This story was inspired by a kinky chat I had recently - It really got me going, and I decided to try to flush it out into a story.
This story is shorter than a lot of my other ones. And it is definitely non-consensual, since the whole thing is pretty much about an assault. If you do not like this, or if it will trigger a traumatic response, please read no further.
Special thanks to the friend who inspired this - I hope I did alright by our little fantasies.
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Someone was coming. Would this be it? Would it be the right woman? The man felt his heart pounding as he thought this might be the moment. After all of his fantasizing, was it about to become real? He cowered deeper in the bushes and watched the trail. It was a woman, but he could tell that it wasn't the exactly right woman. A little too tall, a little too curvy, not quite what he was waiting for. Then he noticed there was a guy jogging with her, so this definitely was not his opportunity. He edged deeper into the bushes and stayed still as they jogged past him. He would wait longer to make sure it was the right woman.
He felt hot and sweaty under his camouflage sweater and mask, but he couldn't risk being seen before he was ready to make his move. This trail was only sparsely used, but obviously he had picked one that had enough people so he'd be able to find his target. That meant that there was some risk of being caught, so even if he was uncomfortable, he had to stay hidden.
After twenty incredibly long minutes of waiting, no one else had come up the trail. He was getting worried this wasn't going to work out. After all of his planning, he had really thought this was going to happen today. He grappled with disappointment, but kept himself hidden, still hoping his opportunity would come. Just as he was about to crawl out from the bushes, he spotted movement on the trail below. It was another trail runner, coming up the trail quickly. Could this be the right one?
It was a woman, and she appeared to be alone. Lean, tan legs moving at a quick stride beneath short running shorts. Her tight t-shirt and sports bra showed off her flat tummy, and from what he could tell, just the size of tits that he liked. Her long brunette hair was in a ponytail that bounced vigorously as she ran. Yes, she was his type, this was the right woman. He did a last double check to make sure no one else was coming on the trail from above or below, and as she passed he sprung into action.
He rushed up behind her, pulling the knife from his belt. She didn't even realize he was coming until right before he grabbed her. His left hand wrapped under her arm and came up to cover her mouth. His right hand flashed the knife in front of her eyes, and then moved to press the point against the side of her neck. Not to cut her, but to make sure she knew he was not fucking around.
"Okay listen close, you cunt. I don't want to hurt you," he growled in her ear. "Do what I say, and you will be okay. But if you scream, or you keep struggling, and I will slice you from ear to ear. You understand bitch? Just keep still!"
He shook her harshly to emphasize his point. She stopped struggling, at least for a second, so he wrapped the knife arm around her waist, lifted her up, and moved as fast as he could off the trail towards the tree he and prepared. Once she realized what he was doing, and that the knife was no longer at her neck she started to struggle again, and to try to yell through his hand covering her mouth, but it was too late. He was more than six inches taller than her and probably had 75 pounds on her, so it was not hard for him to manhandle her. He carried her through the woods at a sprint, getting her far enough away so they couldn't be seen from the trail any longer. He pressed her face first against the tree he had prepared, and leaned his hip against her to pin her to it He used the hand on her mouth to pull her head way back, and put the knife against her throat.
"You want to get cut, bitch? Did you not understand me, you stupid cunt?"
He pushed her hard against the tree, making her let out a small whine. She stopped struggling again, and he put the knife back in his belt. He let go of her mouth, grabbed her wrist, pulled her arm up, and snapped the handcuff that he had tied to a branch around her wrist.
"No... puh...please," she managed to stammer out once he took his hand off her mouth. "Please let me go."
In less than five seconds both her wrists were in the handcuffs secured to the tree high above her head, and he spun her around to face him. He covered her mouth again, pushed her head firmly against the trunk, and looked into her eyes. Her face was gorgeous, even while it was contorted by fear. And her brown eyes, filling with tears, just made him more aroused. He used his grip on her jaw to shake her head vigorously, and growled at her.
"I told you to keep quiet you slut," he squeezed her cheeks forcefully, distorting her face. "We could have done this the easy way, but you want to do it the hard way, eh?
He pulled a ball gag from his pocket, and forced it into her mouth. She tried to resist, but he persisted, and she was no match for his strength. Soon the ball was in her mouth and buckled securely around her head. He felt himself relax slightly, knowing there was no way she was getting away or screaming for help.
He looked into her eyes, could see her confusion and fear, could see her trying to discern his face under the mask. He tossed the knife away and used his open hand to slap her face several times. Not hard enough to bruise, or even to jostle her head that much, but enough to sting and remind her how helpless she was. After the fifth slap her eyes were brimming with tears and she whimpered into the gag.
He pulled a pair of scissors from his pocket, the kind that paramedics use to cut off people's clothing, which is exactly what he intended to do now. Her eyes went wide as he used them to snip the air in front of her face. She shook her head wildly, but he leaned his hip into her pelvis, pinning her against the tree, and began to cut away her t shirt. He took his time, delighting in her muffled protest, the fear and embarrassment he could see in her face. He cut the t-shirt all the way up her left side, being careful to avoid her sports bra. He cut under her arm, all the way out the sleeve.
He used the opportunity now to squeeze her tit forcefully, and he relished her squeal as he mashed it inside her bra. He pushed his face close to hers and groped her boob.
"You're helpless now bitch," he taunted her. "I can do whatever I want to you now. And I'm going to enjoy it so much."
He shifted around and began cutting her t-shirt up her right side, all the way out under her arm again. He moved to cut from the top of her sleeve over her shoulder, and along her collarbone, causing the shirt to fall away, only kept up by the strip across her left shoulder. He could have pulled it away, but he wanted to make a show of it, so he cut across that shoulder, separating her shirt into two pieces. Then he stepped back, held the two pieces up to her, and cut them into several small pieces. The message was clear, no matter what happened here, she wasn't going to be wearing that shirt again.
She almost caught him off guard, but he saw her leg coming up towards his crotch just in time. He was able to pivot at the last second, and her foot struck his thigh and not in his crotch. It still hurt like a fucker, and he grunted in anger. He moved back in against her to hold her against the tree, his hip against her pelvis, his elbow poking hard into her tit. He slapped her face several times again as he taunted her. Still not hard enough to bruise, but he was sure it hurt.
"You wannna..."
Slap
"Play..."
Slap
"Games? Eh?"