Page 84 of Exit Strategy

“No, I’m not. Your reputation is well deserved. I’ve not been thrown like that in a long time. I don’t feel like having my head knocked in, thank you.”

“So how I am going to do this?” I asked.

“I’ll walk you to the latrine and will have to assist you with your pants. Other than that, I hope you can manage.” His words had a hint of humor to them, but I could only feel my face flame with heat and a clench of fear between my legs.

“What about your companion?” I asked.

“Her words were, I believe,she can piss herself for all I care.” He gave me what I supposed was a disarming smile, like this was all quite amusing. “She’s had experiences similar to what Calanthe has endured. She was a victim, once. She sees you as a willing accessory to what has been going on at New Eden. You being a woman makes her consider you a gender traitor.”

He untied the rope from the tree and helped haul me up by a shoulder.

It was not often that a man dared to touch me – most were intimidated, or offended by me, just being there, taller than them, or stronger. He seemed respectful, but not otherwise bothered by my sheer existence.

“This is humiliating,” I said as he walked me to their latrine. This was a fucking primitive campsite, and they weren’t even using the cabin itself.

The tree laying smashed through the building explained that fairly simply.

Their car was a white-on-white Range Rover, and they had a mossy oak tent big enough for maybe four to sleep inside it.

There was no sign of Calanthe or Kurt.

This had been a fucking ruse, a trap, the entire time.

I looked up into the trees and the now almost completely dark sky as he unbuckled my belt, then my pants, and they fell around my ankles. The humiliation was almost complete. The air was cool against my legs, and there was nothing between my inner secret and his eyes other than the off-the-shelf cheap panties I was forced to buy if I’d at least wanted clean panties on this mission.

He slid them down.

I trembled when he touched my legs, but his fingers were quick and easy, and there was nothing awkward from him. He was a piece of ice for how cool he was.

I wished that I could be as indifferent as he was, as calm and unaffected. This nameless man scared me more than so many others I had met. He wasn’t excited by violence and having me completely vulnerable and at his mercy seemed to give him no thrill. The only explanation that came through my mind was that he was a sociopath, to the bone.

If he decided to kill me, I’d never know, and he wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep.

The woman I could understand – she was furious. She had an emotional investment. She had emotions and motives, and the sociopath seemed to be the one calling the shots. I shuddered, my imagination filling in the lurid details of the .357 firing, the way it would rock her skinny wrist back, and how the massive slug would penetrate my skull in slow motion.

“Do you have bathroom anxiety?” the man asked.

“What?” I stammered, shocked out of my reverie.

“Bathroom anxiety, you can’t go if someone is too close or is watching you?”

“No, I was just distracted,” I said.

“Can we get on with things? I have a number of kinks, and this involves none of them,” he said, and there was a hint of humor in his voice. I closed my eyes and concentrated on relaxing. That was an absolute paradox right there, but it worked, and almost like cracking open a rusty spigot, I was finally able to go. I felt heat rush to my cheeks again and almost clenched off mid-stream. I in front of a handsome sociopath, pissing like a horse.

I finished, with my face almost pressed to my knees.

Maybe being shot wouldn’t be as awful as this.

“Wipe? Or are you a drip dry?” he asked.

“Wipe, if you don’t mind,” I said.

He was quick, and it was done. I tried not to shudder, because there were feelings there that vibrated through my entire body. Shamed, bound, and now a strange man, whose name I had no idea of, was now the person who had come the absolute closest to me. Only this piece of tissue prevented his strong fingers from caressing me down there.

He helped me back to my feet, and then pulled my panties back up, then my pants.

His breath was warm against my neck as he did the zipper and button of the pants, and then the belt. I didn’t resist as he walked me back to my tree and tied me to it again.

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