HateFuck

HATEFUCK


The blood oozed from her bottom lip and stained her T-shirt as Alma lost her equilibrium and fell to the ground. Chris just stood there. He did not try to help her up. He didn't apologize or even flinch. Her entire head was on fire from the blow of his fist and she tried to focus on him, but all she could muster was a blurry image of him walking out the front door. Her tears were warm, like the blood on her cheek and she stumbled up, supporting her weight against the chest of drawers. The last time he hit her, she swore it would be the last time. Unfortunately saying it to his face just got her another strike. But this was it. She was done.

Lucky for her, her girls were visiting her parents for the holidays. They did not have to witness this again this time. Her jeans were soaked in blood too, from her nosebleed, so stepped out of them and threw on a long Indian skirt. It sat loosely around her waist and was a relief from the constraint of the jeans, because Alma's tummy was swollen up from Chris repeatedly kicking her.
Alma jerked open the kitchen drawer and looked for her car keys. For good measure, she grabbed a serrated steak knife, you know, just in case. She did not even bother to pack anything. She just needed to drive.....to clear her head and plan her final escape from Chris and his abuse.

She was initially surprised to find that the garage door was open, but she could not be here another second!
She started her car and skidded out the wet driveway towards her temporary freedom. On the radio she faintly heard Bon Jovi's "Lost Highway", and she realized that she was once happy. She almost smiled as the afternoon sun warmed her aching face and she felt her emotions calm somewhat as she got onto Highway 90 and left Houma.

Through a myriad of tangled emotions and thoughts of memories good and bad, she heard the man on the radio news report that a well-known celebrity with alleged mob ties was assassinated in a most brutal way early in the afternoon and that the chainsaw-wielding killer was still at large in the area. She scoffed at the report. :"Big deal," she thought, "another fucking scumbag off the face of the planet. The killer should get a medal."
At this point Alma was a full-on man-hater.

Turning on the 56, she loosened her roughed ponytail and her dark hair dropped to the small of her back. It concealed her brown eyes as much as the bruises on her face. Somehow she just kept driving, as if her freedom lay ahead of her. Somewhere.
"Keep going," she thought to herself.
In her chest, where her heart used to be, there was a yearning to find solace in the bayous. Somewhere where there is nothing but nature and old history. Alma felt the need to travel to a place where time stood still. Her car bobbed and swerved as she took a dirt road towards Lake Boudreaux and she was starting to feel serene here in the nothingness of the Bayous.

The road was narrow and winding, shouldered by thick foliage and ancient trees, locking out the sun almost completely. Her pond of serenity was suddenly marred by a touch of despair and fear, as at once she realized that she was utterly alone out here. Alone, but free, nonetheless. The burning feeling in her cheek pretty much subsided and gave way to swelling.

On her T-shirt, her dry blood started to get sticky and she promptly ripped it off. Her black lace bra was still clean, though.
Her ears were still ringing. Ringing. Ringing? Her cell phone was vaguely audible in her bag and she felt around in her bag to answer it. Her stomach turned viciously at the sight of Chris' name on her caller ID, and she found herself at war with her common sense.
"Don't answer it."
"Maybe just to say I'm okay."
"Don't answer the phone!"
"But maybe I sh....."

The brute force of the sudden collision knocked Alma unconscious for the moment. Her head came down hard on her steering wheel and she could feel her neck jerk violently. Her car rammed into a 1966 Pontiac Bonneville's rear and spiraled into the trees with a crash. Then all was silent.

From afar, an imposing figure in a black jumpsuit appeared and watched Alma crawl out of her car. Her ebony locks fell like snakes on her back and she crawled on all fours to get clear of the wreck. He noticed her ripped skirt.He noticed a bag in her hand. He noticed her blood. But most of all he noticed her bare flesh.

The rays of sunlight now fell in streaks through the trees and Alma's bloodied eyes looked through the beards hanging from the old gods around her. She knew it was no use calling out for help.
"Have to keep going," she thought, as she raised herself up to see how far the road still carried on. The wind caught her hair and swept it back from her shoulders, revealing her bra with breasts gleaming in the yellow light. The sight of the wounded woman caused a stir in Jeeves groin as his ice blue eyes followed her every move, his lips pulled back in a lustful sneer, amused by her helplessness and he sucked back on the saliva gathering in his mouth.
He dropped his right hand into his pants and softly fondled his hardening penis. Jeeves groaned as he softly whispered to himself in his Southern drawl : "Well.......there's no time like the present," and he started down the side of the hill towards the unsuspecting Alma as the Great Horned Owl called out through the descending dusk.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Something felt off to Alma. She felt like she was not alone and it alarmed her so that she pulled her steak knife from her bag and held it tightly against her right thigh. Her eyes wandered slowly through the army of trees that stood sentinel and her gaze stopped abruptly on the black figure that seemed to glide towards her. For a moment she thought it was one of the trees, come to life, but her eyes focused on him and she knew not if she should be relieved or terrified at the gigantic, muscular man walking towards her with a smile that made her blood run cold.

The owl called out when he opened his mouth in some diabolical joke on her.
"What?" she said confused.
"I said," he repeated, "you're a purty one."
She thought, "Great. I get beat up, crashed up and now I'm in fucking Deliverance? Gimme a break."
"Yew fucked uhp mah car, " he noted.

Her hand tightened on the knife as he approached her, swaggering like a human shark, intent on his prey. His left hand remained hidden behind his back and she just knew he had a weapon.
His hand disappeared into his pants once more and she could see the outline of his giant member pressing against the inside of his pants. The top of his jumpsuit was unbuttoned and she could see the tattoos rippling out of shape over his massive chest as he moved. His head was shaved, save for a mohawk running down the center of his skull but what kept her in a numbing trance was his ice cold stare. Exotic eyes, shaped uniquely into slitty pools of white hell pinning her down in her tracks.

His voice ripped through her ears like thunder as he yelled: "Hey! Wake up! What's yer name?"
She was terrified.
"Alma."
"Alma?" he tilted his head to one side. "What's that mean?"
"Its Hebrew. It means 'maiden'." She promptly choked on her words as she saw the Swastika tattoo on him and the Mein Kampf literature quoted on his forearms!!!
"Maiden?" He snickered. "That's.....like....like.....a virgin, right?" He smiled as he stared at her chest, his hand speeding up its movement in his pants.
Alma was repulsed at the sight of his blatant masturbation but her survival instinct overshadowed it.

He continued in an almost inaudible rasp:" A Jew....like...virgin....thang?"
His savage roar of retarded laughter triggered Alma's reflex and she stormed at him, knife up high to stab him in the throat, but Jeeves just side-stepped her, casually grabbed her arm and pulled out his M3 from behind his back, pushing the barrel against the base of her skull.

She let out a scream which sent the birds flying from the trees, more in defeat, than fear. Through her molten thoughts, she heard his loud laughter and mumbling about how he smoked some asshole and how he was going to smoke her too. Her violent struggle was futile as his powerful hand viced around her wrist and shook the knife loose and it fell in the dust at her feet. Jeeves dragged the screaming Alma to his car. He carefully placed the gun on the wiper vent and picked her up as if she was a puppy. She kicked him hard in his ribs and his smile faded into a wincing sneer. He slammed her down on her back on the Pontiac's hood and she felt the back of her head burn from the impact.

The dusk darkened the bayous and the wind died down.
Alma found herself sprawled across the car's hood, her feet dangling in front of the car's grill.
She was too weak to try and get up. Where was he? She tried to open her eyes, but the tears and blood prevented her to see clearly. The owl's hoot echoed in her mind as she became aware of cold steel caressing the inside of her leg, from her ankle upward toward her inner thigh. It was huge and crude with sharp edges that broke her skin and left tiny bleeding scratches in its path.
"Oh God, what is it?" she panicked in her mind. Dared she open her eyes?

She looked down to find him kneeling in front of the car, between her legs, running a chainsaw up and down her flesh! Her alarm elevated as she now fully saw her captor, shirtless in the dying light, quiet and intent on his mission. Alma could not deny his beauty.
He raised himself to his feet, towering like a beautiful colossus of muscle in perfect symmetry. The light played on his body, and his every move registered under tight skin over hard muscle as he lurched over her shaking body, and his eyes met hers to mark the sealing of her fate.
He lowered himself onto her and her fear and excitement entwined into lust, but realized that he was only putting down his chainsaw. Almost disappointed, she moved below him, as if to find her motor skills again. He raised his hand to the side of her head and showed her her cell phone.
"You got a message," he said quietly, slightly smiling as his cold snow stare sent a bolt of fear through her body.
"Uh...it says....", he shoved his face violently into hers and continued through gritted teeth, "...I tracked you on GPS, bitch. I will find you, pathetic slut."
Jeeves giggled softly as he snapped shut the phone and cast it aside. "Who's Chris?"
His question was not a question, but an affirmation of what he knew about her.
She suddenly knew she had to choose the better hell of the two and a warm hatred ran through her like a crisp shot of Absinthe when she figured out how to get rid of Chris once and for all. The uncharacteristic vindiction was almost refreshing and she felt a new surge of lust for her captor.

Jeeves ran his big fingers up her leg, gently pulling up her skirt to her buttocks. He breathed hard in her face. He tugged at her panties as he whispered in her ear, "Yew mine now", and violently ripped her panties off, cupping his hand over his face and smelling her ripped underwear deeply before stuffing it in his pocket.
He let out his Neanderthal giggle as he gripped her wrist tightly and slammed her arm flat on the hood, preventing her from moving it at all. Alma was impressed by his brute strength as he spread her thighs apart beneath him. He took her other hand and forced it down to his groin area. As he slid her hand down, she could feel the hardness of him, the muscle and the protruding veins underneath the edge of his pubic hair, where the deep cut from his hips ran into his genitals. He was hard and warm and strong, just like his panting breath in her neck.

He locked her hand around his enormous shaft, pulsing and rigid in her hand, and commanded her to pleasure him. She became more and more happy to oblige as she realised that the fear he instilled in her made her wet and hungry for his domination. As she slowly moved her hand up and down the length of his member, she felt her nipples harden to a point of pain and her pussy was oozing heat. She imagined what it would feel like inside her and she would beg him for it at this point.

He pulled her bra down to reveal her breasts, and the cool breeze on her nipples made them taut.
For a brief moment, he put his weight on her, to drop his pants, and the car creaked under his massive frame. Alma thought her ribcage was going to snap when he lifted again, supported by his arm. In her sexual frenzy, she looked down at his huge biceps rolling with his movement and her eye caught the two respective tattoos on them. "HATE" on the right arm, "FUCK" on the left. The combined word seemed to release the devil in her and she lifted her hips to his, pumping his penis with tight, deep strokes and it made him whimper as he covered her left nipple with his wet, hot mouth. His tongue flicked over the sensitive tip, sending waves of hot pleasure through her entire body and she allowed herself to moan just a little.
Jeeves got the hint. He was not very sharp, but this was all instinct and he was after all, an animal.
At once he let go of her arm and went on his knees in front of the car's grill, gripping her buttocks with his powerful hands, prying her thighs wide apart with his broad shoulders. Alma glanced down at the giant Neo-Nazi between her legs and once again the cat-like slits opened into ice blue and stared deep into her.
Deep into her.
The tip of his tongue sank into the wet slit of her pussy, finding her clitoris and she screamed out loud, wildly grappling at his head and running her hands through the hair of his mohawk. His stubble scratched her soft flesh and the pain was exquisite as he moved his face up and down against her moist vagina. She clenched her thighs around his face and he grunted loudly as he pushed his face hard against her, while pulling her buttocks down to him. His breath was hot as he panted muffled, dirty commands, while running the entire base of his tongue hard against her clit, rubbing it into spasms of pleasure that rippled through her womb in cadence with his movement.

Jeeves could feel her juices ooze over his tongue and he drank her down, but he went in for the kill, so to speak, and snickered by himself as he started suckling her clit in powerful little kisses until she begged him to penetrate her.
He stood up in all his glory in the headlights of an approaching car and she saw every detail of him, and it pleased her.
Standing 6'6", hard and defined, broad shoulders that could spear a bear, he pumped his penis for her as she watched, spreading her knees in a perverted invitation.
He seemed unfazed by the car that had almost progressed to where they were.

He suddenly grabbed Alma, flipped her over on her stomach and pulled her hips to his in a grip that bruised her flesh instantly. She felt the hot head of his penis slowly pry apart the lips of her vagina and she closed her eyes in ecstasy as he penetrated her with one powerful thrust that made her scream. He burned his way up inside her until she could feel the head against the wall deep inside her, just below her navel.
He wasted no time. Immediately starting to bury himself all the way inside her with every thrust, until her she could not feel her feet....or anything else, apart from his hot cock ramming her violently. Jeeves enjoyed her tightness around his shaft and groaned like a werewolf as he fucked her harder and faster, rocking the Pontiac below them. He lay his massive chest on Alma's back, almost choking the breath out of her and reached for the M3 that he had, locked and loaded.

The car slowed down to a stand still and Alma could hear Chris yelling profanities at her from the car, but she did not care one bit. Jeeves grunted as he pushed his enormous penis deep into her over and over and over and he called out to Chris in the car, who was appalled
at what he saw.
"Uh-uh....she's mine now, man," and he lifted the M3 in a low gutteral roar of laughter as he unleashed a hail of fire on Chris and his car. The gun shot of round after round, ripping through flesh and steel and finally meeting the gasoline tank, destroying Chris and his car in a fiery hell of combustion. It was beautiful to Jeeves. The firelight danced on Alma's body, gleaming in sweat as he pounded her hard and fast until she could hardly breathe anymore.
Jeeves' body shivered with pleasure as he felt his scrotum tighten, shooting wave upon wave of warm ecstasy down his legs and he felt the
orgasm build up in the pit of his stomach.
He shot off his last round as he blew his load into Alma's exhausted body and he watched the blood trickle down her limp legs.
He lay on top of her to listen to her gasp for air under his unbearable weight and he kissed her temple softly as he whispered sweet German nothings to her.
"I'm Neo-Nazi.......I got no use fer yew no more."

Alma looked at the fire as her chest burned into submission. On either side of her, she saw Jeeves' biceps.
"HateFuck".
She should've known better.

-------------------------------------------------------------