Hunted in the Woods

The sun is low, almost dipped below the horizon. The shadows from the trees around me are long cast as a result. Skyscrapers of shadow, draping the forest in darkness. It's... weirdly quiet. The trees rustle some from wind, sure. But there aren't any bird sounds. No howls in the distance. It makes my own footfalls loud, the crunch of leaves a cacophony. My labored breathing seems to echo, only to inevitably be snuffed out by the woods.

I'm running. Fleeing, to be precise. I broke off of the path a while ago on seeing you. A silent figure blocking the trail. Route obstructed, I had stopped only to immediately feel like something was very wrong. That might have been the moment the birds stopped chirping. Or maybe it had been silent the whole time... would explain why I had felt uneasy before then too. The tentative greeting I offered you, you ignored. Silence had extended, flight or fight kicking in for me. And then you had started walking towards me and 'flight' had a very brief conversation with 'fight' before I was running.

Looks behind me reveal nothing. Just the trees. No other sounds but my own. Maybe I imagined the whole thing? Slowly the urge to run lowers. The fear doesn't go away though and screams of danger. Yet surely I can rest a moment... catch my breath, weigh the situation. A nearby aspen seems reasonable enough to lean on and take stock. I drop my pack next to it, trying to slow my breathing and get proper gulps of air. My ears strain... but the only sounds are my own. Those and the leaves.

An image of you flashes through my head, prompting me to look around and be sure. Nothing. I relax against the tree shakily. A hood had covered part of your face, the lower part covered by a mask of some sort. The hood and jeans alike had seen better days, seemingly torn up somewhat. Your eyes had been... had been... I shiver quietly. They were predatory. Hungry. That was probably why I felt such a need to run.

Why hadn't I screamed? Maybe it was a certain primal instinct overriding normal sense. The urge to bolt had simply taken me. But that same urge had betrayed me fiercely. I don't know where I am now. Somewhere deep in my pack was a compass, but I'd have to know which way was back. Should be a straight line, but weaving through trees has a way of taking direction away. Better to just keep calming down, thinki-

A hand clasps hard over my mouth. A scream comes too late, far too late and muffled now. My nails dig into your forearm, scratching but failing to pierce tough skin. I didn't hear you coming at all. Where my footsteps had crushed foliage underfoot, yours passed effortlessly. That thought is far from the loudest though right now. Your other arm wraps around me, holding me against the tree. It was narrow: you must be pressed right up against it. At an exhale you let go of my mouth, only to shove cloth into it as soon as I breathe in to try and scream again. My heart races, I thrash against your arm and keep trying to call for help. I don't think any is coming though.

You pull my right arm behind me, around the tree. The other is forced with it, a strong hand gripping my wrist while the other ensures my effort to spit out the cloth fails. A couple fingers push it in until I nearly gag. Then both hands work at my wrists. A rougher coil of rope secures them behind the tree. That hand checks again the position of my gag. I see a loop go around at mouth level, rope being used not to hold my head back against the tree and keep the gag in place. My mewled protest and whines go completely ignored.

Silence for a moment. I test the rope with a certain despair. The coils are as unyielding as your grip had been. Looking down as best I can, I get a reminder of what I chose to wear for this outing. A tank top with a sports bra shown off underneath. Below that, shorts that felt all the higher riding now. And my running shoes. My chest is pushed forward because of how my arms are tied. It's... somewhat erotic, almost. A weird thought that the panic quickly quells as I renew my struggles.

More rope. Why was more needed? I can't get out as it is. But you persist, tying a loop above and below my chest. It accentuates me all the more. Another strand goes around my waist, tightening me against the tree. I try a final time to call for help muffledly... it's painfully clear how quickly the forest soaks up the noise. You come around the tree, staring me down as I breathe rapidly and deeply. That same hunger in your eyes is so much stronger up close. It... stirs something. I forget that once more though as you go to my ankles and part them. One ankle gets a knot around it, stretching to a nearby tree. Then the other. It forces me to stand with my legs open. Exposed... if there was any doubt in my mind as to what your gaze told me, it's gone now.

Roughly my tanktop gets pulled up, exposing my stomach. Your gloved hand rubs down my side, then across my stomach to briefly rest against my navel piercing. The touch makes my breathing pick up, but it slowly relaxes over time. They're almost caresses... just rough feeling ones. My mind races with what you are probably planning to do. It didn't help my composure that I had fantasized a couple times about something like this. Those desires mixed into the feeling of dread and brewed a confusing conflict in my mind.

Your hand moves towards a breast. I can't properly turn away or shake my head, settling for a pleading look as you grab it. The squeeze is rough, enough to tease a whimper out of me. Even through my bra the perk of my nipples is clear. Then a knife comes out. I stare wide eyed at it, then you. For a split second I fear getting stabbed... then you tug at my shirt. A bit slips through the rope around my lower chest. The knife goes under and pulls. It cuts smoothly. You then set the knife aside. Grabbing a fistful of cloth on either side, a single swift motion from you tears my tanktop wide open. I yelp as you do, blushing as my bra is more exposed.

Of course, it doesn't stop there. The knife returns and cuts my bra open, my breasts slipping out of the undergarments that had struggled to contain them as it was. The turgid state of my nipples is plain to see. The gloved hands that had expertly restrained me earlier squeeze and massage them. I find myself moaning, more of a quiet lust wrestling with my worry and fear.

I don't need to guess how I am down there... I could feel my turn on between my legs, a certain slickness evident. Soon enough the shorts got cut off, you handling the thin panties underneath likewise to expose my crotch better. For a moment, you go so far as to run the flat of the blade against it. I shiver from the cold metal, stiffening and keeping as still as I can. It moves away... then is held up for me to see. A clear coating of wet longing along the metal, the fading sunlight making it shimmer. Indisputable evidence of my want for this, as embarrassing as it was to see. It is as if you know the exact fight happening in my mind and are deciding to help it along.

Gloves get removed. Your fingers are now touching me directly. My clit feels fiercely sensitive... mutedly I whimper and try to push into it. They accommodate me, one slipping into me as your thumb keeps pleasuring my clit. It curls, my eyes widening as that lovely spot in me is hit. My channel relaxes enough that another soon joins it easily. For a moment, I remember that I should be fighting this, protesting this... I forget again though as you work me. Within a minute I'm panting into the cloth, straining against the ropes... only for you to stop and leave me struggling for a different reason now.

Thankfully it isn't a long wait. The knife releases the ropes from my ankles, letting me relax them. The jeans you're wearing unbutton easily, slipping down with boxers to reveal your own desirous state. Hands hook under my thighs and lift, my back rubbing a bit against the tree uncomfortably. I hardly notice though, eyes locked under yours. You line up, testing a moment before slowly easing in. My gasps seem to amuse you and inspire a rough shove to the hilt. I cry out, this time not in fear but in startelement and pleasure.

Slowly, it starts out. Slowly, with long and deep thrusts. Making sure my body is well acclimated. Then it speeds up to rough fucking, every push driving deep into me. My eyes close, pleasured noises weaving with your grunts. They might be the first noises I've heard you make this entire time. They drive me crazy. Within several thrusts I feel that peak building in me. My breathing gets quicker, my legs tightening up around you. After several seconds, I'm there. My eyes open, seeing you thrusting into me and lustfully looking me over... it pushes me over.

With a scream it hits, my body straining against the ropes. It's intense, running through my entire body like an electric charge. It doesn't end though. You're clearly far from finished. Thrust after thrust against my sensitized body has me writhing after a bit, legs spasming a bit in your grip. Those spasms give you fuel to push harder, a soft growl of pleasure causing me to whine. The fact that I'm being used so relentlessly makes me dizzy with continued want and need...

Overstim swaps back to pleasure. My body starts building up again, this time closer in sync with your own. Your grip on me tightens, the shoves more shaky... then you cum. Deep into me, filling every bit of my womb with your seed. You push a few times to fully milk out your orgasm, those extra nudges enough for a secondary one to trigger in me. Pulsing, my body helps drain you, taking everything it can. I can hardly think anymore. I don't need to. The fears of before are drowned in bliss.

Pulling out, you slip behind me and cut the ropes. I collapse onto my knees as soon as they slacken, pulling out the cloth gag and coughing a moment. Tiredly, I look around... but you're gone. The woods feel empty again. If my shirt wasn't tattered and my cunt not dripping one could almost think I imagined it all. I glance around, checking behind the tree only to see a note taped there, saying which way the trail was. Rationality slowly reasserts itself in my mind. As it does, a pointed question came up:

How, exactly, was I going to explain this if I ran into someone?