They stood motionless for a moment, predator and prey, facing each other in the silent forest. The pale moon streamed down upon his body like quicksilver, spilling over those broad, powerful shoulders and illuminating the exposed skin of his hands so that they seemed to glow, as if lit from within by some strange, ethereal light. He was both angel and demon, a celestial messenger and harbinger of hell, the incarnation of some ineffable, primeval force that had emerged throughout the ages of history to level mountains, raze cities to ashes, and devour everything in its path with indiscriminate fury.
She had lost all awareness of time, paralyzed by both blank astonishment and fear. It could have been minutes, or seconds that she stood there, frozen to the spot. But then, as if struck by divine revelation, something moved inside her. She released a small whimper and whirled, hurtling through the trees at full speed, branches slapping and scraping her face. Heart racing with shallow breaths, she stumbled, one leg hopelessly caught in a tangle of thorns and wrenched it loose, tearing both fabric and skin in the attempt to free herself.
Blind to pain, she pushed on, hearing nothing except the sound of her own rapid breath and crushing leaves beneath her feet. As strong as her instinct was to keep running, she was also gripped by an overwhelming urge to look behind her, to behold the creature that pursued her in the darkness. She slowed her pace just enough to take a quick glance over one shoulder.
Fateful mistake.
Before she had time to process what was happening, her body lifted, feet swept from underneath her as something large collided with her from behind. Arms enveloped her and they spiraled together mid air. She braced for the pain of impact, but the force of her landing was absorbed fully by his body. Then she was on the ground, face pressed into soil and damp leaves. She felt the vice-like grip of his hands around her own, pinning them above her head.
His mouth hovered close to her ear, breathing heavily. "There you are," he growled with satisfaction, as if she were a beloved possession, long lost and suddenly found. His chest heaved, more from excitement than exertion, and they lay still for a few moments on the forest floor, his body blanketing hers as they breathed. Regaining her senses, she began to struggle violently against his weight, but his hips pressed hers firmly into the ground. He chuckled at this and buried his face into her neck, drinking in her scent and biting down, just hard enough to send ripples of pain and longing surging through the length of her body.
Her mind flashed back to a familiar scene, no doubt ingrained by the countless hours of nature documentaries she had consumed over the years...The gazelle, finally caught by the lion after a long and frenzied chase, lays down and accepts its fate, inexplicably calm in the jaws of death.
In one swift motion, he lifted his weight and rolled her over to face him, wrists still pinioned above her head. To her surprise, he was only using one arm to restrain her. He straddled her hips and with his free hand, retrieved a coil of rough rope from his belt. His chest lowered and once again, she felt his hot breath on her skin, smelled the warm, sweet spice of smoke mixed with his own natural aroma. With deft swiftness, he secured her wrists and brought them down in front of her, tucking the newly bound hands beneath the iron weight of his pelvis. Now with both his arms free, his fingers tangled themselves in the mass of her hair and he hungrily pressed his mouth against hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a conquest.
She resisted and began again to writhe under his weight, only this time from pleasure and not an attempt to escape. His tongue found hers and her eyelids fluttered shut, surrendering into the warm violence of it. As if in triumph at her submission, the heat of his presence withdrew and she was cruelly yanked back from ecstasy. In its place, came the cool sensation of a cloth being pulled across her eyes. His body was no longer on top of her. Only his hands touched her now, dragging her up on her feet where she staggered, disoriented both from weakness and suddenly finding herself unable to see.
She felt the dig of his shoulder against her stomach and then she was hoisted up, torso and bound arms dangling down his back. As he began his trek back through the dark woods, she was struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, a distant memory of being carried to bed, drunken with dreamy slumber. There was something immensely comforting in it, the feeling of being carried, trusting, yet also helpless in his arms. Primal fear mingled with the knowledge that everything could end with one simple word, a word she didn't want to speak but instead, gripped tight like a lifeline above the unknown depths of his depravity.
His forearm pressed firmly across her thighs as he maneuvered the rugged terrain, unshaven jaw occasionally brushing the exposed skin of her hip. Each time, shock waves rippled through her limbs. At one point, she felt herself begin to slide and he heaved her roughly back into place. The sudden jostle and intensified pressure on her abdomen reminded her that she still had to piss, urgently now, and a new sort of panic set in. What was she supposed to do? Could she ask to take a time out? The thought of shattering this moment with such a trivial request revolted her. So instead, she concentrated on clenching her pelvic muscles and braced herself through the pain of each step, willing her body to hold on just a little longer.
As if sensing her discomfort, his pace slowed and then stopped abruptly. There was a grinding shriek of metal on metal and then they were inside, greeted by the heady aroma of hay and delicious warmth, shocking in contrast to the night air she'd grown accustomed to in the forest. His grip relaxed and she slipped down from his shoulders, guiding her purposefully through the darkness by bound hands. The release of pressure on her bladder was heavenly and although it still presented a potentially embarrassing predicament, she was relieved to find it less urgent than before. She heard a groaning creak overhead and simultaneously, her bound hands were drawn upward, body suspended so that only her toes touched the ground.
"I'm going to take this off now," he said, slipping the blindfold down to rest on her collarbones. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the new surroundings. They were in an old barn, massive cedar beams gleaming amber in the glow of several antique lanterns. A menacing collection of metal implements, rope, and leather tack adorned the rough walls, gleaming fiercely in the firelight. Turning her attention to her bound hands, she followed the thick rope upwards to where it connected to a rustic hook and pulley system, no doubt designed to move the small, square bales of honey-colored hay that were nestled in the nearby loft.
He stood before her, so similar to the night they had first met, eyes gleaming with ferocious merriment. His grip tightened around the handle of a mysterious rod shaped object and he took a step nearer her, using its metal prongs to tease up her shirt. She shivered as the icy metal made contact with her skin and traced thoughtful lines around her nipples and navel.
"Do you know what this is?" He asked in a low growl. She shook her head, anticipation rising.
"It's a motivation tool," he said calmly and with one swift movement swung his arm away from her, pressing the prongs against a wreath of steel chain that hung by a spike on the wall nearby. He pulled the trigger and there was a terrifying electric crackle, followed by a sizzling arc of white hot light. Her heart was racing now, both from shock and fear. She watched in wide eyed horror as he returned the instrument to her belly, digging the now warmed tip into her flesh.
"I use this to encourage good behavior," he said dryly, then moved the tip downward between her legs, "But I have a feeling you won't be needing it, will you?" She was silent, head down, as if seeking the answer in the dust at her feet. Something kin to anger and disbelief began welling up inside of her.
Would he really use that on her? He must be insane, and she was even more insane for trusting him. Her roommate's anxious warnings from earlier in the day echoed back through her mind... But in spite of it all, she did trust him. She trusted him to keep his word and lead her through the gauntlet, even if it meant the ruin of her soul and body in the process.
He gripped her chin firmly with one hand and lifted her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Will you?" he added with emphasis.
Her muscles relaxed as she spoke, surrendering the last bit of resistance. "No," she said, so calmly that the tone of her own voice surprised her, "I'll be good."
His mouth curled into a smile. "That's a shame," he said, roughly patting her cheek in response. "I thought you had more fight in you, but clearly I was wrong." While speaking, he had been sliding the prod threateningly up and down the inside of her thighs. Now he placed the conductive rod directly between her legs and held it there, pressing firmly on her clit. She gasped sharply, body lifting upwards by the sudden force of it. "Are you sure?" He teased, "It might be fun."
She moaned as he drew the rod back and forth, gliding it over her pussy like a cellist, masterfully stroking a bow across his instrument. "Hmmm?" He smirked, drawing it away sharply. "What's that? I can't hear you..."
The agony of her desire was overwhelming; a throbbing pain of need that only he could satisfy. How could she make him understand? How could she even begin to formulate the words? It was beyond mere wanting. She needed him to take her, to consume her, to be utterly eclipsed by a power greater than her own. "Please..." She panted at last, "Please don't stop, please..."
Then he laughed, a sound that was at once both enchanting and disturbing to her. Eyes gleaming, he laid down the metal prod and in its place, grabbed a leather crop from its hook on the wall. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands," he snarled, stepping towards her and then cracked the crop hard against his thigh. With his free hand, he yanked her pants down to her ankles, leaving her ass bare and gleaming in the lamplight. He stopped briefly to admire his canvas, to run his hand along the smooth curve of it, a fleeting expression of tenderness and delight on his face.
Then came the abrupt whistle of leather cutting the air and an explosion of searing pain as the crop met its mark.
She howled, body contorting with each strike. At first the onslaught of pain was almost overwhelming. Her body began the frenzy of rapid fire signals to her brain, nerve endings erupting with each blow. "Say it!" Her body screamed... "Say the fucking safe words!"
