Hill Country Texas. The two story Victorian style house stood alone in the middle of a large open clearing of dirt. A grey weathered wooden barn in relatively good shape, nestled itself against one side of the house, as if a small child seeking protection from it’s bigger sibling. The trees and green mountains making a backdrop. The house had a quaint little picket fence that at one time could have been considered "cute" but now stood with many broken and missing plats. The house itself was not much better off. It’s once new shutters, stood framing it’s windows, broken and wind beaten.

A new coat of paint might have made the beaten up and peeling siding look slightly better, but hardly much. In some areas in fact, whole lengths of the stuff hung off onto the porch roof as if giant fingers had dug into it, peeling it back piece by piece much like a cat would a wall searching for that hiding mouse.

The rusty shingled roof was the best part of the dilapidated home. Not a hole or blemish could be seen. The windvane that stood atop one of it’s gabled peaks, twisted with an annoying squeak in the slight breeze.

The porch was littered with meaningless junk, rather meaningless to the common folk. But common wasn’t who lived here. Amongst the broken chairs, worn boots, miscellaneous yard tools and home made wooden tables, a figure crouched.

His tanish brown uniform almost blended him pretty well into the background of the unloved home. He shifted slightly from one tired foot to the next, holding his breath as one of the mildew strewn, cracked floor boards let out a groan under his weight.

Silence remained from inside the house.

He glanced over his shoulder, finally spotting that wonderful cloud of dust signaling the approach of a welcome vehicle on the long, lone dirt road.

As the brown, dust covered car approached, with it’s one single red light flashing on top it’s dirty roof, it’s driver shut down the engine, rolling to gravel crunching stop just a few feet from the wrap around porch of the poorly neglected home.

The sheriff himself had come out for this once in a lifetime event. He stepped lazily out of his car, hiking his gun belt up over his pot belly to rest where it should be.

He glanced around.

Two other squad cars and the old Department Bronco lay scattered, surrounding the front of the house.

It was time. The excitement was about to begin.

The double pane window on the front right of the house suddenly shattered.

A small cylinder shaped canister fell to the floor amongst the bits and pieces of multi colored broken glass. It rolled a few feet where it came to rest against the leg of a coffee table.

Two seconds later it exploded. A loud boom and a bright flash lit up the dark, dense and dusty room. Everything seemed to slow down. A scream rang out. A dog went crazy. An old man peed his pants.

Suddenly the door flew open, slamming against the back wall. Its frame busted beyond repair.

A mass of motion, shouts, screams and guns now filled the large junk cluttered main room. Shots rang out from multiple locations. People, good and bad, hit the floor.

30 seconds it was all over. Smoke drifted up from bloody wounds and spent guns alike.

No motion.

A lone form stood, tall, slender, and pale in the aftermath. Smoke and dust swirled about him. Without notice, he snuck away, down the basement stairs, and disappeared.

No one saw him leave. No one knew he was ever there.

He just disappeared.

The 1975 dark green Datsun B210 hatchback with the white fender, slithered it’s way through the dense rain fall. It’s lone occupant squinted behind the front windshield, desperate to see something she recognized. Her right foot reflexively pushed down harder on the gas pedal, bring the car up to triple digits.

"Dammit" She raised her arm, wiping the build up of fog from the inside of the window in circular motion with the palm of her hand. "Stop fucking fogging up!"

She slammed the a/c lever to defrost, but knowing, that it wouldn’t do much good. The humidity of the air and the coolness of the rain was causing the inside of her windshield to fog up. A draw back of a much needed rain during the drought laden months of summertime in Texas.

*An almost brand new car, and already problems.*

She snorted at her miss-fortune, sending herself into drunken laughter once again. But she quickly stiffled them knowing that she shouldn’t have gone ahead with that one for the road the hostess had offered her. Silliness wouldn’t help at this exact moment.

She was lost. Taken a wrong turn after leaving her friend’s party an hour or so earlier. Then the rain had come. It was July in Texas, it wasn’t supposed to rain.

She glanced up, spotting a faded yellow sign, riddled with bullet holes, she turned her head, desperate to read what it’s words once said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white, an almost glowing white. Slowly she turned her head around, back to the front.

The form leaped from now where, out in front of her speeding car. She screamed, slamming on the brakes and cranking the steering wheel to the right.

At 100 mph the little car easily lost traction.

The car fish-tailed, missing the man by mere inches. The figure stood stock still, silently watching the now out of control vehicle as it flew by, a sly smile forming on his face.

The Datsun continued it’s side ways slide for several feet, pushing the standing water on the road out in front of it, like a wave pool. Hydroplaning easily.

The girl inside, still screaming, turned the wheel frantically from side to side. Mistaking the gas pedal for the brake, she spun the car completely around, 360 degrees, spinning it wildly out of control.

It’s back tires slipped of the side of the road and struck deep mud, which seemed to come alive, grabbing at the tires and holding tight. The sudden resistance flipped the hatchback violently into the air, completing, several roof to wheel flips, before it slammed back down upon it’s roof and continuing it’s sideways slide. It’s back bumper caught a hold of a tree, just barely clipping it but enough to spun the little car around half a complete turn once more before it came to a sudden, rocking stop. It’s wheels still rotated silently.

The figure casually strolled over to the over turned car. His stark greyish white hair plastered to his face, neck and shoulders from the rain. Kneeling beside the open hole where the shattered driver’s side window used to be, he peered inside at the motionless, heavily breathing girl.

Laying crumpled and bleeding against the roof, the she raised her head, reaching out a bloodied, scrapped hand towards the white figure before her. Her eye sight blurring with the blood as it gushed from the numerous cuts on her head.

She swallowed, trying to wet her now dry mouth. "Help...me...please." Unconsciousness swarmed over her.

The pale man stood up, sharply, arms raised straight out from his body. He tilted his head backwards. His hoarse laughter filled the darkness, then it turned into a wild, primal scream of triumph.

Pain. It was all that she knew, it was all that she felt. It seemed to consume her like gas would a small chamber. She slowly came back around, but semi consciously becoming aware of some of her surroundings.

She felt cold, wet and sticky hands grab a hold of her.

He reached in through the shattered window, not caring as part of the glass that remained stuck in the door sliced at the pale, wet skin of his fore arm. Wrapping his long fingers around her out stretched arm, he effortlessly dragged her free.

Once clear of the overturned, steaming car, he let go of her hand, letting it drop solidly to the ground. He squatted once more beside her. With his left hand, he wiped the blood from her face.

She was pretty in a normal girlish way. He might have some fun with her before he killed her. He smiled as he watched her shift slightly with a groan of pain.

"Yup we definitely are gonna have some fucking fun!"

Not trying to be careful at all, he grabbed the limp, small form in his arms, watching as her head lolled backwards then flopped against his naked, wet chest.

The sexual urge already stirring inside of him.

He cautiously looked around for other witnesses.

"Gotta be careful around these parts, might run into some crazy psycho person!"

Not seeing any, he moved swiftly to the edge of the road, stepping over the small, rushing creek of the ditch. Being careful not to drop his prize, he turned sideways and disappeared between the trees.

The stolen ‘69 Black El Camino was hidden not far from the road. He flung open the passenger side door, once again carelessly tossing the young woman onto the seat, adjusting her slightly so he would be able to drive with out her laying in his lap.

"Course, that might just be a good fucking idea!"

He slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Raising his head to the sky he blinked rapidly as the water dripped into his steel blue eyes.

"When are you ever gonna fucking stop?" He hollered at the top of his lungs to no one in particular.

Shacking his head with more amusement, he circled the car, yanked open the driver’s door and cranked the engine.

"Hang on honey were going for a ride." He grinned mischievously over at the still unconscious woman beside him.

Slamming the car into gear, he floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward, tires spinning on the damp and soggy forest floor, not wanting to grab traction.

A few seconds later, the tires bit and the car took off, fishtailing and nearly taking out a small tree on it’s way out onto the road.

A blaring horn met the black car as it bounced up onto the hardtop, nearly swhipping another vehicle off the road in the process.

He looked at the rear view mirror, the headlights reflecting on his eyes and shot them the finger.

Her body shifted slightly with the movement, her head coming to rest against his side. "Whoa there honey, there’s time for that later."

With a free hand, he shoved her over, just a bit to hard as her shoulder struck the passenger,

door and her head thumped loudly against the window.

The jar to her head caused her teeth to clamp down on her tongue, she jerked with the sharp pain, becoming more aware as the time ticked by. She knew she was in trouble and didn’t dare open her eyes.

Only if the pain would ever go away.

It was all she felt.

She groaned, which made everything seem worse than before.

Her head hurt so much and wouldn’t stop throbbing. Course the knock against the window didn’t help it any more. Her chest hurt as well with every breath she took in, sharp pain would rake through her torso. Her face felt like it had been drug along the ground.

She could remember bits and pieces of the accident, what had happened. Most of all though, she remembered that pale, long-haired face grinning at her through the rain.

It scared her, more then anything. Which gave her reason more to pretend that she was still out.

They seemed to drive for ever, but she figured it was less than an hour. By the time she heard the tires crunch against gravel, the rain had stopped it’s steady patter against the car roof and windows.

The car rolled to a jolting stop, sending stabs of more pain through her body. She inhaled sharply, biting down, trying to keep from crying out.

This was it. This was her chance. She took a risk and opened her eyes, just slightly, looking out through her long lashes. It was still dark but the dome light of the El Camino was on. The pale man was sitting next to her watching her closely.

His icy blue eyes roaming, invadingly across her body, from her head to her legs. She shivered at the violating stare. He smiled raising his hand to her head, he bushed her wet, blood matted hair away from her face. He leaned in suddenly, running his tongue up her neck and along the side of her face.

"Mmmmmm." The sound came out sounding similar to a moan of excitement.

He watched her shiver ever so slightly and laughed.

Kicking open the car door, he unfolded his long legs and stood up slowly. Keeping an eye on the girl in the front seat, but always aware of his surroundings.

With lanky strides he rounded the front of the car, yanking the passenger side door open.

She felt open space and falling. She hit the ground hard, landing in a pile of legs and limbs.

That fucking laugh resounded in her head once more.

He jerked her to her feet roughly, not caring about what possible injuries she might have or how he could be making them worse.

With a slight grunt, he easily lifted the lightweight woman up, draping her limp body across his shoulder and started off toward the dark building, whose out line was barely visible in the brief flashes of moonlight.

In the bouncing movement of his walk, she could see glimpses and pieces of where they were headed. It looked like a cabin of some sorts. Small, maybe one or two total rooms.

Trees surrounded it. They were in the woods. Her heart quickened at the thought of being alone with this man. Knowing but not wanting too, of what he might do to her.

He kicked the door open easily. No need to lock it if your out in the middle of the forest right?

A few long strides and he threw her down. Once again she felt herself falling and tried to brace for the hard hit she felt surely was to come. But instead, she felt softness. Her limp body hit the mattress and bounced slightly before settling down.

The room was dark, but with what little light there was, she could see his tall, lanky figure wandering around, checking things out.

She heard the sound of a match and saw the little flame grow larger. He held it up to his face, watching the fire burn. Seconds before it would have touched his fingers, he placed it to the wick of a lantern.

Soft warm light filled the room, giving her a much better look at her surroundings.

And the man who had brought her here.

Watching him, knowing he was aware of her doing so, stirred something from deep down inside of her. She opened her eyes more, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see her eyes open very well the dim firelight.

He was tall and thin, though she could see well-muscled arms and shoulders through his dirty and still wet white tank top. He was wearing what looked like once green cargo pants. Brown work boots with a knife hilt sticking out the top finished off his ensemble.

His hair fell to just below his shoulders, stringy, dirty whitish grey. He had a good five o’clock shadow growing across his chin and lower cheeks.

There was something about him that stirred her. She didn’t know what it was or even why. But she was still scared of him, not knowing what his intentions were or why he even had brought her here. She knew though that it more than likely wasn’t for the good.

His moving towards her brought her back out of her thoughts. Jolting her back to the now. He was looking right at her.

"Well look who the fuck’s awake." He raised his left hand.

In it was a gun. Two strides he was at her. She saw the gun raise, pointed straight at her, then her head seemed to explode in pain.

All she knew was darkness.

His body was against hers. She could feel his weight and heat, pressed against the length of her own sweaty, naked body.

She ran her hands up his back, digging in with her fingernails. His mouth devoured every inch of her skin. Hungrily. His tongue, making wet circles around her nipples. She gasped as he suddenly entered her, shoving his whole length all the way in.

Pain suddenly shot through her body. She jerked reflexively against it, trying to get away from the sharpness. It was enough to jerk her out of her deep unconscious dream state.

She was confused, not knowing exactly where she was. The throbbing in her head told her that she had a bit too much to drink last night.

She groaned, and tried to roll over, being uncomfortably on her side. For some reason she had slept with her arms behind her. Pins and needles flared through her arms to her shoulders as she moved.

She heard a clink as she shifted. Furrowing her brow at the out of place sound, she tried to move her hands from their cramped position. But they refused to budge.

They’re just asleep. She tried to reassure herself.

Clenching her teeth against the pain in her shoulders, she forced her hands and arms to move. Once more they refused, but now she knew why.

She was bound.

Last night’s events came flooding back to her almost overwhelmingly. The wreck, the tall, pale stranger who had dragged her out of it. Him taking her to an unknown place. Now holding her captive.

She opened her eyes. Squinting against the bright sunlight that filtered in through the dusty square window near the door.

She could now see her aforementioned captor, asleep, sitting in a chair at the table, his head laying on his outstretched hands. One hand still clasped around a bottle, with the remains of some clear liquid inside. It tilted carelessly on the edge of its round bottom, threatening to spill out.

Vodka or some sort she assumed.

She tested her legs. They were sore and stiff, but free. Slowly, never taking her eyes off the silent form in front of her, she moved her legs to the edge of the bed. Swinging them over, she sat up.

Dizziness swam over her threatening to knock her out once more. She paused, closing her eyes, and taking in deep breaths. Slowly and reluctantly, the dizziness left her.

She opened her eyes once more. He was still asleep.

Opening her mouth to try and keep her rapid, frightened breathing quiet, she stood up. Her legs held, albeit shakily but they held her weight.

She took a step forward. One foot at a time, being careful not to stomp. When an old board creaked suddenly under her weight, she held her breath, staring with wide eyes at the pale man.

He mumbled something uncomprehendable in his sleep, smacked his lips but other wise never awoke.

She let her still held breath out in one long release. Starting the slow process toward the door once more.

It took several long, agonizing seconds but she finally reached the door.

Now the problem of opening it. She turned around, keeping her movements, as slow and still as possible. With the door now at her back, she searched for the knob.

Her escape inniment now, she became even more desperate. The tears started flowing down her dirty and bloodied cheeks. She whimpered against her tightly clamped mouth. Finally her grasping fingers locked around the cold metal of the door handle. Giving it one rought twist, it opened with a click. The sound seemed louder then ever in the silence of the still room. But he was still motionless. More likely in a drunken sleep.

She spun around, inching the door open with her leg. The sun poured into the room. She was free.

Rough strong hands grabbed her shoulders. In one swift move, he yanked her back in and slammed the door closed.

"Where the fuck do you think your going?" He slyly grinned down into her frightened face. "You think you can get away scot fucking free?"

"Please let me go." She whimpered, not caring about the tears that now seemed to pour down her face as if someone had turned on a faucet.

"P-p-please." He studdered, mocking her crying speak.

Anger suddenly rushed through her. She brought her knee up swiftly, connecting hard with his groin.

He moaned and stepped back. His hands balling her shirt into fists as they still gripped her shoulders. He leaned downwards, willing the pain away from her strike.

Recovering quickly, he slammed her against the wall. She let out a small cry as her already hurting head, cracked against the hard wood.

The closeness of him, oddly enough, was bringing feelings that should have been felt from deep within the pit of her stomach. Her mind drifted back to the erotic dream that had rudely been interrupted.

His hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to control her but not enough to knock her out.

She struggled against his strong, tight grasp. Desperate to get away.

He squeezed tight, slamming her against the wall, pressing his body against hers to pin her there.

Her diminishing supply of oxygen forced her to become still. Her heart pounded as if it were ready to explode from her chest. Her breathing came in strangled gasps. She could feel the heat of his body against his hers, and oddly enough it was turning her own.

"You fucking bitch, don’t ever try to do that again." He leaned in closer to her.

Without warning, he clamped his mouth down on hers, forcibly. His lips moved against her trembling ones. He forced his tongue into her mouth, exploring the taste of her.

She struggled slightly, whimpering against his lips. But he didn’t relinquish his grasp, nor break the kiss.

It was a violently kiss, filled with hunger. He pressed his lips tighter against hers, nearly to bruising level. She slowly, hesitantly started to react. Kissing him back.

He broke the kiss without warning. Grinning back at her, watching the fear in her eyes. His hand was still clamped around her throat, but he loosened it just enough to allow her to breathe more freely.

He pulled his head back slightly, more so to look at her.

"If you try that one more time." His eyes traveled down her body, as he brought his free hand up, caressing her breasts.

She gasped at the sudden touch, but she wasn’t sure if it was more with excitement or fear. Her body shivered underneath his rough, but soft touch.

He leaned in closer once more. She opened her mouth, expecting the rough yet soft feel of his lips against hers once more.

His lips brushed hers ever so slightly, she could feel his warm breath against her mouth. She moaned softly, surprisingly wanting more of him.

He smiled against her lips. "Fuck if I don’t kill you right now."

With amazing strength, he threw her back onto the bed.

She watched him slowly approach. Her eyes taking in his lean, half naked body. The slight musculature of his stomach, quivered slightly as he sauntered closer to her.

"My name is Otis B. Driftwood." He raised his left hand, placing it across his chest, as if to make sure she knew he was talking about him. "And I am going to be your fucking host for the remainder of the day."

He leaned in close to her again, his scruffy face just inches from hers. His long white hair brushed against her shoulders. She gazed down, surprisingly longingly at his wet lips. Wanting to feel them against her mouth once more.

Her she was bound, tied, held captive by some crazed lunatic, and she was getting aroused by him.

"And who do I have the honor of making my next victim?" His voice was husky, but soft. He spoke in almost a whisper, as he pushed his face closer to hers, curiously tilting his head from side to side, never taking his steel blue eyes away from her own green ones.

"R-r-ryek." She spoke in an even softer whisper. Her voice shaking, causing her bottom lip to quiver slightly.

The slight movement catching his attention, he gazed rabidly down at her mouth. He snaked his tongue out of his mouth and licked her swollen lips, quickly with the tip of his tongue.

"Nice to fucking meet ya. Hate to have to kill ya." He grabbed her shoulders in his hands and violently shoved her backwards, forcing her flat on the bed.

Chapter 5 - Teasing Torture

He reached behind her. Keeping one strong grip on her wrist, he unclasped the handcuffs. She started to struggle again with her arms finally some what free.

"Don’t think your gonna get away again now." He grinned down at his captive prize.

He roughly yanked her right arm back around to the front. Tingles and numbness throb up to her shoulders as the blood rushed through the limb. With a nasty, dirty rag he had produced from an unknown location, he quickly and tightly tied her wrist to the corner of the cot.

Without hesitation or any sound, he did the same with her left wrist.

He paused, looking down at her battered and bruised body. Pondering if he should tie her legs up as well. Having second thoughts against it, he figured he could do what he wanted better with them free.

"Otis" She whispered, pulling him from his thoughts.

He looked back at her pleading face. "Shut the fuck up."

She couldn’t speak. Forgotten what she was going to say.

He watched her for a few seconds. Taking in the sight of her small frame stretched out upon the dark green sleeping bag that covered the cot.

Her clothing was tattered, bloody and still a bit wet. He would have to remove those. His lips curled into a smile at the thought of stripping her naked.

Catching his look, then his smile, she had a feeling she knew what he was thinking.

"Please let me go." She tried once more, though deep down a part of her wanted something that any sane person would disagree with. "If you let me go, I won’t say anything to anyone."

"Now why would I want to do that?"

Ryek’s tears started to flow again. "Now now baby, I ain’t gonna hurt you . . . yet." He laughed as her eyes grew, her pupils dilating despite the brightness in the room.

Thinking once more, he reached for the seemingly endless supply of rags and quickly tied one across her mouth, keeping her from speaking any more.

"You’re distracting me with your talk." He growled down at her.

He brought his hand up toward her stomach. She inhaled sharply, expecting what was to come next.

He held his hand slightly above the bareness of her stomach, for her shirt had slipped upwards with the struggle to the bed. She could feel the heat coming from his hand against her chilled skin.

Slowly, teasingly, he lowered his hand, placing it flat against her stomach. His eyes never leaving her own.

Moving his eyes downward, Otis tilted his head to the side, as he slowly slid his hand upwards, underneath her shirt. He could feel her breathing increase as he reached her lower rib cage. He rubbed his fingers against the slight ridges of her ribs that could be felt through her soft skin.

Keeping her eyes glued to his, she never noticed his left hand disappearing below the edge of the cot, and reappear with his knife. The light glinted off its smooth steel blade, catching her sight.

Her breathing increased rapidly, her heart again pounding in her chest. She whimpered, trying to speak as he brought the blade up and placed it against the skin of her stomach.

In one swift upward movement, he sliced through the thin fabric of her tank top.

At the same time she cried out against the gag, expecting something else.

The two torn flaps of her shirt fell away to the side, freeing her breasts. His right hand was still pressed gently against her body, just below them.

"What? Are you afraid I’d slice up such pretty skin?" Otis looked at her with a false look of shock. "Not just yet sweetheart. Not just yet."

He laid the knife down behind him, between her legs for later. With both his hands free, he cupped her two heaving breasts, squeezing them gently, watching her reaction. She blinked rapidly, trying to not show her raising arousal. He squeezed harder, causing her to cry out softly. He chuckled again, enjoying his little game of teasing torture, knowing that she was, despite being captive, getting aroused by his actions.

Course if she should feel below his waist she could tell he was as well.

She pulled against her restraints, but confused against her rush of emotions and feelings.

He rubbed his rough hands, all over her torso, slowly. Every once in awhile returning to her breast for a quick squeeze. He could now feel her heart beat joining her rapid breathing.

She started squirming under his touch. Suddenly not really liking his slow exploration of her body with his hands.

He shifted slightly, turning his body more to face hers. He reached for the button of her jeans. She moved her legs, twisting at the waist, trying to keep him from taking them off.

"If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to have to tie you completely down." He looked back up at her panicked eyes. "And you won’t like it."

The last was said with a sounding threat.

She nodded, her head, clenching her teeth.

He smiled back at her. "Good girl."

He moved his eyes back down to following his hands. With his left hand, now free of the knife, he slid his fingers just below her waistline. His fingertips exploring her lower abdomen, brushing against the ridge of her panties.

In one swift move, he had the button undone. His fingers grabbing ahold of her zipper and slowly tantalizingly dragging it downward.

She brought her knee upwards, slamming it into his head and knocking him off the cot.

"You fucking bitch!" He leaped to his feet, raising his right hand, and he slapped her hard across her already wounded face, in a classic bitch slap.

The blow reopened the cuts from the wreck, and fresh blood dribbled down her cheeks and neck.

"So much for being Mr. Nice Guy." He grabbed the knife from where it lay, blade flowing from below his palm in a hard angry grasp.

He sat down, straddling her across the waist pinning her more to the bed.

"You’re finished." He growled as he leaned in closer, his hot breath flooding over her wet, freshly bloodied face.

He placed the tip against her chest, right between her breasts. She tried to scream through the rag as the tip pierced her skin. With his free hand, he clamped it down once again on her throat, forcing her still as he drew the knife down toward her belly button, slicing through her skin.

She kicked her legs, desperate to knock him off her. Her muffled screams filled the tiny cabin’s room.

From outside, you could hear the sound of evil, manic laughter as it filled the humid, heavy surrounding air of the forest.

Chapter 8 - Love Hate

Click.

The hammer fell on empty space.

"You think I’m fucking stupid woman? God damn, I wouldn’t leave a loaded gun laying around for you to pick up while my backs turned." He walked over to her, the rabbit forgotten and grabbed the empty pistol, wrenching it from her small hands.

He raised it above his head, hand still on the barrel, as if he were going to pistol whip her with it. She stood up as straight as she could and stared at him. No emotion showing on her face, yet her mind melting inside from fear and attraction at the same time.

He slowly lowered the gun, watching her unblinking eyes. Hatred slowly filled his cold blue ones. He attacked. He turned on her fiercely cutting off the words that she had started to say.

She realized his anger was worse than she perhaps had seen before and took a step back cautiously then her own rage took over. She narrowed her eyes. She wanted him, badly, and she wasn’t about to let him get away without a fight. This time.

He struck out but she moved away effortlessly and landed a round house kick to his stomach. Her adrenaline finally taking over and her hatred/attraction for him, willing her on. Not wanting to be another of his wimpy victims who just probably sat there and cried.

He stumbled back staring at her, fists clenching and unclenching rapidly.

He struck again knocking her to the ground with a left hook, but she merely took it in stride. Leaping back to her feet, she came back with another kick. This one landing squarely on his back.

His rage was full blown now. He faked a punch and when she ducked he came back with a kick of his own that slammed her into the wall, knocking the breath out of her. She crumpled to the ground and rolled away, gaining her feet slowly. When he charged her, she shoved him back easily. She followed him with a left side kick to his upper leg. He stepped back but not far enough and her foot landed sharply in the side of his inner thigh.

He laughed at her. "Think your gonna win that easily?" He was starting to get more aroused by this, it becoming more apparent with each strike thrown by each.

She beckoned for him to come at her, taunting him, enraging him even more.

"Don’t you fuck with me woman." He growled at her.

"Fuck? Exactly." She stood watching him, her eyes drifting down to lay on the growing lump in his pants, turning her on even more. "I’m starting to enjoy this little game in kicking your ass for a change." Least she was trying too.

He grinned back at her. "Games not over baby."

He tried a leg sweep but she saw it coming and managed to jump it with little effort. When she landed, she struck him in the face with her fist flattening him to the ground and blooding his lip. He stood up, licking the blood off his lips, almost savoringly. With that brief flash of tongue, she felt a tingling arise from deep within.

He threw a right punch, knowing she would duck it and when she did, he spun around and kicked her in the side sprawling her on the ground. He grinned down at her.

"Gotcha. I win" He laughed evilly at her

"Oh no, not so fast, I think you might want to know something about me." She swept her leg out kicking his feet from under him.

With a loud grunt he landed flat on his back next to her. "You like it rough?"

She laughed herself, the fear starting to be overcome by her wanting of him. "Grew up around boys, learned a few tricks. I'm a ground fighter."

He glared at her as she stood up watching him, evil anger flaring in his eyes. She could tell he was mad, that she had gotten the better of him. But she didn’t expect him to suddenly change, to get this mad.

He never liked to loose a fight, especially to a woman.

With new found strength he leaped to his feet, turning on her with pure aggression.

She saw the look and started backing up hands raised in defense, fear of him returning. Almost scared of the man she saw in front of her.

"Otis . . . " Her voice quavered slightly.

He leered at her as he came forward. Too quickly. She had no time to react.

He grabbed her harshly by the back of the head, his fingers gripping her hair and he slammed her body against his. His mouth clamped onto hers with harsh force, taking her breath away. He moved his mouth down making her gasp as his teeth found her neck. He bit down, once more drawing blood. She grabbed him wanting him even closer.

He pushed her away violently and shoved her to the ground hard enough to make her grimace. She was willing now and met his attack with the same fierceness as his own. She wanted the contact of their bodies.

She clutched at him, helping him tear her clothes off, stripping her bare. Desperate to get his off his body as well.

He touched her, biting her skin making her cry out each time he did. He rolled them over pinning her to the ground, as his lips tried to take in every inch of her. He had never wanted anyone so badly than he wanted her now.

The need for each other over rode all else. They were only aware of the other. Forgetting everything but the feel of their naked bodies against each others. Knowing nothing in their animal like enjoyment. Their movements were a dance of pure lust.

Hot, intoxicating. Hands grasping and clutching moist skin wildly as their lips clashed together madly. Their breathing becoming erratic.

He rammed himself into her, hard, thrusting again and again. His hands, lips, tongue never stopping the assault on her glistening body. She dug her fingernails into his back, arching to meet his thrusts with her hips, trying to take him all in.

When he felt her given in, he joined her empting himself inside of her, holding her tightly against him as though he could never let her go. It was short lived but so necessary for them both.

They lay there for a few seconds gaining their breath back again. He rolled them over once more, keeping himself still inside of her. She lay on his chest, her mouth against his neck. Reliving the brief, but wonderful moment.

"Don’t go expecting me to let you go now." She raised her head, glassy eyes, meeting his. "You are still mine, to do whatever I want to do with you, how often I want too."

"I am yours." He reached up, gently brushing her wet hair from her face.

With one quick move he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back and down. Plastering his lips against hers once more.

Chapter 9 - Matt and Lee

He hated waiting. He had been sitting in his truck, waiting, for what seemed hours, but in reality was only about 15 minutes.

He was waiting for his mistress. She was taking her sweet time talking to everyone at the department, though he knew those she talked to couldn’t stand her. Always whining about why people didn’t like her and so on and so forth.

He couldn’t stand her either but she was an easy piece of ass. Not that pretty, just easy. It was only about the sex.

His wife and kids were planning on going to see her parents for the weekend, he had lied and said he couldn’t get the time off from work. Instead he had, as well as his mistress.

He knew of a cabin in the woods, oddly enough in the same area of the state as where his wife and kids would be, that they could spend a couple of days away. Then he would leave and go join his family for his days off.

Finally he saw her coming out the backdoor. He flashed his lights, letting her know he was there across the street. She nonchalantly made her way over to him. He watched her slowly approach. She was dressed in too tight jeans, and a western shirt.

God he hated the way she dressed, too tomboyish for him.

"Bout time you came out." He started the engine and backed out.

"Fuck off Matt, I had to talk to someone." Her hick accent flaring out.

He loved her. Or at least that’s what he said. In fact more than anything else in the world, hell even his wife and two very young kids. Tonight he was going to tell her he was leaving his wife.

"So where are we going?" Lee turned toward him, trying to look sexy.

Matt glanced over at her, smiling. She wore too much make up and was obsessed with her looks. His eyes traveled down her body. She was underweight, jealousy over a co worker who was naturally thin had dragged her down into becoming an anorexic.

"It’s a secret, but you’ll love it."

During the few hour drive, she rambled on and on about work, how she hated this certain co worker and how she wanted to get even with her, why now one at work seemed to like her very much, etc, etc.

He tried to ignore her, instead his thoughts wandered toward the upcoming weekend. Hopefully

It was one thing he couldn’t stand about her, always talking in that monotone, hick accent. God he hated it.

That and she was truly a bitch. No wonder no one seemed to like her. The only way she could get people to like her was through sex. She had taken over the title of the new slut at work.

Finally he spotted the turn off. A small dirt road hidden amongst the trees. If you weren’t looking for it you would have missed it.

It was dusk, dark enough for lights but yet you could still see some what.

The little one room cabin was nestled amongst a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. No one else around for miles. He had found it a few years before and bought it, unknowingly by his wife and family. He used it for his weekend retreats whenever she was out of town, to bring whatever woman was his current mistress at the moment.

Most often afterwards he gave them the boot, never talking to them again. But this one was different. He wanted to be with her, for ever. He knew eventually he would get tired of her and find another mistress but then he could go home to her afterwards and she was so dense she wouldn’t know anything about his secret life.

The tires of the Ford pick up crunched on the gravel of the drive. He spotted a pale glow from inside the cabin, more likely a friend of his had left a lamp burning.

Dumb ass could have burned the place down. He kept his thoughts to himself, she was rattling on once more.

"So what do you think?" Matt turned off the engine and looked at her.

"It’s nice."

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her painted lips.

"It’s not much but it’s away."

They climbed out of the truck and headed for the door. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the woods and fresh air.

God he loved it out here.

The door was unlocked. His eagerness to get her into bed didn’t notice the pry marks on the door jamb as he went past on his way inside.

The lit lamp was sitting on the table just inside the door. A nap sack sat by the counter. He reached for the lamp just as Lee called out.

"Matt . . . " He glanced in her direction bringing the lantern around.

The bed wasn’t empty. Two people, naked, were cuddled up on the small cot.

The woman, with her long blonde hair was in front. She had cuts and bruises on her face and body. She was laying on her back. The man who looked older, had his arm draped across her bare stomach. He was naked as well, but in better shape than she was.

They both appeared to be sound asleep.

"Fuck me." Matt angrily stepped toward them.

Fuck if he was going to let two hobos camp out in his cabin.

The woman’s eyes opened up lazily. But she was wide awake.

Without warning, she sprang, catching Matt off guard. She slammed him down, knocking him senseless. On her feet now she turned on the other woman, an evil grin on her face.

The taller woman tried to act tough.

"Get away from me you bitch or I’ll hit you."

"You’ll fucking hit me?" She laughed at the stupid remark.

With one punch, Lee was down, slumped against the opposite wall. Out cold.

A gun seemingly appearing out of thin air, was pointed at Matt still on the ground, trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind.

"Fucking move and I’ll blow your brains out." Ryek held the gun steady. "But that would take out all the fun."

A clapping sound came from behind her, she glanced to her side.

Otis was sitting up on his elbows, his nakedness showing for the world now. Watching nonchalantly grinning with satisfaction, still clapping.

"Well done my girl, well done."

Chapter 10 - Capture

Otis took to his feet, his nakedness standing out, but him not caring. He stepped over toward Ryek, taking the gun from her hands.

"What the fuck do you mean interrupting our beauty sleep like that?" Otis slammed the butt of the gun into the other man’s temple.

Matt fell back against the wall. Blood starting to trickle down his cheek where the sights sliced through his skin.

"You invade our quiet little moment..." Otis’s words were cut short.

"It’s my cabin. I own it." Matt pointed a fat finger at his chest. "You are invading and trespassing at that."

Otis snorted. "Trespassing? You think we are trespassing? Well I be dipped. He says we are trespassing, you believe that shit, Ryek?" He turned to glance over his shoulder at the small woman standing off to the side.

Ryek shook her head. "Not a cent." She rests her hands on her bare hips. "I think he should pay."

A groan from beside Matt brought the two’s attentions back. "Well look who’s come back to join us." Otis kneeled down in front of the other woman, using the tip of the gun to lift her chin up.

"Hi there." The woman started blubbering incoherently.

"How rude of me, I didn’t introduce us." He rested his elbows on his bent knees. "I’m Otis."

Pointing with the gun, he turned towards Ryek. "This beautiful woman is Ryek. We are going to be hosts for the day."

The girl’s lower lip started to quiver.

Otis laughed at her. "And who the fuck are you."

He pointed the gun, barrel touching her forehead.

"Lee" she slobbered out, drool dribbling down her chin slightly.

"And you?" The gun turned on the man still on the floor.

"Matt." He growled through clenched teeth.

"Now what fun things should we do with y’all first?" Otis stood up, his height and nakedness, swarming over them.

"First?" The still sobbing girl, stammered out.

Otis walked over towards a pile of clothes. "Why, don’t you know?" He dug around til he found his pants, sliding them on, all the while still holding the gun. "We’re gonna kill you!"

"Please don’t." Lee blubbered out.

"Oh come on Lee, it’ll be fun." He grabbed some rope and duct tape from the earlier discarded knapsack. "Hell you should be thrilled to be the next victims of the devil’s rejects."

"You ain’t fucking touching us." Matt staggered to his feet, trying to be tougher despite him being off balance still. "I have friends in high places, you will never get away with this."

Otis shoved the slightly taller but fatter man down in a chair. "Sit down and shut. It’s her turn to talk, not yours."

Otis tossed the rope over at Ryek, who in the meantime had pulled on a pair of pants and sports bra she had found in the knapsack as well. Silently she walks behind Matt, yanking his arms behind him while his attention was mainly focused on Otis. With quickness and skill she had his hands tied tightly behind him.

"Nice job." Otis carefully inspected her work. "Better than I could have done." Ryek smiled.

With his free hand, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, hard. She let out a gasp as their mouths came apart. Her eyes traveled to the mumbling captive who was watching them, angrily. Slowly, inticingly, she ran her tongue over her lips, never taking her eyes from him.

He stumbled on his words, his mind distracted as he watched the pinkness of her tongue, lick of the remains of Otis’s kiss.

"God damn." Otis ripped off a piece of duct tape from the roll. "Shut the fuck up! You can talk when I tell you to talk."

He pressed the tape roughly against his mouth, sealing off his last words.

"Don’t be rude Matt." Ryek yanked the boney girl off the floor. "Rude people suck."

Otis stared at Ryek, almost dumb struck. "What?" For a split second there she reminded him greatly of Baby.

Ryek slammed Lee down into a second chair, doing the same to her hands as with Matt. "Rudeness sucks. He should have more respect for people."

Otis smiled, taking in the two people now bound and silenced before him. He crossed his arms across his bare chest, the pistol still gripped in his left hand. He nodded his head.

"Especially to those who are in charge of how painless their death could be."

Chapter 11 - playtime

Otis looked the two captives over, passing back and forth in front of them. The pistol still gripped loosely in his hand.

He stopped in front of Matt, kneeling down to his level. "Tell me, Matt, you have a young woman here, while you wear a wedding band on that third finger of your left hand."

Otis tapped his left arm with the barrel of the pistol. "But yet, she wears none, but does other jewelry."

He stands up turning toward Lee. "Seems you’re not _akeen_ to wearing stuff, including several other rings. So you two what were you up too?"

Lee glanced nervously over at Matt, who just glared back at her.

"I bet . . . she’s not your wife." Ryek ripped the duct tape off her face.

"You fucking bitch." Lee spit at her.

"You watch your mouth." Otis stepped over and slapped Lee, hard. "No one talks to my woman like that, you whore."

"I’m not a whore." Lee hissed.

"Oh really?" Otis motioned at Matt with the gun. "So why you fucking a married guy?"

Lee just shrugged.

"Say it." Lee nervously looked at Otis. "Go on, say it. Say I’m a fucking slut."

Lee clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head. Otis pointed the gun at her.

"Say it!" His voice rouse in anger.

Lee straightened as best she could bound to the chair, stubbornly she shook her head again.

The gun’s barrel pressed against her forehead, Otis cocked the hammer, gently squeezing the trigger. "Say it or I’ll blow your fucking brains out."

Lee started to cry. Tears streaming down her face.

"Oh what’s wrong? The little slut doesn’t like to be called a whore?" Ryek joined in the taunting.

Matt just sat and watched, there was nothing he could do, or would do.

"You gonna cry like a baby cause some big man tells you to say what you are?" Ryek mimicked her blubbering crying.

"I...I...I’m . . . a.. Slut." It came out in a whisper.

"What? I can’t hear you?" Otis pressed the gun harder into her head, forcing it at an odd angle. "LOUDER!"

"I’M A SLUT!" Lee cried out, the tears flowing hard. She started crying, near hysterics.

"I like to fuck married men." Otis eased up on the pressure of the gun.

"I fuck married men." The words came out bold and strong through her sobs.

"Why do you do it? Why married guys?" Ryek knelt down, as if she were going to comfort her. "Single guys not good enough for ya?"

Otis took a step back. The pressure from the gun left a red mark against her forehead.

"I’ll fuck anyone to get them to like me." Without taunts or threats, Lee spoke the truth. "I am a whore."

The flood of tears came. Her breathing became choppy, she was in hysteria.

"Look at this asshole!" Ryek grabbed Lee’s head, forcing her to look at Matt. "Why him? He’s fat, pathetic? You can’t get another guy?"

She turned, grabbing the pistol from Otis, she whipped its barrel across Matt’s face. "Fat Fucker."

Otis smiled as a thought crossed his mind. Taking his knife from its holster, he sliced through Matt’s shirt, ripping the separated pieces away from his body.

Matt sat looking dead ahead, not looking at anything in particular. He was at least 50 pounds overweight, with thick patches of dark hair all over his chest and back, in a sporadic pattern. The fat of his love handles hung over the belt of his jeans that was tightened way too tight. He had moles covering his shoulders, back, under arms and chest.

"Look at him, he’s like a huge, hairy ape!" Otis’s laughter filled the small cabin. "You like this ape, like to fuck this thing?"

Lee swallowed, choking back the tears and just shrugged.

Otis raised his hands in the air as if to give up. "The people of this world."