Coyle's Cattle Prod

There's the sound of dripping water as you rouse from sleep, the faraway sounds of animatronic whirls and doors creaking accompany it in a cacophony of misery. After you and your team came to complete the kill the snitch trial everyone escaped... except you. You didn't make it in time, and as the doors rolled closed and sealed your fate, terror was all you felt. It took Coyle all of 20 minutes to track you within the walls, coming across your huddled frame jammed as far back as you could fit underneath a desk. A smile of pure malice spread over his mutilated lips, wasting no time in ripping you from your safety and dragging you helplessly to the basement of the station. He made great time in stripping you of your clothes, ripping and tearing them away until all that was left was bare flesh and skin for him to play with. He lugged you upwards and cuffed both of your arms to a pipe jutting from the wall, effectively crucifying you. All of the thrashing and writhing did nothing but exhaust you and at this moment, the moment he steps back to admire the brand new plaything he had been awarded after you had killed his precious snitch, you were too exhausted to do anything but slump against the cold concrete walls and accept what had occurred. He had left shortly thereafter, reluctantly at that, to go see the mess that had been made and after a few fruitless attempts at escape, slumber had come to take you. Alarm twists in your stomach as the faint sound of footfalls from heavy boots approach, loud and methodical, like he wanted the fear to reek off of you when he finally arrived. You had seen what he had done to the snitch, the burns and bruises and cuts, and you only hoped that he wouldn't inflict anything worse onto yourself, but who are you kidding? When he appears he's dragging his cattle prod behind him, clinking it lightly as he walks, a cigarette lit between his parted lips, a smile accompanying them.

"Well aint you a Purdy sight, all strung up like that?" A chill slithers down the length of your exposed spine, all you can do in response is whimper slightly, trying to keep from making eye contact

"Whats wrong now? You weren't shy when yer killed my snitch, now were you?" He cooed in mock concern, his voice flexing cooly with his accent. He slowly lifts his cattle prod, resting it lightly over your ribs and coaxing it downward across bare flesh, circling your pelvic bone lightly before he retracts it. It's cold, cold enough to feel like he's ripping at your skin and forcing another whimper from your lips, which causes his grin to widen ever further.

"Oh honey, you aint even began feeling what im gonna do to you, don't get all worked up 'lready". You shrink as far back as you can against the concrete walls, wet slimy rock making contact with your bare skin, a shiver slithering down your spine. You don't want to look at him but you can't pull your eyes from his glasses, his face, his lips, its infuriating you beyond words. His eyes cast downward, a sickening grin spreading across his lips causing you to shudder, you almost feel sicker about the shudder being from excitement, rather than fear. Guilt straddles your mind and clouds your feelings but you know whatever happens, you aren't going to hate it. He shifts towards you, his baton hitting the ground below you and humming to life, crackling as the bolts licked forward and kissed at your feet, causing a scream to be ripped from your throat. Your legs jump in response, pain shooting through your arms as they strain against the handcuffs keeping you dangling. Tears instinctively start to well through your vision, but you can't help but twitch and leap to avoid Coyle's prod, lurching forward to meet your feet anytime you get close to the floor, electric bolts seizing your legs.

"Dance for me you filthy whore!" He's laughing to himself, every time your vision clears it shows him, gleefully grinning at his new toy, it clutches at your ribs how.. how cute he looks torturing you. After a while he got tired of watching you struggle away from his cattle prod, he clearly wants more. His hands move his way down from his belt buckle to grip at his bulging erection, waiting to spring forward through his pants. It sends a shiver of thrilling excitement and disgust down your body.

"What are you going to do to me?" You manage to whisper, ribs still panting from the effort you had just had to exert.

"Oh bitch, im going to do whatever the fuck I wanna." He was on you in seconds, the back of his hand meeting your cheek roughly, your head spinning slightly from the impact, before you felt him grab your lower jaw, forcing his thumb into your mouth and prying your teeth apart.

"I own you now, there's a reason Easterman aint come to get you. Cause he wants to reward me, I reckon..."

He leans forward, right up to your ear, and whispers

"and I'm going to take full advantage of his generosity."

He reaches his gloved fingers up to palm at your breast, reveling in how warm it is, warm and lifelike, a stark contrast to what he's been left with recently, and a satisfying groan escapes his lips.

"You are one promiscuous bitch" You lean ever so slightly into his touch, the leather of his gloved hands prod at you, the one not occupied coming to grab at your waist, running backwards to meet your ass.

"You like that? You filthy bitch." He punctuated his words by stepping backwards enough to reach down and free his belt from his pants, reveling in your squirming away from him. He unzips his pants and frees his dick, hard and ready to take advantage of this opportunity.

"You want to meet little Justice, don't yah?"

You don't want to, you want to run as fast as you can to the doors of this trial and pry the metal away from the wall, crawling back to the safety that is your bed, but at the same time- Deep into the worst parts of you, back behind your brain and hidden beneath all the shame and disgust you have for yourself, you want this as much as he does. In the split second you were lost in thought he's pulling your thighs apart, you struggle but that only makes him greedier, his smile only widens.

"If you want to struggle go ahead, I don' mind working for it"

He takes a moment to reach into his pocket and grab another cigarette, the one he had been smoking earlier was somewhere on the ground below you. He uses his knee to work his way through your clenched legs and lights the cig quickly with the cattle prod he always has ready. He takes a drag, clamps his hand over your mouth, and breathes the smoke into your face. You hack and sputter as the smoke enters your lungs, tears water at the edges of your eyes, and you can't help but loosen your thighs enough for him to get access to your pussy.

"Finally bitch," he grunts as he finally works his way between your shaking legs and into your cunt, his cock filling you perfectly. A wince of reluctance caused you to keep yourself stiff, but as his hips rocked into yours you loosen, letting him take full control of your body and use you as he pleases. You hate to admit it but it feels good, the way he rams into you, your back grinding against the concrete walls, your arms stretched out above you. He takes both your legs and holds them up, your weight lifted upwards, you groan involuntary in pleasure as he hits you exactly where it feels best. This riles him up more, increasing his vigor as he continues pounding your pussy

"You like that, slut? Like how daddy fucks you like that?"

You nod, that's all you can do as pleasure takes hold, the world falling away around you. It's just you and him and nothing else. You feel him take an arm away from your leg, eyes flutter open as you catch him taking a drag of his cigarette, holding it for a moment as he thrusts. He blows the smoke into your face again, reveling in how you squirm and cough around his dick, before reaching forward and rubbing the butt out on the flesh over your ribs. You can't escape as the pain radiates from your body, wriggling and writhing while moans of pain and pleasure mingle in your throat. He leans forward and grabs back at the cattle prod he had leaned against the wall, and before you could scream, before you could even recover from what he had just done to you, he rams the tip into your flesh and it hums to life. Your body jolts and seizes in ways that are hard to describe, tears well and fall over your eyes as you groan in pain, your legs shoot out in front of you as you shake and buzz with electricity.

"Fuck- ugh I love the way you tighten around me". He was getting close, and as he pulled the prod out of your skin and your tense muscles collapsed onto him, you know you are too. He's pumping into you and groaning loudly, swearing under his breath as you tense around his cock. You cant focus on anything but pleasure, the pain from your side falls away as you feel the pressure of him push you over the edge, moans and pants mingle as you writhe against the handcuffs, your body tensing and pulling you into the blissful throws of ecstasy. You can feel him finish inside you, the hot warm jets of cum filling you up. Your legs are shaking as he slides out of you, a mess dripping from the inside of your abused legs, sweat sticking to every part of you.

"Yeah that's right, you take me even better than I imagined bitch" he takes a moment to look you over, the blistering flesh scattered over your ribs, the red mark of his hand still stinging on your face.

"Were gonna have a lot of fun, you and I"

He doesnt care to clean you up, he doesnt even care to do anything for you. He cleans himself up as best he can, zips his pants back up, grabs his baton and leaves you, defiled and dripping, hanging in the basement of the police station. You know he'll be back soon, and you can't wait.

Mother Gooseberry:

Has a bush, nothing crazy but its definitely there. She used to shave but she doesnt have the hands to do it anymore heh.

Franco Barbi:

Clean shaven, everywhere that hair grows after puberty is completely shaven to go with his baby-ness

Leland Coyle:

Absolutely a bush and a half, a lot of his hair on his legs and upper thighs have been singed off or burned beyond repair so he doesnt grow as much hair.

Otto and Arora:

Otto keeps it classy, not too much but not completely smooth down there and Arora... well we know what shes got going on.

Liliya Bogomolova: