Author Topic: Recurring Nightmare  (Read 3367 times)

Offline CharlieWasHere

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Recurring Nightmare
« on: October 11, 2016, 05:01:56 PM »
*Note: It's been a long fuckin' time. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone again and exploring a new character and thus a new angle to storytelling. Hope you enjoy.

The cabin is a good distance from the main road, perhaps six or seven miles. The tree line is dense enough to shield any would be prying eyes. Last night I narrowed my search down to a five mile radius within French Creek State Park. It’s quiet, isolated, and visibly guarded from any fire towers. Understandable why a hunter like him would choose such a location. I knock three times, patiently waiting. The cabin is well built, but it doesn’t sit atop any visible footers. Instead the base is built from concrete and likely extends into a basement; no cellar door in sight. The hunter opens the door with a skeptical look.

“Are you Neil Rush?”
The man nods.
“Hello, my name is Adam Neilson. I’m with the Philadelphia Police Department.” I flash my ID.
“Philadelphia? Little outta your jurisdiction isn’t it?” He looks guarded but not defensive.
“Yes, but I’m not here on police business. More personal business.”
“Somethin' I can help you with?”
“I’m here because I don’t like other hunters stalking in my territory.”
For a split second I see recognition in his eyes, but he’s had practice. His look instinctively changes to confusion; it even looks genuine.
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean?”
“…Kristi.” My eyes lock with his and though I can’t see hesitation, I can sense it.
“Sorry but I don’t know what-“he pauses when I reach into my leather jacket and pull out the clump of brunette hair. I wonder what kind of flashbacks are running through his head. I was enjoying a long weekend at my own cabin when she stumbled into my view: the majority of her was bloody and dirt covered, her hair was a matted disaster, and she had appeared to sustain multiple bruises, burns, and lacerations…all consistent with a rape attempt.
“…would you like to come inside Officer Neilson?” gesturing through the doorway, his face now looks indignant.
“Call me Adam.” I enter, smirking.



“Miss, may I ask what happened?”
…she remained silent.
“Is there someone I can call?”
…”No,” she meekly replied.
I did my best to show sympathy. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Hospital? Police?”
“No, no police, no hospital, no reports, he made that very clear-“
“Who miss?”
She shook her head.
“Who did this?”
She shook harder.

I lean back and observed her bruises. Normally I would take the opportunity to learn from the mistakes of the attacker. In this instance however, I find myself wondering just how close I am to another like me. The Hillside Stranglers enjoyed a year-long spree of sexual torture and murder until Kenneth Bianchi fucked up. Perhaps I could find a confidant, maybe even a companion.

I can’t pass up this opportunity.

I walk to the window and observe the surrounding wilderness. I feel that familiar urge in my bones again. Here in my grasp is an unknown female with no connections and a possibility to establish a new acquaintance, maybe even one day a friend. I tap the glass with my rings and see her jump in the dim reflection of the glass. A smirk slowly creeps upon my lips.

“Alright Miss, the bathroom is down the hall. You’ll find towels, soap, shampoo, all that in the closet. I’ll leave some clothes for you on the floor outside the door. Food is in the fridge, help yourself. I’ll be back in a few hours. I have an errand to run.”

A few days ago I found a hunting arrow about two miles from my cabin, and thus began my sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t alone in these woods. With the arrow in one hand I begin my search for its owner. I travel to a few different stores, inquiring about any recent arrow purchases. Eventually I find the store manager who remembers a gentleman who bought arrows for a compound bow of his. I tell the man he’s a friend and I’m looking at his past spending habits so I can buy him an appropriate birthday present. He searches his receipts and hands me the invoices for the past six months. I have a name.

Returning to my cabin, I check in on Kristi who fell asleep on my couch. Grabbing my leather jacket and flashlight I head off in the direction of the found arrow. After three hours of sweeping the area for any sign of another person I come across a fire pit. Stones, a log, then I notice something unusual in the dirt; a clump of brunette hair. Holding it up to the light I note that neither ends have follicles, instead it appears to have been cut. I shove the clump into my pocket and inspect the ground. The dirt was plainly disturbed though from what, I’m not sure. I notice one of the rocks encircling the pit is missing. After a quick shift of my torch I see it a few feet away, like someone tried to throw it, possibly in a failed attempt to fend off a rapist. If this is in fact where the rape occurred however he would need a way to transport the body without being seen. I sweep again and notice tire tracks in a clearing about twenty feet further. I follow the tracks and find that they lead to a small dirt road, and if I’m right it’s the road that’s chained off with a NO TRESPASSING sign.

I return to my cabin and make preparations to visit this hunter.



Neil drove in silence, checking his rear view mirror frequently to reassure himself that his prize was still there. Arriving at the campsite, he idles for a minute while gathering his tools and shuts off the engine, lighting a Marlboro Red as he gets out. His prize stirs under the heavy blanket and he hops onto the flatbed with great enthusiasm. He takes slow, deliberate steps, letting the weight of his work boots hit the metal with a reverberating thud. He peels the blanket back to reveal a very frightened young doe like female, still wearing her Walmart employee uniform, mouth taped shut and soaked to the skin due to the ten hour car ride from Kentucky.

He pulls out his Ka-Bar and watches her squirm with her wrists and ankles duct taped together. Her whimpers reach his ear with a near perfect pitch and he feels the vibration in his dick. He takes a long drag and exhales into her face. She coughs through the tape and tries shaking her head to clear the smoke. Neil takes his prize by the ankles and drags her to the edge of the bed, slings her over his shoulder, and sets her down next to the fire pit. He douses the pit in lighter fluid and sets it ablaze, ensuring it burns hot and bright with plenty of fuel. Kristi flinches at the sudden dance of flames.

He laughs.

Taking a drag, he excites the embers on his cigarette. Watching the tip, he lowers the end towards her right eye, laughing just a bit harder as she whimpers in fear, her head straining away from his incoming hand. He stops just two inches above her pupil and flicks it, causing the excess ash to fall freely. She blinks rapidly, shaking her head back and forth. Flicking the filter into the fire, he lights another, grabbing his Ka-Bar afterwards. The blade’s sheen makes for a stark contrast against the tree line. Her rapid breathing grows louder in volume, her chest swells in timid anticipation. He kneels next to her, her body lying between him and the flickering light show. He systematically cuts through her uniform, tearing it to shreds and tossing the pieces into the pit to become fuel. Occasionally the knife “slips” and makes a small cut on her soft, smooth, skin. Now down to her bra and panties, his dick twitches ever so slightly at the sight of her before shredding those to bits as well…He smiles, inhaling her scent and stroking her stomach. With his left hand he holds her down by the throat, making note of her vibrations. With his right hand he grasps what’s left of his cigarette and burns it into her left tit just above the nipple.

…then the right…

…then the center of her chest…

…her gagged screams fill the sound gaps of burning flesh…

He chuckles at her agony, leaning over to taste her fresh tears with his tongue: salty, yet somehow sweet. He can feel the flicker of her eyelash against his nose. It tickles. The vibrations from her throat echo in his palm, almost as if he could yank her fear right out of her. Perhaps he would. He kept up the pattern, imprinting his mark in a trail leading across her stomach down to her pelvis. Her muffled cries were enough to make ejaculate then and there, but he was…experienced.

He knew comfort.

He knew want.

He knew to wait for the right moment.

Mascara stained her pretty cheeks. It flowed down the side of her face like vines snaking their way through a brick wall; quiet, slow, until the damage is already done. Once the last burn is made, Neil slowly runs the tip of his index finger over each mark feeling the heat radiate from her skin. Her voice grew weaker with each burn, and with each burn his satisfaction stretched across his face like a damn court jester. He began stroking her hair with an almost lover’s like touch. “Now, I’m going to cut the tape off, and you’re not gonna do a damn thing. Got it?” She meekly nodded. He rips the tape off her mouth, allowing her to fully breathe in for the first time in a long time.

“I’m so happy I spotted you headin' to your car.” He cuts her wrists free, though it only allows for her hands to shake freely. “Then it was all a matter of trackin' you home.” Flashback to seeing her enter her apartment. Alone. Minimal security and exposure risk. “Then of course there was sneakin' in,” he cuts her ankles free, “and snagging my prize.” Flashback to covering her mouth with his hand. She struggles. He wins. Tape. Truck. Home. “Now yer here with me.” He smiles at her dismay. Taking his Ka-Bar in one hand, he grips a segment of her hair and cuts. “And I,” holding it up to the firelight, “have a piece of y-,” he’s interrupted by an arm holding a rock flying towards his face and drops his trophy. His reflexes were honed by years of training however; she never made it five feet.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He yanked her by her hair back towards the fire. She screamed at the utter pain. He threw her into the dirt without much hesitation or care. He snatches his Ka-Bar in his right hand, sticking his left knee on her neck. “Did I not tell you to not do a damn thing?! You nodded your fuckin’ head you cunt!” He leaned in close to further absorb her horror.

He began cutting near her pelvis, weaving around her burn marks, but only deep enough to draw blood, possibly scar. She pushed at his knee, grabbed fistfuls of dirt and leaves, anything to distract her from the event transpiring. He stopped at the center of her chest, stuck his right knee in between her legs and leaned into her with his left forearm, covering her mouth with his hand. “You don’t get how easy it would be for me to skin you and hang you out to dry from a nearby tree.” She sobbed into his hand, exciting his hard on even further. “…I won’t though. I’ve come too far to just discard my prize. Especially when I haven’t even had the sweetest part of you.” He chuckled at the realization in her eyes. He stabbed his Ka-Bar into the ground next to her head, causing her to go stiff with trepidation. Tossing his coat aside, he pulled out his throbbing cock and positioned it at the entrance of her pussy. “You know what?” Pinning her wrists above her head with vice like intensity, he placed his knee in between her legs once more, “Just so you don’t get any other crazy ideas.” He thrust his knee directly into her cunt. Once, twice, one more for good measure. Her agonizing pleas to stop, please stop, reverberated in his psyche, eliciting a sly smile due to the pain he caused his prize.

Positioning himself again, he pinned both her wrists above her head with one hand; the other wrapped around her mouth and lower jaw. He always did gain more pleasure from muffled screams rather than allowed ones.

He pushed, incredibly hard and incredibly fast. Her muted cries of distress was enough to fuel his desire for hours. “Oh yeah,” he exhaled, thrusting with intent to harm, “yer gonna be a lot of fun.” The overcast moon stood in silence, witnessing her horrific nightmare with no intention of waking her up.
« Last Edit: April 08, 2019, 09:55:15 PM by CharlieWasHere »
I consider myself to be a perfect gentleman, but sometimes push comes to shove and at the end of the day not everyone is a saint.

gscmar64
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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #1 on: October 11, 2016, 06:16:48 PM »
Now that has me wanting more ASAP!                         Please,Pretty please?

Story Teller
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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #2 on: October 11, 2016, 07:00:22 PM »
This certainly piques my interest. Looking forward to the continuation. I admire and appreciate the detailed aspects of your story telling, will look for more of your writing. Thanks for posting.

Offline CharlieWasHere

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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #3 on: October 12, 2016, 08:22:42 AM »
Now that has me wanting more ASAP!                         Please,Pretty please?

Hush now, I'll get to it when I get to it. You'll get the full story in due time.

This certainly piques my interest. Looking forward to the continuation. I admire and appreciate the detailed aspects of your story telling, will look for more of your writing. Thanks for posting.

Why thank you. *tipsimaginaryhatslightly*
I consider myself to be a perfect gentleman, but sometimes push comes to shove and at the end of the day not everyone is a saint.

Offline Brokenwing

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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #4 on: October 12, 2016, 12:47:16 PM »
Wow I really love the detail and character building.  Look forward to reading more chapters of this and your other stories.
Just a moment to post a reply to an authors story makes it worth the hours of writing and editing the story.

Offline CharlieWasHere

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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #5 on: March 15, 2017, 08:18:53 PM »

*Note: Apologies for the wait. My life kinda fell apart and I'm just now putting it back together. I hope you enjoy.

“Coffee?” He held up the pot.
“Yes please,” he pours it into a simple white mug and pushes it my way, “Thank you,” I say taking a sip. I glance at the surrounding furniture and knick-knacks. The cabin, while rustic in theme is very organized in nature. A black leather couch faced the brick fireplace with a simple side table and black leather recliner ajar. The backs of both appeared to sit parallel to the interior walls. Any decorations, rifles, bows, animal heads, are placed with extreme precision in accordance with the wooden panels. Almost as if he had OCD, but not quite. The windows facing outside ran vertical with no visible way to open them; I doubt they open. The small kitchen held a simple fridge with a few cabinets, drawers, a sink, tiled floor, and a gas stove. A curved mirror sat in the upper corner of the walls and ceiling. In fact, looking back at the fireplace, another mounted curved mirror allowed visibility to the back hallway. I noticed he periodically checked them with his eyes; most likely out of habit. The floor is carpeted the whole way to the bedroom. A storage freezer sits off in the corner, but sat atop piece of cardboard cut a little too perfect. I took another swig and caught glimpse of the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor emblem on his right shoulder under his T-shirt.

Putting the mug down, “You’re former military?” I tilted my head intrigued.
“Yup, awhile back.” He held that familiar look of recollection. “I was part of that Operation Classic Resolve back in ’89. I was maybe fourteen when I decided I wanted to join the Marines. I had heard stories from the early Vietnam guys, but…they were just stories. So it was decided,” he looks amused as he’s pouring himself a cup, “I was gonna to be a fuckin’ yut yut. I was cozied up in Lebanon when Beirut turned into a shit show. Lost a lot of good friends” For a second I see pain. He chuckles to himself, “Mostly I just wanted to get away though.”
“Bad childhood?” raising my eyebrow.
“Nah nothin' like that,” taking a drink, “I was just bored. There’s only so many trash cans you can set on fire before you go lookin' for something more.” He pauses. “Ya know it’s weird, I don’t know if it was trainin', the combat, or what, but somethin' pushed me over the edge when I came home.”
I lean forward, “What do you mean?”
… “I was discharged in ’90, before they could send me on board with all that Desert Storm shit. Things didn’ excite me like they used to. I had my scrapes with local idiots. Wasn’t enough. I tried my hand at fuckin' girls I thought were hot. Still wasn’t enough. Well one night, I’m neckin’ with some chick I picked up after happy hour. She starts panickin'. Somethin’ about how she shouldn’t be doin’ it, God doesn’t approve, all that jazz.” He takes another drink.
“So you raped her?”
“Well not right away,” glancing my way. “We were in the woods at the time. Around midnight on a Monday so I knew we had a few hours. But she started goin’ on and on, hell this and dad’s gonna kill her that. She pushes me off and starts shuffling away…so I go after her.” He inhales sharply. “Never in my life did I feel a rush like that…At first I just meant to grab her wrist and try to convince her to stay. Instead it just freaked'er out more and she started runnin'…I went after her like a mountain lion; tackled her to the ground, pinned her. I’m sure you can imagine the rest.” He downs the rest of his coffee.

I look at the bottom of my own mug and see white. “So what happened next?”
“She never told anyone. I was freaked out myself until I realized cops weren’t able to mount much evidence. The woods offered a nice secluded place where it would be impossible to pick up any bodily fluids. This was also still in a time where blaming the victim was a legitimate reason to not dig very deep.”
I nodded slightly in agreement.
“I took steady construction jobs over the years; Alabama, Tennessee, California, Jersey. The travelin' lent me to new hunting grounds. Yeah I’ve had my fair share.”
“So is this a cabin some sort of base or something, like an outpost?” I slide my mug back over for him to wash after his own mug.
“Kinda. This one right'ere is actually my cabin. I built it all myself. Installed the septic, water, electric, gas. I periodically restock everythin' myself so no one but me sees this place. Well, me and my prizes anyway.” He chuckles at his own thought.
“The freezer in the corner,” his eyes snap in my direction, “that leads into a basement right?”
He straightens up and inhales sharply. “…You really don’t miss much do ya?”
I lean in, fold my hands, and make eye contact. “No, I don’t…May I see inside?”

A smirk slowly stretches across his face.



Neil kept a steady pace, his body engulfed in ecstasy. With every push his hands dug into her flesh like a parasite, hands pulsating with her writing body. His teeth were set on edge from the excitement. His heart thudded against his chest, echoing a harsh rhythmic cheer. He pushed. Harder and harder he probed the inside of her tight cunt with his cock, growling low as her muffled cries attempted to break free from under his palm. Her heels ground into the dirt beside him as an effort to throw him off, but it only added to the resistance he loved feeling whenever he went hunting. At some point in the ordeal her head managed to wrench free from his grip.

“STOP!” she cried out, “Please! Nnnnuuhhh, I c-,” he planted a solid right into her gut.
“You can. You will. And,” he clutched her lower jaw forcing eye contact, “from the internal wetness I feel, you seem to be enjoyin' this.” He forced her head to the side to whisper, “but that could be blood. Either way,” he licked the side of her cheek from jawline to temple, “it feels amazin'.”
“Please nnuh just let me go! I won’t say anything to anybody!” she pleaded as best she could in the moment.
He laughed at her, “Of course ya won’t.” He wrapped both hands around her throat, not enough to legitimately suffocate but enough to scare. “You won’t mention this to yer family, friends, the cops, you won’t even go to the hospital. Because if you do,” he squeezed even tighter, constricting her to the point not even wheezes could be heard, “the next place you’ll be headed is the mortuary.”

In a single instant he not only felt the flood of oxytocin but physical response. Her pussy tightened around his cock in a way he only felt a few other times when he went hunting. The opportunity allowed him to toy with their emotions, as if the physical harm wasn’t enough. He enjoyed calling them ‘sluts’ and ‘whores’ just to see the look of utter humiliation well up in their eyes. “Looks like somebody likes to get choked.” He chuckled at the enormous gasps needed to refill her lungs. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” With that sentiment Neil exploded into her cunt, gripping her throat so hard her eyes went dead. After his moment of ecstasy he peered into the glossy pupils, smirking at his handiwork.

Feeling satisfied he stood, moving towards the edge of the fire light to relieve himself. He glared into the darkness, inhaling the atmosphere around him. “Tell ya what,” he exclaims, zipping his pants, “I’m gonna check your reflexes here.” He shuffles around in the truck cab, searching for his compound bow and a few arrows. All at once he feels the heavy thud of a rock striking him in the back of the thigh and the hastened footsteps of his prey attempting to run away. He cries out in surprise, before responding in anger, turning around with an arrow strung and blindly shooting in her general direction.

A hiss.

A miss.

And one pissed off hunter.
« Last Edit: April 08, 2019, 09:57:23 PM by CharlieWasHere »
I consider myself to be a perfect gentleman, but sometimes push comes to shove and at the end of the day not everyone is a saint.

gscmar64
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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #6 on: March 15, 2017, 08:49:13 PM »
Damn well worth the wait C. Neilson now the hunt is on!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #7 on: March 15, 2017, 09:13:50 PM »
Rumor has it that these girls, these nice soft girls, are the best game to hunt!  :emot_thedrool.gif:
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline CharlieWasHere

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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #8 on: April 23, 2017, 06:36:18 PM »
Note: Finally, here it is. As always, hope you enjoy.

“Here it is.” Neil flipped on the lights, illuminating a small concrete floor room. A water heater sat in the far corner next to a dog kennel. The wood paneled walls sported various types of compound bows. On one side of the room stood a miter saw and belt sander. The other side stood a workbench with various hand tools hung on pegboard above. To the average Joe, the room looked like a typical handyman’s workshop, if not a little cramped. “I ran some HVAC to the outside so as to filter out the saw dust. I do actually use them tools for small projects and whatnot. Although,” he pauses as if caught mid memory, “I do occasionally use them to play with my prey.” He chuckles.

“And the cage?” I inquire.
“Oh that’s in case I wanna keep ‘em around for a bit. Maybe test out a new tool or somethin’.”
I scan the room for anything out of place. Well, out of place for what we did. I noticed a multi drawer tool cabinet with a key hole in the bottom drawer. “You keep your trophies in there?” I motion towards the lock.
“Jesus. I better pick a new spot.” He paces over and unlocks the drawer with a key from his belt. The showing before me sported one of a long history, perhaps longer than mine. With each lock he had tied it around an arrow tip cut approximately two inches in length. Hair of every color and kind were in the drawer; blonde, brunette, black, red, straight, curly, frizzy. It didn’t matter. Seems as though I’ve run across an indiscriminate hunter. Someone who doesn’t hunt for an ideal, but rather to satisfy an urge.

I decide to make my offer.

“Neil?” I begin. His head turns to the side. I hand over the matted clump of brunette hair, his face somewhat embarrassed at the sight of his trophy in such disarray and being given under such unusual circumstances. “You ever work with a partner?”



“Miss?” I gently shake her arm, causing her to startle awake though she immediately calms down when she realizes her surroundings. “I have to take you back. Somewhere. Unfortunately you can’t stay here…You understand?”

She nods.

“Come on then, it’s already close to midnight.” I motion towards the door and she followed suit. I lock the door behind me and we head towards my cruiser. I open the back door for her, “You’ll have to sit in the back. It’s against policy to let civilians ride up front.” She shuffles into the back seat muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ to which I respond, “Don’t thank me yet.” and close the door, making sure to hide my smile. I begin driving away from the cabin at a leisurely pace, content hearing the sound of gravel beneath the tires. The trees, while seemingly innocent looking in the daytime, produced an eerie dominance over the cabin in a way that was both imposing and protective. “If you don’t mind I need to stop by a friend’s cabin on the way back.” I peak at the rear view mirror and see indifference. I continue driving, humming Robert Palmer’s ‘Simply Irresistible’ quietly to myself as we near the gate. I stop the cruiser and get out to lower the chain. I catch a glimpse of Kristi’s confused face and suppress a massive grin. I temporarily hop back in to drive over the chain before hopping back out and hook it back up. As we approach Neil’s cabin, I hear Kristi’s breathing becoming arrhythmic and strained. “Are you okay?”

No answer.

I park the cruiser and shut off the engine awaiting my friend to make an entrance. A figure appears in the doorway. Stark. Stoic. Standing with purpose. Even against dirt and broken leaves, his footsteps seemed to boom. His body appears to glide towards the vehicle and it takes a lot of my energy to not chuckle in suspense. He approaches her side of the door and taps on the glass. I hear her jump. Then shriek, “IT’S HIM!” She scampers to the other side of the cruiser.

I finally let out a snicker. “I know.”

As I get out of the front seat I can see her grasping for the handle before realizing the back doors only open from the outside. I watch as Neil swings the door open and reaches in, blocking kick after frantic kick. I myself peer in the window, enjoying the cries for help. After a bit of struggle Neil manages to grip both ankles and forcibly drag her from the backseat. I casually walk around the rear bumper and spectate as he aggressively twists her arm behind her back, eliciting a sharp yelp. He chuckles at her displeasure, his excitement clearly evident in his pants. I close in, cuffs swinging around my index finger. He sees my intentions and offers up her wrists and I oblige; first the left, then the right. I grab the chain in one hand and her hair in the other and yank her to the front bumper, slamming the side of her face into the hood of the cruiser.

Neil squats down, examining her fear stricken and tear filled eyes. “You really pissed me off bitch. Ya know that?” He fishes around my hand and twists the back of her head, causing her to crane her neck up towards him. I release my grip. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t just kill you right here right now. My new friend here convinced me that’s just a whole mess I don’ wanna deal with, so I’m not gonna. But right now,” he picks her head back up and slams it back into the hood, “it’s time for us to have some fun with you.”

“How do we decide who goes first?” I ask.
“…Coin flip?”
“Sure.”
He digs into his pocket and produces a quarter. With the flick of his thumb he calls heads…

Tails.

I snicker at the result, pressing my hard on against her ass. Her involuntary movements to shake me off only rubs against my crotch. “Hold her down, will you?” Neil complies, placing a hand on her neck and chained wrists. I grab the elastic around her waist and pull the sweat pants down, exposing her asshole and cunt. She’s begging us to ‘please stop, please stop.’ Neil simply laughs at her. I on the other hand reach inside my right pocket. “Not sure how familiar you are with police equipment. But lately they’ve been trying to push these extendable batons on us.” A quick flick of the wrist and I hear the mechanisms lock into place. “‘Extendos’ as they’re called around the precinct.” I hammer fist on the hood of the cruiser startling her. Neil wraps a tight grip around her lower jaw, forcing her to look at him.

He zoomed in close, narrowing in like a cobra ready to strike. “You got away from me once bitch. Not again.” He chuckled a low tone before slamming her head back onto the hood. I released my hard on, letting it fall on the center of ass. Spitting on the tip I lube myself up and begin pressing my dick inch by inch into her asshole. She bucked and tried to scream through Neil’s hand. He struggle just guaranteed my cock sinking further into her tight asshole. Endorphins engulf my body as my entire shaft slips deep inside her. I cane her with the baton, leaving a bright red mark across her back. She stiffens up at the impact, letting out a shrill cry of pain. I belt out a few more, the stripes glowing bright red under the moonlight.

“Here,” I say handing the baton to Neil, “have some fun.” I grab her hips and begin pounding slow but hard in metronomic repetition. She grunted with each slap, the expulsion of air sounding weaker and weaker. Neil on the other hand made ample use of the baton. He left mark after mark, showcasing to me his taste for violence. I didn’t mind; violence still turns me on. By the time he took a break her entire back was red and raw. I take my nails and drag them down her spine, leaving my own scratch marks. Next thing I realize is the surge of ecstasy and the tightening in my balls as I cum. Once the brain chemicals settle I pull out, stagger back, and smirk like a damn idiot. I toss my fists up in the air and yell, “Wooo! You gotta get a piece of her ass man, it’s amazing.”

Before I can even zip myself up he’s already behind her, throbbing hard on in hand. He begins putting the tip inside her ass; no prep, no warning, no mercy. Her entire body rives and shakes, her eyes distant yet present, and here I am…standing over her like a gladiatorial champion. He grabs her by the hips, baton still in hand, and pounds into her like he hasn’t been laid in months. Gripping the baton in both hands he slides the shaft into her mouth like a bridle and continues to ride her. The gagging sounds she produces only tease my sense of sound as my dick twitches in excitement. Neil continues to fuck her with a vengeance, his teeth bared and his knuckles white. When he finishes he’s sweating like a stallion, his body spent from reclaiming what he almost lost. He smirks.

He hands me my baton and I collapse it back down. He spits, hands on his waist as if contemplating what to do next. Without hesitation he grips and handful of her hair and yanks her off the hood and onto the ground. She attempts to curl up but is unable as Neil plants a construction boot in her back. He chuckles and looks at me, as if we’re playing chess and now it’s my turn. I look at her striped back and cum dripping asshole as I toss the baton up and down…then I get an idea. I walk over and take a knee by her head. I force her to look at me and notice a key and heart pendant hanging around her neck. I lean in close, saying in a low tone; “No police. No hospitals. Not a single word. Understood?” She nods yes.

“Good.”

I extend the baton once more and begin inserting the tip into her asshole, inch by inch until resistance is felt. I pump in and out, in and out, in and out, ramming harder each time. Her screams of agony now reduced to mere whimpers. Neil chuckles at her predicament. I pull the baton out and collapse it once more.

“Now what?” Neil asks.
“Now we get rid of her.”
“What you mean kill'er?”
“No! You know how much effort that is with clean up and alibis and shit? No, I mean drop her off in the middle of nowhere.”
“Oh, ok. Why didn’t you just fuckin’ say that in the first place?”

We remove the handcuffs and load her into Neil’s pickup truck, right between us. We drive maybe for forty minutes on the highway before pulling off onto some bum fuck middle of nowhere looking town. I get out my side and pull her by the shirt collar. She nearly stumbles but I catch her and pin her against the side by the arms. She doesn’t look at me. I rip the pendant from her neck and get back in the truck. Neil starts the engine up and I see her jump in the side mirror.

As we drive back on the highway we don’t say a word. Then out of nowhere he asks, “Wanna grab a beer?” I side eye him. He keeps his eyes on the road.

“Sure.”
« Last Edit: April 08, 2019, 10:03:38 PM by CharlieWasHere »
I consider myself to be a perfect gentleman, but sometimes push comes to shove and at the end of the day not everyone is a saint.

gscmar64
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Re: Recurring Nightmare
« Reply #9 on: April 23, 2017, 07:52:01 PM »
Once again well worth the wait to read such a well plotted story. Love how they used her wit the baton!