Page 18 of The Devil in Disguise

He edges through the trees, closing the distance between us. I can hear his thundering feet and his deep breaths as he stalks closer and closer to his prey. I can see the gleaming metal of the car up ahead. If I can just make it a little further I can get there before him. He’s gaining on me, but I’m far enough ahead that I should be able to make it. I push through the ache and the exhaustion, willing my body to keep going.

And then it all comes crashing down. With enough force tocompletely knock the wind from my lungs, I’m tackled to the ground. Mud and decaying vegetation lodge themselves in my mouth, stifling the scream reverberating out of my core. The skin of my knees and hands scrapes and tears as I skid across the rough terrain of the wooded floor. His large frame crushes me roughly into the ground with punishing force.

“Caught you, angel,” he whispers in my ear as the plastic nose of the devil mask caresses the tender spot behind my lobe.

All I manage is a soft moan of agony before I’m ripped off of the soft ground and pulled to my feet. My chest and diaphragm sting from the impact as I desperately try to take a deep breath.

“I’ll be claiming my prize now. Be a good girl and I won’t be too rough with you.”

“Please. No.” My protest is barely a whisper as my body and brain fight to regain composure and process what’s happening. But everything is hazy; the drugs and adrenaline coursing through my system are blurring everything.

Leaning against the rough bark of a nearby tree, trying to find my opening to escape, I watch as he pulls his tee shirt between his shoulder blades and rips it over his head, careful not to remove the mask in the process. I make a move to run past him, but he’s too fast. He steps in front of me, looming over me and caging me in. Gripping the soft cotton of his shirt between his hands, he pulls and rips until a strip of fabric comes free. Letting the rest of the ruined shirt fall among the scattered leaves, he moves closer to my shaking frame. I’ve never felt more fragile, more breakable than I do in this moment. Placing his hands on either side of my head, he boxes me in between his imposing form and the tree behind my back.

“Your fear is delicious, angel.” He leans in and smells me. “But I can barely sense it over the overpowering stench of your arousal.”

“What?”

“Your pussy is weeping for me right now isn’t it, my little slut? Does the fear—the pain—turn you on?”

One of his hands moves to run up the length of my thigh. He slides a slow and torturous path up my quivering flesh towards the bottom of the sweatshirt. The empty pits of darkness where his eyes should be never leave my face as his fingers dip between my legs and find the fabric of my underwear.

“You’re soaking for me, angel,” he whispers against the shell of my ear while tracing small circles against the lips of my pussy.

Removing his fingers from underneath the sweatshirt, he places both hands behind my head. The thin strip of fabric he ripped from his shirt dangles loosely in front of my face.

“No!” I shout, attempting to shove him away when I realize he intends on blindfolding me.

Stepping back slightly he appraises me before asking, “Have you been a good girl or a bad girl, angel?”

I pause trying to figure out the right answer. “A-A good girl.”

“That’s right.” He lovingly strokes hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “And what do good girls get?”

“Rewards.”

“That’s right, sweet girl.” His praise causes my pussy to pulse in need. “Now let me give you your reward. Do you trust me?”

I know the answer should be no. I realize that I have no idea who this man is or what he wants with me. He drove me out to the woods and hunted me with another monstrous man, threatening to fuck me in the ass. The correct answer is no.

“Yes,” is what leaves my lips though.

Closing my eyes and leaning my face forward, I allow him to blindfold me. The fabric is thin but it’s so dark already that I can’t see much at all once he secures it on my head. Without my eyesight I feel vulnerable. I’m completely at his mercy, and while that should terrify me, instead I feel warmth and pleasure building in my core.

“Put out your hands in front of you, insides of your wrists together.”

When I comply, I hear the distinct sound of his belt buckle being undone. I can’t help but suck my bottom lip between my teeth. I want this. I want him. I want this fucked up kinky mix of fear and fun. I don’t remember the last time I felt this alive. Maybe it’s whatever drugs they gave me, or the adrenaline coursing through me from the chase but whatever it is, it’s completely intoxicating. And as he wraps his belt around my wrists, securing them to each other before pulling them up and tying them both to a tree branch above me, I feel like I’m fucking flying. I’m overflowing on a venomous concoction of lethal lust and poor fucking choices, and yet I’m totally free.

“Perfect,” he says as he lifts the sweatshirt up over my center, leaving it scrunched around my neck. The cool damp air stings my bare skin and I can feel my nipples harden against the rough lace of my bra.

I can’t see. I can’t move. I’m strung up, forced to stand on my tippy toes to alleviate the pressure on my tied wrists. My body is muddy and bloody. My only real piece of clothing is shoved up around my throat, leaving me completely nude besides my thin lace bralette and thong. My hair is a tangled mess and I’m sure my make-up is streaking down my face. I must look an absolute mess. How could anyone want me in my current state?

“Beautiful,” he whispers as if sensing my thoughts.

“No,” I protest despite the shiver of pleasure that pulses towards my core from his praise. “I’m a mess.”

“Not yet, you’re not.” I hear a rustle as if he’s moving around but I can’t see a thing. “But you will be.”

His large hands grip my thighs. His fingers dig roughly into my tender skin. Another bruise he’ll no doubt leave on my flesh as a reminder of tonight. Lifting both thighs in the air, he places first one, then the other on his muscular shoulders.

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