Hola. I used to write a ton of fanfics under a different username. It's been a while. So I thought I'd go ahead and write something...

And thus this story was born. I am so sorry for writing this. Because it's a little messed up. Haaaaaaaaaa.

I've actually already written the next four chapters of the story. Let's just see how this one goes over though.

God I don't want to burn in hell.

Enjoy! (Although if you actually do enjoy this you'll probably be joining me in the fiery pit ha!)

-Vronsurd

Chapter 1

Her bench was alive, wriggling, struggling for air, and desperate for life.

Fortunately the sack that contained her bench was made of sturdy burlap. It wasn't the most pleasant fabric for a seat; it chafed and scratched any exposed skin of the person who sat on it…but it worked smashingly when the furniture was so vehemently attempting to escape.

Neo met her bench's desperation with bemused indifference. She had no plans to kill this particular bench. She just wanted to teach it a lesson. But, damn, if this bench did not settle down soon she would probably stab it.

Not a fatal wound.

Just a prick to the leg or the shoulder. Enough to let her bench know that it was in a bench's best interest to always be on a bench's best behavior.

Neo shifted her weight a bit in order to get more comfortable and returned her attentions to her beloved. With practiced fingers she adjusted the focus on her binoculars so she could make out his every perfect feature. She smiled. She had a good view of him from this rooftop.

He was walking across the quad, yelling something—Neo had no idea what but she loved to observe the motions of his mouth.

Oh Jaune. Neo bit her lip. What words were there to describe her fascination? Her obsession?

He was just so…

Delicious.

It was difficult to pin down a specific characteristic that made him near irresistible to her.

Maybe it was that shaggy nest atop his crown…

Or maybe it was that glistening drop of innocence that danced in his eyes…

Or that lackadaisical grin that so often graced his boyish expression…

Or maybe, just maybe, it was his body. That sleek frame looked as if it was chiseled from divine marble by the hand of god herself.

Neo shuddered. Oh, how she longed to be entwined between those oaken limbs. She bet the two of them would be a perfect fit. She envisioned herself, on some lazy Sunday morning, head nestled on his sturdy chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She knew, with absolute confidence, that they would slide together like two pieces of…

A two piece puzzle. There was no need for any other pieces.

All Jaune Arc needed was her.

And all she needed was him.

It was that simple.

Neo gave a silent startled gasp when her bench suddenly bucked wildly, causing her to fall hard on the stone rooftop. Now, normally, she would have beaten a bench within an inch of its life for having the audacity to bruise her tailbone, but watching Jaune, even from this distance, soothed her anger immensely. She stood, spun, and delivered a heavy kick to where she guessed her bench's head was—the sac made it difficult to tell.

She hit pay dirt. The bench slumped with a muted whimper—hardly audible from behind the gag and duct tape.

Now this was what she liked to see! Bench's shouldn't have fight in them. They should obey, submit, like the garbage furniture they were.

Neo almost thought to herself, emphasis on almost, the ginger bimbo has had enough; I'll leave her in the nurse's office with a note telling her to keep her skanky eyes off my property. But then she heard it. Distant at first but getting louder with every passing moment.

"Pyrrah!"

It couldn't be. She turned back towards the courtyard far below.

"Pyrrah! Where are you!?"

Oh god. Say it wasn't so. This couldn't be happening! It had to be some cruel trick!

"Pyrrah where'd you go!?"

Neo turned to her bench, a moaning burlap mess with a dark red splotches speckling its mass.

Why?

Why was her beloved uttering the name of her bench with such passion? Neo ground her teeth, a swelling fire bubbling in her stomach, working its way up, flooding her pale face with heat.

Jaune, her lovely Jaune, had never once said Neo's name—never mind the fact that he didn't know it. Here he was shouting the name of a filthy bench-whore as if it was his one true love.

Was it possible? Had this giant slut managed to worm her way into Jaune's tender, caring, heart with her slutty charm and ugly troll body?

The very thought sent an involuntary reaction through Neo's small body. She picked up her umbrella, barely in control of her own actions.

She nearly drew her sword—but thought better of it. She hadn't brought this piece of garbage bench up to this roof to kill her—as tempting as the thought was. She just needed to teach her a lesson. Correction. She need to teach her body a lesson. A lesson that—even if her mind or heart forgot—her bones, her muscles, her organs, her nerves…they would always remember.

Neo gripped her umbrella upside down, grasping the tip and plastic fabric that normally comprised the top. The first blow was to the ribs.

A warm sense of euphoria trickled down Neo's spine. She inhaled deeply and shuddered as the pleasant sensation ran through her like an electric shock. The gagged squeal and choked sob the bench released only served to make Neo feel even better.

The next seven blows were in rapid succession, each heightening the pleasure in steady spurts. One glanced off Pyrr-whore's head, the others fell on her unseemly body. For once, Neo was grateful for this giantess's obnoxious stature. It gave her so much more to beat.

And there was no woman on the planet who deserved a beating more than this whore-faced bench slut.

The minutes flew by and Neo showed no signs of slowing. In fact, each blow energized her, sending a forbidden chill along her spine. This was the slut who had tried to steal her Jaune. She had been clumsy in her attempts, perhaps even stupid, but Neo did not discriminate. Anyone who so much as looked at her beloved with eyes of lust would have that lust beaten, stabbed, and tortured out of them.

At some point the slut must have managed to remove her gag because her whimpers and wails grew louder. Neo knew she should be more worried about someone over hearing her and Pyrr-whore's…session. But hearing this slut-thief's pain in every little scream, cry, and moan made the entire experience so much more enjoyable.

Neo realized—perhaps a little too late—when her arm began to grow tired that she had probably gone too far. Her bench had stopped making noises with every blow—and wasn't really moving much either.

Damn.

Had she killed the whore-thief?

She hoped not. Who wanted to waste time hiding a body when she could be sneaking into the boy's locker room to get some hot pics?

Neo knelt and lowered her ear to where she estimated the Pyrr-whore's mouth would be. It was difficult to tell whether or not the ging-whore was still alive through the burlap. Neo poked her chest several times, hoping to elicit a reaction.

"You'll…never…break me." Was the bench's hoarse whispery response.

You'll never break me. Neo played back the trollop's words in her head several times. Each repetition made her a bit angrier. Did this piece of whore-garbage think that she would win Jaune in the end? Did she think that…Did she intend to steal Neo's beloved no matter what? That boiling heat returned, pulsing through her with all the force of a raging ocean current.

Should she give in to that current? Should she let it carry her away?

Well, if Pyrr-whore-faced-slut could still talk, she could handle a little more couldn't she? And, what the hell, Neo could teleport, hiding a body wasn't really all that much trouble.

Since her arms had grown tired from wielding her umbrella Neo resorted to savage kicking. The euphoria returned like a gentle breeze and once again her body buzzed with an indescribable pleasure. Every crack of a broken bone, every whump of blunt trauma on soft flesh, they each sent tendrils of pleasure out to the furthest reaches Neo's body.

When a particularly violent kick sent Pyrr-whore rolling out of reach Neo gasped and reclaimed control of her trembling limbs. She inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Good. That was good. Very good. That whore had gone after her Jaune. Now the whorish slut-whore-bench was undoubtedly so misshapen and deformed that she wouldn't dare send another wayward glance at Jaune.

Was the whore-bench still alive? Who cared? Alive or dead, Neo had already decided to bury her.

On the slight chance that what the clearly-broken whore-bench had said was true, that she "would not be broken", Neo didn't want to leave the giant-slut-bench alive. If there was even the slightest chance that Pyrr-whore would continue her pursuit of Jaune Arc, then she deserved death, no questions asked.

"Pyrrah!"

"Pyrrah where are you?"

Neo's ears perked. Jaune was nearby again.

"Pyrrah!"

Her brow furrowed. He was not alone.

"Pyrrah! Come out! It's pancake time! And damnit! Ren said he wouldn't make me any until I helped Jaune find you!"

Neo crept to the edge of the rooftop and looked down with silent fury.

Sure enough, just beneath her, was her beloved Jaune, as dashing and as handsome as usual. But…

Why?

Why were those two whores beside him?

Boiling magma filled her stomach. Her eyes narrowed and red tinged the edge of her vision. Her small hands clenched so tight that her sharpest nail pierced her left palm. A trickle of blood worked its way between her pressed fingers.

The little red one. And the pink one.

Whore-Rose and Whora Valkyrie-whoreson.

Neo snapped her fingers and, with the sound of breaking glass, sent the bloody burlap bench behind her to the nearest lake. All the while, she did not take her eyes off the future benches beneath her. The only question was…

Which whore should she "teach" first?