I highly anticipate being flagged for this.

WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND MATURE CONTENT.

I'm not kidding around.

It was as if a switch had been flipped.

The tremors shook him from teeth to toes, his skin flushed a frightening shade as the blood began to pump and rise and his body began to flame hot from the inside. She watched, pinned and helpless and horrified as he began to writhe against his bonds; fighting whatever it was inside him that Abraham had put there. She fought, by god, she fought with every last ounce of strength she had left inside her - if not to escape Abraham's vile clutches, then to at least escape what he was planning of having Hotch do.

If she could save herself, she could save them both.

"Look at her, practically beggin' for it," one of them leered, snorting derisively as Emily glared at him witheringly. "Writhin' around like she can't wait."

Soon, she promised herself, as her wrists twisted and turned and coiled around for leverage in her bindings. Soon you can shove your Glock in their mouths and make them beg for mercy. Right now, just focus on getting Hotch back to normal.

"Hotch," she called sharply, urgently as the man began to tremble violently. It was as if he'd been roboticized; his movements rough and jerking - no longer fluid and human, combined with the terrifying strength of a beast. "Hotch, you have to fight this so we can get to the others -."

Her only response was the sharp connecting of Abraham's hand across her face. "Be a good whore and be quiet, won't you, Emily." He sneered at her. "That mouth is better used for different purposes."

"Em - Emily," the ragged voice was jarring to them both; she watched as his face morphed from a terrifying myriad of masks - agony, anger, fear, hate, lust; everything he'd fought to keep buried inside himself was bubbling to the top and he couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

Blood spilled down his chin, so deep and so viciously he'd sunk his teeth into his flesh as his eyes flashed and his body writhed. He was fighting it, she could see the frantic desperation in his eyes and body as he struggled in vain to fight whatever it was inside him - to no effect.

At last he gave a strangled cry and slumped forward in a heap, body heaving with every ragged breath he breathed.

Her breath shook as she curled away further, staring anxiously at the man's prone figure. His body was practically steaming from the heat radiating off him. "Hotch -."

Emily couldn't stifle the squeak of fright in her throat when the man gave a trembling roar; the muscles on his shoulders gathered, and there was a rippling crack of sound as the man ripped his way through his bindings. He rose on staggering feet as the men around him stepped back warily, his breath came snorting like a bull, and his eyes glowed obsidian when he lifted them to burn into her face.

His eyes narrowed on her, practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes roved her naked body hungrily. A frightening rumble ripped from his throat, and the man lunged forward. "Mine!"

The scream ripped through the room in a soul-shaking tremble as Emily found herself mauled by the savage beast. She writhed and kicked and sobbed for mercy as his hands snapped her bindings like paper and his mouth descended upon her neck. She bucked her hips, thrashed and howled as his teeth sank into her skin, biting deep enough to bleed from her neck as his hands went from her wrists to her breasts and waist and thighs with bruising impatience.

"Stop, please!" she pleaded, and Emily could feel the burn of the bile searing through her throat the very same way the tears were blinding her. Her body thrummed with every agony imaginable; the scrape of the floorboards under her, the greedy fingers gripping her flesh, the rough chafing of his leather bindings rubbing her raw - it was Hell reincarnated. She threw her head back and screamed as he tangled his hand into her hair and yanked her head backwards.

"Mine!" he snarled, and that seemed to be the only coherent thought he could comprehend. The lust-blinded man forced her around, spinning her forcefully by her hips onto her knees. The grating sound of metal and leather scraping against skin fell to deaf ears as he groaned at the sight of Emily's battered back, palming the bloodstained skin roughly, uncaring for the way Emily gasped and flinched and arched desperately away from his touch. Her blood wept onto his hand, and he smeared it childishly along her hips, spanning upwards in the rust-scented warmth and cupping her breasts in his hands.

Emily shuddered as he pressed his face into her hair, inhaling hungrily as he palmed and pinched at her breast painfully. Tears stained her face, she could barely breathe from the horrible pressure building in her chest - she couldn't open her mouth because she couldn't risk screaming for mercy if she did.

She could feel him between her legs, hard and hot and throbbing - clamping her thighs shut stubbornly; defiantly. It sickened her to no end. It wasn't simply the act that he was doing to her; it was knowing that he was going to wake up next to her again and realize that he had been the one to hurt her again and again and again - all to please Abraham.

His new Master.

She whimpered as he pulled her backwards into him harshly, jolting in his hold as he held her hips in his large hands and ground himself against her. Her head hung low, shielded beneath her dark curtain of hair as the tears dripped onto the floorboard under her; flinching as she felt his hand between her legs, stroking and probing impatiently. Her skin was tender still, chafed and raw; it took every great ounce of control for her not to have her muscles twitch and flinch at his touch.

It made no difference to him. He felt the remnants of his own fluids there - it would have to do.

Grunting brutishly he fisted himself in his hand, stroking himself to size before aligning himself at her core. With one fierce lunge, he forced himself inside her, his triumphant roar drowned out only by the shattering sound of Emily's scream of agony.

It was as if he'd ripped her in half, the pain was blinding, brutal, burning - oh God make it stop! She recoiled into herself, trying desperately to alleviate the torture by tucking herself into a ball, to pull away from him. But his grip was already bruising on her hips; the harder she clawed and crawled away from him, the fiercer the burn.

She ripped at the floorboards with her nails, drawing blood, splitting skin and ripping nails as she fought in vain. She could feel the blood coating her thighs, taste it in the air as she screamed and begged for him to stop. She arched her back, gasping for breath as he rutted his hips forward brutally, sobbing as he began to pound inside her like a rabid beast.

"Aaron, please!" she gasped helplessly, whimpering deep in her throat as he jolted her half across the floor with every violent thrust. He had one hand wrapped inside her hair still, and Emily felt her eyes slip shut and another scream in her throat as he pulled hard. Her back bowed and her head fell back, and he buried himself deeper inside her.

Her hands fell desperately to his by her hip, sinking her bloodied nails into his skin - but he felt none of it. All he could see was red and white and black - her skin, her hair, her blood. All he could taste was her skin, her fear, her pheromones on his tongue like some kind of drug that had him reeling.

All he could feel was her tight walls hugging his cock like a velvet glove. Every buck of her hips, every writhe of her body only served to drive him deeper into the dizzying haze of lust; push him further to his goal of breeding her. He gave a heaving grunt as he forced her head down, angling her body higher against his and pressing deeper inside her. Almost too deep.

In a rush he had forced her backwards onto him, by her hair, by her hips; he forced her onto her knees until her hands could no longer touch anything but flesh, and her hands fell into where his fingers curled into her hair - tightening over her scalp. One arm he banded around her thin waist, flexed and weighted like lead with enough strength to bruise if it hadn't already.

His breath was hot and stifling on her neck, her ear, her cheek; buried in her hair and pressed into her shoulder where his teeth scraped her skin and his mouth peppered the sharp arch of her shoulder blade with burning kisses. It disgusted her to think that even such a vile act could rouse such an intimate part of his mind - that inside his brain somewhere, forcing himself inside her warranted kisses a lover could press on her flesh.

Whether it was an apology or a promise; perhaps an act of mourning for what could have been.

What did it matter then.

Abraham clucked his tongue in disapproval - she'd forgotten about him in the blinding storm of torment. Her eyes flashed wide and fell into a narrow slit of both agony and spite as she saw him there in the corner of her eye, watching them like a spectator sport. He had his head tilted down at them, watching curiously and lecherously as her body arched and flexed and bloomed in various shades of red, blue and black under his command.

A morbid canvas of blood and bruises - the red imprints of Aaron's hands on her breasts, her thighs, her hips like brands over the deep purple and black of the welts and bruises.

But not quite a masterpiece yet.

"Aaron, you're too gentle," he chided the man, but Hotch was deaf to his mocking; grunting with effort as he sought only one goal and one goal alone.

An end.

The snap of the whip jolted Emily, though it fell not to her, and she felt Hotch grunt behind her before his thrusting hips began to double in effort and pace. His hand spanned wide on her hip, gripping tighter at the curve of her body as his free hand released her hair and came instead to palm her breast roughly. She whimpered and writhed away at his brutal touch, the pinch too sharp, the ache too strong on her already singing skin to bear.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand the torture.

"Harder, Aaron," Abraham snapped. "Take her harder. Prove to me and to sweet Emily that you are the Alpha we expect of you."

"Don't," she whispered urgently, the desperate plea was almost defeated; she wasn't even sure if he knew who she was at that moment. He couldn't have possibly - but perhaps that was simply wishful thinking. "You don't have to prove anything, Hotch, please -."

The snap of the whip sounded again, and this time Emily felt the sting of its kiss across her breasts and midriff. She recoiled into Hotch's thrusting body, gasping in a scream as his hand rose to her neck and squeezed. Her eyes flew wide as she sputtered, clawing hopelessly at his hand where his fingers tightened over her collar - bruising into her windpipe.

"Hotch -," she rasped, choking on her breath and gasping as her vision began to cloud. Something was changing; a heady weight grew stronger - was it the deprivation, she couldn't tell. Her body began to pulse, the heat of his body and hers and the agonizing friction flared slowly along her limbs, languid and thick and all-consuming as it traveled up from her center into her stomach, her chest, her head.

She felt her eyes roll back into her head as she shuddered; the heat was familiar but unwelcome - there was no pleasure in this to take for herself, and yet - and yet -.

"Fight all you want, Emily," Abraham's voice whirled in her head, floating here and there; amidst the grunts in her ear and the harsh sound of skin and bone grinding into each other. "You can't fight nature, and you certainly can't fight pleasure." A hand came to caress her face, almost loving and gentle in its touch, a respite from the violence, but Emily recoiled from it.

She knew a farce when she saw one.

There was a guttural moan behind her, vibrating into her back and chest as it came from his throat, and Aaron's thrusts became harsh and ragged, uncoordinated as he buried his face into her hair again and pulled her tighter against him. Something sparked inside her despite herself, no matter how hard she tried to fight it, to deny it; goosebumps rose on her skin, her vision tunneled drastically, and the sparks flared out across her skin like the snap of Abraham's whip.

"Mine," Aaron groaned approvingly, as Emily clamped down around him and throttled him inside her. It was painfully tight; every thrust was blunt, until finally he pressed inside her that much deeper and snarled her name. His hips jerked with every twitch of his cock inside her, spending himself completely inside her convulsing walls.

Abraham was practically cooing in delight as he watched Aaron's thighs twitch in reflex, chuckling in approval as his seed began to seep from between them. "Good boy, Aaron. Very, very good boy." He reached out, burying his fingers in the man's thick dark hair and stroking him like a fond pet, brushing his nails along the man's scalp and damp hair as he panted for breath against the shivering woman.

"There," the grey-eyed man sighed in content. "A masterpiece at last."

Her arms hurt from the weight, her knees ached from the pressure on her bones; nothing could compare to the ache between her legs where she felt him throbbing still inside her. The disgrace and surrender that filled her was overwhelming - that she had submitted to what Abraham had wanted of her, more so that she had taken pleasure from it. There was nothing gratifying about what they had done to her; there was nothing sensual or erotic about the brutal defilement of another human being.

Yet the thought of facing her reflection sickened her.

Swallowing thickly; stomaching the bile and retch on her tongue, Emily moved. Only a shift of weight, a bare inch forward from the man, pulling at his grip until at last he relented and released her. She cringed as she felt him pull out, and along with him the thick heat of their release. She crumbled to the ground, shaking in the quiet sobs that wracked her finally, as she curled into a ball as tightly as she possibly could and prayed that the ground would rise up and swallow her in its darkness.

That it would take her away from the madness.

Fingertips touched her ankle, and Emily flinched away from them as they circled the limb and suddenly she was swept back into the bed they'd taken her from. She fought little, welcoming the comfort of the thin mattress beneath her battered body; whimpering only when they forced her legs together and slid something underneath her hips, elevating her pelvis as it was.

Heavy leather bindings wrapped around her ankles kept her feet bound to the bedframe, then her hands to the top of the bedframe; immobilized her for when they needed her next.

She did nothing to fight them. All she could do was stare up at the ceiling and count the cracks in the concrete like sheep. She felt crucified - perhaps she was.

The bed dipped beside her, but she would not turn her gaze to the face hovering in her periphery. She didn't have to see him to know he was there. Something damp brushed against her skin, a cloth - Abraham smiled kindly down at her as he cleaned the blood and stains from her skin with a tenderness that disgusted her more than his violence.

"There now," he whispered soothingly, sweeping the cloth gently between her legs and cleaning away the blood that smeared across her thighs. The bruises were growing darker by the moment, and he smiled at them as he stroked a thumb across her hipbone, admiring the welt. "You've done very well, sweet Emily. Better than I could have hoped."

He rose from the bed, gripping the cloth in his hand like a prize as he turned to the man still kneeling on the ground, staring blankly up at him with his coal-black eyes. "Come along, beast. It's time you had your chores while our whore rests."

Aaron blinked and rose to his feet wordlessly, sparing Emily only a glance as Abraham clipped his leash back onto his collar. "...yes, Master."

So we see now what Hell Emily and Hotch were talking about in the introduction. I'm sorry.