Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Heart of the Beast ❯ Defile // Violation ( Chapter 3 )

Author's Note: It's Vegeta's turn this time! Yay!

Warning: More Rape/Sex Mature Readers ONLY!

Heart of the Beast

Act 1 Chapter 3: Defile // Violation

Bulma immediately turned her eyes to the man named Vegeta.

He wasn't looking at her; his guarded gaze was preoccupied by Frieza, as though he was making an attempt to figure out what his devious superior had planned while trying not to be obvious about it.

Bulma, on the other hand, no longer cared what Frieza had planned for her. Whatever it was, she knew that she would be able to accept it and survive it. She was sure that her own inner strength and her destiny would both see her through in the end.

At the moment her thoughts no longer included Frieza. Instead, they were awash in memory. A memory that she had almost forgotten-and most likely would have if Frieza had not so abruptly reminded her.

She had thought that Vegeta seemed familiar to her, but now she had proof in her memory. Indeed, she had seen him before-on Earth as her people were slaughtered around her. He had been the leader of the mission to kill her people. He was the one responsible for their deaths.

She could still smell the putrid stench of burning flesh and rotting bones. She could still hear the screams of her friends as they cried out for mercy and were denied, death raining down upon them like a flurry of fire and brimstone. The screams of the dead echoed around her as they cried out for vengeance. The vision of her mother being raped before her very eyes filled her heart with a heavy sadness and silent horror. But above all that, above the commotion and the death and the violence, she had seen him.

A lone figure stood atop a large outcropping of rock that towered over the entire human settlement. Arms crossed over his chest, he surveyed the scene beneath him. As Bulma looked up and saw him, it became obvious to her that he was the leader of this mission. He was the one in command, the one who watched over his troops and made sure they got the job done right.

When some of his men decided to keep her alive and give her as a present of victory to Frieza, one of them shouted up to their leader, asking permission. His eyes turned towards her, slowly. His gaze burned into her skin as though branding her. He gave a swift, sharp nod and then turned away.

That was the last time she saw him … until now.

Here, in the confines of Frieza's spacious bedchamber, he stood so much closer and seemed so much larger than she remembered. The arrogance of his pose was the same, but his entire demeanor had changed. He was wary; his guard had been raised. He obviously bore no trust for his superior.

And if his stance and expression were to be believed, the beautiful blue-haired woman lying bruised and soiled at the center of the large bed held absolutely no interest for him.

Frieza could barely contain his excitement. He stood by the side of the bed, his eyes darting wildly from Bulma to Vegeta and back again. His tail quivered with anticipation.

"Now that I've made the introductions," he began with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "why don't we have some fun?" He turned to Vegeta. "I graciously bequeath her upon you as a gift."

Vegeta stepped back in surprised. Frieza was not known to be particularly generous. "What?" he asked cautiously.

"She's yours," Frieza said. "Consider her a present for a job well done."

Vegeta snorted and looked towards the bed with disgust. "I don't want another's leftovers."

Bulma gritted her teeth at being referred to as Frieza's leftovers. Although she dearly wanted to cut that arrogant bastard down to size, the rational part of her mind reminded her that now was not the time. She needed to wait it out, let them fight amongst themselves. She would have her opportunity to escape. All she needed to do was bide her time until that opportunity presented itself.

And then she would have her revenge.

Frieza gave a mock sigh even though his eyes glowed with evil laughter. "Well, I certainly don't want her again. You're right, she is quite a bore. You don't want her, do you Zarbon?" The green-skinned man quickly shook his head. "If no one wants her, then I guess I'll just have to kill her, won't I?"

Bulma stiffened as she realized that she was still on thin ice. It took her a moment before she became aware that Vegeta had stiffened in response to Frieza's statement, too.

"If it's a necrophiliac you're looking for, I suggest you send for Dodoria. I'm not interested in dead bodies."

Frieza let out a loud, grating laugh. "Do you mean to imply that you are interested in live ones, then?"

Had the last line been said by someone weaker, Bulma was sure that Vegeta would have killed him by now. As it was, the arrogant man with the flame-styled hair stood rigid, his face white with barely contained anger. One look at his face told her that he knew he was no match for Frieza, and that was all that held him back from launching himself straight into an all-out battle with his superior right here in the purple-and-white lizard's bedroom.

"To a degree," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm certainly not interested in ones that have already been used." Bulma was sure that she was not the only one present that could clearly hear the echo of the unspoken "by you" that Vegeta strategically left off the end of his last sentence.

"Then you don't mind if I kill her?" Frieza asked. When Vegeta remained silent, he raised on arm palm forward towards Bulma. A small pink ball of crackling energy began to glow just inches from the palm of his hand. "You're sure?" he asked again. Once more Vegeta didn't reply, though his body remained tense.

A sense of panic began to rise up inside of Bulma. What was Frieza thinking? Did he actually plan to kill her? She tried to think of a solution, a way to get herself out of this situation. Neither Zarbon nor Vegeta would be any help in saving her skin, and Frieza could care less whether she lived or died. There was no more time for thought. As she stared death in the face, she could only trust in herself and act upon her instincts.

"Don't!" she cried, breaking her prolonged silence in a way that startled all the other occupants of the room. "Don't you dare kill me!" she hissed.

The ball of energy in the palm of Frieza's hand suddenly disappeared as he lowered his arm to his side, watching her with interest. "Why shouldn't I kill you, whore?" he asked viciously. "I killed all the rest of your wretched people. So why not kill you as well?"

Bulma was at a loss for words. Although hatred boiled through her blood with such fury it nearly blinded her, she couldn't come up with an answer to his question. Why should she live, when everyone she knew was dead? What made her so different from them?

Taking her silence as an answer in itself, Frieza clucked his tongue. "I see," he rasped softly. "You secretly want me to kill you, don't you?" He laughed then, filling the room with a hideous sound that made Bulma wish she were deaf. "Well I won't!" he exclaimed. "I want to have some fun now and you're going to give it to me." He flashed an evil grin towards Vegeta. "You too, Vegeta."

A look of disgust came over Vegeta's face. "What is it that you want, Frieza?"

"I want you to fuck her," the tyrant replied. "While I watch." He turned towards Bulma, allowing his gaze to roam over her naked, blood-spattered body much as he had before. "I think I'd enjoy that very much."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, Vegeta, you don't." Frieza's voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the threat that lay beneath the words. If Vegeta didn't do exactly as his lord and master bade him to do, he would pay for his disobedience with his life.

Vegeta turned his disgusted look back towards the woman lying on the bed. "At least clean her up before I have to do this."

Bulma lay still with shock. So now that Frieza had finished with her, he planned to hand her over to the man who had overseen the murder of her people. And although Vegeta found her filthy and disgusting, he planned to rape her all the same.

They were both mad.

Everyone around her was crazy. Frieza was a madman bent on power, Vegeta a selfish underling bent on his master's destruction. So why didn't the two just go at it and kill one another? With both of them dead, escape from this hell hole would sure be a lot easier. So why did they insist on making a spectacle out of one little human woman about whom neither of them gave a damn?

Suddenly everything that had happened to her these past few days seemed absolutely absurd. Taken from her home and the corpses of all those she'd loved; raped by the man that had ordered their deaths; about to be raped by the man in charge of the force sent to kill them. What had her life come to that such things would happen to her, all in the matter of a couple of days?

She covertly tested her restraints once again, but yet again this action proved fruitless. She simply lacked the strength to break free, just as she lacked the strength to fend off the men that had and would attack her. What Frieza or Vegeta would do with her after this she had no clue; would they simply discard her, or would they give her to the other countless men on this spaceship in need of female companionship? Bulma simply didn't know what the future held for her, and this uncertainty produced in her a small but growing sense of fear. She tried to stop it, tried to rationalize the things that had happened to her, but she couldn't. Everything was so odd, so complicated; she couldn't predict what would happen in the future, either. And what had happened to her so far couldn't be rationalized by any means. To think that just days ago her heart had been filled with hope for the future, hope for what could be.

But now her hope was extinct.

Zarbon, ever the obedient right-hand man, rushed over to the bed with a large wad of clean white cloths in his arms. He leaned over Bulma's leg and carefully wiped away the leftovers of Frieza's purple semen and the blood that had spurted and oozed from various orifices of her body during Frieza's violation. In between wipes he kept sneaking her angry looks, as though he blamed her for the fact that Frieza preferred mere captured whores over his incredibly attractive self. Bulma nearly snorted with laughter at this new absurdity; as though she had a choice in whether or not Frieza or anyone else he chose defiled her body against her will.

To avoid the spiteful green gaze, Bulma turned her head to the side where she could keep an eye on the two men responsible for the death and destruction of her people. As soon as she managed to escape her captivity she would begin planning her revenge. For now, she would keep an eye on them in an attempt to discover their weaknesses.

Frieza had settled himself into a large, ornate burgundy armchair. It surprised Bulma, as it had when they first brought her here, that so many of the objects in this room were like those they'd had on her home planet during her youth. Beds, chairs, tables, even the wine Frieza sipped so delicately from a slim goblet all seemed so familiar that it brought back vague memories, lost trains of thought from her childhood. Her father had owned an armchair much like Frieza's, only his had been a beautiful shade of royal blue. He'd loved to take his only daughter up on his lap as he sat in that chair, allowing her to cuddle up against his warm chest as he read her stories from her assorted collection of picture books. Her favorite story had been The Velveteen Rabbit, and her father had always let out a deep, throaty chuckle when she eagerly ran up to him clutching her favorite book to her chest, begging with large blue eyes that he put aside his work and come join her in storytime.

Bulma blinked back the tears that threatened to overcome her at the sudden onslaught of memory. She quickly turned her gaze to Vegeta, the man who would soon be defiling her much like his master had just done, desperate to distract herself from her memories. She was startled to find him staring directly at her. For a moment she actually looked into his eyes; what that gaze held was utterly unreadable. No emotion showed itself on his face, there was only a dark blankness that seemed to send her a warning. She quickly averted her gaze, unsure of what had just happened. Was he as cruel as his master, or could this monster before her actually possess a heart?

No, he didn't have a heart. She could be sure of that. No man who could empathize with others would ever be able to oversee their killing in such a cold, unemotional manner as he had back on Earth. Even if he wasn't as bad as Frieza, he was either a ruthless killing machine with no mind of his own-a theory that she seriously doubted from what she'd seen of him so far-or a cruel man with ambitions of his own that surpassed Frieza's control over him. At some point his ambitious nature would cause the situation to come to a head; at that point one of them would die. The battle between Frieza and Vegeta would not end in a draw.

Unfortunately for her, they were both still very much alive at the moment, and one of them was about to assault her.

Zarbon finished his task of wiping her clean, gathered up the now soiled cloths, and ran back to Frieza's side, dumping the dirty cloths in a small wastebasket along the way.

"Good job, Zarbon." Frieza took another sip of dark red wine from his clear goblet. His gaze roamed Bulma's naked flesh once again as he wound a small length of Zarbon's braid around his other hand and gave a slight tug, bringing the green-skinned man to his knees beside the tiny dictator's chair. Zarbon stared up at his master with pure adoration in his eyes, a look that disgusted Bulma to the core.

How could anyone actually care for a horrible, murderous being like Frieza?

A movement from the corner of her eye brought Bulma back to the present and to the reality of what was about to happen to her. She was about to be raped for the second time in one day, this time by the man who had watched from above like an avenging angel as her people were slaughtered. Could it get any worse than this?

Vegeta undressed quietly in a corner, neatly folding the skintight blue material that he wore underneath his armor. He placed his clothing in a neat pile atop a small end table before turning, naked, to the task at hand. Bulma noted with a small amount of hope that his penis was limp and soft. Perhaps if he didn't desire her enough to become aroused, Frieza would just call this whole thing off. That was the best thing she could hope for at this point, she thought as her eyes surveyed Vegeta's muscular, battle scarred body. His tail no longer wrapped around his waist, but rather trailed in the air behind him as he approached the bed with seemingly no trepidation.

"Do you require Zarbon's assistance?" Frieza asked pointedly, his gaze resting on Vegeta's flaccid member.

The naked man snorted and turned his back on his superior, crossing his arms over his chest. "I do not require assistance," he replied gruffly.

Bulma watched in mortified awe as his tail moved in front of him and wrapped around his soft penis. Slowly, the thick brown appendage moved upon him, stimulating the sensitive nerves that lay within. As he fondled himself with his own tail he began to achieve an erection that somehow managed to grow to even larger proportions than Frieza's.

Frieza laughed with wicked delight as he watched the scene before him. "I'd almost forgotten about the fine art of Saiyan masturbation!" he crowed maliciously.

Bulma gulped softly as she, too, watched the scene before her. She didn't know if something that large could possibly fit inside of her. Worse, if it didn't fit she knew that he would force it, causing her even more pain than before. She squirmed in place with imagined discomfort; she would have given anything to escape from here before Vegeta joined her on the bed.

But it was too late for that. When he finished getting himself hard Vegeta turned towards the bed. The look of disgust on his face was just the same as the one he'd given her earlier. Without saying a single word he climbed onto the bed to kneel on the soft mattress between her legs.

Bulma cringed, closing her eyes and turning her face away from him. No matter what, she couldn't watch him when he raped her. She couldn't bear to see him doing horrible, unnatural things to her body. She had already survived Frieza, and she would survive this, too, but she needed to protect her mind from the sight of such things in order to preserve her sanity.

The Saiyan in front of her would not give her that luxury, however. She felt his strong, calloused hand on her chin as he pulled her face towards him. She felt his hot breath on her cheek, the warmth of his body as he hovered above her.

"Open your eyes, woman," he whispered into her ear. "Or else I will make you open them."

Reluctantly, Bulma opened her eyes to see his onyx gaze resting on his face. The look of disgust had left him again, replaced by another incomprehensible look. How could such a terrible man have such beautiful, unreadable eyes? He should only be able to look at anyone or anything with anger or hate or madness. So why did it seem as though there were a softness within his gaze, a tenderness that warmed her heart even as she shied away from a man she knew to be a killer. Was she reading into him attributes that weren't there? Or could he possibly be a better man than his lot in life allowed him to be?

Her train of thought ended abruptly as she felt him probing at both her entrances, much as Frieza had done. Memories of her earlier encounter crashed over her and caused her body to rock with fear and anger. She turned her face away from the man atop her once again and she just barely managed to choke back a sob.

She would kill Frieza for what he did to her. No matter what happened from here on out, her first priority would always be vengeance against Frieza. Even though Vegeta had been the one to carry out the death of the human race, Frieza had ordered it from his spaceship in a galaxy far away. He hadn't known any of them, he hadn't known all the triumphs and joys they'd felt, the sorrow they had struggled to overcome. He hadn't cared for any of that. All he wanted was universal domination, and to do that he needed to destroy any races that he thought too lowly to join his empire as slaves. The humans were one such race he thought to be beneath him.

How it would pain him to be destroyed by a being he thought inferior.

At the first sign of her distress, Vegeta had retreated a short distance from her body. His tail softly stroked the delicate skin of her buttocks and much to her own distress she found that she actually enjoyed the feel of it.

"What's wrong with you, woman," she heard the man above her murmur into her ear. "Just lie still and we can both get this over with."

Bulma glared at him. "So you plan to emulate Frieza?" she asked with disdain, keeping her voice just as low as his so that the lizard-like man she spoke of wouldn't overhear.

Vegeta's tail suddenly halted its movements. "What do you mean?" he asked her, his voice oddly neutral, devoid of emotion.

"I mean," Bulma replied, determined to put all of her hatred and anger into her words, "That you're just like Frieza."

Vegeta pulled back to look down at her. Bulma immediately felt afraid of what she had said as she saw his black eyes flare with onyx anger.

"I am not Frieza," he hissed as he plunged his hips forward.

Bulma cringed, preparing herself for an intrusion that never came. Instead she felt a sudden jolt inside her accompanied by a rush of pleasure. Turning back to Vegeta, she saw an incomprehensible smirk on his face. Her face heated up as the pleasure continued to flow inside her. She felt something from below and tried to look down to see what he was doing to her, but his hand on her chin kept her facing him.

"No, woman, we play this game by my rules," he purred. Bulma's heart sank as she realized that the Saiyan was actually starting to enjoy himself. That certainly did not bode well for her.

"What's going on here?" Frieza asked impatiently. His groin had morphed back into a long, white penis, and Zarbon knelt in front of him, using his eager mouth to tend with great care to his master's erection. Frieza yanked on Zarbon's hair, still wrapped around his fingers, signaling for the green man to pull away from him. Reluctantly, Zarbon followed his master's orders. "Why aren't you fucking her yet?" Frieza sounded annoyed.

"All in good time, Lord Frieza," Vegeta replied without missing a beat. "The whore just needs to be taught a lesson first."

"Well hurry up and teach it to her, I don't have all day you know." Frieza tugged on Zarbon's hair again and his servant eagerly rushed back into position between the white knees, his mouth latching upon that engorged white penis with a fervor the likes of which Bulma had never seen before. As he kept his eye on the pair occupying the bed, Frieza's tail lazily traveled down Zarbon's body, slapping his tight ass with its stinging tip a few times before burrowing beneath the lower part of his uniform and entering him from behind.

Zarbon cried out with ecstasy as he and his master pleasured each other at the same time. Although Zarbon was filled with bliss, Frieza barely payed any attention to him at all; his gaze remained focused on Bulma and Vegeta.

"What are you doing to me?" Bulma asked in a strangled voice. The pleasure flying through her body was beyond intense; what could he possibly do to her to make her feel like this, as though every bone in her body were melting with happiness? She hated her body for its betrayal. The pain Frieza had given her she could manage. The aching, the torture, she had survived it. But feeling pleasure at the hands of the man who had killed her people … that she could not forgive herself-nor could she forgive Vegeta for making her feel this way.

Vegeta just smirked down at her. "Do you hate me, woman?" That single question held such malicious delight that she could barely stand it. "Or do you hate yourself for letting your body betray you?"

Bulma blushed furiously. How could this man know her thoughts? He couldn't possibly read her mind-no matter what language she spoke, she still thought in her native tongue. Yet his eyes seemed to see straight through her. He saw through her bravado, through her hatred, even through her thoughts. What the hell was he?

When she didn't answer, he moved his lower body accordingly, and the pleasure she felt increased ten-fold. She let out a whimper-half-distress, half-enjoyment. How could he keep doing such things to her? And why did her traitorous body respond so without her permission?

"You can look now," he whispered, amused. "Go ahead and take a look."

She didn't have a choice. At least that's what she told herself as she moved her gaze downward to the point where his body touched hers in such a forceful way. Her eyes widened at what she saw. The tip of his erection rubbed against a small nub of flesh just inside the cleft between her legs as he rotated his hips rhythmically. All her pleasure centered in the one spot that he touched.

She dragged her gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of the movement of his body against hers and turned her head back to him. "Why?" she rasped. The pleasure she felt seemed to increase by the moment. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," he responded. The laughter in his eyes was simply too much for her to take. She quickly turned her head away, ashamed by both the situation and her body's reaction to it. She hadn't thought it possible before, but this man was even worse than Frieza. Causing her own body to betray her and feel pleasure in his violation-that was even worse than the torture she felt at the hands of her first rapist.

She was so confused that she didn't even know who she hated more in this moment: Frieza, Vegeta, or herself.

A moment later all thought was gone. In a brilliant flash of rainbow-white light she shattered into a thousand pieces. Even as she desperately denied what was happening to her, her body glowed with fulfillment. She sobbed against the pleasure she felt; how could she let herself feel such things at the hands of a murderer? How could she allow herself to feel this way at all when the rest of her people were dead? Nothing could change the facts: Vegeta had made her enjoy her own defilement. Nothing could violate or humiliate her more.

Or so she thought.

She felt his lips against her ear. "You were a virgin, weren't you?" He sounded very pleased with himself for having figured this out. Bulma refused to respond to such a comment made by a man like that. No matter what he did to control her body, her mind would remain her own.

Before Vegeta could say anything else, a loud noise reverberated through the room, grabbing both their attentions. They turned in unison towards Frieza, who now stood with a vein throbbing in his forehead and his erection throbbing with anger. Zarbon lay curled up in a ball on the floor, whimpering and holding a hand to his blood-soaked mouth. Frieza's fist clenched around the limp green braid that he'd torn from his underling's head.

He was, to put it mildly, not in a good mood.

"What the hell is going on here!" his raspy voice boomed across the room. "I never said you could pleasure her! Whores do not deserve to feel any satisfaction!" He seethed with anger and the purple plates across his body glowed with the strength of his emotions.

"You misunderstand, Lord Frieza." Vegeta sat up on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest as he met his master's gaze. "That's the lesson I was teaching her." He smirked. "To have a man she hates giving her pleasure is even worse for her than that same man giving her torture." He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Isn't that right, whore?"

"Damn you," she hissed. None of this was going well at all. Vegeta's words had hit the mark exactly. How had he known that she would feel this way? How could he possibly know exactly what to do and what to say to cause her to torture herself? Because for her, the self-torture she could inflict upon herself was far worse than anything either he or Frieza could dish out.

"May I continue now?" Vegeta ignored her as he directed his question towards Frieza in a sarcasm laden voice.

Frieza's gaze darted from one to the other before he gave a swift nod. "No more dallying," he ordered. "Just fuck her already. My patience is wearing thin." Frieza reseated himself and placed his right hand on his throbbing length where Zarbon's mouth had been earlier. For his part, Zarbon was still moaning in pain on the floor as he spilled blood onto Frieza's nice, clean carpet. As much as he might like to, he would simply be unable to return to his duty of pleasuring Frieza. That one thought alone probably tortured the green-skinned man more than any of the physical pain he felt right now, Bulma thought wistfully.

If only she could feel the same.

With a start she felt Vegeta plunge inside her. To her astonishment, he fit her incredibly well. And much to her eternal shame, she continued to feel pleasure resonating from where their bodies connected. Would this Hell of self-betrayal never end?

With a grunt the man above her began to move inside her. Although she was surprised not to feel any pain, it soon became clear to Bulma that the pleasure he had given her earlier had caused her body to lubricate itself, thus making his eventual entrance easier. Had he planned it this way? She had to wonder, because she was puzzled by his actions. He couldn't possibly have pleasured her with the intention of causing her minimal pain, could he?

But she had to admit to herself that through this entire ordeal she had felt no physical pain. Only pleasure.

What was this man up to?

He startled her even more when he reached up and yanked on the rope that bound her, ripping it away from her and unbinding her arms. Bulma stared up at him in confusion, but he just smirked.

"Fight me all you want, woman," he whispered as he looked straight into her cerulean eyes. "You'll never win."

She wanted to beat her newly freed fists against his chest. She wanted to rip his hair out as she simultaneously cried out in anger. She wanted to wring his throat with her bare hands. She wanted to castrate both him and Frieza and then send them both to an early grave.

But instead she placed her hands on his shoulders, looked him straight in the eye, and said "Let's just get this over with."

She thought she saw shock flash in his eyes for a moment, but he quickly covered it up and didn't miss a beat as he continued to pound inside her. From the corner of her eye, Bulma could see Frieza's hand moving in perfect time to Vegeta's strokes. No doubt he would finish at the same time as them, she thought with disdain.

But in the meantime, her body was ringing with pleasure. Not quite as intense as before, but she could feel it building within her. Pleasure was something she had felt so few times in her life; not since she was five years old had she known true happiness. Even if she could never have that happiness again, even if her body insisted on betraying her, even if the only place she could find any pleasure in life was in the hands of her enemy, she would take what she could get. Life was fleeting, and she had no way of knowing when she might be offered the gift of pleasure ever again. The way her life seemed to be heading now, she might never be offered this gift again.

She would take what she could get.

Moving her hips as well as she could given that her legs were still uncomfortably restrained, she matched his rhythm thrust for thrust. She refused to lie passively and let him do what he wished; she would take an active role and claim her own prize at the end of the rainbow.

No matter what happened to her after this, no matter what future tortures both mental and physical he might devise for her, she would not let him dictate the fate of her body.

When his thrusts deepened, his grunts intensified, and his seed spilled inside her, she was ready. She remained autonomous. She took what she could and gave nothing back in return.

She refused to let a man control her body ever again.

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Next Chapter: Did somebody say bondage? Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?

++Vegeta's Bondage Queen++