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His breath is hot, up against my ear.
“Really are a desperate little bitch, aren’t you? You were going to walk right on up to the snare, so needy you’d offer your cunt on a fucking platter. I’ve been following you through the whole fucking park, hoping you’ll run into a piece of dick to take you. After all, you wouldn’t be dressed like this if you weren’t after cock. Not in this shit hole.”
He still has his hand clamped over my mouth when he yanks me back from the fence. I try to slap his other hand away from me, but it’s pointless, he’s way too strong and his fingers are on a mission. They hitch my skirt up and squirm a wormy path across my slit through my thong and tights, and I hate how I moan for him as he does it. He grips and tears, and his fingers are right against me. He forces two inside my pussy without pause, finger-fucking me as he talks.
“See my van over there?” he says, and I nod against his gloved hand, trying my hardest not to grind against his horny fingers. “I’m going to tie you the fuck up, and take you where I want, and you’re going to be my fuck doll. A toy to play with whenever I want you. I just hope you’re not afraid of ghosts.” His laugh is so cold. “And scream all you fucking want but it’s pointless out here,” he says. “Now, give me your hands so I can get you bound up and ready for the ride. You’re such an easy capture, you know? Pathetic, really. I hoped you’d try harder.”
He jams his fingers into my pussy one last time, so deep I cry out. Even through my whimpering victim mode, he’s underestimated the instinctive fight left in me. The moment he lets me out of his grip and goes for the rope, I swipe up my bag and I’m off like a deer on the run. I crash through brambles, with my breath in my ears, not giving a fuck where I’m sprinting to. Gravel, glass, a shit hole of a housing estate, I don’t care. All that matters is racing in the opposite direction. Getting the hell away.
The brambles are lethal around my legs, tearing my tights to shit. They snag and catch, and scratch, and I stumble and almost fall, but it only heightens my adrenaline. I expect him to catch me up in no time, but he doesn’t. I don’t even hear him. I keep on running until I’m back on gravel, starting in shock as it crunches under my heels. I’ve run a long way, and the adrenaline has hidden how exhausted I am. My throat is so dry it’s parched as I lean against one of the streetlamps.
I spin on the spot, trying to orientate myself. I hitch my bag higher around my neck this time, ready to run, and that’s when I see him behind me – running right at me. Shit. I try to start another dash, but I’m too late and he bowls me over, scraping the fuck out of my knees as I land on the gravel. I cry out, arms flailing, trying to get him the fuck off me, but I’m whimpering, too exhausted to fight when I finally flop flat to the ground.
“You really thought I’d let you escape?” he laughs again, and I hear the pride in his voice. So fucking smug.
He’s planned this. He’s worn me out, dashing this way and that on purpose until I’m exhausted.
“Come on,” he says as he gets to his feet. He bends down and takes a fistful of my hair. I feel like such a cheap, broken bitch as I scramble up for him. I have no voice left to scream, so I let him tug me along by my hair on my tired legs, whimpering every step of the way. Please, please, please, I say. But I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
I hate walking back through the brambles, getting so many more lashes as we go. The bastard chooses my position deliberately, pushing me to the side where the spikes are at their worst, and they stab, and scratch. Stab, and scratch. Stab, and scratch.
And that’s where it truly begins to captivate me.
There is something cathartic about it. Being a broken little bitch, walking along to my fate.
I find I’m crying when the metal fence comes into view, and I attempt to flail again, but he puts his face right up against mine. His breath is hot and fierce through his ski mask.
“Are you going to get in my van without a fight this time, or are we going to have another round of it? Because I’ll give you one. I’ll give you two or three, if you like. No sweat what so fucking ever.”
I cry out as he flings me free, back towards the brambles.
“Go on, run, if you really want to,” he says. “I’ll chase, and I’ll catch you, and I’ll drag you back here all over again.”
“I can’t…” I say, with a whimper.
“Then accept your fate and do what the fuck I say. Give me your hands and let me tie them.”
Fuck, this is already intense. I try to ground myself as I hold my hands out to him.
The rope is tight when he binds me, but not cutting. He pushes me forward, staying behind me as I head to the van, and fuck I’ve never been so on edge. I think it’s going to happen any second. We won’t even get to the van. He’s going to shove me to the ground and fuck me. I’m shaking like crazy as I go, but he doesn’t attack, just steps up to the van in front of me and opens the back doors.
I don’t even protest when he lifts me up and throws me in the back of the van, just cry like a sad little girl. Because that’s what he’s paying me to be. I’m here to be used at his mercy.
He doesn’t speak as he slams the rear doors and climbs up into the driver’s side. There’s no attempt at any conversation as he turns the ignition and sets us off on our way.
I bump along, skidding across the floor of the van whenever he takes a sharp corner, but I let it happen. The rumble of the van becomes almost soothing as my mind wanders.
I’m bound. Exhausted. And he’s going to take advantage of it…
I clench my thighs, imagining being his fuck doll. I roll onto my back, and let Holly the whore take over me, recalling the nights I’ve spent fantasising about more sessions with this monster. Since my hands are bound at the front, I manage to rub myself, just a little. Teasing myself on the journey. It’s like I’m in a horror movie, as the sexy main star. And this guy is the sick villain, set to destroy me.
Why does it turn me on so fucking much?
Why am I already trying to rub my clit with bound wrists?
It’s a long journey, so my pussy is teased beyond measure by the time the van pulls up and the engine goes silent. My fears come back with a vengeance as User 706 arrives at the back of the van and opens the doors.
“Get over here.”
