The Hunt 10

"His minions hunt the shadows of the eastern cities for suitable prey, to take back to the Forest to feed to him. Women, always; mostly young, inevitably attractive. It's said that he hunts them like wild animals there, in the heart of that land which responds to his every whim. A very few survive or are permitted to survive, for whatever dark purpose suits him. All are insane. Most would be better off dead. They usually kill themselves, soon after." (C.S. Friedman, Black Sun Rising )

She was too young and too delicately attractive to be found there. But there she was, a streak of white in the depths of the Forest's darkness. Her long auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders, glossy with the wetness of the cold heavy air. Her long white dress was torn and tattered in a dozen places, flashing hints of smooth creamy flesh. A tough bramble had caused a particularly scandalous tear from the hem almost to the hip. All these, she ignored as she came to a trembling stop in the middle of nowhere, ruby lips parted and panting with short rapid breaths, clear gray eyes wide with horror.

Then the howls began again and again she gave a shrill cry of fear and despair as she plunges wildly forward again. She could see nothing before, behind or around her but they were close. As before, bloodthirsty jaws snapped at her ankles and globs of saliva of famished beasts landed on her skin whenever she flagged but not one claw had sank into her and no teeth had made a meal of her body. The only wounds on her were inflicted by sharp brambles, low boughs, and treacherous roots. She was being played with, she knew. They would chase her beyond the limits of her endurance and just as she would give up, break down, fall onto her knees and let them do what they wish with her, they'd retreat.

And throughout all, it wasn't the beasts she was most afraid of. It was Him who rode with them, hunting her like a wild animal on his night mare. Unlike His minions, He was silent. But He.. He was the worst of all.

She felt the hysterics swept over her at the thought of Him. Her heart twisted and she threw her head back even as she ran to scream the tidal proportions of terror and anguish.

It was then that she felt a moist tree root rose to grip her ankles and to throw her to the ground. She gasped as she fell onto the soft ground with a hard thud. The ache in her foot nearly killed her as she began to crawl painfully and pathetically away, praying to any and all powers that be to deliver her.

Suddenly, she froze. The howls had stopped. Instead, she could hear the steady thud of boots. Her heart pounded ever wilder. She tried to turn, tried to strain around but the darkness closed in tighter than ever. She renewed her efforts to clamber away but relentlessly, the footsteps came closer and closer.

Hysterical tears flooded her eyes as she felt a heavy hand grip her hair. "Noooo!" she screamed, twisting and clawing at the arm that was dragging her upwards. "God...noooooo!" A slap landed across her face like a whip. Her hair was released and she fell to the ground. Immediately, she struggled to her feet and attempted to run away. He followed calmly, His hand reaching and tearing the back of her dress. Thus slowly, He stripped her of the remnants of her dress even as she tried futilely to escape Him.

Finally, protected only with shreds, He had her pinned against a tree. His hands gripped her wrists tightly and pressed them against the rough bark. He jammed his right knee between her legs forcing them to spread. She struggled, writhing her body against His knee. A tortured moan tore from her throat. A smile crossed His lips as He pressed his knees harder against her flesh. "Slut, you want this."

"Noooo! Please, let me go!" She struggled against him with the last reserves of strength like a crazed woman.

He slapped her again, then gripping her by the hair, forced her round and pressed her face and belly to the tree. She sobbed as he kicked her legs open, she wailed as she felt his fingers flicked what cloth was left dangling from her body and she screamed as the hot hard flesh of steel pierced deep into her.

Vainly she tried to fight Him, tried to fight the tidal waves of tortured emotions coursing through her. Her nails clawed at the tree and tore as her body began to slip downwards under His fucking till she was on her hands and knees, taken like a bitch against the tree. She moaned.

He felt the grim satisfaction of taking her this way, contemptuously using her body for his pleasure. He enjoyed watching her distress, watching the foolish woman blind to her own feelings. The slut had wanted this from the beginning of the Chase, He could smell the wanton heat in the cat. It amused him greatly to see how she disguised her true self from herself, reading lust as terror, passion as anguish, ecstasy as hysterics.

The heat, the anguish...it is so intense, so intense. Please, oh god, please... He's killing her. She kept struggling against him like a wild she-cat, trying to get away from him only to be pulled back harder to be impaled deeper. Again and again and again. The torture would never end. She felt the final scream tearing out of her lips. She was going to die. Arrrghhhhhh! A blinding white light burst in her, she felt a sudden explosion of pleasure so pure, so exquisite she almost died with joy.

For aeons she floated in heavenly bliss. Then she felt something stir within her again. Her eyes opened wide. He was taking her again. She gasped.

He had hunted her like a wild animal and took her like a beast. And she loved it.