Page 16 of Rawest Venom

First step is to make it to the pines that stand thick and close together. The ash are in the way but will help as I dart in a zig-zag pattern between each. My shoulder brushes against a firm trunk, shoving me to the side, but I keep going, maintaining my balance after a small stumble. Leaves crunch about ten and a half feet behind me. Steps coming every two to three paces of mine.

Hmm, probably six foot two. Maybe two hundred pounds, someone solid. Sneakers, not boots.

Because I anticipated being seen, I hadn’t brought my handgun. Fortunately, my greatest weapon is heldwithin. If they wanted me for the mushrooms or for territory violation, then they would have taken a shot already. This means their motive is something far more sinister.

Diving toward the pines, I squeeze around two oaks, but when I attempt to get a look behind me, my ankles twist into something tight, snaring me into a trap.Fuck! It’s a literal trap. He’s been guiding me to his snare. How did I not realize that?

I scream in a shrill shriek, “No!” The waves of the sound carry out into our desolate surroundings. The owls don’t care as they continue to hoot a banal reply.

Before I can fall on my hip, a gloved hand snatches my arm, the other gripping my neck, pressing me against the base of the big tree, as my leg slides from the netting surrounding it. My eyes squeeze tightly shut when I finally let the fear overtake me. Tears roll down my cheeks while his cool breath huffs over my skin, painting it with ownership. When I squirm, he presses his chest to mine and then joins me with his waist. An involuntary alarmed gasp leaves my mouth as his large, firm erection presses into my belly. The fact that it causes my thighs to flood with wetness is something I don’t want to analyze at this moment.

Fuzzy fabric scratches across my face as the man nears me and speaks in a robotic voice, “Who are you?”

My heart stops and the winter chill that I enjoyed now rips into my skin like icicle daggers from the unearthly sound. “Wha-what do you mean—” The hand around my throat tightens its hold, cutting off my words.

“Who. Are. You.” It’s a voice modulator. Voice modulator, think, think. He allows me some air, relaxing his fist. Slowly, I peek one eye open, then the other. Everything in me wishes I hadn’t.

Underneath a black hoodie, the man is wearing a bright white molded mask, giving him an otherworldly appearance, like a demon pretending to be an angel. Or a monster feigning human. He must be wearing some type of black cover because the eye holes are completely dark, the mouth only a tiny slit.

Steadying my voice, I squeak out, “I’m sorry, I was just enjoying the park.”

Long, trailing white puffs come out of his tiny nostril holes, until I think he’s as frozen as the land. With a buck of his hips, he rapidly shoves his hard dick into my stomach as he blocks my air. His masked face buries itself into the crook of my neck as he pants behind the molded plastic. A robotic groan escapes from him as I stand plastered to the bark in bewilderment. The man is rubbing his cock all over me and getting off on it.

“Why can I smell you?” The mechanical sounds vibrate my skin as his breath heats it, sending shock waves down my limbs.

“Wha-what?”

“Why can I smell your pussy?” And before I know what’s happening, the hand not gripping my neck shoves down the front of my pants as my tongue gets caught in the back of my throat. Grasping at his forearm, I try to peel it back from its venture, to no avail. He’s very strong and determined.

“What are you—” My air is cut off again.

The gloved hand rips its way between my thighs and my body decides to relax against the pressure two leathered fingers provide on my clit. He strokes arduously, yet gently on my nub before dipping his middle finger into my entrance. My hips follow the motion, gathering more of the digit inside. Wanton, that’s what I am. I’m reckless with need. As the clutch around my throat loosens, I let out a slow, calculated sigh.

The mask looks up at my face. “You’re slick. Why are you soaked right now?”

Despite the wetness coating my pussy lips, the racing of my pulse, and the desire to buck against his palm, I tell the figure, “I want you to stop.”

Plunging in repeatedly, he thrusts his erection on my stomach once more with a breathy laugh. “You don’t make demands. You’re not real.” With a few more juts of his hips, he emphasizes his point with the machine buzzing out, “You’re. Not. Fucking. Real.” But before I can protest with my body or let it lapse into ecstasy, he quickly rips his forearm from my jeans, holding up the hand and making a V with his fingers, showcasing strings of my juices between them. It’s thoroughly embarrassing to have the evidence of my body’s betrayal before my eyes.

“Open. Clean my gloves.”

Before I can refuse, he squeezes my neck until my mouth forms an ‘O’ and he plunges his fingers into my mouth, so I taste myself. It’s musky, sour, but with a hint of sweetness. Something I’d never tried before. Then, his mouth slit presses against my face and the tip of a tongue protrudes enough to lick what I hadn’t swallowedfrom my glistening lips. Two quick little inhales are heard in the stillness of the night, and his body shudders, the dick between us even more palpable.

His broad chest straightens and holds me to the tree, legs pinning mine by standing on either side. The robot groans inhumanly with its pleasure while poking repeatedly into me. He’s going to explode.

“Do you want me to come on you?” My skin tingles in terror at the sound escaping the machine. The mask so flat, so alien, it’s worse than if it were just a strange man.

“What?” My word lands in a squeal as his fingers surround my windpipe.

“Do you want me to come in my hand and shove it inside your mouth or your pussy?”

It almost comes out as a scream, only held back by the hand around my throat when I say, “N-no!”

His rapid, rhythmic pace halts and he returns to a statue, head still buried close to my carotid. Panting, I plead with whimpering moans but am too afraid to speak. The mouth slit edges up to my ear and the robot commands, “Then you better run.”

And with that, his presence is gone, three paces away from me. Without a moment’s hesitation, my legs sprint toward the pines, panicked sobs escaping my ribcage in a shattered vibrato. Satanic laughter haunting the forest, echoing off every ancient tree we pass, heightens my terror.

Come on, get it together. Instead of the skinny copse, I divert back toward town and the entrance of the park. I need people.

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