The Run

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It goes like this.

This pretty little thing of eighteen – dressed in a black sundress that runs to her knees, laced with a sunflower print – runs through the forest in the middle of the night, the long grass lashing at her legs, the wind hitting the sweat on her forehead, the tree branches with its gnarled fingers whipping her legs.

There’s a hole torn in her dress, where her stomach is, where he grabbed at her when she tried to run from his kiss.

He was after her – had asked her to come around the side of the house, away from the party, to talk. James, her oldest friend, the one who sat with her on the swing-set at summer camp and listened to her talk about her boyfriend woes back in the seventh grade.

Now they were eighteen and at a friend of a friend’s party twenty minutes out of town in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Away from the house was where he had tried to kiss her forcefully, his lips wet, and the kiss eager.

Emily had slapped him away, had seen the shock in his eyes as he reeled backwards, but then she had something else in those eyes. Madness, a look possessed. Shock morphed into delight, a devilish grin. He grabbed, tearing that hole in her dress, and she ran.

When she pauses to catch her breath, her lungs working overtime, he catches her, throwing her to the ground. She doesn’t have the time to react; she’s down on her aching back, dizzy, breathless, lost on where she is.

His full weight is upon her, his dirty hands lifting her dress, exposing her black lacy boylegs – bought just this afternoon – to the forest. She can feel the cool wind.

She opens her mouth to scream but only a strangled whimper comes loose and she thinks through all this – how pathetic am I?

As she kicks her legs and wriggles beneath him, he’s peeling her panties down with a speed she didn’t know he possessed. He dodges her bare dirty legs, throws the lacy clump aside.

She sounds like a wounded animal as she tries to speak, tries to reason, tries to swat his hands away from peeling the straps of her dress off her slender pale shoulders but it’s all for naught. The energy, her lungs, is rebooting herself from underneath him.

As the dress peels back and her bare tits are let loose, she tries to reason that he’s drunk, that this isn’t the sweet tender James, but she can’t smell any alcohol, only sweat. She licks her lips, tastes the saltiness from the run, the bitterness of dirt.

He throws away her dress with a grunt; it falls in a tangle across the shrub. She lies there, completely naked, on her back, blinking back tears, fighting confusion and madness as she watches James peel off his jeans, exposing his hard cock coated in precum that glistens in the moonlight.

With a steady hand, he grips her thigh – then she feels his stomach press against her, feels his cock stretch her apart and go deeper. She feels a wave of sickness crash over, a spiral of manic energy sweeping across her body like goosebumps.

She chokes out his name but pain erupts through her body, his mouth is on her flesh, clenching her nipple in his mouth.

He’s speaking through his clenched teeth, a mad man speaking in alliteration under his breath.

She’s there but not there, out of mind, out of sight. Watching this happening, finding her glistening pale body, secreted somehow, marked by the forest, belonging to the forest, as he fucks her.

Their bodies find their rhythm. Her body finds the rhythm. They’re suddenly moving, swaying, as one entity. She’s not herself, or maybe she is and she never realised this, that she was, that she could enjoy, that she could belong.

His teeth sink into her neck paralysing her, locking her body into place. She feels her legs stiffen, hears herself as he slips out of her thrusting against her thigh, humping thin air.

She grunts in frustration.

With a growl, she flips him over so that he’s off her, on her back. He watches her, and for a moment she sees a bewilderment in those eyes, can see him, the real him, the sweetest James. His eyes are glassy.

She’s sitting on him now, her legs on either side of him, his cock against her stomach.

Not breaking eye contact, she grabs his cock by the head and forces it down between her. It slides back in with ease.

She can feel him fill her again and something screams inside her, a burning intensity to not stop, because nothing could stop her, nothing at all. This confuses her, makes her feel ill. She wonders if she will vomit, all over him, embarrassing her and the forest. Nothing comes.

She can feel this drive within her, it worms its way across her veins, it possesses her arm, her hand, to pinch her nipples tightly and pull them out. Her desire to feel his cock all the way inside her before ripping it out along her slit is insatiable. SHE is insatiable. An insatiable fucking slut of a girl.

There’s something around her, around them, in the forest. She can’t see it, can’t explain it, but something is there, something is watching the two of them, something is feeding off the two of them, chanting to them in the same maddened vein James was earlier.

The world around her is spinning and she’s caught up in it, up in this delirious and dizzying nightmare of pleasure she can’t wake from.

He pushes her off and she fall backwards, emitting something between a sulk and a moan. In a blur of movement, he whips her around so that she’s on all fours and grips her hips.

He eases into her ass.

It’s unlike anything she’s experienced.

She’s trapped in a dimension of pleasure and pain.

An anal doll.

They scream as one and the forest screams with them.