FIC: The Best Defense is a Good Offense [NC-17, 1/1]

Title: The Best Defense is a Good Offense
Author [info]dmitchell1985
Fandom: Original Fiction
Pairing: Brenda/Male
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hunt the hunters and all shall be right in the world.
Word Count: 443
Warnings/Kinks/Enticements: Non-consensual sex, mentions of violence and child abuse.
Author’s Notes: This is another bit of original fiction just to try an idea out. It was written for MMoM on LJ.

The smallest of groans slipped from Brenda’s throat as she rode the face underneath her; her hips rolling automatically over the fleshy terrain of mouth, nose, and forehead in an easy rhythm. Delicately manicured hands tightened their grip on the headboard of the man beneath her as she violently ground her clit into his nose.

Moaning loudly, her hips sped their rhythm and her knees brushed the ropes binding the man to the bed. Her blood lashed against her veins as her orgasm coursed through her body to spill over the face of Brenda’s intended for the evening. The faintest of muffled cries issued from him at the wetness that filled his nose and dripped over his lips.

Brenda sighed deeply, happy and sated. She generously allowed herself another moment to press her sticky flesh firmly against the man’s face, before chuckling to herself and dismounting her steed. She glared down at the pitiful waste of life tied to his bed as she smoothed down her dress and retrieved her panties and a small piece of paper from the carpeted floor.

Screwing up her mouth, she spat on him just to watch him flinch. Leaning down, she whispered into his ear, "Welcome to the neighborhood, you sick fuck. If I hear even the slightest rumor that you even looked at a child, I’ll be back. And you better believe that you won’t get off so easily next time. Do you understand me?"

Brenda straightened up to watch the man shrink back into the mattress and mutely nod his bloodied head. If he didn’t get the point now, she would make damned sure he understood it if she had to return to his new home.

"Good, good." Brenda rubbed her hands together cheerfully and reached for the small knife she had placed on the nightstand. Considering her options for several seconds, she opted not the cut the man free. Instead, she bent forward once more and placed the knife within the man’s reach.

"You may use that once I am gone and only once I am gone," she informed him, her voice deceptively light despite the threat hidden within it. "Cut yourself free and mind your own business and that will be that."

Glancing back only once, to make absolutely certain Smith, Robert J. was following her instructions, she tossed a thin postcard toward the end of the bed. He had been thoroughly warned the way the State of Texas had warned her and her neighbors about the latest sex offender to move into her neighborhood.

Brenda knew that she might be powerless in some things, but in this, she never would be again.

Author’s Note 2: In case you are unaware of the postcard warning I am referring to, the State of Texas sends out postcards to people when a violent sex offender is released from jail and will be moving to your neighborhood.


April 2015

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