agentorange: (Default)
[personal profile] agentorange
Title: Floor Six
Rating: R
Words: 2343
Note: Sex, dub-con.



"So I told him 'Go for broke or go home' and the bastard says 'I'm going home', so I broke his kneecaps."

The entourage laughed a little too loudly and a little too eagerly, but Roman didn't care. He was in high spirits this evening, come to call on his lady friends of Floor Six at The House. He hadn't bothered to seek out Roulette upon his arrival; he preferred to let off steam before visiting with the proprietress. He reckoned she preferred it too. Of course, he would have rather enjoyed her over the Floor Six girls, and he liked to think she would have as well.

Several patrons had looked up in alarm at Black Mask's entrance. All the available girls quickly latched onto the closest gentleman they could find, avoiding eye contact with Roman. In the short time he'd been visiting the floor, he'd gained a reputation for brutality. Well paying brutality, but most of them didn't want to take any chances. It was rumored that he'd offered Roulette a princely sum for the life of one of the girls, but none of them knew how true the claim was or if the transaction had occurred. His horrific visage helped fuel behind-the-scenes tales of his proclivities. It was one thing to have the Joker visit the floor and quite literally break a girl, but at least he had the facial features of a living human.

The only girl who approached was a brunette in plum. She groaned inwardly, but she could smell money. Applying a smile, she made a beeline for his entourage, her hips swaying.

"You aren't that pouty blonde I had my hopes set on, Rachel," Roman remarked, blowing cigar smoke at her. He remembered the brunette from a few weeks ago. Apparently she whined about him to employer, but she sucked cock like a champ and took it like a trooper. He tossed the lit cigar carelessly to one of his men and held out his arm to her. "But I guess you'll do."

She took his arm and he practically dragged her towards the corridor lined with bedrooms, shouting over his shoulder to, "See you later, boys!"

Rachel stumbled trying to keep up with him, and when he touched the handle of a room she knew to be occupied, she cleared her throat.

"The next room is prepared and open, Mr. Sionis."

Roman dropped his hand and peered at her.

"Prepared, huh? I'm flattered you anticipated me," he said opening the next door and ushering her inside. "I hope there's a blonde on ice."

She grimaced, glad her back was to him. Roman kicked the door shut and locked it.

"Just you and me, girlie. All alone."

Rachel turned around to face him, the feigned smile back on her lips. She didn't move closer to touch him, as she might have with any other client; she'd earned a black eye during their last scene together for acting without his orders.

"What would you like to do tonight, Mr. Sionis?"

He loosened his tie and snickered, sending a chill up her spine.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. It's been a busy week and Daddy wants to take a load off," he answered, now unbuttoning his shirt and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He jerked his head at his shoes. "Gimme a hand, will ya?"

Rachel knelt subserviently before him, untying the laces. She tried to ignore the faint rust colored stains on the soles.

"Anyway, gotta hire a new personal assistant, the fuckers just drop like flies, and the process has been a little tiring. Can you believe how many of them forge references? I mean, if you're forging references, you'll have no scruples about calling up that asshole Red Hood and giving him the fucking color of my boxers for Chrissake, you know?"

She didn't, but she nodded agreeably and helped him out of his shirt. She was always pleasantly surprised at how normal he looked from the neck down, barring several scars. If she kept her eyes lowered, she could easily enjoy his toned body. If he ever shut up. Which he didn't.

He swung his legs up onto the bed and reclined, motioning for her to straddle him.

"Last time I ever hire a blonde personal assistant," he continued, reaching up to squeeze her breasts through the bra. "Probably. What can I say? I'm only human. How was I to know she had sinister ulterior motives? It's like she didn't even consider my feelings."

I can't imagine why, Rachel wondered darkly, nodding sympathetically meanwhile. She rolled her hips, grinding gently against his growing erection. He pinched her nipple, a little too hard.

"I'm kind of regretting not draining the saline from her tits."

She hesitated for a split second, then quickly recovered her rhythm, but Roman had noticed and he looked pleased.

"Unzip me and put your whore mouth to work," he ordered, slapping her thigh affectionately.

She slid off his hips to lie next to him and opened his trousers. When she tried to slip her hand into his boxers, he brought his knee up suddenly and cracked her in the jaw.

"Oops," he chuckled. "All the way off."

She obeyed and dragged his trousers and boxers all the way down, pulling them over his feet. She then rolled a condom on him. Just think about the money, girl, she chanted in her head, Do the job, do it fucking well, and it's totally worth this asshole. She closed her eyes and took the semi-rigid member into her mouth. His fingers yanked her hair roughly.

"Eyes open. If you refuse to use them, you might as well give them away."

Her eyes flew open.

"Good girl," he said happily, pushing her head into his groin. "Reminds me of this guy I met once. Word on the street has it some sick fuck made his wife eat his eyes and watch him die."

Rachel lifted her soft palate and took him deeper, hoping to distract him, or at the very least, get him to change topics.

"Ok, so that sick fuck was me. Through the teeth and over the gums, watch out stomach, here it comes!"

She gagged on his cock and tried to pull away, but he shoved her head back down.

"No, you don't, toots," he taunted, facefucking her.

Rachel repeated her silent mantra, managing to calm herself enough to suppress her gag reflex. She stared at his abdomen while he pumped, her limbs limp. He's not old and saggy and he's clean, she chided her herself. He'll finish soon and then you can get yourself something nice. Something expensive. She perked up a bit at this thought and began pulsing her tongue against his shaft.

"That's more like it, baby," he groaned appreciatively. "If I'd wanted to fuck a corpse, I'd'a stayed home with Number 10...roll the boys, don't squeeze..."

He thought of Number 10 strapped to the dentist chair, her face purple and her bloody blouse tight across her fake breasts. When he remembered how she screamed, he shoved Rachel's head hard, pushing himself as deep into her throat as he could, and he came. His grip on her hair loosened and she tentatively pulled away from him, relieved when he didn't rebuke her. Now he'll want a massage, and then I'm free, she thought ecstatically, encouraged by his silence.

Roman had closed his eyes, relaxing while Rachel cleaned up. He listened to her climb back onto the bed, and let her sidle up against him. He opened one eyes, peeping at her self-satisfied expression.

"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel," he drawled. "What should we do next?"

Her impatience was almost tangible.

"A massage, Mr. Sionis?" she suggested brightly.

In one sudden movement, he rolled to his right, pinning her body under his.

"A massage, Mr. Sionis?" he echoed mockingly.

Rachel met his eyes, her expression unreadable through careful practice.

"Or anything else you might find pleasurable, sir," she replied noncommittally. Inside, she wilted. She didn't like his laugh, just then.

"Or anything else you might find pleasurable, little girl."

She definitely didn't like his emphasis. She cleared her throat, hoping she didn't sound scared.

"Anything short of death," she reminded him of The House rules, hoping to God she wasn't the girl Roulette sold to him. She most certainly did not like his lascivious leer.

"Do you know what la petite mort is?" he asked, sliding his hand down her bare stomach. He hooked his fingers over the waistband of her lace panties.

She shook her head.

"It's French for 'orgasm': the little death."

Oh no. Not him. I'll come for that fat old ex-senator who smells like mothballs before I come for this-

Roman's hand slipped into her panties, his fingers deftly stroking her warm folds. He paused to remove the garment, leaving her stockings and garter belt in place, and he resumed more vigorously than before.

"A curious euphemism, ain't it? Makes me think the guy who came up with it knew what it felt like to kill someone. Only a killer'd make the connection between those delicious build ups and exquisite releases."

Don't listen to what he's saying, concentrate on the sensation, pretend to enjoy it...

"Coming while your partner is expiring is pretty much the same as a simultaneous orgasm, if you think about it."

Roman pushed himself down the length of her body, situating himself between her thighs. Rachel held her breath. Oh God, he has no lips, please don't let him try and-

She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see his tongue darting between his teeth, coming closer to her, those clacking teeth and oh God, he gives good head, as good as a guy with lips... With her eyes closed and the trash talk stemmed, it was easy for her to drift in fantasy and imagine she had a Calvin Klein model and not a...thing between her legs. What he lacked in sucking he made up for with a dexterous tongue. She was soon wet from the efforts of his ministrations. She'd begun moaning softly when he suddenly pulled away, leaving her with a chilly sensation on her nether region.

"Eyes open, girlie," he scolded, pressing a finger to the entrance of her pussy.

Rachel thought she would die of mortification, but she obeyed. She felt sickened watching his charred black head lapping at her, and worse, she felt betrayed by her body's state of arousal. He pushed another finger into her pussy, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked in a gruff voice, his teeth grazing her clit. His tongue stroked harder, finding a rhythm with his pumping fingers. Rachel moaned in response, unconsciously fondling her nipples. His dick twitched at her voice.

"Dirty talk me, you slut," he commanded, reaching down with one hand to grip his hardening erection. Rachel's head lolled on the pillow, her eyes rolling back into their sockets.

"I want to feel your filthy cock in my pussy," she murmured in a husky tone. "I need you to fuck me raw, Daddy."

Roman stroked his prick to full length, pulling away from Rachel to put on a condom. In a swift movement, he rolled her onto her stomach. He spat on his hand and smacked her ass, excited by the rapidly forming red handprint.

"In the air, sweetheart. Daddy wants to look at you," he ordered, admiring the view as she raised her hips.

He plunged himself deep into her, roughly grabbing her hips and digging his nails into her soft skin. She gasped when he began pounding mercilessly. For a moment, she lost herself in the heady sensation of him taking her like an animal.

And then he started talking.

"Fucking and killing are inherently linked, despite having polar opposite results. Ever wonder why kids who walk in on their parents doing it think mommy and daddy are hurting each other? It's not surprising, given they're both natural acts. You can do 'em barehanded or introduce some toys to spice things up. And sometimes," he leaned over her back, putting his hands loosely around her neck and his mouth close to her ear, "sometimes, Rachel, the lines between the two blur."

He pumped harder, tightening his grip threateningly.

"Did I mention Roulette's given me the green light to snuff out your light?"

"NO!" Rachel screamed, suddenly alive and trying to buck him off.

Roman let go of her throat and grabbed her hips to stay inside her, laughing.

"That's the spirit, girlie girl! Give Daddy his money's worth," he grunted, pressure building at the base of his penis. "But before we finish, I'm gonna need you do me a favor, ok? I'm gonna need to hear you scream."

Rachel bucked again, her pelvic floor muscles clenching in a futile attempt to push him out. Roman groaned into her neck.

"You're a lot tighter than that dumb bitch I sawed in half last week."

She squealed in frustration, trying to squirm from underneath him, but it wasn't enough for him, not yet. He leaned into the crook of her neck and bit the exposed flesh as hard as he could. Her howl of pain rang deliciously in his ears and he bit harder, tasting blood, until he heard his teeth clack as they closed over a chunk of meat and then he came to the vibrato of Rachel's scream. He gripped her tightly until the orgasm ebbed away.

When he finally pulled out and released her, Rachel scrambled across the bed. She looked from his stained teeth to the red spot on the coverlet, and raised her hand to her shoulder. It came back slick with blood and she stared at him in horror.

He spat out the chunk of her flesh onto the bed and leered at her.

"See ya next week, babe."

She was on the floor shaking and raving incoherently when he re-entered the main room of Floor Six.
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