Alone

A deathly silence followed, punctuated only by my own ragged, tear-laden breathing. I laid there, my partner dead, waiting to join him, when I felt the hand on my belt start fiddling with one of my handcuff pouches. I heard the click of the snap as he undid the flap, and heard the telltale click of a handcuff ratchet as he readied a pair of my handcuffs. Oh God. Oh my God no, not like this, anything but this. I didn't need to imagine what was next, I knew what was next. I didn't need to hear him say it, I didn't need to guess at his motivations. He'd just executed Thomas, and despite my attempts to arm myself, he'd not killed me. It wasn't out of kindness. The handcuffs only confirmed it. Despite knowing who this monster was, what he'd just done. I couldn't help but plead.

"Please don't do this, you don't have to do this." I got out, doing my best to keep the sobbing from returning.

He stopped for a moment. "Would you rather I kill you now?" He asked quietly, in the kind of tone a 7/11 worker might use when asking if you needed a receipt.

Now, he said. Would I rather he kill me now? My heart dropped when I realized what that meant. He was going to kill me. He'd just told me he was going to kill me. The only choice I had was if I died now, or later.

"Please, I'm begging you, don't." I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.

He scoffed. "Well, I'm gonna, so you just gotta decide if you want to die now, or die when I'm done fucking you. I don't mind much one way or another." He replied, as he secured the first cuff tightly around my limp wrist.

He was going to rape me. He was going to do it whether I was alive or dead. I was going to die here, and I was going to be raped here. The only question was whether I'd be alive to feel the rape. I winced as he wrenched my other arm behind me and secured the handcuffs. How did this happen, how did I let this happen? Where did I fuck up?

"Time's ticking sweetheart." He added after a minute, and I felt him tapping the barrel of my gun absently against the back of my head.

"Please don't kill me." I got out.

"Heyyy, there we go!" He exclaimed. "You should've put the word 'yet' at the end of that, but y'know what, I'll take it." He corrected me. "You've got hope, and that's good! Use that hope!" He added, sickeningly upbeat.

With that, he pulled me to my feet and immediately bent me over the hood of my patrol car. I didn't even see Thomas at first, but when I turned around and saw him slumped forward over the trunk of the BMW, still pinned between the cars, I shrieked in horror. The whole back of his head had been blown out, and I could see pieces of skull and brain in the exit wound. I began sobbing and hyperventilating, fixated on the gory sight. This is what had happened because of my fuckup. This was my fault.

My assailant sighed. "Damnit, you're acting like you've never seen a little blood before, what gives?"

I didn't reply. I couldn't speak, and I could hardly breathe. Just five minutes ago we'd been talking quietly together as friends and colleagues, and now his brains were plastered across the BMW's rear upholstery.

"Goddamnit, fine, I'll move him. Stay there." He said bitterly, walking back around to the driver's side of the BMW.

I watched, frozen solid as the BMW moved forward a couple yards, and Thomas fell to the ground in front of the patrol car. As I saw my partner slump to the ground, a hole the size of a grapefruit in the back of his skull, I realized there was no ending in which I lived here. My best chance, my only chance, was to run. I didn't wait to see where the BMW stopped. I just stood up, turned, and ran.

I made it halfway back down the dirt track to the main road before he caught up with me. To add insult to injury, I saw a pair of headlights speed past the entrance to the road, right before he caught me. He tackled me to the ground, I landed heavily, and all of a sudden the gun was back to my head.

"Sweetheart, you are lucky I want to fuck you when you're breathing, because that was your one and only warning." He said after a moment, sounding not so jolly anymore.

It was a slow and humiliating walk back to the cars. I'd blown it, and he was going to take vengeance on me tenfold, I knew that for certain. As it happens the first thing he did when he got me back over the front of the car, was he took my radio from my belt, and unclipped the external microphone from my shirt.

"I'm gonna keep a hold of this. Not sure if you've got any sort of panic button on here, but I'd like us not to be disturbed." He said cautiously after a minute.

I didn't press my panic button. The realization of that hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd been fighting for my gun, then scrambling for Thomas's gun, then I was handcuffed. Did I have the opportunity to press a single button in all that time? When I was scrabbling for the gun underneath the car, I could've. I could've also ran like hell down the path and hailed a passing motorist. I could've pressed it the moment he took control of my gun. I probably could've pressed it when I was handcuffed and he wasn't looking at me as well, truth be told.

I fucked up, and now I was watching him carry my dead partner over to the side of the road, just in front of the BMW. I was also handcuffed, bent over my patrol car, and about to be raped on camera. I hadn't forgotten about the dashcam in the car. While my body camera had a five minute buffer, recording had to be started manually. I'd neglected to start recording when I had the chance. I don't know if Thomas had done, but I was almost glad I hadn't. I didn't want my body camera footage in an evidence file somewhere with the title 'Deputy Murphy's Rape POV'. I looked up at the dash cam as I laid bent over the hood of the patrol car. I knew it could hear me. The passenger door was still open, and those dashcams had very good microphones.

"Don't let my family see this." I said desperately, looking directly at the camera. "Please, if anyone finds this, don't let them see any of this. Don't let this go in some fucking training film. God help me, please don't let this go on the fucking internet."

"Who you talking to?" Came the bastard's voice as he wandered back over, wiping his hands off on his shirt.

"Nobody." I croaked out, looking away from the camera.

He seemed to notice it then and laughed. "Ohhh, yeah, goddamn! I almost forgot, we're gonna be stars!" He exclaimed.

"What?" I demanded, horrified.

"Well, I'm gonna kill you later, so I wanna be able to look back and enjoy this, time and time again." He explained casually, sending a chill down my spine.

"No, you can't do this! I'm a goddamn sheriff's deputy!" I got out hysterically.

"Where'd you keep your phone sweetheart?" He asked, like I hadn't even spoken. "I'm gonna need multiple camera angles, gonna spice it up a bit in post."

I didn't answer. I didn't want him even touching my phone. The information of all my family and friends were in there, and the last thing I wanted was this man having access to that. The thought of him using my phone to help film my rape was of secondary concern. When he put the gun back to my head I had to swallow my pride. I told him where my phone was, and I watched as he unlocked it with my fingerprint and started setting it up as a camera in front of me, watching my face. This man would be caught. You don't kill two cops and film yourself raping one of them without the whole country hunting you down. He'd never leave the state alive, no matter what happened here. I think even if he tried to surrender, he wouldn't get the chance. I'd like to think that even the anti-cop crowd, my old friends in college, would come out and back the blue when this dog was put down.

"And... We're rolling, 3, 2, 1, and action!" He said after a few minutes of faffing about. "Alright, let's introduce the characters of this play!" He continued. "I am the great Gregory Benson, slayer of the green-shirted beast you see sprawled out before me."

I turned around to see him pointing his own phone further down the road, where poor Thomas was lying. He turned back around and pointed the phone back at me.

"And not only have I slain one, I have captured it's young!" He proclaimed, putting the phone in my face and forcing my head to the side so the camera could see me. "Well, not exactly, more like it's protégé, but nonetheless, having defeated her, and her master in battle, I shall now claim my prize!" He continued, staying manically upbeat the entire time.

He grabbed a hold of my ponytail and used it to pull me to my feet, before turning me around to face his camera.

"Here we see the prize of a warrior! A young female, unaware of her rightful place in the world!" He continued, holding me up by the chin as he used the camera to look up and down my body.

I knew I was an attractive young woman, and I'd often had comments affirming that assessment, even from my own colleagues. To use Greg's antiquated language, I had no shortage of hopeful suitors, but despite that, I hadn't been in any sort of committed relationship in a few years now. I was single when Sarah was raped, and after that I found myself not really seeking out male company. Once I started at the academy, I learned very quickly that female cops, if they wanted to be taken seriously, had to be ice queens, for lack of a better term.

"And now we shall strip the young warrior of her armor!" Greg announced, putting his phone in his top pocket and working to unbutton my shirt.

He looked a little disappointed when he unbuttoned it all, and found the Kevlar vest underneath, preventing him from immediately accessing my breasts. He tried pulling at the vest, evidently not knowing how it secured. I wasn't about to volunteer that information, and so I had a fleeting moment of satisfaction as his attempts to violate me were stalled.

"This warrior wears her armor tightly, this shall be another battle I must wage before claiming my prize!"

What a cunt. I didn't resist as he started trying to take my duty belt off. He wasn't getting anywhere though. He didn't seem to understand that the buckle at the front of the basketweave duty belt was essentially impossible to unbuckle. He thought it was just another belt buckle though, and didn't understand that it was all just kept in place by the belt keeps.

I always lamented having to wear the rigid basketweave duty belt, especially with the six belt keeps. It made going to the toilet a nightmare when I was on duty, and it made me jealous of the guys in the local PD who had nylon belts with plastic snap buckles that would just fit perfectly over a velcro inner belt. No need for belt keeps that way, and it made it so much easier to take on and off. Now though, I was so glad it wasn't easy. That belt was my lifeline, it was my last line of defense against the violation that was coming. I knew it wouldn't hold out forever, so I was steeling myself for what was to come.

Eventually he figured it out, and started undoing all the belt keeps that kept it attached, before finally, he bent me back over the patrol car and just hiked the belt up onto my waist, over the vest. From there it didn't take long for him to undo my inner belt, and then he undid my pants, pulling them roughly down to just below my ass. He pulled the tail of my shirt loose and folded it up around my belt. I felt a chill on my backside as I was finally exposed to the elements. I'd been trying to prepare myself for what I knew was coming, but it was that slight chill from the night breeze that really brought it crashing home. He was going to rape me, right here, right now.

"We've exposed our defeated warrior's most sacred place, and now it is mine to claim!" Greg narrated proudly.

For my part, I did my best to appear stoic as I heard him undoing his own pants. I knew the camera was watching me, and I wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of thinking he'd broken me so soon. A flicker of panic betrayed my face as I felt him peel away my underwear, but I quickly got it under control. I'd been sweating like hell all day, and I'd been awake since nine in the morning, so my underwear was sweaty and rancid. I hoped he was disgusted. I hoped it made him sick. I hoped, contrary to all the evidence in front of me, that he'd suddenly decide not to rape me, and better yet, not kill me as well. Well it wasn't to be.

I couldn't help but grunt slightly as he pushed into me. I was bone dry, so the only lubricant we had was the little bit of spit he'd rubbed into his dick. I don't know what I expected, maybe something smaller, but as he forced his cock further in I couldn't help but go wide-eyed. He was big. Why did he have to be so fucking big? I tried to turn away from the cameras as he continued slowly pushing into me, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed my handcuffs and pulled me backwards as he rammed the rest of his length inside, making me cry out in pain.

I expected him to start railing me then, after all, that's what he said he was going to do, but glancing back for a moment I could see he was still holding his phone, filming it all.

"How does that feel sweetheart?" He asked, a great big grin taking over his face.

I didn't reply, instead, turning away from him, trying to look away from all the cameras. I didn't want them to see me crying. He didn't seem happy with the answer, truth be told, as, using my handcuffs as a handle, he pulled almost all the way out of me, before reaming his way right back in. I cried out in pain again, but I had no time to recuperate, as that set the tempo for the dicking I got from there. Eventually I stopped crying out, and just kept grunting, as he rapidly pulled me back and forth along his sizable length like a fleshlight. I just laid there, defeated, as he pistoned in and out of me, rocking me back and forth across the hood of my patrol car. I was facing away from the camera, but I knew it could see the tears flowing down my face.

This was what I expected. Violent, painful, and degrading. This was what rape was. I'd heard that some women had fantasies about this kind of thing, fantasies of control, they called it. I had little respect for them then, and no respect for them now. Seeing what Sarah went through, how it affected her afterwards, I hoped I'd never find out how she felt. Yet here I was, getting a first rate education. Control was a sugar coated, yet oddly suitable way to describe what was happening though. He had all of it, and I had none. I couldn't even control where I looked, because if I looked away from the camera for too long, he grabbed me by my ponytail and forced me to look at it. He wanted it to see my pain and suffering.

After a while, I felt like I was going to pass out. The pain was gone, a dull aching taking its place, but I could still feel the sharp pang of discomfort whenever he was all the way inside. I hadn't moved in about five minutes. He'd been raping me non-stop for nearly ten minutes now, and I just had to wonder when he'd be done. Of course, part of me had to hope he wasn't done though, because as he'd said, when he was done with me, I was dead. As I considered that, I felt a sudden change in the rhythm he'd built up. He started railing me harder and faster, and I knew what was coming.

"Not inside, please." I said hoarsely.

*Shut the fuck up." He snapped in reply, his stupid character games forgotten.

He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me back towards him roughly. He then put the phone down on the hood next to me, before pulling my waist up and into his as he started ramping up even faster. He had me standing completely upright as he launched into the final phase of his assault. Every thrust pulled me up off the ground, and I was being held up entirely by the arm around my waist and the one around my neck. The only upside to this was that none of the cameras could see my face. Small mercies and all that. He seemed to notice that though, as he dropped the hand around my neck and bent me forward again, so my phone could capture every moment of pain, every little emotion on my face, every tear that fell.

Finally, he faltered, and wrapped both arms around my waist as his final few thrusts caused me to cry out in despair. I could feel it. I felt him filling me up, and there was nothing I could do to stop the tears from flowing as he held me there, groaning in satisfaction as he claimed his prize.