Author's Note:
This story is a work of fiction with some sci-fi and dystopian elements. The predominant themes include noncon, sexual sadism, and general mindfuckery, though as the story progresses, this will be balanced out with plenty of happy sex and some romance. However, at the end of the day, TRS takes place in a world plagued by chaos and war. It is a predator/prey fantasy centered on a high-stakes battle of wills. Be sure to check out the disclaimers on each chapter and the story tags if you're concerned about the dark nature of the content. I'll also do my best to keep readers updated on the status of my story, just visit my Author Page.
Finally, please note that all characters depicted in sexual situations are 18+. Also, don't try this stuff at home, folks. While I do research what I'm writing about, I also take creative liberties on the regular. Don't trust me. If you are interested in sadomasochistic fun, check out your local kink community and take some classes, okay? Safety first, always! And BTW, while noncon is great as masturbation fodder, all sexual activities undertaken in real life absolutely need to involve the enthusiastic and ongoing consent of all parties.
Now, let's do this thingy!
—HisPet21
***
Kara shivered in the moonlight or, at least, what little of it made its way down from the canopy. The forest was cold tonight—colder than it had ever been—but she didn't dare start a fire, not until her only options were to risk it or die of hypothermia. Instead, she pulled her coat more tightly around her and tried to burrow herself under the dead, decaying leaves coating the forest floor. It was calm and quiet for now—just the occasional crooing of owls and the chirping of crickets—but Kara knew all too well that could change in an instant. Holding her breath, she strained to hear above the silence, listening for the sound of heavy-set footsteps or the click of a gun as it was primed and loaded, but aside from the wind in the trees, there was nothing. Eventually, exhaustion consumed her and though she struggled to keep her eyes open, the darkness ate her up.
It was the crackling of a fire that finally woke her. During the many weeks she'd been on the run, Kara had developed an especially acute sense of hearing and anything that wasn't a bird or a rabbit startled her out of her sleep. It had saved her life more than once and knowing better than to question her instincts, Kara snatched up her pack and quietly backed away. In the distance, she could see a bright light peeking out from behind the trees, where a camp had been set up. It didn't matter if it belonged to hunters or a group of escaped rebels like herself, because even if there were friends up ahead, the fire would attract unwanted attention sooner or later. Kara had to get away and get away fast. There was a steep, upward incline that would give her a height advantage and Kara immediately started to climb. That's when the screaming began.
Cursing, Kara ducked behind a boulder and watched from above as three tatty figures ran by below her, not even three feet away from where she'd been sleeping just moments before. Then came the hunting dogs, barking triumphantly to their masters to alert them to their most recent find. Kara watched—utterly horrified—as one of the fleeing figures was tackled to the ground and dragged to its knees, all the while screaming, "Go on without me! Go on without me!" Her throat tightened and she quickly looked away, before climbing on up through the darkness. If Kara stayed put, it was only a matter of time before one of the monstrous beasts sniffed her out, too.
The climb was difficult and even harder to manage in silence, but ever so slowly, Kara made her way up the side of the incline and onto the landing above. She took one last look behind her—wishing with all her heart that she'd had the strength to do something—then turned back around and sprinted into the darkness. There wasn't much of a strategy to consider at that point, Kara just ran. For the past three weeks, her survival had depended upon silence and stealth. But now, in this moment, her survival depended on being fast, on gaining ground, and on widening the gap between herself and the hunters she'd left behind. As the foliage grew thicker and the forest darker still, Kara found herself dodging low-hanging branches to get by—pushing her way through dense tangles of underbrush and scratching up her arms in the process—until her skin turned red and then bloody. Every time she heard the crunch of leaves under her feet or the snap of a twig echoing through the trees, she cringed and wondered if that one sound might be her undoing. Her lungs seemed to be filled with fire, her feet had gone numb, and tears blurred her vision. But still, Kara ran, even as nausea and then lightheadedness began to consume her.
Every muscle in her body was begging her to stop, but Kara trudged onward, until her feet suddenly struck a tree root and she went flying. She hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, but luckily, she didn't sprain anything. Groaning, Kara simply lay in the dirt—her body too sore, too exhausted to obey her—then finally struggled to her feet. She knew she hadn't the strength to run any farther, but she certainly couldn't stop, either. It took effort, but eventually, Kara forced her legs to move. They still worked, but not well. The going was slow and soon enough, her walk had morphed into a shuffle and then an awkward, almost comical stumbling. When she finally stopped—gasping for air—Kara found herself in a gorgeous, almost picturesque moonlit clearing.
Standing at the center of that beautiful place, it was hard to believe that the past was real. The screaming had faded long ago and as the moon rose still higher into the sky, the crickets returned to their carefree chirping. Kara found the sound strangely peaceful, but also eerily deceptive; not far off, people were being hunted down and quite possibly killed. But that was the hypocrisy of the forest and it was also the hypocrisy of war. The trees swayed lazily in the cool, early autumn breeze and as the light caught the leaves, they shimmered.
That's when she heard it, just the tiniest, gentlest mechanical little
click
as it echoed through the forest. Maybe it was real, maybe she was imagining things, but Kara didn't wait to find out. Spinning on her heels, she prepared herself to break out into a run—as tired and incapable as she was—then suddenly spotted a shadowy figure hidden in the treeline. She hoped beyond hope that it was only an illusion, perhaps created by the juxtaposing darkness and light. Perhaps the figure was an irregular rock formation or a twisted tree trunk, which had morphed into a man as a result of the adrenaline still roaring in her veins. But to her horror, the figure only became more fully human the longer she stared at it. The light from the full moon was oddly bright tonight and when he finally stepped into the clearing, there was no more room for doubt. He was tall and fairly well-built, dressed in the black, leather body-armor and heavyset boots of a slave hunter. Kara squinted her eyes against the encroaching darkness—desperately trying to make out the logo on his uniform—but she was too far away. His right hand was resting on his hip and her eyes were immediately drawn to his belt, decked out with two pistols, a nightstick, and a set of metal cuffs. The click she'd heard...it was the sound of him unsnapping those cuffs from his belt.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but it looks like tonight is the night," the hunter told her, his voice almost sympathetic. "Now, do me a favor and turn around. Knees on the ground, hands behind your head, and fingers interlocking. I'll be most off-put if you make me scramble around in the dirt to cuff you."
I won't be caught so easily
, Kara thought, trying to still the manic beating of her heart.
There has to be a way out, even now. I've had a few close calls before and survived them. Perhaps not this close, but still...
Desperate now, Kara scanned the clearing, looking for something—anything—that might give her a tactical advantage. But there was nothing, only more dense, dark forest.
Come on, think!
There was a gun in Kara's pack. It wasn't loaded and even if it had been, she'd never been a very good shot. Still, the hunter didn't know that and a bluff was better than nothing. Cursing her bad luck, she reached around for her pack and...it was gone.
No, no, no...where is it?!
Kara thought, and she frantically scanned the treeline, hoping for a miracle. She found it, not ten feet away, but even then, it was too far to make a break for it.
I must have dropped it...shit!
There was only one option left to her now and drawing a small, silver dagger from her jacket, Kara bent her knees and prepared to lunge. Hopefully, she looked crazed and capable enough to convince the hunter that she was dangerous and perhaps gain a little ground.
"Oh, come on...do we really have to do this?" the hunter sighed, sounding irritable. "We both know how this ends."
The hunter was tired—he'd probably been hiding out in the woods for weeks now, finishing up a lengthy expedition with his company—and it was well into the dark side of the morning.
Good
, Kara thought, twirling the dagger in her hands and letting it catch the light.
Let the tired fucker catch me.
"Seriously?" the hunter groaned. "You're just going to get hurt."
"I'm sorry," Kara replied, pulling back her arm and tipping the knife. "But coming quietly isn't my policy."
The hunter, glaring hard at her, tried one last time to make his prey see reason.
"You're coming with me tonight, and we'll be traveling for a good while afterwards. I can make the trip comfortable, but I don't have to. I could go out of my way to make the next week hell."
"And damage your merchandise?" Kara sneered, but the sneer morphed into an irritable frown as the implication hit her. "
Wonderful
. I finally get caught, only to get taken in by a low-quality distributor? No wonder you're in such a poor mood. Third tier hunters don't get the same cushy bonuses the big boys get, do they? Most hunters would be thrilled to have another head on the roster, but I bet you've got a commissions cap, don't you?"
The hunter narrowed his eyes at her and Kara knew she'd hit a nerve. If she'd guessed right, he was probably with Xnonplt or Captly, Inc. Both were large, low tier slave distributors working out of Isleydor. And, more importantly, they were notorious for their "quantity, not quality" business strategy. Xnonplt and Captly made most of their money by cutting corners. Their slaves were transported in bulk and in unsanitary conditions, their medical workups were subpar for the market and kept up only with the lowest standards required by law, and their handlers were low-paid, poorly trained ruffians who used nightsticks instead of tasers and metal cuffs instead of leather. Kara had no interest in ending up at one of their filthy, disease-ridden outlets, but that wasn't the worst of it.
To be taken in by a low-ranking distributor...it was the most
degrading
kind of insult, especially after all Kara had suffered and how far she'd come. But it wasn't over, not yet.
Grumbling under his breath, the hunter reached along his belt for his nightstick and that's when she made her move. In that split-second when his eyes were off her, Kara darted away from him and toward her pack, but she wasn't fast enough. He came at her just as her fingers brushed the strap and tackled her to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping, Kara writhed in his grasp and only by some miracle was she able to get back onto her feet. With his nightstick poised dangerously above him, the hunter lunged again and Kara dodged, first one blow and then another. In the chaos, she managed to cut him—a small, nasty wound that ran along his left forearm—and though it wasn't much, it was something. Now, even if she didn't manage to escape, she at least had the satisfaction of drawing blood. But a moment later, rod hit flesh and Kara fell, sharp pain running up her right side. Cursing profusely, the hunter knelt into her back, wrestling the dagger away from her and pushing her face-first into the dirt.
"You stupid little cunt! Are you proud of yourself—huh?—
fucking up my arm!
