I go over the steps once more in my head.
Master said I was to leave the cabin for my walk by eight. The sun would be setting, and there wouldn't be much traffic leading to the secluded cabin that he rented for the weekend.
We have been talking about this for months. A fantasy that we both couldn't let go.
We kept our lives a secret. Nothing personal was ever said. And he only showed me pieces of himself when he deemed I was worthy. He said he wanted to see the real fear in my eyes the first time I saw his face.
He wasn't a beautiful hero.
He was a monster.
A hunter.
And I was about to be his prey.
I check my Apple watch; The Mickey Mouse screen clock reading seven fifty-eight.
I pull in a deep breath. Expanding my ribs as far as its comfortable. Holding for ten, and releasing.
I have no control of the nervousness that festers in the pit of my stomach. At this point I think it's out right fear.
We discussed things that were not allowed. I didn't want permanent scars, and he had to agree upon the ultimate after care. I know I will need it.
Light cutting of the skin, burning with wax, and some electric play was ok, and agreed upon.
He gave me orders through messages, demanding I show proof that I followed through.
If I obeyed he praised me and made me feel like the most valuable person in the world.
If I didn't. He didn't hold back on the taunting, degrading words. He made me write sentences and send proof.
One time he made me do it while I had a dildo inside me, and I wasn't allowed to cum for a week after that.
It was pure, delectable, torture.
His favorite thing to do is make me write the degrading words on my body, while he watches on camera. I can hear him cum. See his hard cock. But he never shows his face. Tonight, that will change.
I still have words CUM SLUT written across my tits from not having enough to eat two days before and drinking too much wine. I got mouthy. Bad Idea.
I grab my water bottle off the table, put my headphones in. Another command from Master.
He said he wanted to get rid of my senses. I was to listen to my music as loud as it would go, so I didn't hear him approaching. And if I didn't obey even the slightest detail, it would only intensify what I already had coming.
I run down the three steps that lead off the wrap around porch. The white porch swing sways in the gentle wind.
Red and yellow leaves stir. Adding color to the gloomy evening.
Dress By Taylor Swift blasts in my ears. I try my best to center my attention on the familiar, sensual lyrics. But it does nothing to combat the mixed feelings running through me. My body is on auto pilot at this point.
Running off the adrenaline from fear.
Excitement.
He told me to wear the shortest shorts that I had, no bra, and a white shirt. Specifically, so he can see the filth on it after I fight him. He liked that I would have less clothing to protect against scratches from any brush if I was to fight back.
That thought should leave me running, but it only makes the wetness between my legs accumulate and spread through my folds.
He claimed he'd be able to smell my arousal mixed with my sweat, like a predator could it's prey.
He is sadistic. But damn if he doesn't say the right things to make me feel like a princess.
His princess.
I smile at the thought. I don't know the details, so I'm not sure when he will attack.
He gave me my route and told me to run. But to not use all my energy right away. I'd need it to fight.
I take in the heavily forested area around me and try not to think too much about the fact that he could be watching me this very moment.
I have a thought or two about having a heart attack or something, and I can't help but giggle.
My playlist carries on in my ears.
Whore By In This Moment begins playing, and the irony isn't ignored.
It happens when I finally get thoughts of him out of my head, and I feel safe.
A hand wraps around my throat pinching off any air that I attempt to pull into my lungs. They are screaming from the run. And now from panic.
His other arm wraps around my ribs and tits, crushing me to him.
My legs feel like Jello. But I try my best to fight him off. It doesn't take long before I realize there is no way out of the hold. When I move, his grasp on my throat only gets tighter. It becomes harder to not give in to the darkness that comes with the lack of air, but he seems to know the limits because he finds mercy before that point happens. He loosens up his grip, and I'm able to pull in a breath of air.
It gives me a fallacious sense of hope. An artificial security blanket.
I think he has given up and believes in my false submission, so I decide to put all my energy into one last fight. I rear my elbows back to only be pushed forward into the ground with his counter force.
I can't hear my cries over the music. But I know my knee is busted, and my hands are scraped. The usual burning pain I'd feel from them is nonexistent. My body is in fight or flight.
I crawl a few inches before he grabs me by the ankle. I'm weightless compared to his strength as he pulls me effortlessly to him. My shirt rides up against the ground scraping my nipples against the pebbles on the road.
I feel his weight on my back, and soon enough his mouth is at my ear. He removes the earbud with his teeth, spitting it onto the ground beside us. Noises from the outside world rush in, overstimulating me further.
It's too much.
I thought I was strong enough for this, but I'm not.
I'm weak and pathetic.
