Blood and Sex

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.