Chapter Text
Your eyes slowly open, feeling unusually heavy. You reach around for your phone, but find nothing except something that feels gritty. It’s oddly like dirt, but that doesn’t make any sense, you think to yourself. Slowly, fully waking up, you realise you're lying in the middle of an actual forest. You went hard last night, but surely not this hard. And, damn, your head is truly pounding. Maybe the last couple of shots were a little bit overkill. You’ve heard stories of people getting wasted and wandering off, so surely you’re just around the corner from your apartment. But you don’t even remember leaving the bar, or at least you don’t right now. Slowly sitting up, you search your pockets for your phone. However, they’re unusually empty, no phone, no keys, not even your ID. There is, however, a crumpled-up gum wrapper-sized piece of paper.
Unfolding it, there’s a neatly written message in heavy black ink: “Had fun last night, I thought we’d continue it. - T.” Turning it over, there’s no phone number, or even a full name. Getting hit on isn’t really unusual for you, but you get a weird feeling in your stomach. Something about the lack of contact info is weird, and what does it mean by ‘continuing it’? You didn’t sleep with anyone, right?
A flashback of last night suddenly hits you. It’s slightly fuzzy around the edges; maybe you did drink a little too much. But it’s of a man, he’s older, and he’s chatting you up, encouraging you to stay for just a “littleeeee bit longer.” You can’t really recall his face at the moment, but you do feel yourself blush; he was attractive, even if he was a little outside your normal dating range. His curls stand out, as does the way his tight-fitting plain black t-shirt clung to his fit body, his huge and perfect bice- Titus, his name was Titus! You remember your friends telling you they wanted to go, but it was getting late, even for you guys. But you kept insisting you wanted to stay with Titus; he looked like he could be someone’s grandpa; what harm could he possibly do? They said they had finals in the morning, and that you had a final in the morning.
“Oh shit, fuck it has to be later than 9 am,” you say out loud. You’re definitely not making it back in time for the exam, you need to get back now and beg for a retake. Or extra credit, or really anything at this point. You need this class to graduate. Wishing you would not prematurely gone out celebrating, you gingerly stand up. You feel a little lightheaded and dizzy, but all things considered, you don’t feel waking-up-in-a-fucking-forest-bad. Instead of a hangover, it’s just a little grogginess paired with a bad headache. You mostly just feel tired.
Trying to find a clue, maybe of what happened, you fidget with the note in your hand. You vaguely remember Titus talking to your friends, promising them he’d get you home safely and explaining he had his own children your guys’ age. Being pretty drunk themselves, they checked in with you one more time, you agreed you’d be “totally fine,” and they left.
Looking around now, all you can see are trees. There’s no sign of a road or any other people in the area. It’s oddly quiet, and still, it’s almost completely silent, save for the occasional sound of a bird chirping. You gingerly step forward, deciding it’s better to start walking than to stay here forever. Walking aimlessly, you desperately try to recall more pieces of last night. You remember your friends leaving, Titus offering to take you home, but you can’t fully remember ever getting home. But, at least you don’t remember doing anything, like, super embarrassing. So it could definitely be worse.
Stepping over a fallen tree, the feeling in your stomach suddenly feels significantly worse. The last of the alcohol must be leaving your system, and the panic is setting in. It feels sort of like you were under a sedative (which is concerning all by itself), but now the reality of your situation is incredibly clear; no phone, no location, and no idea how to get back to civilisation, you start to freak out. Immediately, you start screaming for help, yelling into what feels like an endless abyss of trees.
“Help! I need help! Is anyone there?” You call out, over and over again. The worry of the exam and the fuzzy memory of the bar start to fade away; you might actually die out here. You don’t have any idea about surviving in the wilderness. You don’t even like camping. The tears slowly start to well in your eyes as you begin running in a random direction. “Please! I don’t want to die. Can anyone hear me?” Your screams are starting to sound incredibly desperate…
just like Titus likes them, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since seeing you at the bar. Smirking to himself, he casually flips through the screens, like he’s watching any generic TV. But they showcase you in all of your panic. From every imaginable angle, he has access to it. There are cameras everywhere, and they record every single moment. He leans back in his chair, congratulating himself on another great catch, and considers what approach he’ll take with you. Last time, he played a hero hiker, miraculously showing up at the last second and saving the poor, lost girl. She cried at his feet, practically worshipping him as soon as she saw him. That was a fun one. The time before that, he let the girl make it to one side of the compound fences. It took her two or three days just to get to the edge. But, with the wall standing at over 15 feet tall and made of solid concrete, even in a normal state, she stood no chance of escaping. When he appeared, as a fireman who was called to the scene after hearing screams, he blissfully remembers the look of pure relief on her face. How grateful she was for him, how dependent she was on him just to survive. Each time, he lulled them into a false sense of security before breaking and discarding them. It was all part of his game, his favorite game. He’s lost track of how many women he’s turned out into his compound; it has to be in the hundreds by now. It never loses its novelty, though, every single time he’s loved it.
You seem different, though, he can’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that you actually went willingly into his blacked-out SUV from the bar. He wonders if you’re always that trusting, or if it was the liquid courage. Regardless, you practically begged for him the whole way home. Reaching over and grabbing at his cock when he was driving, he literally had to peel you off of him. Not only that, he outright told you who he was and what he did. And, when he told you he planned to do the same, you said, “I don’t think you could hurt a fly, you’re so cute and pretty and sexy.” Titus isn’t one to get flustered, but you practically had him blushing last night. The highlight was when you grabbed the needle, stuck it into your own neck and said something along the lines of, “Now, pretty please, could we fuck?”
He smugly watches the tears roll down your cheeks on the screen; you obviously don’t remember any of that. Maybe you’re the one for him, or maybe it was just the alcohol. Either way, you're his now, to do what with, he’ll decide later. Just the thought of getting to be alone with you makes his cock twitch. Despite it being enjoyable just watching you, he wants you now. And Titus always gets what he wants, so he takes one last look at you, in all your desperation, and heads to the woods…
You have no way to track time, but it feels like it has been literal hours. You’re covered in scratches, your feet are killing you from your going-out shoes, and you can’t think straight. Your heartbeat thumps loudly in your ears as you begin to fully accept you’re totally and completely lost. You slink down against a tree, slumping to the ground. You’re hot, hungry, and thirsty. A stick snaps behind you, causing you to jerk your head back.
“I’ve been watching you,” the voice is deep and steady. It sounds almost amused, but something in it is unsettling. It also has an air of familiarity, but from where you can’t recall. “I thought you would’ve noticed by now, but you haven’t.” You can’t quite see the figure; he’s mostly hidden behind a tree. But you see him drop a small, snapped stick from his hands. Now you’re really panicking, watching you? This cannot be real. Maybe your friends orchestrated some sick joke. You desperately try to find ways to rationalize it, but he cuts your train of thought off. You feel too tired and weak to run, but the adrenaline is starting to kick in.
“You probably don’t remember anything, do you? It’s okay, we have all the time in the world to rehash how we met. I will say, though, it’s the first time someone ever drugged themselves for me,” He steps out into the clearing, and your eyes widen. It’s definitely the man, Titus, from the bar; he’s wearing what looks like the same black shirt with the same blue jeans. Despite everything going on, he’s still really attractive. What a fucked up thought to be having right now, you think to yourself.
“Please, I don’t have anything, and I don’t even think my family could give you a ransom. I really just want to go home, please. My friends know where we are; they’ll call the police.” You frantically say, ignoring nearly everything he said.
“Oh, I own the police, no one, and I promise you, no one is looking for you. No one is coming to save you, ‘you' told your friends you already went back home for the year." He stares at you hungrily, taking a step forward.
You press your back further into the tree, “And I’ve taken the liberty of informing your parents you are studying abroad. Doing some sort of charity shit in a place without cell service. Off the grid type living for the next 3 months,” He crouches down, an arm's length from you. “Which gives us some time to figure out what you can offer me.” He half smirks, refusing to break eye contact with you.
Pooling all your energy into one last move, you lunge at him, grabbing at his throat with both hands. You make contact, but within seconds, he has you pinned on the ground. Clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, he smiles down at you, “I love the initiative, but it was not incredibly well thought out. I bet you can do a little better than that.” He flips you over, pressing your chest and the side of your face into the ground. “As you begged for last night, I will fuck you, just not right now. It’d take the fun out of it. Instead, we’re going to play a game.”
You buck into the ground, desperately trying to get away. But one of his strong hands remains on the back of your neck, and the other over your mouth. He presses his knee into your back as he continues, “I am going to give you a head start, not because you deserve one, but because it’ll be more fun for me.” You hear him digging in the bag that was on his back. There’s suddenly something in front of you, it looks like some sort of dog collar. “As much as I’d love to hear your pleading and begging, I’d rather explain the rules uninterrupted.” He drops his hand from your mouth, giving you a chance to interrupt him a final time.
“Please, please, I don’t even know you, and I have finals, and I have a-“ You’re suddenly silenced by the gag he’s pushed in, which is secured by a metallic click behind your head. He slips what looks to be a key into his pocket.
He grabs at one of your ankles, ignoring your mumbled screams. His knee is still pushing you into the ground, holding you down. You’re fully sobbing now, using all your weight to thrash around. You feel a coarse rope wrapping around your ankle. “I don’t even think I’ll drug you this time, or rather let you drug you. Just some basic ties and then I’ll leave. There might be some extra little traps lying around from games in the past, so watch out for those too.” He snatches your other ankle, pulling it tight against the other and binding them together. “When I am gone, I suggest you untie yourself as fast as possible. Unfortunately, there’s really no winning for you in this situation, but you can try to escape. I want you to try to escape.” He roughly turns you back over, this time gathering your hands into one of his. They receive the same treatment as your ankles; bound tightly together.
Titus stands up, hovering over you and staring down, seeming to think to himself. “It is maybe a little warm today, do you think we should take your shirt off?” You scream into the gag and try kicking at him, only for him to catch your feet. “So you agree, wonderful.” He holds up a rather large knife, “You might want to hold still, I’d hate to damage something prematurely.” You ignore him, still flipping around like a fish out of water. “Okay, can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says as he brings the knife to the neck of your shirt. Almost instantly, you feel a sharp jab along your collarbone, letting out a hiss, you try to look down and see it. “Superficial, just a small cut, but try to hold still or it might be deeper next time,” he says. It does almost sound like he cares. You lie still, not wanting a repeat of the first cut. With one quick motion, Titus slices your shirt down the front, exposing the red lacey bra you have on under it. “Mm, I love red,” he says to himself, “Matching set?” He smiles, a true full-toothed smile at you now, and it feels almost animalistic.
You silently beg him to stop with your eyes, but you know what he means. You feel the knife gliding along your already too-short skirt. The material falls away, and he gets his answer. “So sexy,” he whispers as he bites his lip. “We are going to have so much fun together, princess. You really will enjoy it, eventually, at least I think so.” He leans forward, close enough you can feel his hot breath on your neck. Suddenly, you feel his hand on top of your underwear. “It seems like you already are enjoying this,” he smirks and applies a little pressure, earning a squirm and soft whimper from you. “So wet and from what, the knife? Or is it the rope? Or maybe it's just me, darling?” Leaning forward, he kisses your neck and then sucks hard on the spot. “The first of many, many marks I’ll leave on you.” Through tear-blurred vision, you see him pull out a camera from the bag. “Smile, sweetheart, or at least try.” You hear the click, and the flash temporarily blinds you. With that, he slips the key to the gag out of his pocket and onto your chest, grabs the remains of your outfit, and stalks off.
Mind reeling, you curse yourself. Why are you so wet? You just got tied up, cut, and stripped by a complete stranger. He clearly is a psychopath, and you don’t have any idea when he’s coming back. Frantically, you begin pulling your hands apart, trying to give yourself enough room to loosen the knots and slip out. This goes on for a while, until you are finally able to slide a single hand free. You quickly unwind the other hand and sit up. The knick on your chest stings a little, you see a small stream of blood running down your chest and in between your bra. There’s not much you can do for that now, you think as you hurry to unwind your feet.
It’s been over an hour of you struggling with the ropes; Titus has long since returned to the compound. Holding your clothes in one hand, he eagerly watches you fighting for what you can only assume is your life. But he loves knowing it is all in vain. He will win; he always wins. His breathing hitches when he sees you carefully touch the stab wound. You grimace almost immediately. He gently rubs himself over his jeans, letting small groans escape his lips. She is truly so beautiful; watching her struggle only adds to it, he thinks to himself. His eyes lock in on you as you desperately crawl around, trying to find the intentionally small key to your own gag. Stopping himself, he silently watches as you find it and can visibly see how satisfied you look with yourself. The gag quickly gets ripped off and discarded onto the ground. “Oh, darling, don’t get too pleased with yourself,” he says out loud.
You gingerly open and close your jaw, testing the soreness of it being forced around the gag. So he’s some kind of sex crazy serial killer, you think to yourself. You try hard to remember last night, what did he mean by 'you drugged yourself'? It hits you fast. You remember getting in the car, basically forcing yourself onto him. You remember him telling you how he loves collecting girls, turning them out onto his compound, and slowly reeling them in, only to get bored and sacrifice them to Satan. You remember him saying you would be next and showing you a long needle. Flushed, you do remember grabbing it, desperate to fuck because he was really hot. Shortly after pushing in the plunger, the world went black, and your memory stops. Wide-eyed, you don’t even know your next steps. He clearly has experience and knows where you are. He snuck up on you after watching you for who knows how long. For all you know, he could be watching you right now. Your body is almost too exhausted to run, but you know you have to do something soon. So you ease yourself up onto your elbows and look around. He said something about traps, too. What did he mean by that? You figure you’ll find out eventually, but hopefully not anytime soon.
Something lying on the ground catches your attention, in the direction Titus went, glittering in the sun. Slowly, you force yourself to basically crawl towards it. A knife! Why would he leave you a knife? In the same neat handwriting, it reads ‘You’ll definitely want this. - T’ So he wants you to try to kill him? That doesn’t make any sense. What kind of satan-worshipping serial killer arms his victims? A cocky one, you answer yourself, one that is certain you have no chance to survive.
You decide running isn’t the answer, but maybe hiding is. You look around you again, hoping to find some place to squeeze into. Off in the distance, there looks to be a larger tree stump. You force yourself to stand, feeling every muscle in your body cry out. Fighting against the ropes for so long took a toll on you; everything already feels so tired. But you can’t just give up; you have to at least try to win.
Titus smirks; he loves that you carefully crafted some little plan. It’s endearing, thinking you even stand a chance in hell to somehow escape your new reality. He’s slid his pants down now, fully sliding his hand up and down his hard cock. He has the picture he took of you on one monitor. Your mascara running down your cheeks, your face red from the struggle, your limbs tied tightly. Titus isn’t sure if he’s ever seen anything so perfect before in his life. Watching you in real time, and the picture is proving to be too much, he needs to get off now. Watching you struggle to stand, sore from fighting against his ties, he picks up his pace, letting a soft moan escape his lips. He spits into his hand and eagerly returns it to his cock. With his free hand, he grips your clothes and brings them to his face, enjoying the scent of you. With a deep inhale, he finishes, but doesn’t close his eyes. He continues staring at you, barely able to stop himself from going back out and finding you right then and there.
You’ve made it to the tree stump, and to your great satisfaction, it is almost entirely hollow. You see a tiny hole near the front, barely big enough for you to squeeze into. You push yourself in, feeling the wood scrape against your bare arms and legs. It catches a piece of your bra, ripping it slightly in the back. Ignoring the pain, you give yourself one last push, fully engulfed within the tree stump. Wiping your tears, you feel some semblance of safety. If you could barely fit, no way Titus is going to be able to cram in. And, lifting your feet up and pressing them against the other side of the trunk, you’re completely invisible from the outside. You hold the knife close to you, hoping you don’t have to use it, but willing to if you must.
Except Titus knows you’re there, he watched you squeeze in. In a way, he’s disappointed. He thought you’d be the runner type; a hider isn’t as exciting. Regardless, he uses your clothes to wipe off the mess and pulls his jeans up. Since you won’t be moving anytime soon, he might as well cut the game short. Slinging his backpack over one arm, he sets off to get you.
Taking a golf cart, he stops a ¼ of a mile away, wanting to fully sneak up on you. Getting out, he starts to whistle, a slow, steady whistle. Shit, how is he already fucking here, you think to yourself. You curl your legs up into your chest even further, gripping the knife so hard it turns your knuckles white. You can’t help yourself, you start to cry again, but you try hard to hold the sounds inside.
Titus, carrying a large vintage-style axe from the golf cart, comes up to the back of the tree stump. He’s stopped whistling, wanting his arrival to be a bit of a surprise. Raising the axe, he brings it straight down on the stump, making a notch in the wood directly where your head is. “I didn’t take you for a hider, that’s a tad disappointing. I was hoping for a bigger fight, honestly.” He calmly says, bringing the axe down again, this time cracking the wood enough that you see light. “It’d be a shame if I killed you here. I’d still have fun with your pretty little body though, so,” like your life is merely an afterthought in his mind.
Trying to calculate your best move, you hunker down further, squeezing to the ground to avoid the axe. You know you have to try to stab him to gain some time to maybe run or hide again. You can’t just die; you don’t want to just die. Making your decision, you start to squeeze through the little opening again. Titus, distracted by his drive and obsession with getting to you, doesn’t seem to notice. You grimace as you feel the wood cutting into your sides. Staying low to the ground, you practically drag yourself around the stump, coming eye level with Titus’s ankles. As he goes to lift the axe, you drive the knife down with everything you have, directly into his foot.
“You fucking bitch!” He yells, falling down and grasping at his foot. Taking no chances, you take off. You still have no idea where you are or how to leave, but you seem to have bought yourself at least a little time. As you run, Titus’s yelling gets quieter until everything around you is silent again.
Titus debates going back to the house, but only very briefly. Despite his new injury, this is the most fun he’s had in what feels like decades. No one has ever even tried to stab him, much less been successful. Usually, they beg and cry and scream, but they never fight back. Leaning against the tree stump, he slips his boot off and evaluates your work. You got him pretty good, but not enough to stop him. Taking off his shirt, he wraps his foot tightly, wincing slightly. He starts to limp in the direction he saw you take off in. When he finds you again, you won’t be getting away, he thinks to himself.
You’re still running when suddenly you’re snatched up in the air. The suddenness gains a yelp from you as you’re now dangling by a single ankle, roughly 3 feet in the air. Hearing this, Titus smiles and starts to run, despite his foot. He knows you’ve been caught; the game is over for you. Or at least the first part.
After all you’ve been through, you’re truly exhausted. You try to grab at your ankle, hoping to be able to slip the loop of rope off. But you can’t lift yourself upright being so far off the ground. And any movement causes you to swing wildly back and forth. You hear him approaching; his breathing is heavy. You know this is the end; you don’t see any escape this time.
“Wow, all this to get caught up in a simple snare trap. How pathetic,” Titus sounds genuinely irritated. “I thought you’d be smarter than your average dumb animal.” You close your eyes, not wanting to look at him or give him the satisfaction of any reaction. This only seems to provoke him. “You were all handsy last night, what happened baby?” He asks as he ties your other ankle up, providing some relief, but still leaving you upside down. You stay silent, but feel anger boiling up inside you. Mixed with pure fear, you can’t think about your next move or what to say; you’re frozen. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk for this next part, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
Hearing this, you open your eyes. He’s standing in front of you now, and you’re eye level with his crotch. His shirt is gone, revealing a perfect body with his muscles slightly flexed. His chest is heaving from the run to get to you, and sweat has beaded around his forehead. You momentarily flush, despite literally everything you’ve been through; he is still exceptionally attractive. “I do expect eye contact, though. And I promise, if you bite, you’ll regret it.” Bite? What does he mean, bite?
He slowly unzips his jeans, letting them sag down a bit. Then, almost torturously slow, he frees his cock from his underwear. You can’t help it; a small gasp comes out just because of the sheer size of it. This causes him to smirk down at you, “Don’t worry, you’ll adjust quickly when it comes time for it, sweetheart. Eyes on me, now,” his voice commanding. You whimper and consider begging him for mercy, but you slowly raise your eyes to meet his gaze. “Open.” You don’t move, you continue staring into his eyes, yours starting to well with tears. “I won’t ask again,” he snarls as he grabs your hair roughly. As the first of the tears rolls down, you let your mouth fall open. He wastes no time and pushes in until his balls rest on your nose. You gag, trying to push yourself away, but his grip in your hair holds you in place. He starts to pump in and out at a brutal pace, grunting and groaning in pure pleasure. “You’re such a natural at this, it’s like Satan made you just for me.” Your eyes bulge, and your hands slap at his abs and thighs, hitting anything you can make contact with.
You start to see stars and let your eyes close, causing him to pull out just enough for you to get a tiny breath. “I said eye contact, I’ll correct you later,” he promises, as he drives into your throat again. Gagging, you use your new breath of air to claw into his thighs, digging your nails into him. Despite your intentions, this sends him over the edge, and he pushes himself in for one final time. You feel his warm cum running down the back of your throat, not even giving you the chance to spit. He moans, holding you tightly against him. Pulling his twitching cock out, what feels like your throat, you sputter and cough. “Mm, that was so good, darling. I think you might be of spousal quality. I can’t wait to see what some training will enable you to do.” You barely hear him, still feeling lightheaded and dizzy from the violent face fuck he just gave you. “Let’s see how needy you are,” he roughly whispers as he lets go of your hair.
He slips a hand into your underwear, causing you to jerk away. But he can already tell how dripping wet you are, and he hasn’t even given you anything yet. Using his other hand to grip your thigh, he slips two of his fingers into you. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress any noises you would otherwise make. He notices, regardless, “Let them out, I want to hear how desperate you are for more after I just violated you.” With this, he curls them inward, hitting deep inside you. You’re biting your lip so hard that you start to taste blood. “I was going to let you finish, but I guess not now, since you want to be bratty.”
He leans forward, and you feel his breath on your thighs. He grips each of your thighs, forcing your legs apart, and ever so gently kisses your clit through your underwear. You whimper, finally breaking your silence, “P-please. I don’t want this.” You sound weak; you are weak right now. Everything hurts, and it feels so incredibly surreal.
“Really, you don’t want this either, right?” Titus suddenly pulls your underwear to the side, latching onto your clit and sucking in hard.
“F-fuck,” you whisper, your hips uncontrollably moving up towards his face.
Pulling away, but replacing his mouth with his thumb, he says, “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” He grins down at you, rubbing your clit in perfect circles.
“This isn’t right, you are ra-“ you cut yourself off with a moan. Fuck, how is he doing this to you? You’re being assaulted, but he is really attractive, and you did technically sort of assault him last night.
“That didn’t sound like a stop, did it, princess?” He slips a finger back inside you. You’re starting to feel good, too good.
“S-stop,” you cry out, “I don’t want this.” Your hips are still rising up to meet his hands. You’re so wet you can audibly hear yourself. You’ve never really felt this way before, what the fuck.
Titus lets out an actual giggle, “Did you really believe me? I am not going to stop until I’m ready to stop.” He returns his mouth to your clit, this time expertly biting down softly. You whimper, but you can feel something building in your core. He keeps going, sliding another finger inside and pushing down into you.
“S-shit,” you whisper between moans. As you start to tense up, Titus suddenly stops and pulls away. You look up at him, eyes wide and crazy. He shakes his head and stares down at you.
“I told you, you have to listen to get rewards, sweetheart, but don’t worry, I’ll be giving you plenty of chances soon.” You mindlessly stare back at him, silently pleading for something you said you didn’t want in the first place. Some kind of mix of pride, dignity, and shame stops you from vocalizing your wants. He reaches up and undoes the binds around your ankles, letting you crash into the ground. You cry out, between being upside down for so long, the exhaustion of earlier, the denial, and everything in between, you feel completely spent.
Titus knows this, but always has to push. “I think you should thank me for touching you,” he says, his figure blocking out the sun and dominating over you. You don’t know what he means. What else could he want from you?
“Kiss my cock and clean your spit off it.” You barely registered that he never put it away, but with another rough yank of your hair, he pulls your face level with it again. “And say thank you,” he adds with a cruel smile.
Wincing from the pain radiating from your scalp, you lean forward and half-heartedly kiss Titus’s tip. “Thank you,” you mumble.
“For?” he prompts, pulling you closer. You look up at him, scared to not answer correctly, but also just hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“Touching me,” you finish in a barely audible whisper.
He lets your hair go, causing you to hit the ground once more. “Second part, clean. Use either your bra or underwear, but I’ll let you decide.” He steps back now, taking in the sight of you. Your bra is barely holding on, you’ve lost your cute little kitten heels, and your underwear is soaking wet. You have dried blood running from your collar bone to between your boobs, spit all over your face, and last night’s makeup smeared everywhere. You’re covered in scratches and scrapes, and several areas where he can tell bruises are going to appear tomorrow. You stare at him, defiance still radiating in your eyes. That, Titus thinks, is what makes you so special. You still envision a future in which you get away.
You gingerly slide your underwear off, grimacing as you shimmy it down your legs. It was your favourite set, and you had been hoping to get lucky at the bar. Clearly, the complete opposite has happened. Titus eyes you, not fully believing you’re actually going to do what he instructed. But you’re all out of fight for now. You reach up and wrap your underwear around his cock, swiping up and down in an almost mechanical way. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. You feel him twitch under your hands. Once you finish, you let them fall to the ground, and you fully lie down, letting the exhaustion win. “Wow, no attempt to run? Or stab me?” He prods as he pulls up his underwear and jeans.
Observing you like this, Titus feels a pang of something deep inside him that almost resembles sympathy or maybe something like compassion. But, it’s almost instantly overruled by the high of complete power. He crouches down, causing you to bring your knees up, rolling yourself up into a fetal position. He drags a finger along the scrapes on your back, pressing down just a little too hard on them and causing blood to ooze out. You squeeze your eyes closed, too exhausted to even cry. He continues, observing your body like you’re livestock he’s intending to buy. His rough hands run over your body, poking, squeezing, and grabbing as they go. He starts down at your feet, moves up your legs, squeezing extra hard on your ass and thighs. He runs his hands over your waist, then to your boobs. Unlatching the hook, he slides the bra straps down your arms to get a full look at you. He pinches at your nipples, causing a slight reaction from you as you shiver. Then, his hands go up to your shoulders, gripping your neck just tight enough for you to know he could kill you if he wanted to. Cupping your face in his hands, he leans down and aggressively kisses you. You don’t kiss back, but rather just let it happen. He pulls back, letting you lie untouched again. “Two options now. One, I leave you here, and we repeat today’s events tomorrow. Except now you’re fully naked. Two, I take you back to the house on the compound,” he says very matter-of-factly.
You don’t move, hoping he just leaves you alone. You don’t know what the compound is, and you vaguely remember something about not leaving with kidnappers. Something about leaving lowers your chance of survival. But, honestly, what chance of survival do you have naked in the woods? Titus lowers himself down, and hovering just above your ear, whispers, “I’m the only person in the world who gets to decide if you live or die. Your entire existence depends on my will, and my will alone. When I ask you something, I expect an answer,” with an out of place sense of gentleness, he brushes the hair off your face. “So, one or two, what will it be, darling?”