Phoenix

Hereford isn’t familiar turf. I rely on satnav to reach the address I found listed for Abigail Rachel Summers on the electoral roll, and then I lap the block a few times to get my bearings.

Her apartment building is a rickety period place, just a stone’s throw from the town centre. I park up in an unloading bay around the corner and scope it out on foot. The communal entrance shows six apartments listed. Six apartments, three floors. The view through the glass door is just enough to see the numbers on the the bottom two apartment doors.

Number one is on the left. Two on the right.

It’s easy to assume they continue up in the same pattern.

Hers is number four.

One floor up on the right hand side.

I step back and look up at the window. Twilight makes it easy to tell the light is on, but I see nothing to confirm my suspicion it’s her place. The walls look plain through the window. No trinkets on the sill.

I hang back, staring right up there from across the street.

So close. She’s so fucking close. I want to see her. Catch a glimpse of her.

I want to taste her, impale that sweet little cunt again and again.

I have no rein on the beast in my belly as it throbs and stirs. My dick is already straining in my jeans, my pulse already quickening.

Part of me considers heading up there and beating her door down before midnight is anywhere near.

It’s tempting, but no. I save that idea for another day.

Another day.

I’m already thinking about this crazy arrangement as if it has some kind of longevity.

It should freak me the fuck out, but it doesn’t.

I focus back on the night ahead of me. Of us. Tonight is all about the hunt. The chase. The thrill of the pulse in my ears as my boots pound the ground after her. Grabbing her in the dark, muffling her screams. My dick twitches in sweet anticipation.

I call up a map on my phone, examining how the streets branch out from here. To the left is the main bulk of civilisation. Streetlights and clubs and cameras. To the right is the cathedral. Cobbled lanes and shady grounds. Beyond that looks to be parkland. I zoom in closer and realise it’s a sprawl of playing fields.

The river runs next to them.

The river path ends up on the outskirts. I follow it with my finger and zoom where the streets have thinned out. A pub on the corner. A few houses nearby from the looks. Not a lot else.

My senses prickle. This is perfect.

I’m back in my truck in a heartbeat, destination set. Sure enough, the streets thin out as I drive. The pub is still open when I get there but won’t be for long. The car park is deserted.

I park up in the spot closest to the river and grab a torch. The path is just where I expect. A gap in the fence leads right down to the water. It’s dark here. Treacherous. Perfect.

I’ll herd her right the way through the shadows, straight to my waiting truck. She’ll have no fucking idea until it’s too late. I’ll just have to grab her at the right spot.

I do a 360.

Right… here. I make a mental note of it. Of the tree looming overhead. The dull streetlamp positioned over the pub fencing.

Yeah, I’ll recognise it, sure enough. I’ll grab her right before the entrance to the car park.

And then she’ll meet the monster for real.

I head back to the truck for my final preparations. I take Cameron’s safety seat from the backseat and store it out of view in the trunk. I check what work supplies I have to hand while I’m in there.

The tow rope seems both drastic and tempting, but I like it. I coil it on the passenger seat for easy reach.

I lock the truck and set off on foot. I check for any junctions in the river path on the way back, any potential spots I could lose her. There aren’t any worth worrying about. This route is straight, a rat run of shadows and uneven ground. She’ll be too busy keeping her footing to worry about veering off course.

Perfect.

Twilight has turned to darkness long before I’ve made it back to her apartment block. The glow of the city is ominous across the meadows. Bitter orange and dirty enough to be sinister.

The water ripples and splashes in the blackness down below. The banks are high and thick with undergrowth. A group of kids with bikes hang out at one spot, but they’re already clearing off for the night as I pass by.

I clear a couple of empty drink cans from the path and snap away the occasional branch that hangs down too low.

I feel empowered as I reach the cathedral grounds. She’ll be able to run. Fast. Largely unhindered. Run straight into the trap and she’ll never even know it’s coming.

My balls tighten. My muscles already wired and ready for the chase.

I make sure my boots are fastened tight before I call up my login screen on my mobile, and then I wait.

I watch.

I think about her.

I think of all the things I’m going to do to her sweet little body once she’s too exhausted to run another step.

I know it’s her apartment for sure when a shadow passes across her window. I see the shape of her against the wall inside. Back and forth. Over and over.

Pacing.

She’s pacing.

And my heart is racing.

She’s waiting. Readying herself.

Feeling the fear.

It’s a beautiful observation.

The last fifteen minutes crawl by, but that’s good. I’m lost in the rhythm of her pacing, riding the tremors of anticipation. I can’t wait to sink my dick into that tight little cunt all over again.

I log in at midnight and she’s already signed in.

She stops pacing. Her shadow darts away.

I don’t bother with small talk.

You will leave your apartment. You will be barefoot.

You will head for the cathedral. You will walk slowly through the grounds until you reach the river path.

When you are scared, you will run.

One simple question pings back at me.

Barefoot?

I smile to myself.

Yes, Cinderella. Barefoot.

I wonder if she’s smiling too.

Now? she asks.

I back into the shadows. My eyes firmly on her apartment entrance.

Now.

 

* * *

 

Abigail

 

Now.

I’m dithery as I shove my phone in my handbag. I shove my keys in after it.

I’m dressed in a baby blue summer dress, which I know is stupid at this time of night, but it seemed a good option when I tried it on. It shwooshes as I run and looks so pretty as I twirl. I want to look pretty for him, even though we’ll be in darkness and he probably doesn’t give a shit either way.

My belly flutters as I realise just how much I want to look pretty for him.

My knickers are skimpy and white. My bra is white lace and pokes up over the neckline of my dress.

I don’t bother with a jacket. I somehow suspect I’ll work up quite a sweat.

No shoes.

I take a breath as I head down the stairs, and pause for just a second before stepping onto the street, the pavement cold under my feet. I know exactly the route he means. The view towards the cathedral looks clear.

I wonder where he is. If he can see me. Of course he can. He’s in the shadows, somewhere near.

The thought makes me shiver.

A beat and I walk with purpose, eyes wide and head up, flinching at every shadowy doorway, even though there’s nothing there.

Church Street is narrow and dimly lit. I keep right in the middle between the buildings, focused on nothing other than saving my breath for what’s ahead.

I’m going to need it, and I know it.

I slip through the bollards into the cathedral grounds, and my soul lights up in the darkness. It’s magical. Beautiful.

The cathedral is a beacon of wonder. Lit up in a grandeur I’ve never really appreciated until now. Imposing and petrifying and brilliant all at the same time, looking over me as I stand barefoot in the middle of the night, just waiting to… sin. A crazy bitch sinner.

I’m smiling at the thought and I savour this moment. I want to remember it forever.

I walk on the grass to save my toes, and it’s easy to pick up pace as I cross the grounds toward the river path. I flinch as grass turns back to tarmac, then flinch again as my toe scuffs a stone.

Ow.

Tonight could be really fucking painful.

In more ways than one.

I realise now that he could appear at any moment. I scan the shadows, my heart suddenly racing. Will he throw something, like last time?

Or will he just jump me and throw me to the ground.

I’m petrified and excited all at once, to the point that my heartbeat is in overdrive. Everything about this screams crazy. But I couldn’t talk my body down from this if I tried. Every single muscle is wound tight and ready to go.

I’m ready to go.

But he said to walk slowly, so I do. I walk as slowly as my jittery nerves can bear, the harsh ground underfoot not helping.

I breathe as steadily as I can. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I clutch my handbag tight just to keep hold of something.

The drop to the river path is dark. Really dark.

I hesitate at the top, my eyes blinking and searching. Waiting.

Waiting for the monster to jump out of the shadows. Waiting for him to hoist me from my feet and drag me away.

Tiny steps, so tiny. Edging closer. I’m so expectant. So alert.

But he isn’t there.

Fuck.

I was so sure. So fucking sure.

But no. I descend without incident. My feet hit the grit and soil of the river path and all I hear is water down below.

My senses run riot down here, imagining horrors all around me. Hands in the undergrowth reaching out. Hot breath on my neck.

It’s the crunch of a stick behind me that sets me running. A squeal and I’m away, racing along the riverside without even so much as a glance back over my shoulder.

My hands swing at my sides, handbag long forgotten. It bounces against my ass, making a strange slapping sound as I go. My breath is wild in my ears. My heart is on fire.

My feet don’t feel a single thing.

I know this way well, but at this pace it feels laced with peril. I’m dipping under imaginary branches, veering away from imaginary demons. In danger of going tumbling just to escape the one behind me.

It’s a while before I know for sure there are footsteps pounding after mine. He’s at a distance, but he’s closing. I feel it.

My body screams with it.

I’m sprinting on wild instinct and nothing else.

My lungs are burning. My breath rasping in my throat. My heart thumps loud.

But not as loud as the boots of the beast behind me.

I fly like the wind, as fast as I’ve ever run in my life. My belly lurches with the thrill of being captured, but my flight instinct doesn’t agree. All I can do is keep on going, adrenaline so high, it’s fucking incredible.

I don’t know how long I’ve been running when the undergrowth gets deeper to my right. I don’t know how long it’s taken to reach the part of the path where there are barely any lights left at all.

I have to slow down here, so I do. I curse under my breath as my foot squelches in wet mud, and I know I’m too close to the river.

Shit.

I head further up the bank, but when I do his footsteps are nearer. Louder.

Faster.

He’s right on top of me.

My heart booms and so does my clit. My thighs are slick even though it’s fucking insane.

I’m desperate for him, even as my body finds its reserves to keep on running.

I’m making desperate noises as I breathe and I can’t stop.

I can’t stop because I fucking love it.

I’m a tumble of emotions with no structure. No backbone.

It’s all I want to do to fall on the ground and beg that he doesn’t hurt me. Beg that he does. Fall at his feet and beg him for anything; beg him for everything. Everything.

But then I see a light up ahead.

I know this place. I’ve been here before.

My heart soars as I recognise the pub from my crappy date with pink-shirted Jack.

The car park there is dim, but it’s lit. I’ll see the monster coming.

Oh fuck, how I want to see him coming.

I want to see every inch of his brutality as it comes my way.

Every inch of his beautiful face.

I make a final sprint for it, even as I feel him at my back.

The world stops spinning.

It slows to nothing as I feel the heat of him.

A thump of his boots and I hear his breath.

And then he grabs me.

Hard.

He steals the last of my breath from my lungs as he slams into my back. My bare feet are still running in the air as he lifts me clean off the ground.

I’ve no air to cry out, but he clamps his hand over my mouth anyway.

I’ve nowhere left to run, but still he crushes me until it hurts.

“Quiet,” he growls, and I try to nod.

He doesn’t take his hand away. Part of me hopes he never does.

The monster carries me easily up the track to the car park. I wonder if he’s going to fuck me over the railings, but he passes them by.

And then I see the hulk of his metallic black truck in the shadows.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” he growls again as he pins me to its side. My cheek presses to window glass. I see my own misty breath. My wild eye looks at itself in the dark reflection, and behind me I see him.

And he’s beautiful.

He looks wild. Even wilder than me.

Dark and angry and coiled tight.

Dangerous.

He opens the passenger door and I wonder if I’m supposed to get in.

I’m not.

That’s obvious enough when the rope comes out.

I’ve never been tied up before. I protest before I can stop myself.

I’m a whimpering mess, begging please, no, but he doesn’t even look at me.

My handbag comes off over my head in a flash and he tosses it into the footwell. I try to pull my wrists from his grip, but he tugs them up behind my back and binds them tight.

He wraps the rope around my waist, around my thighs too. My pussy clenches as he threads the rope between my legs.

My clit throbs as he pulls it tight and I swear I almost come.

He pulls it again on purpose, I know he does, and I moan for him. I fucking moan for him.

I wish he’d touch me. Wish he’d use me right here, with my cheek pressed to the window.

I wish he’d fuck me so hard I’d scream for more, for less, for hurt.

He shunts me aside unceremoniously and opens the rear door. I’d stumble if he didn’t have such a solid grip on my arm.

He’s going to leave bruises.

And I’m going to love them.

He wrestles me roughly into the rear footwell. I squeak as I realise where this is going – just me, trussed up in rope, wedged behind the front seats.

It’s tight. Claustrophobic enough to make me beg.

“Please…” I whimper. “Please, not like this… I’ll get sick…”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says and the door slams at my feet, and the driver’s door opens soon after. The seat moves against my back as he climbs up. I hear the groan of the leather as he settles into position.

I curse as the ignition comes on. Beg some more as he reverses out of there.

I don’t stop begging for miles – lost in this crazy footwell hell. Scared and battered with feet sure to be bleeding. They feel like they’re bleeding.

My imagination runs riot, wondering if he really is some kind of psychopath.

I have no idea how he found me. I have no clue how he knew exactly where I’d be.

Still, my clit keeps on throbbing. My thighs are slick even though I’m freaking out so hard I could vomit.

I know we’re out of town, even without windows. I feel every cattle grid. Every winding turn in the road.

And then we stop.

The quiet is ominous once he kills the engine.

My breath whistles in my ears. My heart pounding crazy all over again.

He clambers out of the front seat, and I’m whimpering to myself before he’s even on me.

Cold air grazes my thighs as he opens the rear door.

I kick out on instinct as he grabs at my feet, but he’s stronger. He drags me out easily.

And then he lets me go.

He unwinds the rope from my wrists before I’ve even got my bearings. He tugs it from between my thighs so quickly it burns.

My eyes blink and focus.

Darkness.

So much darkness.

Just the moonlight overhead.

And fields. So many fields. Fields upon fields.

I twist my head as he tugs the last of the rope from me.

Fields and soil and trees in every direction.

We’re in the middle of nowhere.

“Run.”

One word. That’s all he says.

He shunts my shoulders and says it again.

“Run.”

And I do.

I run through soil and grass and heather. I scrabble up a hill on my hands and knees and take off again at the top.

My rational mind is too fucked up to keep a grip. I’m lost to endorphins and adrenaline and terror. This isn’t a quick sharp shock like being slammed into the shutter doors. This is drawn-out. Exhausting.

More terrifying than anything I’ve ever known. And that’s because I’m doubting him.

He’s going to kill me.

He’s going to fuck me so hard and leave me to die.

I can’t hear him behind me but I keep on running, images of my dying self, sprawled naked on a hilltop, flashing through my mind, my pussy an unrecognisable mess. I run and run until I stumble and fall. I drag myself up and curse myself through tears, knowing full well I’m losing any grip on my own crazy reality.

I’m crying, sobbing as I run.

I’m crying at how bad my lungs are aching. At how pointless this is.

How scared he’s made me.

How fucked up I am.

I don’t want to run anymore.

I’ve barely made it a couple of fields when I’m a whimpering mess on the ground. I’m barely crawling when I hear his boots thump the ground behind me.

Strong.

Steady.

Menacing.

“You done?” he asks, and I shake my head.

I keep on crawling, scrabbling for grip enough to get to my feet.

But they hurt.

My toes are freezing cold and raw.

It hurts too much to keep on going. I have no breath left in my lungs.

I sink to my knees and I feel so degraded as his boot comes to rest on my back. Humiliated as he presses me to the dirt.

And I love him for it.

“Are you done?” he asks again, and I nod.

I’m done.

I’m a mess.

A fucked up mess with jangling nerves and clammy thighs.

Who hates how much she wants this.

Who loves how much she wants this. Him.

I can’t believe how hard I’ve run. How far I’ve come.

How fucking crazy I am.

How my thighs are opening in invitation, even though I know I could die tonight.

And I can’t believe how terrified I am when he drops to his knees behind me.