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Overhearing your Captain giving a report to Umbrella about the state of the experiment being run using your team as the subjects was not on your list of things to happen on this mission tonight.
You gasp quietly when you hear him, that deep, cultured voice saying such awful things, and you stumble away from the door you were just about to try opening. You don't know what to do. You don't know who to trust – if you can't trust your Captain, who then? Is Chris in on it? Is Jill? And even if they aren't, this damn mansion is so huge and hard to navigate even without the undead and other freakish monsters getting in the way that you don't even know where any of the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. people are or how you might go about finding them. You've been stumbling around on your own for hours now without running into a single other soul.
Until now, of course.
Lost in your spiraling head, you don't notice the door opening slowly nor the hand coming for you. The hand grasps your shoulder out of nowhere and wrenches you to the side, yanking you inside the room then throwing you to the floor harshly. You land roughly, your shoulder twinging from the impact, but when you try to roll over and pull out your gun, you hear the safety of another gun being pulled.
You look up in the direction of that sound and see Wesker looking down at you with disappointed, cold blue eyes.
“My, my. What's a lost little lamb like you doing wandering these halls, my dear? I thought I told you to stay put and wait for me,” he drawls and despite what you've just heard, despite being thrown to the floor and held at gunpoint by this man, the way his words roll out of his mouth still has you in a trance.
“Hard to do when the undead are trying to bite a chunk out of you,” you spit with more bravado than you feel.
Wesker chuckles but the sound is not warm – it's cruel, amused but in a dark way, as if he's taking pleasure out of your predicament. And of course he is, he engineered this entire nightmare, after all.
“How much did you hear?”
You pause, eyes darting around as your heartbeat picks up speed. Should you lie? Say you have no idea what he's talking about? Can you even lie to him? He knows you so well, after all, your dearest Captain. The man you fell in love with in the quiet shadows of your cubicle, resigned to carrying a torch for him until the end of times – he could never reciprocate, after all, and even if he did, he always seemed too professional to allow something like work and pleasure to bleed into one another like that.
You look back at him, your heart breaking just a little, and shrug. What does it matter if you lie or not? You doubt you're making it out of here alive.
“Being honest is in your best interests, rookie,” Wesker urges, taking a step forward and nudging your foot with his boot. “Don't make me angry and I won't hurt you.”
You swallow harshly. You can already feel tears brewing in your eyes and you don't bother hiding them – you just let them fall silently down your dirty cheeks, let them carve a scorching path across your skin.
“I was there for an entire minute, maybe more. I heard enough.”
Wesker sighs and takes a knee next to you. He nudges your chin with his gun, a gesture that makes your heart jump in your chest with fear, and you let your head be pushed this way and that as he analyses you from every angle.
“What a mess,” he tuts, sighing again with all the weariness of a man who's tired of everything. “Do you want to live, my dear?”
You nod silently, still crying and looking at him with so much love, betrayal, confusion, and hurt.
“So do I. I really like you, you know?” he says, leaning towards you and pressing his nose to your temple, breathing you in. You grow still, heart hammering in your chest but breathing catching in your throat, and don't know what to do at the unexpected proximity. “So innocent, so sweet. Even now, even like this, you're so beautiful.”
His tongue darts out and swipes at the corner of your eye, catching your overflowing tears. He moans at the taste then goes back for more.
You're caught in a trance or perhaps you've lost the plot. You can't move as Wesker grasps your face with one hand, the other keeping his gun pressed to the underside of your jaw, and licks your tears and the tear-tracks on your face. When his lips brush up against yours, your eyes widen and heat explodes in your chest and abdomen as he presses an insistent kiss to your mouth and slips his tongue inside.
You don't know what to do. You've never been kissed before and this entire situation is so overwhelming you just… let him do whatever he wants. Maybe if he likes it, if you behave and give him what he wants, he'll let you live. Doing… things with Wesker wouldn't be a chore anyway. Not the way you thought things might happen between the two of you, if they ever did, but it's better than nothing, right? Better than dying?
He kisses you for a long time, or perhaps time just loses meaning when you're flat on your back on the cold, dusty floor of this room with Wesker on top of you. He grinds his hips down on you and, at first, you don't realise what he's doing until you feel a shape that is not his leg pushing against your inner thigh. You can feel your cheeks warming up at the realisation that he's rubbing his erection against you.
When Wesker pulls away at long last, he's pink in the face and his blue eyes are nearly black with how turned on he is.
“Such a good girl for me,” he praises, pleased, and nudges your chin with the barrel of the gun almost affectionately. You almost forgot about that. “Though you could have kissed back, you know? Or do you like men to do the hard work for you, hmm? Are you a pillow princess?” He rubs his nose on your cheek and presses another short peck on the corner of your mouth.
You feel a confusing mix of feelings as he does it – affection and bashfulness, disgust, fear, arousal. And you still can't bring yourself to move a single muscle.
“I… I don't know how.”
Wesker's brow furrows for a moment before it smooths out with his understanding. His eyes get even darker, if that were possible, and it really shouldn't surprise you when he pushes your thighs open and grabs your clothed pussy roughly, grinding the heel of his palm right over your clit. You yelp, then moan, then clamp your mouth shut to stop any more sounds from escaping.
“Are you a virgin, my darling lamb?” Wesker asks giddily, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
Your heart is pounding in your ears when you nod slowly.
“Oh, this will be very memorable then. What precious gifts you bestow upon me.”
He starts unbuckling your pants then and something about the feeling of foreign hands tugging at your clothing and the metallic sound of your belt ringing so loudly in the silent room that it sounds more like a gunshot makes your survival instinct finally go from fawn to fight. Too little, too late, but you start to struggle and kick Wesker's gun to a far corner of the room, taking him by surprise with your resistance now, but not for long. You try to twist around and crawl away from him until you can get to your feet and put some distance between you, but Wesker has years of experience on you and more brute strength in one arm than you have in your entire body.
He pins you to the floor in a second flat after the initial shock and slams your face into the cold, hard wood beneath you. Pain blooms in your cheek and you whimper, whining and thrashing like a pinned insect when Wesker shoves his knee in between your legs.
“What did I say about making me angry?”
“Please,” you beg, desperate to just get away. You don't want this, not now, not this way. Tears are blurring your vision and the side of your face radiates heat from the slam Wesker delivered to it. Just as suddenly as fight entered you, it also leaves you. “Don't do this. I'm begging you.”
Wesker huffs and leans more of his weight on you, effectively draping himself over your body and giving you no chance to move, not that you can anymore. That was your one shot at fighting back, you can't bring yourself to try again, not when you're so terrified of what he might do in retaliation.
He grips you by the hair and roughly pulls your head back, your neck straining to bend that far, as Wesker leans close to your ear.
“I was going to do it nicely. Take my time, you know? Make it feel good, fuck you slowly, maybe missionary. Finish on your stomach or your face. Make you come. But now…”
You gulp, crying loudly now, and you hate yourself for the way your cunt pulses with need in response to his horrible words.
“Please,” you beg. “Please don't…” Don't what? Don't rape me? He's going to do it anyway and you wasted your one chance to catch him off guard and get away. The most you can beg for is mercy. “Don't hurt me, Captain. Please.”
You don't know exactly what appeases him – if it's the use of his title or just your pathetic, tearful begging in general – but Wesker seems to soften again as he rubs his nose against your hair and grinds his hips down into your ass.
“I don't want to hurt you, lamb. Aren't you my favourite little rookie, hmm? Haven't I given you every special treatment in the world?”
It's true. Everyone knows it. You got teased for it a lot but you always just chalked it up to Wesker being softer on you because of your age. Sure, Rebecca is only 18 and doesn't get the same treatment, but you always rationalised it by pointing out that technically she works under Captain Marini, so she's not Wesker's direct responsibility, whereas you are.
Looks like you were the fool after all.
“It's time for you to repay me. If you're a good girl and behave, you won't get hurt, I promise. But only if you stop fighting,” Wesker continues, breathing you in by the lungful as he continues to rub his erection against you. It feels good even if it makes you wanna curl up and get away from the touch at the same time.
“O-okay. I'm sorry,” you mumble, tears tapering off slowly.
“I don't forgive you but it's okay. You'll get your punishment.”
You want to ask what he means by that, alarm shooting through you, but you get distracted by the feeling of Wesker pulling your pants down at long last. He pulls your boots off when he's lowered your pants down to your ankles, slowly as if he's savouring it, and even kisses your ankle and the sole of your foot before he lets your legs fall back down to the floor. You squirm at the tenderness but a warning grip on your thigh stops you.
He unbuttons your shirt and slides it off of you, doing the same thing to the undershirt beneath and your bra, then pushes you back to the floor, face down.
“Arch your hips,” he commands when his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear and you comply. With your ass in the air, he very slowly peels your damp underwear off your body, sliding it down your legs, removing it completely, then sniffing it as he lets out a loud moan that, unfortunately, makes your clit throb. “Absolutely divine,” he murmurs and stuffs them in a pocket on his pants before he lowers himself down until his face is level with your still arched ass.
You don't know what he's doing until you feel his hands prying your asscheeks apart, exposing you so much that it makes you feel indecent, and licks you.
“O-oh!” you moan, taken entirely by surprise at the feeling of Wesker's warm tongue on your pussy. He licks between your folds, rubs at your clit with his fingers, spears your virgin hole with his tongue until you're a moaning, babbling mess beneath him. You're crying again but you don't know why. Pleasure overwhelms you and you come embarrassingly quickly and suddenly from his foreign touches.
“Oh, look at you,” Wesker groans as he realises you're coming, watching how you get so wet it makes his mouth water. “Darling, you're exquisite. Oh yes, let's see how tight this pussy is.”
A finger enters you. It's weird and uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt, so you just take it and sob into your arms. He prods at your insides, looking for something though you're not sure what, but when pleasure explodes out of you at a particular push inside, his finger curled at an angle, and your moan reverberates off the walls, Wesker makes a satisfied noise and starts bullying that spot relentlessly.
He uses your pleasure to sneak in another finger as he then spears you open with both of them and even scissors them inside. He does this until you come again, crying from both pleasure and humiliation – what kind of slut enjoys being raped?
He laps up your release this time, groaning at the taste and making you twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm, then pats your thigh soothingly and slides his hand upwards to squeeze your ass and jiggle it around. It makes your cheeks burn.
“There, there. That wasn't so bad, was it? You did so well for me,” Wesker praises in that deep voice of his, so gentle as if he didn't slam your face into the floor earlier, as if he isn't raping you. And the worst part is that it works. It soothes you and makes you melt back to the floor, letting your legs relax again and spread open for him just a little more.
You can hear him unbuckling his own belt now and you contemplate trying to buck him off of you and take off running while he's distracted but… Is it worth the risk of upsetting him if you fail again? He won't be so forgiving a second time, you just know it. And even if you managed to kick him off of you, which you doubt, where would you run – naked, terrified, weaponless, in a mansion full of threats?
No, it's better to just lie down and take it. He'll be gentle, he promised.
“Now,” Wesker begins once he has, presumably, taken his cock out. He rubs a hand from your asscheeks to the small of your back and it makes you feel warm and taken care of, which is yet another reason to hate yourself. “I was going to use a condom because I doubt you're on birth control.” He slaps his cock down between your cheeks then and it makes you gasp and jolt, especially when he rubs it lower, slotting it between your wet lips and nudging your clit with the fat, leaking head. “But you just needed to be a brat earlier. So your condom privileges have been revoked.”
Before you can say anything, beg him not to, Wesker lets his cockhead notch at your entrance and starts pushing. The pressure is almost unbearable and you squirm away from it, crying again and babbling out pleas you don't even understand, but Wesker's hands are firm on your hips as he keeps you pinned in place and slides his bare cock into your unprotected, virgin pussy and selfishly takes something precious away from you without a care.
“Ah, fuck. You're so tight, dearest. Just perfect for me,” Wesker grunts, giving your ass a slap when you wiggle in discomfort at the foreign fullness in your cunt. “Stop moving! You're acting like I'm murdering you, for fuck's sake. It's just fucking, no big deal. You're finally doing what you were designed to do: take cock and enjoy it.”
As if to prove his point, he pulls out and slams back in, ripping a moan out of you and making you sob harder. It hurts but it feels so good. The weight of Wesker on top of you, pinning you down by sitting on your thighs while every thrust forward makes your ass jiggle from the impact makes you so wet and turned on. And he can feel it.
“Such a dirty little slut,” he spits as he starts to fuck you properly, smacking your ass and making you yelp at the impact, yet your pussy gives you away. “Drooling on my cock and you still have the nerve to cry about it. Good girls don't like getting raped, darling. Only little sluts do.”
You shake your head, crying and clawing at the floor, your body feeling like it's on fire from the pleasure of Wesker's cock going in and out of you without mercy.
“N-no, I– I hate it. I want you to stop!” you deny desperately.
“Do you?” Wesker asks meanly and slaps your ass again before he finds your clit and presses down on it teasingly just to make your cunt tighten around his length. “Your pussy says otherwise. Who should I believe, hmm?”
You want to reply but the words get stuck in your throat when Wesker's cock hits that sensitive spot from before at the same time as his fingers stimulate your clit and you come again, sobbing and shaking from how unfairly good it feels.
“See? You're coming more than my dates do. Admit it, darling, you're just a slut. A virgin little slut who has been begging for my attention for months,” he snarls in your ear as he drapes himself over you fully and fucks you brutally into the hard floor below. “You wouldn't be crying and telling me to stop if this had happened yesterday.”
“B-but it d-didn't,” you stutter weakly. You're so tired, exhausted even, and you don't have any energy left. You just let Wesker pin you down and fuck you, let yourself feel good and stop dwelling on your guilt.
“What's the difference? You're still getting fucked, I'm still making you come like it's your job to do it. Matter of fact, I want you to come again.”
You try to protest, but it falls on deaf ears. Forcefully, without paying you any mind, Wesker starts fucking you harder while his hand, still trapped under you, resumes bullying your clit again and doesn't stop until you're coming again, shaking and heaving, feeling like you're going to die if you do this one more time.
“That's right. Good slut.” Your cunt tightens at the praise mixed with degradation which makes Wesker groan. “Who's my good little slut, hmm? My dirty whore? My little coming machine?”
The hand that slips around your neck to your throat and squeezes tells you that you need to answer.
“M-me,” you mutter shamefully, still moaning and whimpering as Wesker keeps pounding into you.
“That's correct. Good job. Isn't it better when you just do what I tell you? Doesn't it feel good to surrender and obey?”
“I-it does,” you admit. You shut your eyes tight as humiliation washes over you, but it's true. It feels so good. You don't want to think, you don't want to feel – not anything that isn't pleasure and Wesker's cock carving into you and his fingers on your clit or around your throat.
His cock twitches inside of you as he comes to a stop, just pinning you to the floor, holding your throat tightly, fully sheathed inside your soaked pussy.
“Let me own you,” he urges, his tone serious and grave. “Let me fuck you whenever I want, be my pet, and I'll take care of you. This pleasure is nothing compared to what I can give you,” he says with a slow, meaningful roll of his hips that pulls a drawn out moan from you. “Be mine.”
You don't know what possesses you to say it. You should have said no, let him chase his pleasure using your body, then picked up the pieces of yourself scattered all over this floor and moved on as best you could.
Instead, you say, “Yes, please,” as you press your throat further into his hand and squeeze your hungry pussy around his cock to urge him to keep fucking you.
“Good girl,” Wesker purrs, satisfied, and resumes his thrusting, this time even harder and faster than before. The rough pace makes you scream, but this time you let yourself feel the pleasure without restraint, sobbing from how good it feels and not because you feel horrible. “Are you my slut, then? My cock-hungry little whore?”
“Y-yes, sir, yes! I'm your whore! I'm just a slut, craving you and your cock,” you babble, feeling like you're floating on a cloud as you feel his hand tightening around your throat while his cock steadily bullies you into another orgasm.
“Excellent. Broken in to perfection,” Wesker murmurs, more to himself than to you, before he starts rubbing your clit for the thousandth time. “One more, slut. You have it in you.”
You don't protest. You just let yourself feel every thrust of that cock, even pushing your ass back to meet his hips, enjoying the stretch every time he fills you and sobbing louder as those insistent fingers light you on fire. When you come for the final time, you're afraid you peed yourself for a moment, but Wesker assures you you did exactly what he wanted you to do, so you just nod and slump forward into his hand, bone-tired and wrung out.
“And this,” Wesker announces a minute later, his breathing erratic for the first time since he started, “is your real punishment for fighting me earlier. Though something tells me you'll enjoy this too.”
And then his hips still, then jerk, and his cock twitches inside while warmth floods your insides. You're confused about what's happening only for a moment before you realise that he came. Inside you. Without a condom, without birth control, during your most fertile window. You want to panic and get away and beg him to pull out – it's what you should do, what you would have done before he turned your head with his words and those thousands of orgasms you can't keep track of. But instead your brain buzzes happily at the warmth of being filled, that dirty, perverted voice in the back of your mind whispering that you're just a whore and fulfilling your purpose in life. This is what you were made for: to get thrown on the ground, pinned, used for a man's pleasure, and bred thoroughly at the end.
A whimper escapes your lips as your cunt flutters around Wesker's cock and tries to milk him more.
He laughs as he hears you and feels it and fucks his load into you with a few more thrusts before he pulls out.
“I knew it. Filthy slut.”
He sounds pleased, affectionate even, as he says it, which pulls a dopey smile from you. Your crossed arms pillow your face as you just lie there on the floor, completely useless and unable to move, while Wesker finally gets off of you and gets dressed. He helps you back into your clothes – sans panties – then lifts you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don't put up a fight, just glad that he's not making you walk. You don't think you could.
“You're coming with me, darling. Say goodbye to your life as you know it.”
You mumble something incoherent, way past the point of being able to speak, but Wesker seems satisfied. He caresses the backs of your thighs and your ass in an ‘atta girl’ gesture and walks out of that room leisurely, carrying you without breaking a sweat down flights of stairs and endless corridors until he dumps you on a different floor this time, under a desk in a dark room that looks like a lab. You don't have the energy to pay attention before your eyes slip shut.
“Sleep, dearest. You'll wake up in a cage, but I promise it'll be a nice one. Only the best for my beautiful pet.”
His words lull you into slumber and you sleep.