A/N: Hello friends! It hasn't been too long, has it? A month? maybe... Yah, sorry for the little wait. My brain was not ever in a sexy writing mood! Finally though, after sitting down with a cup of Oprah Spice Tea (aka: tea of the gods) I got this written, and MY GOODNESS, is it smutty. I hope you ladies and gentlemen are ready.

Oh, and nobody got my references, so I'm rather incredibly sneaky or you guys and gals need to go and study up on your history and Clone Wars. If you're interested, here's the Easer Eggs. History: the plan Piers found is called the Anaconda plan. At the beginning of the Civil War, Winfield Scott, the General in Chief of the US army concocted a plan to help the Union win the war. It would do exactly as the plans Piers' found described: cut off supplies from the outside to put a stranglehold on the region, forcing them to surrender. Everyone laughed at him, saying he was a fool for creating such an elaborate plan (everyone thought the war would be a quick win. Boy were they wrong). The Anaconda plan is unofficially what ends up getting used to secure victory for the North... Clone Wars: Piers' identification number is a combination of several of the Clones' CT numbers. 55 (Fives)-7567 (Rex)-24 (Cody).

Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Go my friends, enjoy the smut!

I've finally gotten a look inside the files Henry Pretz had worked so hard to hide. What's inside is the massive conspiracy to overthrow Red and take over Insane City. Fringe groups are uniting to close a perimeter around the city, cutting off its resources and trapping Red inside with starving men and broken moral. My personal information was also present. How Pretz got his hands on my details, I don't yet know. What matters more is this conspiracy. Things are about to break open and I'm on my own. The CIA has no interest in intervening, even for the survival of the citizens of the city. I've got to act fast if I'm going to stop this.

Status Report 9: Beautifully Ugly

My shirt drops to the ground and Red's eyes go wide. A sick smirk plays on his face, no doubt from my strip fest as well as the greenish yellow bruises along my rips and stomach. He's a twisted mother fucker.

I lower my hands to the hem of my jeans, undoing them slowly and tastefully as Red's eyes dance around my lower half. I swallow hard to keep the blush from eating my face. I've never been one of those 'come and get me' types. I've always preferred to be subtle and I've never enjoyed flaunting myself-especially in front of creeps with disgusting desires. My fingers glide to the zipper, pulling it down. I put a smirk on, one that's got a sexy confidence I don't feel, "Should I keep going, sir?"

That look on his face is animalistic, "Yes, you should."

It doesn't take long before I pull everything else off, kicking off my shoes in the process. All the while, Red's eyes don't leave my body, looking me up and down like a prize winning animal. The hunter inside of him has awakened because his prey is standing right in front of him. He stands, closing the space between us quickly. A strong hand reaches up and roughly takes my chin, yanking my face to his, our lips embracing in a sour kiss. I resist every nerve in my system that's screaming to pull away. I cannot blow this-no pun intended.

Letting him take the lead, his tongue dives into my mouth, grazing over my own lightly and sending a tingle of satisfaction through my body. It disgusts me how much he's exciting me, but I remind myself that my body will react that way regardless of who's doing it to me. The thought brings little comfort, though.

Red's hand moves, trailing behind my head to grab at my short hair as the other goes to my waist, wrapping around the small of my back to pull me closer. We never break our kiss, Red leaning hungrily into it as he brings our bodies closer together. He takes a step forward, forcing me back, until we hit the wall of his office, right next to the closed door. Lips parting, he begins to kiss down my jaw and neck, eliciting a moan from my throat.

Both of his hands are working now, one reaching a perked nipple while the other drops low, grabbing one of my sacs and massaging it coarsely. My entire body shudders as I relax against the wall, fingers tangling in Red's hair. It's not until his cold lips wrap around my other nipple that I yelp. He sucks and nips, causing a hoarse moan to escape my lips as my hips begin bucking lightly. God, I'd forgotten how good this feels.

Red's loving the noises I'm making because both of his hands are now working my balls, rubbing them in his rough, calloused palms. I can't keep myself from thrusting into his grasp, my body eager to have more of him to play with. He gives off this dark chuckle-he's loving the control he's got over me right now. His tongue swirls one last time around my perked, pink nipple before he gives it a playful bite. Trailing down with kisses, he stops right above my erect cock and begins sucking.

God damn it, he's giving me hickey down there? Jesus, he just needs to suck me off already!

I can't keep my body steady. I'm bucking and moaning and writhing and once he gives a smirk up to me and starts sucking on the tip of my dick, I lose it. My hips grind against his mouth, shoving my cock deeper. His throat effortlessly expands and he takes me whole without trying. He bobs his head, sucking all the while, and my hands wring into his hair for stability. Both of his hands wickedly play with my balls, one leaving in that venture to find my ass. He needs one of the cheeks before letting two fingers slip into the tight hole and scissor.

I don't even recognize my own voice as I moan out his name, now doubling my efforts to thrust against his fingers and his mouth. "Damn it, Chris…Fuck…"

I'm right on the edge. I'm so close to coming that I can practically feel the orgasm raging inside of me. But then my dick makes a wet pop as it's removed from his mouth and his fingers slide free of me.

Nearly losing my balance, I whine-really pathetic like-as he sends me this cold glance. "I'm not the bitch here." He stands and sits on the edge of his desk. I'm hardly focusing on what he's doing, the absence of him making my body writhe with need. Looking over to Red, I see him unbuckle his belt and pull it free of the loops on his jeans. "You are. Play with yourself."

I force my body not to hesitate as I bring my hands to my own dick. Slowly, I slide my palms over it, the friction causing me to moan a deep, throaty noise. I look over at him with half-lidded eyes. He's got his hand down the front of his pants. Looks like he isn't wasting any time. Better give him a good show.

Thrusting into my hand, I drop my head back. One hand is keeping my needy dick busy, the other goes back to continue where Red left off. I push the fingers inside with a practiced motion-the familiar feeling I've given myself a dozen times swimming over me. Thrusting along with my grinding, I pant lightly, feeling the building of my desire again. I start moving a little faster, gasping, leaning against the wall for support. I huff out his name over and over, "Chris, oh god, Chris…". His voice breaks me out of my pleasure, "Enough of that, bitch. Get over here."

Even out of my right mind, I can feel myself resisting. Part of me just wants to be finished off here, let my hands do what they've done before and bring the climax on. But I know he wouldn't like that. Forcing my legs to move, I carefully drop down between his legs. Before my hands can rise to his jeans, though, he wraps the belt around my neck, tugging it into a secure position. He grins at me darkly, "So my little bitch can't run away." He gives it a yank for good measure and I hold back my scowl. Undoing his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down to his ankles, his large dick springs free. It's at its full girth, just like back at the bus station and in the hummer. He really does get off on torture, no matter the level. What a bastard.

My hands work it first, sliding up and down his length, eliciting a content sigh from Red. He leans back some, keeping his end of the belt-leash in hand. Pre-cum is already starting to bead at the end of his dick and I tentatively lick it off. I can feel the electricity surge through him at that small ministration, so I take the very tip of it into my mouth and suck every so lightly. His head kicks back, his hand tugging the belt around my neck, urging me to take more of him. I resist 'playfully'-not yet having the will to swallow him whole again-and instead nip and suck continually. His deep, throaty moan gets me more excited. I guess if there's one positive here, it's that I've got some power over Red now.

After teasing him a little longer, I finally take the full plunge. I swallow his entire dick, letting my wet lips slide down his length slowly-god, I'd forgotten how big he is-and bob my head up and down. The genuine, unadulterated moan that escapes Chris' mouth is heavenly. He tugs harder on the belt-leash, urging me to keep going. Mimicking him, I bring my hands up, grabbing at his balls and massaging them tenderly between my fingers. Red bucks into my mouth, hitting the still healing bruises from before back there. I wince, but I don't spit him out. I've got to keep him entertained if this is going to work. He shoves his dick further into my mouth, the smell of his aftershave filling my senses. I feel myself getting harder. I'm actually enjoying this.

He's hard now, about ready to come. I mentally brace myself for what's about to be unloaded in my throat, remembering how bad it was the last time. But then there's a tugging at my throat, yanking me away. His dick pops out of my mouth as I'm pulled away, held back by the belt-leash. Red's panting, eyes looking at me lustfully. He shuffles himself off the desk, legs wobbly, before he tugs up on the belt, forcing me to comply. Standing, he locks lips with me, nipping at my top lip. The excitement from before rages through me-and I feel so fucking guilty about it, too.

"Damn, Cole, you're way too good at that." Roughly, he pulls the leash back, throwing me against the desk. I hit it roughly and Chris' strong hand comes to the back of my head, forcing it flat into the desk. I grimace, the pain echoing through my still recovering face. He removes the belt from my neck with one hand easily. "Hands behind your back, bitch."

I comply and I can feel myself getting more excited. Fucking brain. Fucking body. Fuck me for getting so turned on by his rough play.

In one quick motion, he's secured the belt tightly around my wrists. It's tight enough to cause pain, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. He's had practice, the sick bastard. The hand at the back of my head presses harder, holding me in place, as he kicks my legs apart further. "Gotta say, Cole, I'm liking the view."

Heat comes to my face and I will it away. It's not a compliment.

"Please," I urge, breathy, "Fuck me, Red. Please." My plea works in getting him fired up. His free hand goes to my ass, circling the tight entrance teasingly before poking inside. He scissors slowly, stretching me out, and I can't help but let out a pleased moan. God, it doesn't matter how sick this prick is, he's still so fucking good at this. Very painfully and-fucking gloriously-slowly he pushes further in, stretching me more and more until he's got both fingers completely in my ass. He adds a third one, causing me to struggle against my binds at the surprising intrusion. Stars flash across my vision as he begins to pump them in and out, scrapping against that spot. I give a hoarse, breathy groan, thrusting myself into the desk to match his movements. The grinding sensation is driving me crazy, the pent up feeling of an orgasm just inches away from me.

"Like that?" He pushes deeper and the pain is intense, but pleasure swarms my body too. He slowly bends the three fingers, scrapping against my G-spot and causing me to whimper. Red keeps doing it, digging deeper, causing more pain and pleasure. I push my ass against his hand, willing his fingers to get even deeper inside of me. He chuckles darkly, wiggling his fingers, causing me to spread my legs even more.

"More," I beg. "Please, master. More." He pulls the fingers out. I know what's coming next.

He isn't gentle and he gives me no warning, just a quick thrust and my vision goes black for a second before there's an explosion of euphoria as he begins pumping into me over and over again. "Fuck!" Is all I can manage to say between my panting and his thrusting. It's slow and controlled at first, grinding as deep as he can, causing me to push back, forcing him deeper. My dick rubs raw against the wood of his desk as he forces his way deeper again, causing the tension between my legs to strain harder. Each motion, each violent, lustful motion, slams my bruised body against the wooden desk and I love it. "Please, harder, Red, harder!" I'm begging for it, demanding it. I want this prick to fuck me senseless.

I can hear him smirk as he pulls himself almost completely out only to ram into me harder, throwing my body against the wood. The desk lurches forward and I give off a pleasurable gasp, panting as he picks up his pace.

The sound of our sweaty skin smacking together, connecting us in such a beautifully ugly way, is all that resonates along with his strained grunts and my desperation. I'm being driven to the edge, Chris' hands both coming to hold my hips as he rams harder and harder, faster and faster. My vision blurs with blinding light as I clench my fists. It hurts so god damn much and yet, I'm loving it.

Finally, I can't hold back any longer. Everything explodes and my dick spazzes with release as I give a strained moan, my entire body going numb with pleasure. He hasn't cum yet; he's still pounding my ass, nails digging into my hot flesh, slamming into my sensitive spot and continuing my wave of orgasm. I give off a breathy moan, gasping with pleasure. His rhythm is broken now, the hunter inside of him ramming faster, working to gain the pleasure it desires. Then at last he comes, unloading inside of me as his dick twitches and finally goes limp. His nails dig deeper as his pumps slow, riding out the orgasm, before finally pulling out of me. He's huffing in breath after breath as he lets go of me, letting me slide off the desk to drop to the floor, panting, gasping. The desk and floor are sticky with white but I don't even care. I rest my head against the tainted desk, gulping in as much air as possible.

I'm still completely numb, body tingling from the contact it hasn't had in so long. Already I can feel the aching I'll be facing tomorrow, the dull pain my ass I'll no doubt feel. But, also I feel a different kind of ache, one I'm completely terrified of.

My mind isn't allowed to linger very long. Red's talking, "Damn Cole, I love the way you writhe under me. So fucking sexy…" He goes to his chair, pulling it free from the desk and collapsing into it. He hadn't even bothered to fix his pants, letting everything hang loose, so to speak. "So, I take it that's your apology, huh?"

I nod at first but then realize he can't see me. Fuck, I don't think I can talk right now. I try anyway, my voice barely my own as I rasp out my response. "Yes, but it was also a present for you, master." God, I hate that word. I hate calling him that. I decide that when I do kill him, I'm going to make him beg for forgiveness, call me 'master', see how he likes it.

"A present, huh?"

"I've been bad…"

I can hear the smirk in his words, "That you have, my little bitch." He leans back and I can hear him give off a content sigh. "I'll accept it, pet. Good job. I think we'll be needing more of those 'sessions' to work out your disciplinary problem."

Part of me-the lower region-gets excited by those words. I keep my voice even, "Yes, master. Please, teach me how to behave." He's loving every foul word I spit up, I can tell. He really thinks he's got me whipped now, fully trained. It won't be long until he's got me in his bed. Just wait until he wakes up to a knife in his back.

He starts making himself decent, pulling his pants back up to where they go, and straightening his shirt. He stands and comes over to me, smiling like an animal when he sees what I look like-which I can only image doesn't look great. "Cole, you're body, it's just..." He takes a deep breath, "Damn."

Mentally, I roll my eyes. Since when is 'damn' an adjective?

Bending down, he undoes the restraints holding back my arms. They fall forward, blood rushing into them. They hurt, not as much as my ass, but still enough to mention. Tentatively, I put my hands on the top of the desk, using it to pull myself up. My legs are like jello. Yep, definitely been a long time since I've felt like this. All the while, Red's eyes are looking my spent form up and down, gauging his handiwork no doubt. Leaning against the desk to catch my breath, I feel Red's hands squeeze my ass. I turn my head faster than I mean to, surprised. He just gives me a teasing look, "Never fucked a better ass." He spanks it playfully before stepping away, grabbing the files that are now covered I my sweat-and possibly other bodily fluids. "You'll have to give me the details later." He turns and heads for the door, leaving without another word.

Where the hell is he going?

Part of me is put off by his leaving-makes it really feel like a fuck-and-run. Of course, how could I expect it to be anything more? Not that I want it to be anything more.

Whatever. It doesn't matter.

I'm not sure how long I lean there, still working on catching my breath. It's then that I start shaking. From the cold or the trauma of having just let myself be raped, I'm not sure. Regardless, it takes me what feels like forever to finally feel up to cleaning myself off and getting dressed again. It feels wonderful to have clothing covering me, though. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I walk over to his desk and peer at the door.

It doesn't look like he's coming back. Carefully and quickly, I open the drawers, searching. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, since I've got all I need upstairs, but something tells me to look anyway. When will I get an opportunity to look again, anyway? Each drawer contains countless documents. A quick scan shows them to be nothing more than paper statements dated several years ago. I guess he likes keeping his records. And the IRS says to only keep seven years. Here he is being an overachiever. As I pull open the last drawer, something rattles in the back, behind all the files he's got lodged in there. Reaching in, I carefully dig through, feeling for something that could have caused the rattle I'd heard. Finally, my hands hit metal and I wiggle my fingers around it, wrenching it free from the back of the drawer and bringing it into eyesight.

They're dog tags. According to the info on him, Red had been in the military back when he was a teenager-probably sent there for the aggression issues. Are they his?

I hold them between shaky fingers, reading the name printed on them. It takes a second for me to fully understand what I'm reading.

There, pressed into the fine, shiny metal, was a name.

Jill Valentine.