Caina shoved the door of the small store open with her shoulder and bowed her head against the sudden bombardment of cold, ice-laced wind. Nothing like a Demaitre winter, was her moody thought as she tucked her purse beneath her arm and crunched her cigarette butt under her heel only to retrieve another from her pocket. It was a terrible habit, she knew, but in all honesty she couldn't be bothered to give a shit about what anyone thought. If she didn't care about her health, why the hell should anyone else?

She shifted the bag of clothing on her shoulder, making a small face as the handles dug into her skin. The heels of her boots clicked coldly and echoed back. The square was virtually empty, and for good reason. It was well past midnight. The only reason she had stayed so late was she had been the one to close up and had hated the idea of going home.

"I need a fucking car," she grumbled to no one as she began across the wide square. It was always so dark in the middle of it, and for some reason it always bothered her. Caina wasn't one to scare easily, but something about the way the square transitioned from well-lit to almost completely black in a matter of steps always made her shudder and walk faster.

The feeling of being watched itched at the back of her mind like a tiny thorn, but she shrugged it away, irritated with herself for being so damned jumpy. The last thing she needed was to end up in some loony bin.

Bloody cold, winter in Demaitre is, Hammer thought pensively, taking a slow drag on his cigarette. He'd been addicted since the war and had watched all the health warnings about tobacco use come out with no little amusement. Maybe the humans had to worry about it, but he didn't. Sighing he flicked some ash from the glowing end and wished for entertainment.

Hammer's boredom was evident in every well-defined muscle of his body as he reclined on the bench at the edge of St. Raine's little park. There wasn't really a reason for him to be here, in a deserted little square, and more than once already he'd given thought to heading to a club instead. But he hadn't. He was in one of his moods, it seemed, one that didn't particularly care for a crush o people around him.

So he sat here and smoked and gazed at nothing in particular instead.

Not many people out here, Hammer noted. Only persons he'd seen in the last hour were a couple of late-working businessmen on their way, he figured, home. They'd cut across near his way and, he remembered with a somewhat vicious smile, had given him a wide berth once they'd noticed he was there. Blowing out a stream of smoke, Hammer was just standing to head somewhere else, didn't know where, when movement caught his eye.

The blue in them sharpened as he studied this newcomer - the way a predator's might when it saw a tasy little rabbit. He smiled again as a plan formed, none nicer than the way he'd grinned before. Tossing the cigarette aside and grinding it out, Hammer noiselessly circled behind the girl, then began to shadow her, making sure his quiet footsteps could be heard. He'd be gone when she turned around to look.

Caina nearly paused mid-shudder, but quickly urged herself to keep walking. She focused hard on what she had thought to be nothing but her imagination a few moments ago, and this time she was sure she heard something like...footsteps. Clutching her jacket a little closer and shifting the bag on her shoulder, she altered her course slightly towards one of the streetlamps.

It's probably nothing...

But the apparent "nothing" wasn't going away. In fact, it sounded like it was getting closer with every step. Just as she broke into the wide circle of light she had been aiming for, she spun around, her lips parted slightly to tell off whoever thought it was funny to trail her through the square. She nearly started with surprise to find no one there.

"What the hell?" She muttered, her voice raspy and uneven. Funny, she hadn't even noticed she'd been breathing hard. "Hello?" She tried again a little louder and waited. Nothing. She slowly turned in the direction she'd been going and started off again at a considerably brisker pace. "Okay, now you're really starting to freak yourself out."

Hammer grinned from his place in the shadows as he watched her whirl around, ready to confront whomever was following her. But - look, no one there. Should this make her feel better or worse? Hello, she said, as people did, automattically like, when they thought there was someone within answering distance but out of sight. Damn silly, really. If someone was following her, would that someone take the time to say hello back?

'Parently not.

He could practically read her thoughts as they skittered across that lovely face. Nobody there, Jenny, nobody atall. You're just spooking yourself, you are. Still, even though there idn't anyone, maybe you should think about getting yourself home a little faster. Yeah, that would be a good idea.

Smiling, he started following her again, matching his longer stride to hers so his steps seemed more an echo than anything else. Then, grinning, Hammer leaned close to the girl and blew, very lightly, on the back of her neck. Laughing silently, he ducked out of sight again before she could turn around.

"Holy fu--!"

She spun around again, dropping her purse--which clattered noisily across the ground and caused her to start even more violently. Reaching up with trembling fingers, she tucked a curl of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear and stooped to pick up her things. But her hands moved slow. All the while she listened hard for sounds of someone nearby--still nothing. She had a cellphone, but what good was it if she had no one to call? And indeed, she could think of no one. Besides, I can take care of myself!

"Even if you're so creeped out you can hardly walk," she whispered, ushering the last of her spilled things back into her purse and straightening up. "Come on, girl, no need to panic..."

Bullshit, this was the perfect time to panic. Either she was seriously losing her mind or she was being stalked by a very clever madman, and either way it was bad, really bad. Digging the nails of one hand into her opposite arm, she turned and walked faster still, on the brink of a jog while every limb seemed to tremble. Her pulse raced, making it considerably harder to hear if anyone was indeed following her...

Ah, her reaction couldn't have been any more perfect than if Hammer had choreographed it for her. The jump, the falling purse, the scrabble to shove her stuff back wherever it belonged. He was close enough to hear her breath whistle, to smell that sweetish, gamey scent of fear.

His body tightened reflexively.

As she turned, her steps uneven and on the edge of an all-out run, Hammer again began to follow, though at a more leisurely pace. Even from this far, if he focused, he could hear the staccato report of her heartbeat. He bared his teeth again, grinning the way a wolf did when it knew it's prey was trapped.

Enough of the chase, eh? Timing it so it would be just perfect, Hammer quickly outpaced the girl, waiting for her in a pool of darkness. She'd just glanced behind her and then, there he was. She walked right into him.

"Whoa, there, little lass," Hammer said, putting a surprised expression on his face. "Whassamatter? You all right?"

She nearly repeated her earlier reaction again, only just managing to catch her things before she dropped them. Caina took a couple of fumbling steps backward away from the man, staring into his face as if he was a ghost.

"S-sorry," she mumbled an apology, clearing her throat in a vain attempt to regain her confident voice. "I'm fine," she tried. "I...I'm fine. Uh," she exhaled a long, shuddering breath and avoided his gaze. He made her uneasy. Maybe it was just because of the situation she'd been in, but God...she stared at the ground, at the light, anywhere but into his face. "Sorry again, but you'll have to excuse me, I need to get home."

She pushed past him quickly, only glancing at him and then hurriedly looking away again. But even as she continued walking, she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder once...twice...

Just keep going. Just go.

Her fingers slipped into her purse, closing around a tiny pocket knife she always had with her. Yes, she was paranoid. But she wasn't taking any damn chances. She would like to get home unraped and in one piece, thank you very much.

Playing the concerned citizen act as far as he possibly could, which was surprisingly far considering he had no experience at being a concerned citizen, Hammer stepped back with his hands innocently in the air. "I di'n't mean to startle ya, miss. Are you sure you're all right?"

It took a lot of willpower to hold back, what with how her face was all flushed and her eyes big and dark with fear, but Hammer thought it would be worth it. A silly little game, maybe, but one thing was for sure - he certainly wasn't bored anymore. "Be careful," he called after her as she began to walk away.

Hammer stood still, little more than a vague, black outline as she looked back the first time. The second... he was gone.

Humming to himself, quietly, he fell into step behind her one last time, far enough away she wouldn't be able to hear him. Hammer decided he'd follow her to her home. It would give her a sense of security and she'd relax a little. A woman's home was her castle, to paraphrase the old saying. To nab her there - well if you couldn't feel safe at home, where could ya?

She shuddered almost violently as she looked back a second time and found him gone. Caina was no longer running. She hadn't the strength to do much more than amble, and it was killing her. Each step was a prayer to no one that she wouldn't feel a hand grab her shoulder, a knife press her throat.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" She half-moaned, clutching at her hair--an old and nervous habit she'd developed when she was little.

Caina made it across the square with no further problems and continued down the street, inwardly cursing Demaitre in general. Whose fucking idea was it to live in such a depressing city? Oh, yeah, hers. Turning her cursing on herself, she tried increasing her steps and found she could. Soon she was feeling a bit better--after all, no more weird men or creepy noises--and was walking and breathing normally. The apartment complex loomed just ahead within easy reach. Once she made it into the main gate, she jogged the rest of the way to her building, glanced over her shoulder to soothe her paranoia, and began rummaging around for her keys.

She let herself inside and locked the door behind her. With a sigh, she dropped everything and slumped against the door, a tiny hiccup of a sob wracking her chest. What the hell was this? Since when did she cry? Wiping away the few tears she allowed, she picked up her things and tossed them onto the table. She'd deal with them later. Right now all she wanted was to shower and get to bed.

She flicked on the bathroom light and stared at herself in the mirror. There were faint hollows under her eyes--God, she was tired. Her hair was a mess. She looked like a ghost herself. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the doorframe, giving herself a few minutes to just breathe it off.

Hammer trotted after the girl at a comfortable distance. If anyone was looking on and actually watching, they might be able to tell he was following her, but who would watch that long? Also, considering how dark it was, they'd have to be either vampires or wearing night-vision goggles.

He studied her apartment complex as they neared it. The main gate, though imposing, was no problem - Hammer simply vaulted over it. It was too bad it was an apartment, he thought to himself, insteado f a house. He'd have to gag her so her neighbors wouldn't hear.

And he'd wanted to hear her scream.

The front entrance had shut and locked by the time he reached it. Locked doors were no problem. Closing his eyes, Hammer's brawny form melted smoothly into a thick grey mist that swept through the crack between door and jamb. As soon as he was in he returned to his solid self and, following the wisps of scent on the chilly air, began to make his way up the stairs to the girl's apartment.

This door was locked too but he deallt with that the same way he had the front. Hammer took a moment to shuffle through the purse she'd left on the floor. "Alexandra Caina Barker," he murmured to himself. He didn't much care for Alexandra, he thought, palming the small penknife.

Noiselessly, he walked deeper into her apartment, until he saw her, wilting against the door frame of her bathroom. Hammer slapped one ham-sized hand over her mouth and yanked her against him. "Hello again, Alexandra Caina," he whispered into her ear, speaking to her reflection in the mirror. Hammer still had one but it was a blurry and indistinct one.

"We'll be quiet as mice, won't we, m'dear?" he rasped trailing his fingertips over her smooth, white throat. "Won't we?"

Caina had just been about to remove herself from the doorway when he grabbed her, pulling her tiny-by-comparison self against his considerably stronger one. Her first reaction was to freeze in fear as he touched her bare neck, but within a second her petrified gaze--directed at his faint one that hovered and blurred curiously in the mirror--warped into a furious glare. She twisted her head just enough to bite into his hand, her lips slightly bared as her teeth dug into his skin.

But she was far from being unafraid, and she did not scream. She only continued to struggle in his brawny arms, fighting as best she could to free herself from his grasp. In the mirror she could not clearly see his face, but when she twisted in his grasp she caught sight of his face and nearly did cry out.

"You!" She breathed, almost at a whimper. "H-how...how the hell did you--?"

She closed her eyes in terror and managed to free one arm for a fraction of a second. It was long enough. She twisted as far as she could until her eyes watered in pain and smashed her fist into his face. A second later, she bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out in pain as she clutched her aching hand as best she could and gave a small, helpless whimper.

"What the hell are you?" She rasped, tears of anger springing up in her eyes as the fight temporarily dwindled from her and she fell again into his control.

"Ooh, that hurt little girl," Hammer said grinning as he rubbed his hand where she had nipped him. No broken skin, though, it was just a little red. He was laughing as she squirmed in his arms, his breath quickening ever so slightly at the feel of her, all warm wriggly. But he stopped laughing when she popped him.

Hammer had to admit it was a good one, though his head didn't move more than a few centimeters - if that. "Ah, you little bitch," he said, his grin somehow sharper and more feral. "Tit for tat," he grunted as he swung out, catching her square on the cheek hard enough to send her sprawling.

His eyes were cold as he fell on top of her, like chips of ice, and that was somehow worse than if they'd been angry. Hammer lowered his head, inhaling the scent of her (perfume and fear) as she stuttered at him in terror. "Mmm, that is a question, innit it?" he muttered, one hand lifting to move from her pretty face then lower, splaying above her chest without touching her. She could undoubtedly feel the way he grew hard, however, aroused by her struggling.

"Shh. Shh, look at me," he whispered hoarsely, those frigid blue eyes locking onto hers. "Quiet now, shh, quiet now. Nothing louder than a hiss, right?" Hammer's eyes seemed to drill into hers, his voice changing subtly as he drew on his power.

She hit the ground hard enough to hurt all over, but Caina was far too frightened to make a sound much louder than a whimper. How could this be happening? How? How could something like this happen to her?

She was trembling badly now, her jaw visibly trembling as he pressed against her and she felt his body respond to the situation he had trapped her in. More tears, few and far between, but enough to show. Somehow she found herself looking back at him, her eyes really locked onto his for the first time. Simply staring back at the lack of emotion in his hard face was nearly enough to drain all hope from her already heavy limbs. But then she was fading, quickly losing all will to fight, to even move. She could only stare back in painful stupor, half her mind screaming at her to fight and the other half, the growing half, gently coaxing her to relent, to do what he said...

Do what he says. Do it.

"Uh...uh-huh," she rasped, her voice barely audible as her dark eyes grew wider still and grew dim. Her muscles relaxed a bit though her body still trembled and shuddered, and she slowly sank against the floor, every couple of seconds twitching and writhing in response to the primal instinct to escape that had been sufficiently smothered yet would not completely die.

"No, no, no you don't," Hammer said, tapping her cheeks with a finger. "Don't you slide under the surface with me, little girl. No hiding in dark little corners of that pretty head." He dropped his hand again, using it to painfully squeeze one of her firm breasts.

The other fisted in her hair, dragging her head back so her throat she had no choice but to stare at the ceiling. "You're gonna feel every second. Going to know every thing. And you're gonna want to scream - loud and long, 'till you lose your voice altogether. That's what you're gonna want to do. But you won't. That scream's going to strangle down to a whimper," he yanked her hair a gain.

"Come on," he rasped angrily, "come on you little bitch. Yeah, how's a guy supposed to get off if you just lie there. Fight me, dammit."

She jolted, dragged back into the tiny bathroom, the one place in the world she would have counted as safe. It was her tiny haven, the little thread of trust she had created, and he had violated it. All the years she'd worked to detach, to painfully extract every memory and every need to be near anybody, all of that broken in an instant. Gone. Violated. And soon all she had left would be violated as well. The look in his eyes was familiar--she'd seen it before several times, all in the face of one other man. Caina could not see for the watery haze that obscured her vision.

Forced back into consciousness, she had no choice but to struggle again despite his obvious love of her doing so. Still, she fought as best she could, clawing at his face when she could, kicking as his legs and jabbing at him with her knees.

"No...p-please! Please, d-don't, don't do this--"

She begged, pleaded. But he was going to anyway.

A different voice, also male, covered her attacker's. It was a voice from a long time ago, a voice from her memories. And as her step-father's face slowly merged with that of the man above her now, she cried out--not especially loud, but much louder than he had permitted. She shut her eyes and turned her face instantly, bracing for the inevitable blow, or worse.

Perhaps you have been led to believe that Hammer is pure, dumb muscle. Perhaps you think he lacks the fine elegance or careful control and forethought of a truly frightening murderer. But, you see, you are wrong. He knows, at the core, what will shake people. He knew as he followed Alexandra Caina Barker [[wasn't it Grey?]] to her home that when he raped her in her where she lived, it would be more than a violation of her body. It would be a deep and wounding intrusion into her very sense of security.

There is no safe place, you see, not even behind the doors you trust to hold out the things that go bump in the night.

And what better way to drive that lesson home, painfully home, to this poor little girl whose only sin, of course, was to cross his path while he was bored?

Fueled by her renewed struggles, her whimpered pleas, Hammer dragged strong fingers at her clothing. Some tore as he heedlessly tossed them away. He left only her undershirt, ripped open down the middle, for the contrast of it against her beautiful, milky skin appealed to him. That creamy skin bruised as he gripped her flesh again, kneading and twisting, and when she cried out he struck her across the face. "I said quiet," Hammer hissed his voice thick with angry lust as he landed another blow for good measure.

He used her own panties to gag her, then lifted her, as if she weighed nothing, to move to the bedroom, to fling her onto the bed. Hammer wanted her to watch as he stripped, as his leather jacet and sweatshirt, his thick jeans and motorcycle boots were tossed away to reveal a body unbelievably thick with muscle and scar. He seemed calmer now as he moved back to the bed and straddled her, his hard erection pressing eagerly against her thigh.

He lifted the penknife he had taken from her purse and flicked the blade open. Leaning down his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "It's going to be a long night, love..."

((No...you're certainly imagining things. *shifty eyes*))

A more hellish punishment for her years of bitter solitude and hatred she could not think of, for Caina had come full circle to what had caused her slow deterioration to begin in the first place. Everything was the same--the shame, the fear, even the simple gag created more to humiliate her than to be effective. The only difference was the man. He was a stranger. She had never seen him before, and she had expected to never see him again when she passed him in the Square. And now she was certain she might actually lose her life tonight.

She gritted her teeth against the pain as he bruised her skin, beat her until her head reeled and his vicious grin contorted, and in some small way it comforted her to set a goal: no more would she cry in front of this monster. Not another tear would fall from her eyes, unless it was one taken by force, an unstoppable reaction to physical pain. No more fear. None. Her dark eyes, cold as they had been before, grew colder still. She watched him undress, her heart twisting, urging her to flee--but even if she ran now, what good what it do? He would catch her within seconds. And when he returned, pressing his massive body over her fragile one, she stared into his eyes, hating him, hating him.

But it was overwhelming. The charade faltered and she struggled beneath him, trying her hardest to force her legs closed and to keep them that way. Fuck, if he thought for a second she would just let him...but it was useless. The fucker would win, no matter what. Even though she fell still again, her legs were as closed as she could manage beneath his weight, and she continued to stare back at him, her lips trembling with the effort to suppress any noise or further movement that might cause him satisfaction..

>__< [[Crappier rewrite]]

Looking into her eyes, which had gone suddenly and gloriously cold on him, Hammer knew he was not going to leave this one still and cold. That would be much too anticlimactic. He wanted to break her now that he could see this new resolve in her black, gorgeously black, eyes.

"Are you brave now, Alexandra Barker?" he whispered as he trailed the tip of the penknife oer her lovely white throat without pressure, without drawing blood. "Stout of heart and will?" Hammer followed teh metal with his mouth, sucking lightly on the skin as he felt the pulse of blood beneath it.

His hands lowered and he caressed the smooth length of her legs. The cold steel blade between his fingers sliding along her skin with icy intimacy, as he felt the tension in her muscles - though she'd stopped struggling.

His eyes, such a hard, hard blue, bored deep into hers as he slid the knife inside of her, carefully, almost delicately.

She didn't answer him except to unconsciously jerk her head to the side as his lips followed the trail of the thin knife. But her eyes followed the blade as far as they could, and her heart tightened and pulsed harder as the cold metal kissed her leg, followed by his touch. Her trembling began anew as his touch moved up, but she did her very best to untense her muscles as the blade touched the very top of her thigh as if she already expected what was coming.

She hadn't.

The scraping, violent pain was unlike anything she'd felt before, and it took every bit of willpower left in her to keep from twisting in agony--to do so would be a thousand times more painful and likely fatal. Her already pale face grew paler still, and her face contorted as the blade cut her delicately from the inside, breaking her hateful stare.

A sick heat tentatively kissed the skin between her legs. Blood. Not much, but enough that she could feel herself bleeding. Each tremble was another drop of it. Each thought was a dangerous one of escape that she had to fight to keep from causing her to move. Her eyes opened again, taking in his pale, venomous gaze, and she shook her head just the tiniest degree as if by some miracle if she asked him now he would stop this malicious play, take what he wanted, and leave.

Hammer's nostrils flared as she jerked beneath him, scenting the blood that oh so sweetly kissed the air. Subtly, he manipulated the blade, scoring and abraded her delicate tissues with the tip. The scent of blood, so faint, strengthened slightly - a wisp of sweet perfume.

"Do you want me to stop, love?" he murmured hoarsely in her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth, teasing it as if they were lovers rather than a rapist and his victim. "Will you beg me to?" Hammer pulled back, his eyes flashing, and braced a hand on her flat belly as he pulled the knife free. Studying the silver blade in the dim light, he raised it to his mouth, licking a drop of the sweet blood from it.

"Or are you too brave for that?" he asked with a vicious smile, the knife hovering ominously above her exposed flesh. "Too brave to beg?" Hammer slid the dull side of the blade through the soft folds of her skin.

Her quivering lips parted in shock as he pulled the blade from her, and, far too afraid to do much else, she gave a tiny, muffled cry of pain. Crushed beneath him, the tears sprang up before she could will them away, and they spilt, shamefully glistening across her face.

"P-please," she pleaded to the glinting blade so close to her vulnerable skin. She pleaded to him, to those eyes that were worse even than his tainted touch. It was as if she still expected some glimpse of humanity to appear in his face and to rescue her, like he might suddenly realize what he was doing and quit. It was a stupid hope, and the small fraction of her thoughts that remained clear and lucid knew this to be true.

Caina winced as the knife touched her again, this time without the threat of such terrible pain as before, only now it pressed against the vile wounds he'd inflicted, filling her with a deep and pulsing ache that was nearly worse. The fight had so drained from her that her only movement was to press her trembling hands to his broad shoulders, her fingers doing little more than brushing against him, begging to be released but with no hope of being granted such mercy.

Hammer touched a finger to her cheek as the tears spilled free, stealing one for himself. It was hot as he tasted it, tasted the salt and sting of fear. Delicious, but not half as good as her blood, spiced dramatically with those very seasonings. He sucked lightly on the skin of her pale white throat, but still held back from feeding.

Not yet, not quite the time.

"So you will beg," he mocked her, turning the blade so it sliced her yet again, before drawing it away. Holding where she could clearly see, he shifted as if to bring it down once more, but paused and, with another awful smile, set it aside. This time it was only his fingers that cupped her, that he pushed inside her, and they came away darkly wet.

Hammer smeared the blood over her breasts and licked it away again as her hands skittered over his shoulders. He took his time as he was enjoying this, savoring her pain and fear as one might a good wine. Fingers digging into her hips, he thrust into her at last, her blood making it easy for him. Hammer groaned as the feeling of her, hot and wet, surrounded him.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded her his eyes flickering back to the knife in a wordless 'or else'.

Caina cried out more sharply as he reversed the blade and cut her, drawing back defensively at the sound, expecting to be struck again. But the pain of him touching her was enough to bring her close to passing out. Her wide eyes grew heavy with pain, and they looked on lethargically as he painted her breasts with her own slick blood. Her bosom rose slightly as his tongue moved over it, her body reacting in its own intrinsic and unstoppable way even as her mind continued to try and shut down, fade out.

She gave a quiet, involuntary moan as he entered her and instantly flushed a faint red under her pallor. It was her body reacting to him without her permission, the highest level of violation she could imagine, and she felt a terrible guilt wash over her at what she considered to be her own whorish reaction. When she again opened her eyes, her gaze hesitantly followed his, trailing to the tiny knife she had ironically carried around to protect herself. With a soft hiccup of despair, she did as she was told and slipped her legs about him, her vision blurring as the internal wounds screamed in protest and the blood continued.

He didn't mind it when the cry tore from her throat. It made him shiver with pleasure, with power that sang through his veins like lightning. It made him feel invincible, as if a god. And so he was, at least to her. Didn't her life rest squarely in his hands? Her eyes fell nearly shut as he took her, as he controlled her.

She was his. He owned her.

There was no more heady a feeling.

His hips moved slower now, to prolong his pleasure and her pain. The two were twined, you see, and Hammer would have it no other way. Her lovely, shapely legs wrapped around him, surrounding him with that deliciuus, natural warmth only humans had. Hammer didn't notice, nor would he have cared if he had, the way her blood pooled on the sheets.

Lowering his head, he took her soft breast into his mouth again, teeth scraping over her nipple. Hammer cupped her rosy bottom in his hands, pulling her tight against him as he plunged into her. "Arms," he said, his breath comig in harsh grunts, "put your arms around my neck."

It was the same sick plight as before only, though it made her sick with rage to think it, the man--no, the monster controlling her now really did seem invincible. Unlike her step-father, this man was fully capable of killing her, violating and owning her more completely than she had ever thought possible, and she hated him. She hated him parts of her she hadn't known existed.

And he obviously had no intention of sparing her any lingering vestige of dignity.

Caina was losing blood more quickly than she had noticed, likely due to his incessant taking of her, tearing her from her deepest, most secret core. And it was due to this that she nearly did not hear his command at all. But his harsh voice, mingled with the hideous sounds of his pleasure, slowly came through to her and, with no reason to resist now that she was certain he would not leave her the slightest bit intact, her arms gave up their feeble and long since faded attempt to push him away and instead slipped groggily about his muscled neck.

Her dark eyes were so close to his frozen ones. She could make out every contour of his face, feel his breath on her bare skin. Her lips were parted slightly as if poised to express her suffering again at any moment he should see fit to wound her, but the look was dangerously close to one of distant, faint, and inescapable pleasure--a sort of inevitable, carnal pleasure that could not be helped regardless of the situation. Had she any resolve left, this would have repulsed her, but as it was she only looked on as if unaware that it was she who was being raped. This strange lucidity allowed her to realize for the first time how cold he was, like he wasn't made of skin and flesh at all.

Hammer groaned as she did as he said, feeling the warmth of her arms against his cool skin. It was like being surrouned by her, by her heat. There was a ferocious pleasure in this. It was beyond sex. It was more like a feeding. He fed off of her pain, the scent of her sweat and resignation, as surely as he fed from blood.

The dullness in her eyes didn't matter to him any more than her vague, futile efforts to shove him away. She no longer mattered - ahd little mattered in the first place. Her name, her history, anything about her was simply noise, like static in the background. Rape is never about the victim, but about the perpetrator. She was merely a handy, shpaley object he could abuse.

And so abuse he did.

Hammer's fingers gripped hard, every considerable muscle in his body tensing as he finally came. Though she no longer struggled against him, he drove hard into her, pressing her body against the bed with feral abandon. His brilliantly cold eyes glittered blindly as he thrust into her that final time, savagely bringing his teeth down onto the soft flesh of her shoulder as he caved under the power of his climax.

It was several long moments before he came back. The blur in his eyes faded, the icy color returning to diamond hardness. Hammer rolled off of Caina, his body pulling free of hers with a soft sucking noise. The scent of blood perfumed the air. He glanced over his hawk-like brow furrowing as he studied the blood that stained the sheets, her spread thighs. It wasn't too serious - a few tablespoons worth perhaps.

Good.

This evening was not over and he diddn't want her spending it in a blood loss induced stupor.

The most she could manage was a weak whimper as his teeth tore into her shoulder and left marks she did not have to see to know were bad. Her body gave a tiny, involuntary shudder as he finished, and she felt some vague, distant relief that she was now allowed to pull away from him. Of course, he did that for her. For a moment she could do nothing more than shake, her legs still spread, her arms fallen at each side of her head. Then slowly, very slowly, for she hurt all over, she closed her legs and turned on her side with her back to him, curling up defensively and hiding her tear-stained face in the sheets.

Moments ticked by and Caina stared straight ahead at the wall, her eyes blank, her lips still trembling violently as she pulled the makeshift gag from her mouth and let it fall to the floor behind the bed. But something caught her eye, a tiny glisten in the dark. The knife. He had laid it aside, and it sat in her reach. He obviously did not fear her resistance, but she didn't care. If she could extract just a few precious drops of blood from him, just a few, it would be enough. It was already open, its small blade glinting with her own gore.

And she did not hesitate a second longer. With a quickness that sent a shudder of pain through her sore body, she reached out and grabbed the knife and forced herself on top of him. She did not even look, but only brought the blade down into the side of his face, pulled it free, and brought it down again in the side of his neck. With all her shaking weight, she pressed, her free hand on the opposite side of his neck, scrabbling to hold him in place while she twisted the blade.

"You fucking bastard," she hissed, her dark eyes blazing. "You fucking bastard!"

They both were still for a moment, their legs still tangled together with the intimacy of lovers before she moved. Hammer lay on his back, listening to the soft russtling sounds as Caina shifted, her every move slow and careful as if she was afraid moving too quickly would hurt her more. He rolled as well as she turned her back on him, those glitteringly bright eyes studying the smooth, bare line of her back, the rounded swell of her bottom.

He could see, in his mind's eye, how that creamy skin would look while she knelt before him, as he rode her recklessly. Could practically hear those breathy little sounds she would make as he did so. But he made no move to touch her again. Even he didn't recover that quickly. Besides, he wanted to give her time - time enough for her aches and hurts to increase, time enough to dwell on what had happened, what would happen.

Hammer knew the moment her eye fell on the little penknife. The muscles in the smooth plane of here back stiffened, her breath catching for just a moment. Such a little, innocuous thing, but it was tacky with her drying blood. And he knew what she was thinking. Maybe I can make the fucker bleed... maybe I can even kill him. So he did nothing. He wanted to know what she would do.

Well, he got his answer. Hammer didn't make so much as a sound as the blade sliced through his cheek, through his lower gum. Swiftly, his movement so quick it seemed almost to not happen at all, he brought his hand up as she brought the knife down again and the blade plunged into his palm instead of his throat. Hammer caught her wrist with his other hand, twisting it until it threatened to cave.

"Good girl," he said softly drawing air in like a man savoring a particularly rich scent. In one smooth movement, he reversed their positions, straddling her once more. For form he struck her, backhanding her with his uninjured hand. "You are still in there." Hammer's grin was distorted by the way his left cheek was sagging. Blood was pouring from the gaping hole she'd put in his face, some dribbled on her. Raising his left hand, from which the knife still protruded, he studied it curiously before pulling the tiny folder free.

He touched the tip of the blade just below her eye but did not press down, his breaths coming fast and shallow with renewed desire. The quick violence, it seemed, had refreshed him.

She cried out as he jarred her arm far to the side, snapping forward so she could sink her teeth into the hand that held her in place. The retaliation was unfortunately short-lived. She smashed her free hand into the wounded side of his face as best she could, but because it was on the opposite side, and because he was already on top of her again, it was likely not as painful as she had meant it to be.

But it was enough, if only for a few moments.

"Of course I'm fucking here," she hissed, laughing mirthlessly as his blood touched her skin. Some of it found her lips, and she ran her tongue across it, savoring the damage she'd done. Strange, never in her life had blood tasted so...vital. Cold as it was, it stung her throat and burned inside her mouth, delicious, fulfilling.

Her madness subsided enough for her to fall considerably stiller as the blade pressed dangerously close to her eye. Another rasping, mirthless laugh. Her chest heaved with frantic breaths, like an animal driven past its breaking point.

"Go on, you big fuck," she rasped, pronouncing each word slowly as if they gave her pleasure. "Do it if you're going to do it."

Hammer put slight pressure on her skin, but paused, his face contorting again as he smiled. "Oh, no..." he whispered drawing the blade back, "I have a much, much better idea." Gripping her chin with his bloody hand he leaned down to press his lips hard to hers, his fangs sliding down to sink into her lower lip.

Breaking the rough kiss, he wiped a hand over his torn cheek, scattering blood across the bed. Hammer didn't mind wasting his own, or the sweet pain that radiated from his rent-open face. Quickly, as coldly as a rancher trussing a calf, he shifted to flip her on her belly and, ripping the cord off of her bedside lamp, tied her hands to her bedframe.

"Much better," he repeated as he delicately trailed the little blade from the bite on her shoulder down the soft skin of her back. Applying pressure just above her lovely soft ass, he slowly pressed harder and harder until a bead of blood welled up. His massive hands gripping her hips once more, he lifted her to suck it away, before his mouth wandered lower, to the blood that still oozed from between her legs.

Hammer laughed a little, lapping at the blood, both the taste and the action making him harden again.

Caina closed her eyes in disgust as his lips pressed against hers, and tears welled in her eyes at the pain of his teeth, but they did not spill. As he drew away, she spat blood in his face, turning her head again to stare at the wall.

She was not surprised as he bound her, eager, no doubt, to subjugate her to further humiliations, nor did she care. Let him sodomize her as he pleased. She would draw blood again before she was dead. That was all that mattered. That was all she had to focus on to endure the blade, his forceful raping of her again. But even these satisfying thoughts could not stop the shudder of disgust as his lips touched her, violating her again, no doubt deeply enjoying her bloodshed.

She watched him drop the blade, saw it land on the bed from between her arms. If she could only reach it...but it was impossible, now, with hands bound. She twisted her wrists, shook them against her bounds and made a small sound of frustration when she succeeded only in chafing her wrists on the makeshift rope.

"Bastard," she spat, falling still again, waiting for his next, perverse move.

Hammer grinned as she spat the blood at him, licking the spatters of it from his lips. As she turned her face away, he closed his lips, experimentally pushing his tongue through the hole she'd put in his face. It would heal without a scar which was almost a disappointment. It would be a big nasty scar too. Useful things, scars were.

The sick grin spread across his face. Perhaps he'd give dear Alexandra here a few. She might find them less useful, however.

Hammer nuzzled her thigh as she sarlled at him. "Oh, I am," he assured her, reaching fondle her breasts, to twist the soft nipples. "And I have," he broke off for a second to scrape his teeth over the folds of her flesh, his fingers kneading eagerly as he did, "great enduranece."

Sucking up the blood, he lifted the knife again, tapping it gently against her cheek. "Yuo'd like this, wouldn't you, love? Good for you. Already proved you would use it, too." Hammer skimmed the flat of it down her back then used the dull side to play with her again. "But I have an eed for it, you see."

She trembled in his silence, anticipating what might come next and absolutely unsure as to what the answer would be. It was more out of exhaustion and anger than fear, now, but she would have to be stupid to stop fearing him altogether. She didn't have to wait long for the answer to her question.

His hands moved over her, touching her, desecrating her. The muscles in her stomach tightened, her head spun with rage. Her shoulderblades twitched as his hands moved over her breasts. Her stomach clenched further as he touched between her legs.

"I'd use it again if you were man enough to let me," she hissed, her voice rough.

She was about ready to tell him what she'd do with the knife if she could hold it in her hands for such a few seconds when he made his next threat, and it was one that got her attention. She froze--except for her hands, which twisted slowly in their binds despite the futility, for the pain it caused was an almost welcome distraction--listening, waiting for whatever would come next.

"Do you fear death, Alexandra Barker?" Hammer asked softly his hands still moving over her body restlessly, hungrily, probing and invading. His eyes were the same as the trailed from her tied hands, her tousled hair, the length of her bare back. To him, there was nothing sexier than a woman bound and helpless.

One big hand squeezed her hip lightly as he shifted and began to sodomize her. "I don't think you do, not now anyway. Because if you did..." Hammer trailed off, pressing the thin blade just below her shoulderblade. Following its curve, he watched with fascination as the blood welled up in tiny red beads, and covered them with his mouth before they could run. It was little more than a scratch, stinging but hardly harmful.

"If you did, you would be all cooperative and quavery, terrified that this night's going to end with me slitting that pretty throat," he finally continued, his lips moving against her creamy skin as he pulled back, paused the draw the moment out. "Doesn't matter either way, I s'pose." Hammer groaned as he pushed into her again, his hand clenching on her hip.

It was a moment before he spoke again, his harsh voice a ragged hiss. "Because I'm not going to kill you."

She did not answer, but only breathed more shallowly as his hands moved across her body, far gentler than before but no less menacing--quite the contrary, his lack of cutting, tearing, crushing made her heart beat faster with suspicion. But then his hand clutched her hip and any intended response caught in her throat in a sick lump.

To Caina, this was worse than all that had transpired. The pain was worse. The humiliation. Bound like an animal, raped like an item. Her face and neck flushed as best they could under her milky skin, warm with shame. She whimpered quietly, stifling the sound as best she could, and for a moment her vision swam with fresh tears. Her skin trembled faintly under the blade, like the flesh of a lamb under the butcher's knife. This was an instant, she knew, that would repeat itself forever in her subconscious, plaguing her thoughts while waking and manifesting itself in every nightmare.

She heard him speak, his voice distorted and made grisly with pleasure, but if he thought for a second she was going to thank him and weep with relief, he was wrong. In a way, he had already killed her. In a way, Alexandra was already dead. Perhaps she had died years ago on the first night she had been raped and left bleeding. Perhaps her life had ended tonight. Either way, the girl with the name she hated was dead and gone, and only Caina would survive the night.

"No angry retort? No bravado-laden threat?" Hammer cocked his head to the side. "I'm surprised at you, Alexandra." The way he used her name was almost a violation in and of itself. As if they knew each other. As if he had the right.

He thrust into her, hard, as she whimpered wanting to hear the sound again - only louder. Hammer plunged into her again and again, furiously, with all the abandon of a jealous husband.

Brutality had been taught to Hammer as a young man and those lessons had left indelible marks that stayed with him as uniquely as fingerprints. Brutality was something you either withstood with weary eyes or fascinated ones - the only other option was pure madness - and Hammer had fallen into the latter pool. He'd learned his lessons and now he was like a cancer, determined to inflict himself on whatever he touched.

It was that brutality he displayed now, forcing himself onto Caina like a rutting beast - which, perhaps, he was. There was no end to his hunger or his savagery. He used his teeth to make her bleed, his fists to bruise, and his imagination to torture. That was why he wouldn't kill her. Hammer wanted her to remember this, all of this.

He raped her again, one final time, and left her tied hand and foot to the soiled bed. She lay on her back now, her bruised arms bound behind her head. Kneeling over her, Hammer pressed his lips hard to hers with a laugh, placing her little knife on her belly. He used her shower to wash away the blood, dressed, and left her there. Since Hammer wanted her to be found, he left the door open behind him.