“Keep walking.” His voice is gruff and the grip of his hand on my shoulder tightens, making me wince.
Again I consider resisting. I’ve heard the advice. I know I’m in far more danger if I allow him to move me to a location of his choosing. But I remember his hand on my throat as I tried to fight him off when he first caught me. I can still feel his fingers pressing into my flesh and I have no doubt I’ll discover bruises next time I see myself in a mirror.
He got me after I stepped off the bus. I still don’t understand where he came from. I checked the street before I got off—I always do—and it was empty. But within seconds of the bus pulling away, he had his arm around my throat, pulling me back against his body.
That’s when I fought; kicking back, trying to stamp on his toes. I screamed and cursed and resisted until he suffocated me. Now my hands are bound behind my back and I’m gagged, helpless as he pushes me towards whatever awaits me.
The darkness surrounding us is almost complete except for the dim source of light we’re walking towards. I squint, trying to figure out what I’m looking at. What are those lights? Are those houses? No, they’re….
Shit! I know this place. Those are pickup trucks. For the first time since he captured me panic consumes me.
My silent scream goes unheard as he picks me up as if I weigh nothing and throws me on the bed of a truck. Jumping in after me, he lands on top of me, pinning me down with his weight before I realise what’s just happened. He covers my eyes before I can see his face.
I lie on my back, my hands squashed beneath me. He’s fast, I’ll give him that. While I try to find a position that doesn’t kill the circulation in my hands, he opens my trousers, pulls them and my shoes off in one fluent move before turning me over again. I’m on my knees, ass in the air and my forehead pressed into a surprisingly soft blanket on the truck bed.
I bite into the gag as he spreads my cheeks and enters me. He’s merciless, riding me for his own pleasure with no thought for my discomfort or pain, never mind pleasure. I take, because all I can do is accept what’s being given. He fucks me harder, faster.
“Dirty little slut.” He mutters the words before, slightly louder: “fuck.”
Seconds after his orgasm he pulls out, and moments later he’s taken the gag from my mouth, the blindfold from my eyes, and the cuffs from my wrists.
“That’s another fantasy off your bucket list.”
I smile up at Max as I put my clothes back on and in order, making sure my rock hard cock is more or less comfortable in the confines of my underwear.
I’m so lucky to have him.
I turn my head to take another look at the pickup truck as we walk away. ‘Glazers’.
“But really,” I shake my head. “In my father’s forecourt”?
“I thought it added a certain ‘je ne sais pas’.” Max’s grin is evil and I shudder while I imagine what he might come up with next.
It’s been a while since I last wrote a flash and I hope this one will be the start of more regular postings again. More stories based on the same image—suggested by Jeff Baker—can be found in the Monday Flash Fics group on Facebook. Enjoy!