadn’t felt quite like this in years, and he was pleased that his body had responded so well to the excitement. After a few moments of hard breathing, he withdrew, his stiff member covered in thick blotches of Mark’s blood and his own semen. To finish off the humiliation, he grabbed Mark’s hair and twisted his head around, and slapped him across the face with his slowly softening penis, half a dozen times, leaving long, wet red and white patches over his stubbled cheeks.
Mark was no longer able to cry, he had run out of tears. He just lay motionless, still bent forcefully over the deep brown wood of the desk, with blood dripping down the insides of his legs, onto his crushed knees, only to be soaked up by his pants. His penis dripped semen, the cold feeling repeatedly reminding him that his body had responded to Gant’s efforts, even though his mind and spirit had been repulsed.
Gant stretched his back out, feeling tight after the awkward bending he’d had to do to get a good angle for insertion. He felt younger than he had in two decades, a spring in his step he’d enjoy all day. With a content and relaxed smile, he unhooked the sword from the gauntlet of the ornamental suit of armour he had in his office. The sword was not purely decorative. He hefted it a few times, enjoying how light it felt with his refreshed muscles. Still smiling, he carried the sword over to his desk. He looked down at the still man, and watched his back rise and fall with heavy breaths. Then, with gentle eyes and soft curve to his lips, he slipped the point of the sword into the left side of Mark’s neck.
A gasp escaped Mark’s lips as the initial pain hit him, but he soon no longer felt it, as his body stopped functioning properly. He was unable to move, and he began to lose feeling, even the pain in his destroyed legs was beginning to fade away. Shame was the last thought he had. Shame for being unable to resist. Shame for being unable to run. Shame for physically responding to his rapist. And then shame for having his life ended in such a humiliating fashion. And then he thought no longer.
Gant felt Mark’s life leave him through the steel of the sword. He pulled it out, and watched a drop of blood fall from the tip. He threw the sword on the ground away from the body and the desk; he didn’t want it to rust – it had been cost him a pretty penny. The crimson was pooling all over his beautiful desk and his papers. It was a pity… he’d have to get a new desk.
As he slowly re-covered himself, he made a list of things he had to do. Firstly, he’d have to call a few friends who helped him out of situations like this. He knew who to call: there was a young man who owed him a favour. There was no way Edgeworth would get a conviction without the witness testimony. He made a mental note to call the store for a new desk and stationery…
Maybe he’d get an oak desk… Oak is nice… Always nice to try a new wood grain now and then…
_____
Written by funkybeatyo
Edited by Eiji<3
Dedicated to Fuji, with love and apologies
A few minutes later and several re-wettings later, Gant had managed to insert two fingers about 2 inches deep into Mark. The crying had intensified as soon as the second digit had entered, and the piercing cries of the horrified victim sang their sad song in the air. Gant was rather enjoying the sensation, because every tense scream caused the muscles in Mark’s rectum to squeeze around his fingers, almost to the point that he couldn’t move them. He was greatly looking forward to taking their place.
Gant released his hold on Mark and began touching himself with his free hand, preparing himself for the next step. Between his manipulations with his left hand, and the continued slow thrusting of his right, he was excited and ready in barely a minute.
Mark’s screeching had ceased being exciting for Gant, and had begun to irritate him, so as punishment, without warning, he roughly ripped his fingers out of Mark, changing the room’s noise from a high-pitched whine to a hollow shout, and then near silence, the only sounds being the panting of both men.
Gant’s patience was at its limit. He spat in his hand one last time, and rubbed it over the head of his penis, before sidling himself behind Mark’s shaking body and shoving the first inch of himself inside Mark’s warmth. The loudest cry of them all roared through the room, as the crippled man protested the violation in the only way he had left. A few squirming moments had Gant settled comfortably, with both hands holding Mark’s hips still. Using persistence, moisture and not a small amount of brute force, the Chief managed to get himself deep inside Mark’s anus, where he could feel every twitch and movement, every sob and moan, and every weak, futile attempt at escape; each and every sensation was heated and erotic perfection.
He began to thrust properly, slowly withdrawing before slamming back in, savouring the heat and tightness. As the hole loosened and flexed, he sped up, feeling the muscles flexing and grasping at his flesh, almost like his own hand. A sudden deep thrust rewarded him with a tight pressure on the head, as well as a deep bellow of pain from his unwilling partner. The sweet cry of agony was all the incentive he needed to push each subsequent stroke as far as possible.
Some minutes of unceasing shame and violation later, Mark’s effort to escape by any means possible gave him some reward. He twitched at the same time as Gant withdrew, and the penis quickly slid out of him. He felt a tiny moment of relief, before a fist jabbed him in the back of the head, knocking his face into the wooden desk, causing even more pain.
His pleasure toy now still, Gant reinserted himself and continued his rapid thrusting. The smell of fear and horror in the air were as exciting to him as any of the physical sensations. The growing air of hopelessness was threatening to push him over the edge. Gant slowed his strokes, allowing him to lean forward against Mark’s back, and reached around to feel Mark’s penis. He was pleased, although unsurprised to find it erect, and he grabbed a hold of it. He began to squeeze it, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, while the awful moaning that escaped Mark’s mouth made him quiver. Mark was feeling it. He could feel his anus being distended, he could feel the rough cloth of the glove on his hard penis, he could feel the hot breath on his neck… and his body was reacting to it. He knew, consciously, that it was rape. It was repugnant and terrifying. But his body was reacting to it, and that thought was the worst he could have imagined.
Gant had been thrusting for near to ten minutes now, and the physical feelings were starting to catch up with him. Combined with the terror and complete surrender of his victim, he was getting close to completion. Deciding not to delay it any longer, he returned to his deep and fast thrusts, feeling the grip of the muscles around him, and getting closer to the brink of his stamina. At the same time, he changed the angle of his hand on Mark’s erection, focusing more on the head, bringing him closer to a scared and reluctant orgasm.
A muscle spasm in Mark’s back, caused by a spike of pain from his knee, caused his whole body to twitch, and the force of it finally pushed Gant over the edge. He pushed hard into Mark, forcing the head of his penis deep up against the hot walls of Mark’s anus, and exploded, firing thick semen into the crying man. He also reflexively squeezed his fist, and the friction pushed Mark over the gaping precipice, causing him to empty himself into Gant’s hand, leaving him ashamed beyond all measure.
Still pulsing, an almost exhausted Gant held still, feeling small spurts still exiting his body. He hadn’t felt quite like this in years, and he was pleased that his body had responded so well to the excitement. After a few moments of hard breathing, he withdrew, his stiff member covered in thick blotches of Mark’s blood and his own semen. To finish off the humiliation, he grabbed Mark’s hair and twisted his head around, and slapped him across the face with his slowly softening penis, half a dozen times, leaving long, wet red and white patches over his stubbled cheeks.
Mark was no longer able to cry, he had run out of tears. He just lay motionless, still bent forcefully over the deep brown wood of the desk, with blood dripping down the insides of his legs, onto his crushed knees, only to be soaked up by his pants. His penis dripped semen, the cold feeling repeatedly reminding him that his body had responded to Gant’s efforts, even though his mind and spirit had been repulsed.
Gant stretched his back out, feeling tight after the awkward bending he’d had to do to get a good angle for insertion. He felt younger than he had in two decades, a spring in his step he’d enjoy all day. With a content and relaxed smile, he unhooked the sword from the gauntlet of the ornamental suit of armour he had in his office. The sword was not purely decorative. He hefted it a few times, enjoying how light it felt with his refreshed muscles. Still smiling, he carried the sword over to his desk. He looked down at the still man, and watched his back rise and fall with heavy breaths. Then, with gentle eyes and soft curve to his lips, he slipped the point of the sword into the left side of Mark’s neck.
A gasp escaped Mark’s lips as the initial pain hit him, but he soon no longer felt it, as his body stopped functioning properly. He was unable to move, and he began to lose feeling, even the pain in his destroyed legs was beginning to fade away. Shame was the last thought he had. Shame for being unable to resist. Shame for being unable to run. Shame for physically responding to his rapist. And then shame for having his life ended in such a humiliating fashion. And then he thought no longer.
Gant felt Mark’s life leave him through the steel of the sword. He pulled it out, and watched a drop of blood fall from the tip. He threw the sword on the ground away from the body and the desk; he didn’t want it to rust – it had been cost him a pretty penny. The crimson was pooling all over his beautiful desk and his papers. It was a pity… he’d have to get a new desk.
As he slowly re-covered himself, he made a list of things he had to do. Firstly, he’d have to call a few friends who helped him out of situations like this. He knew who to call: there was a young man who owed him a favour. There was no way Edgeworth would get a conviction without the witness testimony. He made a mental note to call the store for a new desk and stationery…
Maybe he’d get an oak desk… Oak is nice… Always nice to try a new wood grain now and then…
_____
Written by funkybeatyo
Edited by Eiji<3
Dedicated to Fuji, with love and apologies