Warning: Graphic and detailed descriptions of sadistic rape and torture. There's also strong language and some animal cruelty. Not for the squeamish or easily offended! The warning only applies for this chapter. The rest of the story will be a lot less horrifying. Otherwise, enjoy. Not the rape, of course. Enjoy, you know, the story. :P Lotasha, BlackFrost, whatever it's called...I ship them!


Chelsea Grin Mission Gone Wrong

Chelsea Grin, also known as the Glasgow Smile or Cheshire Cat Smile. A torture technique involving cuts extending from both corners of the lips to create the appearance of an unnaturally wide smile. Famous examples: the Joker from Batman and the Black Dahlia. ~Various online sources

Joffrey Angus. Also known as Jolly Joff. Infamous and internationally known serial killer. Born in Glasgow, Scotland. Committed crimes in Scotland, England and Wales (pretty much the entire United Kingdom). Mostly known for kidnapping, butchering and eating children. Also involved in drug and human trafficking. Definitely a threat in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eyes. A threat that was to be quickly eliminated, not just in the face of S.H.I.E.L.D. but in the face of human society.

There was one thing missing from the S.H.I.E.L.D. data file, however. Joffrey was a fighter. A really good fighter. Not to mention extremely clever. Natasha Romanoff, top agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and former superspy for Soviet Russia, realized this too late.

By the time she had painfully stirred, she realized that she had been heavily sedated. Her head had throbbed ruthlessly, like a sledgehammer slamming into her skull at each second. Her stomach too had pains, to the point that she had felt nauseated. Most of all, her legs hurt. Lances of pain shot up her limbs as she tried to move them. She grimaced and struggled to look down. Her legs were tightly strapped to each leg of the chair. The wood pressed hard against her shins. The ropes cut into the flesh of her calves Her breath hitched in her throat upon seeing the terrible bruises on her ankles.

"The infamous Black Widow...without her legs and sting, she's just a fly in the web."

Joffrey's taunting voice, tinged with his native Scottish accent, filled the small, dark room. Natasha scrunched her eyes shut from the headache. She stifled a groan. She sucked in a small gasp as it dawned on her.

'How does he know who I am?'

"Those legs of yours are too dangerous, little spider. Doing ankle locks on you was the first thing I did after I knocked you out with some good old chloroform."

She has been in the situation countless times: stuck to a chair, forced to listen to her foes' taunts and playing the victim. But unlike those times when she had been successful in busting out and kicking ass, Natasha was out of luck now.

"I saw what you did to Butch and Francis. I ain't happy, lass."

Her brow furrowed in mixed pain and confusion. Butch and Francis...must be his two pitbulls. Through her foggy and drugged mind, she finally remembered what had happened shortly before she was captured.

She had infiltrated Joffrey's hideout with little effort and fuss. She remembered the dull walls, the run-down furniture, the stink of old food and clothes. She remembered the stove, the big, old and outdated kind that connected to the chimney. She had opened it and brushed her fingers through the ashes. Buried under the pile of gray dust was a piece of fabric dotted with little Care Bears. A chill had run down her spine. A young girl's underwear.

Arf! Arf!

For an instant she jolted and tensed. Then she relaxed when she realized the sounds came from outside. Natasha quietly walked over. Along the way she spotted the kitchen counter. Marked with deep, slashing cuts, all from a butcher knife she saw next. Her attention shifted to the partially open window. Moving to the side, she leaned over and carefully peeked through the dirty glass.

Two large and white pitbulls fought furiously over some measly and bloody scraps of flesh and bone. Their spikes collars jingled as they clawed and bit each other. Natasha peered at the bones between their teeth. They were small, white...too clean to be typical rawhide...

A cold wave of dread overwhelmed her body. She returned to the kitchen and drew out a pair of steak knives. Filled with cold, murderous rage, she boldly stepped into the yard and flung the knives with deadly force.

The pitbulls were too busy at their meal of human flesh to see her coming. They reeled back from the blades that flew through their heads. They died without a sound, which wouldn't be possible if Natasha stuck to her preferred way of killing with guns. She surveyed her quick and clean kills. The knives were buried deep into the dogs' skulls, up to the handles. Blood ran down to make clean red lines that seemed to bisect their heads.

She decided to move on to her true objective.

Just when she was seized by a large, strong man who smothered her with a rag. The chloroform knocked her out, making her world fade to black.

Natasha snapped out of her thoughts when Joffrey made a rough, dissatisfied sigh. "It'll be hard for me to find replacements. No dog can finish leftovers and pick them clean better than my two boys."

Natasha curled her lip in disgust. "I don't believe it. I've heard about a six-year old girl who disappeared from Edinburgh. I checked the stove and the kitchen counter..."

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was one thing to read it off a file. But to see the evidence for herself was another thing entirely. "You cut her up so she could fit in the stove...you cooked her and ate her...then you fed the rest of her to the dogs...you're a monster."

"Yeah. I get that a lot. The media just loves me. So does S.H.I.E.L.D."

Natasha tried to mask her surprise. Joffrey scrutinized her. She found it hard to keep steady under the combined effects of his gaze and the drugs.

"Does that name mean anything to you, lass? Is that who you work for?"

Natasha didn't answer. She laid back in her chair, suppressing the urge to vomit. She didn't feel so good. Ignoring him was difficult.

"Don't take me for a fool. You know that I know you are Black Widow. S.H.I.E.L.D. must've really worked hard to remove you from the public eye. A commendable effort, but not good enough."

Joffrey paced around her like a wolf stalking its prey. Natasha laid still, with her head hunched and her back pressed against the chair. The headache still didn't go away.

"Must feel pretty good about yourself, huh? One of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. An Avenger!"

She winced as his mocking voice rang in her pounding ears. After the Chitauri catastrophe in New York, the Avengers unsurprisingly became famous overnight. Public attention had been immense and relentless. Tony, Steve, Thor and Bruce took on the brunt of it, while S.H.I.E.L.D. took on the painstaking task of removing any trace of their two best agents on every form of media available. Her heart sunk at the thought of Clint.

"Where's the arrow-boy, that partner of yours? Isn't he usually with you? Guess not this time."

"He will come," she retorted defensively. Almost desperately.

Joffrey shrugged. "Oh, he probably will. But not before I'm through with you."

Suddenly he stopped in front of her. He walked forward and tipped her chin upwards so that their gazes met. Joffrey was actually quite good-looking. Trimmed brown hair with a hint of auburn, defined jaw, bright blue eyes, around thirty years old...he looked strong and handsome. If only Natasha was unaware of his disturbing criminal record. Not to mention sociopathic tendencies and a reputation for pedophilia.

He leaned forward until he was too close for Natasha's liking. Two or three inches more and his beard could scratch against her skin. She could smell the tobacco from his lips and clothes. Joffrey held up his hand to touch her. A rough, calloused thumb brushed against her plump lips. Slowly and gently, he traced the contours of her jaw. He moved up to her cheekbones. His hand snaked behind her ear and up to brush at her curls. He eyed her like prized meat. Like something to eat. Natasha suppressed a shudder.

"You know, I love the color red." he purred. "I'm curious...is this your natural hair color?"

"Fuck off!" Natasha spat.

"Didn't think you would answer my question. Let's see, shall we?"

He moved his hands down her neck and past her collarbones. She jerked her shoulders back and away from his invasive touch. "Get your filthy hands off of me, you sick son of a bitch!"

Joffrey clicked his tongue in disapproval. "My, what a temper. You're a hypocrite to say how dirty my hands are when your mouth isn't any better. I've got to do something about that."

He abruptly drew away from her and stuck his hand in an old drawer at the corner of the room. His hand remerged with a knife. He slowly stalked towards her with a mad gleam in his eye.

"Let's put a smile on that face."

He grabbed her roughly by the chin so that the back of her head pressed firmly against the top of the chair. Natasha's stomach lurched as she watched the tip of the blade hover just over the right corner of her lips.

'Oh God…what is he going to do to me?'

Her body jerked as the knife cut through her skin. Joffrey carved the blade in a slow, agonizing upward sweep, towards her right ear. The knife was in to the point she could feel the tip of the blade going along her teeth. She tasted blood seeping into her tongue. In spite of it all, she did not open her mouth to scream. She dared not to. Joffrey removed the blade, and gave her a look of mocking dissatisfaction.

"No screaming? You're no fun. Let's try the other side."

He did the same cut from the left corner of her lips up to her cheek. Still she did not open her mouth. She sat there, back arched, muscles tensed, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut. She was forced to swallow her blood to prevent her from screaming. Natasha had an unusually high degree of pain tolerance. But what she felt from Joffrey's cuts were excruciating. It took every fiber of her being, every ounce of her willpower not to open her mouth and scream bloody murder.

After what seemed like ages, Joffrey removed the blood-stained blade and stepped back, as if surveying a new piece of artwork he just finished.

"Looking good, if I do say so myself. But I guess I'll have to find another way to open that pretty mouth of yours."

He knelt down and had the blade hovering close to her legs. More specifically, the ropes binding her.

'Does he mean...to rape me?'

Natasha saw this as her golden opportunity. Perhaps a near impossible yet slim chance of escape. At this point, she was willing to take any chances. She tensed her muscles, bracing herself for the right moment. He cut at the ropes with a few strong slashes. She moved as soon as the ropes gave way. She rammed him with a vicious headbutt. He merely grunted while she made a muffled cry behind bloodied lips. It hurt way more than she expected. Her legs buckled as she succumbed to her bruised ankles underneath. He laughed as he watched her struggling to rise on her feet. She remained on the dirty floor. At the sound of his laughter, anger boiled inside her. She lunged forward to grab at his legs. Joffrey's boot hit the left side of her jaw and she reeled back.

"Feisty, aren't you lass? Then let's get right on to it! Come on, bitch. I want to hear you scream!"

He kicked her violently in the stomach. Natasha reeled back and shut her eyes, but did not open her mouth. He continued to kick and assault her with his heavily built boot. But to no avail. Finally, he grabbed an empty beer bottle by the handle. He struck it over the old drawer and broke the bottle in half. The frayed glass of the half he held glistened in the dim light, resembling spikes on a mace. Her eyes widened as he shoved apart her thighs. He flashed her a wicked grin. And plunged it right between her legs.

Natasha threw back her head and screamed. No amount of discipline could train her to endure such hell. She wailed in agony as Joffrey continued his relentless assault. He jabbed and twisted the broken bottle until blood went up to his elbow. Natasha's screams made the cuts across her face split open. Blood blossomed across her face and filled her mouth. She choked under her own blood. She turned her head to cough and spit it out. She gasped hungrily for air, but her tongue only tasted what seemed like liquid metal.

Joffrey simply sat back and watched. His eyes glinted with sadistic glee.

"Oh sorry...can't breathe, huh? Here, let me help you."

He seized a fistful of her hair and flung her so that she flew forward and skidded on the ground. She was curled up like a fetus, crying and clutching her thighs. Her hand quickly became drenched with dark red blood. Joffrey gazed at his arms and hands in wonder, almost reveling at her blood.

"So much red! I like this! It's…arousing."

Natasha felt sick. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This guy actually gets turned on at the sight of blood.

"Normally, anyone I kidnap ends up getting diced up and eaten, then the leftovers go to Butch and Francis. But you're too pretty for that. Besides, I want to see you broken more than anything. You think you're so tough, being a girl with guns and able to kill my dogs. Think again. You're nothing!"

Natasha could barely hear him. She was too immersed in pain to care for what he had to say. Tears continued to run down her face, to mingle with the blood all over her torn mouth and cheeks. Then she heard Joffrey removing his belt. The sound of the simple click was like a bell tolling in her ears. It snapped her back to reality, the harsh, dark and dank reality of the room she was trapped in, and the reality she was too helpless to prevent. She saw his denim pants fall to the floor. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.

'No…this can't be happening. No, no, no…oh God, please…! NO!'

Natasha couldn't do anything to stop him from stripping her clothes. She laid bare and bleeding before him, like raw meat on a cutting board. That's probably what she was to him. More tears welled in her eyes as Joffrey thrusted into her. Natasha's body rocked back and forth. Her eyes settled on the drawer. She noticed every detail, down to the knobs on the wood and the various knick knacks partially stowed in the compartments. She continued to stare at them, trying to take her attention off of the living nightmare. Finally, Joffrey had enough.

"Ach, I'm getting bored with you. I'd better head back upstairs and throw away my dogs. Stay there and be a good girl. Shouldn't be too hard for you."

He laughed as he pulled up his pants and swung open the door.

And with that, he left Natasha alone in the basement, under a pool of blood. Pain was beyond her senses now. Natasha felt utterly numb. She breathed doggedly through her nose. She closed her eyes and struggled to take her mind away from this godforsaken place. Her mind flew away from Scotland and back to the United States. Back to her teammates...Tony, the multi-million alcoholic with an ego the size of Russia. Bruce, whose gentle compassion posed a jarring contrast to the near-invincible Other Guy. Thor, the god of thunder and Pop-Tarts. Steve, the good captain and who Tony calls the "freedom in tight pants." And Clint, her partner in crime, confidant, close friend...her family. She almost laughed at the thought. It seemed absurd…to think that a ragtag band of misfits and freaks would be the closest thing to what she could call a family. Yet here she was, thinking of each of them fondly as if they were her blood relatives.

Natasha felt herself slipping away. Her head felt light and dizzy, as if she was suspended in air. The blood all around her became heavy and sticky. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Whether she would die or not, she didn't know. Before darkness overtook her, she wondered if they were thinking of her the same time she was thinking of them. It sounded nice…to think that it could be true.


So there's chapter 1. I didn't want to focus so much on the sexual aspect of the rape. Writing porn was NOT my intention. I wanted to focus on the psychological part of it, and how truly damaging and horrifying rape can be when taken to that level. I looked a lot into serial killers and criminology as research for this fic. It's both highly intriguing and disturbing. I hope I haven't lost my sanity in the process! And yes, I just had to slip in a Joker line for Joffrey making the Chelsea Grin.

For all you Game of Thrones fans, you know perfectly well where the name Joffrey comes from, and why the one in this story appropriately suits the name. :3