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Crocodile’s office greets you with a grim atmosphere, and the high ceilings and towering bookshelves make you feel smaller. You walk up to the massive desk and drop a heavy sack onto it with a dull thud.
— Came to collect your reward? — his low voice fills the room, and you catch yourself thinking that its timbre stirs something in you, makes you feel things you don’t want to admit to. — You do know you don’t have to bring an actual head here every time? — a faint smirk plays on his lips as he nods toward your catch, and you notice dark red stains seeping through the thick fabric.
For several months now, you’ve been tracking down and killing Marines, bringing “trophies” to Crocodile and receiving the promised payment. You watch as his fingers count the bills, your gaze lingering on his broad palm and the veins along his forearm disappearing beneath his shirt sleeve. You lift your eyes and almost flinch when your gazes meet. He studies you with interest, and you turn away in embarrassment, feeling exposed, wishing you had worn a longer skirt.
— Something wrong? — he says, and you sense a note of sarcasm in his voice. Not knowing what to say, you simply shake your head, staring at the floor.
Crocodile finishes counting the money, but instead of handing it to you, he pushes his leather chair back and stands up. You watch as he walks around the desk, his tall figure seeming enormous compared to you. When he stops a few feet away, you catch the expensive scent of leather and tobacco, but you immediately pull yourself together and extend your hand, demanding your share of berries.
But instead of giving you the money, Crocodile places it on the desk beside you. As you reach for your reward, his hand suddenly covers yours, pressing it down against the desk with such force that you hiss in pain. Before you can even process what’s happening, his other arm wraps around you so that the hook comes to rest at your neck, pressing against the delicate skin.
— W-what?.. — You feel as though the air has suddenly been ripped from your lungs. You don’t understand what’s happening, but one thing is perfectly clear — if he decides to kill you, nothing will stop him, so you make no attempt to break free, pinned between the desk and his chest.
— Shh, — Crocodile drawls, leaning slightly closer to you. — Now. There’s something I need to figure out. And I need you to help me with it. In fact, you need it more.
On that last phrase, he smirks, his hook pressing harder against your neck. You feel it leave a shallow scratch on your skin.
— I’ve learned that someone has been feeding information about MY organization to the Marines…
You hear the office door open, interrupting Crocodile, and you wonder who would dare to enter without knocking. The next second, the weight of metal disappears from your neck, and you sharply suck in air as if you’ve been suffocating this entire time. Yet his hand still holds yours, gripping your wrist tightly, and you know bruises will appear there tomorrow. If you even live that long, that is, you remind yourself as you turn toward the door.
— Mihawk, — you catch a note of irritation in Crocodile’s voice. He looks at the swordsman standing in the doorway as though he’s just been pulled away from an interesting book.
— So, this is the traitor who’s been causing us so much trouble? — Mihawk throws the words out casually, looking you over in a way that makes you want to disappear. He steps further into the room and, taking off Yoru, settles onto the large leather sofa.
— That’s exactly what I was about to find out when you interrupted us, — Crocodile drawls.
He yanks you by the hand and leads you toward Mihawk. The thought of resisting doesn’t even cross your mind, and you collapse onto the soft couch beside the swordsman when Crocodile shoves you down with a rough push. He takes a seat on the side table across from you, his gaze fixed on your frightened eyes.
— Sir, I don’t understand what this is about, — you begin to ramble. — I don’t know what the Marines found out or how, but I swear—
Crocodile suddenly leans forward, his hand gripping your jaw and squeezing painfully, cutting you off mid-sentence.
— You swear? Do you really think that’s enough?
Mihawk watches the two of you with a bored expression, as though he witnesses scenes like this every day, and drawls:
— Don’t you want to make this interrogation a little less dull? — he addresses Crocodile, and the moment you hear the suggestion, something inside you tightens.
The man in front of you first glances at Mihawk in confusion, but a second later his lips curl into a grin that promises nothing good. He gives the swordsman a nod.
— Well, by all means, be my guest, — Crocodile chuckles, not loosening his grip on your jaw. He presses harder until your back is forced into the couch, both men looming over you. — I suppose, since we’ve found ourselves in this situation, we might as well enjoy it.
A glint of interest appears in Mihawk’s eyes. He reaches out, hooking a finger under the lower edge of your top—the one you’d decided to wear without a bra today. His long finger slowly drags the fabric upward, gradually revealing your body.
You jerk in protest, wanting to spit out something indignant, but Crocodile’s hand shifts to your throat, squeezing hard enough that all you can do is gasp for air. Mihawk lifts the top higher, the fabric sliding up over your nipples, and in the next moment your chest is completely exposed to the predatory gazes of both men.
— So? Weren’t you about to tell us something? — Crocodile drawls mockingly. His grip on your throat loosens, his hand trailing down to casually brush over your chest. You notice how your nipples instantly harden, drawing a quiet chuckle from him. He pulls his hand away, yet you remain in the same position, not daring to move even slightly.
— Y-yes, sir, I… — you try to recall what you were about to say, but you’re overwhelmed by fear and humiliation. And by the lingering sensation of Crocodile’s fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. You feel so helpless, sitting beside them, half-naked and terrified, that you can’t hold back your tears, sobbing softly as they begin to roll down your cheeks.
You flinch when Mihawk’s hand settles on your thigh, his fingers pressing into the inner side and sliding upward, disappearing beneath your skirt.
— I would never pass information to the Marines that could in any way help them interfere with your plans, — you force out, stumbling over your words as the swordsman’s fingers persistently massage the delicate skin just inches from the fabric of your underwear.
— I very much want to believe you, — Crocodile watches Mihawk’s hand, but apparently decides he isn’t seeing enough. Leaning in, he takes your leg by the ankle, lifts it, and places it on the edge of the couch. He presses on your knee, forcing you to open for him, exposing the thin fabric of your underwear covering the most intimate place. Mihawk doesn’t hesitate, doing the same with your other leg, settling it across his lap.
You exhale sharply, finding yourself in such a vulnerable position. Yet now the fear mixes with a strange sensation that begins to build as Crocodile leans closer—and this time, it’s his hook that touches you. He lowers the outer curve of it directly against your crotch, watching your widened eyes as he applies slight pressure.
— But as it happens, I know the Marines have been in contact with you. I’ll give you exactly one minute to explain yourself. And if I don’t like how you handle that task, I’ll turn you into a living sleeve for my hook.
You feel like you’re about to break down in sobs when you imagine Crocodile driving the tip of his hook into you, piercing you there—but you hold yourself together with the last of your strength, tears quietly dripping onto your chest.
— I’m sorry, sir, I should have told you about it right away. The Marines did contact me. They wanted information about your whereabouts and plans; in return, they offered me a substantial sum and immunity from prosecution, — you exhale as the metal against the fabric of your underwear begins to move, pressing against that tight knot of nerves. Lifting your gaze, you look at Crocodile, his lips curled into a smirk.
And then it hits you—everything happening right now is a matter of life and death for you, but nothing more than a game for them. You see the way they take pleasure in it: your defenseless body tense with fear, exposed and utterly helpless before them. It doesn’t matter what you say, whether you beg them to stop, cry or scream—they will still do exactly as they please. And the thought of what they might want terrifies you.
— And what did you tell them, hm? — this time the question comes from Mihawk. His cold voice remains as calm as ever, as if it isn’t his hand reaching for your chest right now, not his fingers pinching your nipple, twisting it until a moan is forced from your lips. You clamp down on the sound immediately, but you notice his eyebrow lift slightly — apparently amused by your reaction.
You look at his chiseled face and can’t help but think that Mihawk is strikingly attractive, absurd as that thought seems given the situation.
— My answer is in the bag on your desk, sir, — you breathe out, shifting your gaze to Crocodile. He removes the hook from your panties and looks at Mihawk.
— The Marine’s head. What do you say? Is it convincing enough for us to believe her words?
— Perhaps, — the swordsman tilts his head to the side and slowly runs his eyes over your body, curled up on the couch. You look at him with hope. — However, that still isn’t a reason to let her go.
— What? But you said that…
— Quiet! — Crocodile raises his voice, forcing you to fall silent. — We may not kill you for betrayal, but we still need to make it perfectly clear: if the thought of messing around with the Marines ever crosses your stupid little head, we are not the kind of people who let something like that slide.
You see Mihawk draw the small dagger that always hangs at his neck, and for a few seconds it feels as if your heart stops beating. You shrink back, trying to crawl away from him, but his grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your flesh the moment you try to pull back. At the same time, the other man moves onto the couch on your opposite side, cutting off any ways to escape.
Mihawk traces the tip of the dagger along your stomach and, when it reaches your skirt, slices through the fabric, tossing the torn garment over the back of the couch. Meanwhile, Crocodile pulls your lifted top off completely—you obediently raise your arms to help him, knowing resistance is useless.
Their hands move over your body, and you begin to give in, slowly relaxing as they squeeze and handle your curves. You are completely at the mercy of two powerful men, and when Crocodile hooks the fabric of your underwear with his hook, you instinctively lift your hips. He slides them off and tosses them aside, where your top and torn skirt already lie.
You suddenly realize you are completely naked between them—while they remain fully dressed—and hesitantly reach for Crocodile’s jacket. But the moment you try to pull it from his broad shoulders, he catches your hands and pins them to the back of the couch above your head. You gasp as his fingers wrap around both your wrists, holding them more firmly than any chains could.
— Seems someone’s gotten a little too bold, — Crocodile says, a smirk in his voice. Leaning closer, he brings the hook back to where it was before. Only now you have no fabric to shield you, and the cold metal glides directly over your aroused skin. Then the man presses harder, parting your folds and massaging your clit. You can’t hold back a moan, burying your face against Mihawk’s chest as what feels like the most indecent sound you’ve ever made escapes your lips.
— Well, would you look at that, Mihawk—our agent turns out to be quite a little slut.
You hear their dismissive comments, which make you want to melt into the back of the huge couch and die of shame. But for some reason your body refuses to obey, and instead you start rolling your hips, rubbing your pussy against the metal of his hook and letting out pitiful whimpers with every breath.
Your actions draw a sarcastic chuckle from Crocodile. He pulls the hook away, examines it and frowns.
— Look at that, you’ve made a mess of me, — he brings the hook closer to your face, and you see that it really is coated with traces of your arousal. — Clean it. With your tongue.
You try to pull back, but Mihawk’s hand catches you. The swordsman threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your head and presses down, forcing your nose against the cold metal.
— Do you want to find out what happens if you make me repeat myself? — Crocodile drawls in a low voice.
You shake your head in response to his words. Feeling even more humiliated, you stick out your tongue and begin licking your own slickness off the hook. After several minutes of your efforts, Crocodile finally pulls his hand away and hums in satisfaction.
— Not that difficult, is it? Be a good girl, and maybe we won’t hurt you too badly.
— Hurt?.. — you breathe out in confusion. You were sure the worst was already behind you, but your question makes both men look at you as if you’d asked something incredibly foolish, and Crocodile grins mockingly.
They don’t answer. Instead, Crocodile slides his hand under your thighs, lifts you and settles you on his lap with your back to him. You feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. He unfastens his belt buckle; you hear the sound of his zipper, and the next moment his erection is pressing against your back. The man pushes the metal hook against your lower back, forcing you to arch and expose your dripping hole to him. He runs his fingers along your delicate folds, deliberately avoiding your clit, which makes you whine in disappointment. You can’t see it, but you’re almost certain there’s a smirk on his face right now — one that says how much he enjoys tormenting you, teasing you, and making your body beg to be taken.
Mihawk lounges lazily against the back of the couch, not moving, simply watching the two of you with calm, predatory interest. You lower your gaze and notice the obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his pants.
Meanwhile, Crocodile finally reaches your entrance and abruptly pushes two thick, long fingers inside you at once. You let out a soft, startled cry at the sudden intrusion, but he pays it no attention, immediately beginning to move them. You’re grateful that you were already so wet — because he is anything but gentle. He could have started with one finger, but he deliberately chose to stretch you with two right away; evidently this way is for fun for him. He scissors his fingers inside you, causing a sharp sting of discomfort that makes you wince and instinctively try to pull away from his touch.
— Do you want me to just use my cock right away? — the man asks in a dangerously low, threatening tone.
You turn your head and stare at his impressive size. How is something that big even supposed to fit inside you when just two of his fingers already feel like they’re filling you to the limit? But you quickly remind yourself that he could have chosen not to use his fingers at all, so perhaps you should be thankful for at least this much. You shake your head frantically and moan again as he strokes all the right spots deep inside you.
Just when you start to feel the pleasure, he suddenly stops, leaving only the tips of his fingers inside you.
— Ride them, — he orders.
You know you look like a bitch in heat right now, but you no longer care. You obey, pushing your hips down hard until his fingers are buried fully inside you, then begin rocking faster. Right now you would give almost anything for even a slight stimulation of your swollen clit, but you don’t dare touch yourself. You know such initiative would not go unnoticed and would definitely be punished — they had already made it perfectly clear that tonight your body does not belong to you.
— Enough, — you freeze instantly at Crocodile’s command. — I think you’re ready.
You seriously doubt that, but you force yourself to stay still as you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He pushes in slowly, stretching your walls inch by inch. You whimper pathetically, because the sensation is overwhelming — it feels like he’s about to tear you apart.
— Shh, I know you can take me, — he breathes out hoarsely. Somehow those words make you relax, and he sinks in completely. You have never in your life felt so overwhelmingly full as you do now, sitting on his lap. You silently pray that he’ll give you time to adjust.
— So tight… It’s like you were made for my cock, — he growls.
You don’t know what emotion this comment stirs in you — embarrassment, anger, arousal, or shame — but when he wraps his arms around you - hook rests carefully against your throat like a silent warning, while his other hand presses you closer to his body and slides down your stomach to your pussy - you don’t mind it at all.
He begins to move his hips — slowly, almost tenderly at first. You feel every thick inch of him filling you completely and tilt your head back, pressing it against his broad shoulder. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t thought of him before — about his strong hands, about the dangerous darkness hidden in his eyes. You had refused to even admit to yourself that you continued working for him for more than just berries.
Gradually, the man increases the depth and rhythm of his thrusts as he feels your body beginning to adjust to his size. His hand caresses you from the front, finally giving your clit the attention it craves.
Mihawk, who had been quietly watching the entire time, leans in toward your neck and kisses it. At first softly, then he bites down, leaving noticeable marks that will remain on your skin for several days. You no longer hold back your moans, melting between the two men as waves of pleasure wash over you.
When Mihawk’s mouth moves lower to your chest, you arch your back, offering your breasts to him. His tongue plays with your nipples before he bites them roughly. You can no longer tell where pain ends and pleasure begins. Everything blends together into one overwhelming, all-consuming arousal. You have neither control over it nor any desire to regain it. You simply surrender to them completely, knowing that in this moment they can do whatever they want with you. And you won’t even think of resisting.
— Crocodile, don’t be too greedy. It’s my turn to play with her a little, — says Mihawk, pulling away from your chest. You notice that the small dagger has appeared in his hand once again.
Crocodile slows his thrusts, grips you under the knees and spreads your legs wide apart, completely opening your inner thighs to Mihawk. Your arms are also pinned firmly to the sides. You don’t understand what’s happening, but the devilish spark in the swordsman’s eyes promises nothing good.
He shifts position and settles between your spread legs. His fingertips glide teasingly along your thighs, almost brushing against your pussy lips, sending shivers racing across your skin. Crocodile continues to move inside you slowly, and the new position allows you to feel his thick cock even deeper than before.
Suddenly, you feel something ice-cold against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You flinch when you see that it’s Mihawk’s blade, its sharp tip pressed lightly against your tender flesh.
— What are you doing…? — you stammer, trying to pull away, but Crocodile holds you firmly in place, completely controlling every movement.
— Stay still, — Mihawk says coldly and slowly drags the blade across your thigh. He doesn’t press hard, so it leaves only a faint, thin scratch. He watches your reaction closely, and you swear you can almost see a smile on his lips.
You can’t close your legs. You can’t protect yourself with your hands. A fear steers in your stomach as the man presses the dagger a little harder. You whimper pitifully, as if that could make him stop, and then break into a sharp cry when the blade cuts across your skin. This time he applies more pressure. You clench hard as you feel a sharp sting of pain and see small beads of blood welling up from the cut.
Mihawk looks at the mark with obvious satisfaction and moves the dagger to your other thigh, this time positioning it just an inch away from your pussy. He cuts again, deeper than before. Your whole body tenses, and you scream — it’s the only thing you can do. You hear Crocodile exhale hoarsely into your ear, never stopping his steady thrusts.
Mihawk gently strokes your thighs where the skin is still intact. His touch is deceptively tender, as if he wasn’t the one who had just carved into you. His fingers find your clit and begin to massage it in slow, skillful circles, rewarding you for the pain you endured.
— Do it again, — you hear Crocodile’s low, rough voice. — She clenches around my cock so beautifully when she tenses from the pain.
Mihawk brings the blade back to your widely spread thighs.
— No! Please! — you whimper, already knowing your pleas won’t stop them. Instead, you earn a stern look from the swordsman and an order to shut up from Crocodile, who immediately begins thrusting harder.
Mihawk leaves another cut on your thigh, then one more, and another. At some point your voice breaks, tears flood your eyes, and the world in front of you blurs completely. Warm blood from the cuts trickles down toward your pussy, mixing with your own wetness and serving as an extra lube for Crocodile’s rough thrusts.
Suddenly, you feel the sharp touch of the blade against your pussy. Your eyes widen in terror. You scream and desperately beg Mihawk to stop. His cold, predatory gaze meets your tear-filled, pleading eyes.
— I suppose we don’t have to ruin you tonight, — he drawls lazily, finally pulling the dagger away. — However, I should still get some use out of you.
The swordsman rises to his feet and unbuckles his belt, lowering the zipper of his pants. He stands in front of you and brings his already hard cock to your lips. You obediently open your mouth, ready to please him.
— I didn’t hear any gratitude for sparing you, — he says, not allowing you to touch him yet.
— Thank you… — you whisper, looking up at him with wet, tear-stained eyes.
He places his large hand on the back of your head and guides you forward, forcing you to take him deeper than is comfortable. His thick length fills your mouth, pressing against the back of your throat.
Crocodile’s thrusts grow faster, sharper, and much deeper. You can feel them both pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pain gradually fades into the background, and you begin to dissolve once again in overwhelming pleasure between the two men. Your moans, muffled by Mihawk’s cock, mix with Crocodile’s hoarse, heavy breathing.
You suck on the head of his cock until he presses down harder on the back of your head, forcing you to gag around his girth.
You can’t believe that just a short while ago you looked at them as the highest form of existence — as gods, as something untouchable and unreachable. And now you’re moaning shamelessly between them, filled with their cocks. You also can’t stop thinking about how you had never in your life reached such a dizzying level of arousal as you did after they had practically tortured you, humiliated you, and taken you by force.
You can feel that both of them are close to the edge, just like you. This knowledge makes you work your mouth even more eagerly, tears spilling from your eyes, but you don’t care. You only need a few more seconds to reach the most intense orgasm of your life.
Crocodile’s body tenses beneath you. With a hoarse groan, he pulls out and spills his hot cum across your thighs. You let out a disappointed moan, but he only smirks against your ear, making it clear that he deliberately denied you your release. A few seconds later, Mihawk yanks you by the hair and, pulling his cock from your mouth, cums across your face. He doesn’t let you pull away until the last drop touches your lips.
Crocodile lowers you onto the couch, where you lie for some time, too exhausted to move. You hear Mihawk leave the room and return a few minutes later while the other man rummages through the drawers of his desk. They approach you, and your mind immediately paints a picture of them throwing your spent body out the door. The thought makes you curl up, instinctively covering yourself with your arms.
Instead, Crocodile sits down beside you and gently lays your head on his lap, covering it with his large palm and stroking your hair in a soothing manner. Mihawk is also right beside you. You see a damp towel in his hands. He begins carefully wiping your thighs where dried blood and cum remain. You hiss softly when he passes over the cuts on your thighs, but you don’t try to pull away. Then he takes another towel and gently cleans your face. You notice a small jar of ointment appear in his hands — the one Crocodile must have been looking for — and the swordsman starts applying it to your wounds.
— It’ll heal quickly, — Crocodile says. You don’t respond, simply pressing your nose into the fabric of his pants.
Mihawk finishes treating the cuts he had made, and you feel strength slowly returning to your body.
— I want water, — you say. Crocodile reaches for the glass waiting on the side table next to the couch and hands it to you. — And I want to have my orgasm.
Mihawk, who is still sitting between your spread legs, raises an eyebrow. His hand settles on your stomach as he drawls in that deep soft voice:
— Well… I suppose we can arrange that.