Alone Ch. 05

I remember one time I got into a debate with a few people in my freshman year at college, oddly enough, over the death penalty. I'd always been against it. I always believed the state couldn't be trusted to take the life of anyone, no matter what. This curly-haired kid, who was in favor of it, said that while it could be misapplied, and it should never be considered lightly, some crimes were so heinous that the state had a moral obligation to rid society of those evil men. I'd laughed at him for using the word evil. We got into some stupid argument over the definition of the word, and eventually he got annoyed, and he asked if I believed some people were objectively evil, and deserved to die. I asked what made a man objectively evil, and he gave me a fairly simplistic answer, saying that if someone did an objectively evil act, then it made them evil.

I then brought up slavery, and asked him if he thought that it was an objective evil. He, of course, agreed that it was. After that, I argued if he thought that everyone who ever owned slaves was evil. I was no history major, but I knew a lot of great men were on that list. He said he believed that some of them most definitely were. I argued with him over that, saying that if he was to be intellectually consistent, then he had to condemn all men who engaged in the horrific practice, as by his own logic, doing an evil act made them evil. He argued that we had to judge people by the standards of the time. I asked if we should judge the Aztecs who offered up human sacrifices to their imaginary gods by the standards of their time. I remember being really proud of that one, especially when he didn't have an answer for me.

When I saw the man crouching down in front of me though, I saw evil. He wasn't worthy of any lesser word. Depraved, heinous, vile, loathsome. They were some words that came close, but there was something about this man, the boundless creativity of his wicked nature, that meant his very essence reeked of evil. Had you looked at him on the street, you may not have noticed anything. He appeared a normal man, though perhaps a little disheveled. I knew he was wrong from the moment I laid eyes on him though. He'd unnerved me to the point where I even recognized him as a wanted murderer from the next state over, after seeing his sketch only once, on my phone screen, whilst taking a shit, earlier in the day. Nobody else would have recognized him that quickly, and when I realized who he was, he didn't even have the element of surprise on me. I had him at gunpoint, and somehow, now I was here. Partner dead, no help coming, and about a can of red bull's worth of his baby batter coating my insides. How had it all gone so wrong?

"Hey!" He snapped, slapping me roughly across the face. "Wake the fuck up!"

I blinked several times, disoriented. I'd been in my own world for a moment, but now it was back to reality. My reality had become the sociopathic rapist and murderer who was crouched down in front of me, holding the end of a brown leather belt. Holding the end of a belt? As I looked around and got my bearings, I realized I must have passed out, because now I was lying on my bare ass, propped up against the front of my patrol car, my hands cuffed behind me once more. Another thing I noticed, which I immediately recognized as evidence of his sick fetish, was that my uniform shirt was back on, but completely unbuttoned, with absolutely nothing underneath. What's more, the other end of the belt he had a hold of, well, it traced back to me.

It took me a moment to realize what he'd done, but when I did, I started hyperventilating. He'd secured it around my neck, like a collar, with the remaining two feet or so dangling loosely to my front, forming a perfect short leash. It was tight as well, despite the slack between my neck and the fist he had it gripped in. I could still breathe, but even flexing my neck muscles the tiniest bit produced immediate resistance. Noticing me coming to my senses, he grinned.

"What do you think?" He asked, sounding very proud of himself. "That little knife on your keys was a great help. The belt just wouldn't stay tight until I cut a new hole. Most don't come with a hole for necks, after all."

I didn't have an answer for him. I was disgusted beyond belief. That disgust turned to dread when he stood up, pulling the lead up as he went. That discomfort became pain and panic as he started pulling me up by the neck. Instinctively, I found some purchase on the push bar with my hands and used it to prop myself up against the car. It was then I noticed that my pants were completely gone now, though my socks and boots remained. A quick look around saw them hanging over the patrol car's driver's side door.

"Hey, don't look over there, look at me." He chided, pulling the belt tight, forcing my neck forward.

I was now face to face with the camera again. He had the 'leash' in one hand, and his phone, recording everything, in the other. Disregarding the leash for a second, he lifted me to my feet by my armpits and stood me up. Immediately I fell backwards against the car again. My legs just didn't want to work properly in the cold. Giving me a warning look, he did it again, and I managed to stay standing this time, though the cold was seriously biting now. He then grabbed a hold of my leash and walked me around to the passenger seat of the patrol car, sitting down comfortably, before yanking me towards him. I somehow stayed standing as I stumbled along with him, after which point, he wasted no time explaining what he wanted.

"Get on my lap sweet cheeks." He snapped, yanking slightly on my leash.

I did what he said without question. What else could I do? If I disobeyed, he would kneecap me, burn me alive, and then send my father the gory images. All of that, I had no doubt he would do. I was resigned to my fate by now. Now that the gun was gone, I couldn't see any way out of this, especially now I was back in restraints. I died in every scenario, and that thought was crushing me, even as I gingerly climbed into my car and sat atop his lap. Unbeknownst to me, he'd apparently already taken the rifle from the gun rack, as it was missing when we got in. He'd also pushed the laptop aside, and moved the radio mic far out of the way. Once I was in and straddling him, he shut the door and proceeded to tie off the other end of my leash- belt, whatever the hell it was, around the grab handle on the roof. It left me plenty of slack, but if I tried to dive over to the driver's side for any reason in particular, it would stop me. He was taking no chances with me now.

I wasn't crying anymore. I think I was all cried out, after that last rape dashed my hopes of escape. What's more, as much as I despised the idea of being raped again in my own car, in the very seat where I always sat when Thomas and I were on patrol, there was a silver lining. The heater was on. With my legs as frozen as they were, I wasn't about to suggest this happen elsewhere. I would've liked more time to warm up before the next round of abuse began, but he was impatient, and so as I sat straddling him, he pulled his jeans down, releasing his rapidly stiffening cock. I looked down in horror as I felt it flop against my belly. It was fucking huge. I thought I'd gotten a good judge of his size before, but he hadn't even been erect for that. I looked away and just sat there, staring past Greg, out the back window and into the woods, as he continued slapping it against me, gently stroking it, and rubbing the tip against my belly.

"Y'know, It's a shame I've got to kill you." He mumbled quietly, as he pushed my shirt aside and started grabbing handfuls of my breasts.

I couldn't help but feel as his attentive, not-so-little soldier grew from what must've been about eight inches, to at least eleven, as he continued pinching and kneading my breasts. He wasn't even paying attention to anything else, only my breasts. I looked around the car and immediately noticed my phone, sitting in the side pocket of the driver's side door, recording everything. I knew it was mine, it had a bright pink case on it, a gift from Megan, when I graduated the academy. On the back of the case was a print of a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, her idea of a joke. I remember finding it funny at the time. It wasn't as funny now.

My thoughts were scattered by a sudden yank on the leash, forcing me to look back at him. He really wanted me to get a good look at his cock, as he forced my head down, so I could see the monster he was about to impale me with. When I was sitting down the whole way on his lap, the tip of his cock was basically touching the bottom of my breasts, that's how huge he was. Now I know why he wanted to do this in the car. It wasn't for my benefit. He was feeling the cold as well, and he wanted to warm up and dick me down properly, for the cameras, of course.

Finally, he decided it was time, and grabbing my waist, he lifted me upwards, having to lift me quite high just so his cock would clear my stomach. When he had me lined up, he guided the head of his cock into me manually, letting out a slight squeaking groan as he did. To my credit, I stayed silent, just watching dispassionately as he slipped inside me once more. He wasn't happy with that though, and as if just to prove he could get me to react, once he was in, he vigorously pulled me back down again, burying his entire length into me in a fraction of a second.

Despite expecting it, having taken it several times now, and having been given time to prepare, he knocked the breath out of me in an instant, causing me to gasp and fall forwards slightly, directly onto him. I took a moment to regain control of myself and sat back up, despite the discomfort, before staring at him in absolute astonishment. I wasn't surprised he'd gone in hard and fast, as if previous experience was anything to go by, I expected him to do something like that. He was trying to hurt me, after all. I was surprised by my own reaction. I couldn't catch my breath, and it wasn't just the belt around my neck. No, it was the sheer volume of dick that was filling me up. The sharp, stinging pain and discomfort was there, back as before, along with the shame and humiliation, but a new feeling had joined them, and this was the worst one of all. Pleasure. I couldn't help it, his beast of a cock was making me weak, and driving me wild.

He was grinning across at me, his face mere inches from my own as I struggled to come to terms with the massive beast he'd just speared me with. I was hoping he might give me at least a few moments to catch my breath, try and get my psyche back under control, but once he'd seen the look of profound shock on my face, he just started laughing and shifted about in his seat, before resting his hands on my asscheeks and giving them a tight squeeze. I struggled to keep the battling emotions in my head from spilling over onto my face, but as he started grinding slowly, I couldn't help it as my mouth fell open, and a quiet, mewling moan was released. The moment that happened, he stopped, and looked into my eyes. The look on his face when he saw he'd beaten me was the worst thing I'd ever seen. His savage grin turned to one of wonder and amazement as he realized. He'd finally gotten me to enjoy it.

I started sobbing again after that, loudly, even as he started slowly sliding me up and down along his massive pole. I think he realized that no promises of a painful death could overcome the shame of what was happening in my head, so he just let me cry as he reveled in his final victory. I'd lost the physical battle already. I'd gotten so hot and wet by then, I almost found myself wishing for the last rape, the one where I'd been so cold I was shivering, with dirt and stones pushed up against my breasts as he showed me by exactly how much I'd lost. The mental battle was still being fought though, with ferocity the likes of which I never could have envisioned. Pleasure had won out against discomfort and pain, which soon started to take a back seat, but shame fought on valiantly, and as pleasure got stronger, so too did shame.

"Please stop." I pleaded, through sobs, grunts and gasps, looking at him desperately as he continued his conquest.

"You don't want me to." He whispered back, looking me right in the eyes.

I didn't reply. It was true, I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to continue, I wanted him to keep inflicting pleasure upon me, despite my many protests. The considerations of who the man inflicting that pleasure was had almost fallen by the wayside, and only shame, damned shame was holding the line. And holding the line it was. The self-loathing, the feeling that I was a whore, and a horrible human being, that was what fed my tears now. Humiliation had gone. I'd been humiliated to the umpteenth degree, and so what he'd done to me didn't feed my shame anymore. What fed it now was every gasp, every moan, every whimper, and of those, there was no limit.

***

I spent a grand total of five minutes trying to stay upright as he slammed in and out of me, lubricated by our collective juices. When I realized just how pointless it all was, I eventually stopped crying, and just went limp, falling forward against his shoulder. To my dismay, he wouldn't even let me do this, and, still railing me the whole time, he pulled me back by the leash, before shoving me away from him, where I promptly fell backwards. I would've fallen all the way against the dashboard, but the leash stopped me, holding my head up, choking me, all the while my center of gravity was trying to pull me down. I panicked and started twisting and leaning forward, but to no avail, as the belt started affecting my breathing. After only a few moments of this, I realized I was in trouble. I managed to make eye contact with Greg. I guess I expected him to do something about it, maybe pull me back, but instead, he just kept fucking me, and in fact increased his pace.

After a few more moments of this, I fell down further, as the point where the belt was secured around my neck twisted around to the front. Immediately I could breathe better, as it was pulling more on the back of my neck now, but the buckle was cutting into my chin, making it impossible to talk properly. Things were made worse, as, ignoring my plight, Greg leaned forward in the seat, upsetting my balance. Instinctively, to stop myself from falling entirely, I wrapped my legs around his waist, dirtying up the seat cushions with my boots in the process. Now, it was far easier for him to fuck me. Before, he had to overcome gravity to lift me up and off his cock, and while I didn't weigh a whole lot, it was still a factor that slowed him down. Now, all he had to do was pull me forward and back by the hips, as I swung like a pendulum on the leash. It was pulling me closer to the door now though, and I was just about able to stop myself from choking by using my hands, cuffed behind me as they were, to grab a hold of the side of the door and push myself up slightly, so the tension was off the leash.

A few moments after I fell into my new position, he realized just how much easier he could fill me up, and how much more range he had, with practically no exertion required on his part. If he wasn't going to help me before, he certainly wasn't going to help me now, evidenced by the fact that immediately, he started fucking me with a drastically increased vigor, making liberal use of his new-found advantage. I thought he'd reached my limits already, but now, I could feel him pushing right past them, over, and over, and over again. That experience of euphoric, carnal pleasure, mixed with damning shame, and crippling fear, was like a trio of dancing dragons, swirling around and around each other, none of them quite willing to take on the other two. I was struggling to keep my arms locked against the door pocket, or whatever I had grabbed a hold of, I wasn't really sure. What I was sure of was that with the way he was ravaging me presently, I soon wouldn't have the strength to stay up. Looking up, I could see a good amount of slack in the belt. If I fell, I'd have about a foot or so to fall before the leash stopped me. With the threat of a short drop and a sudden stop quite literally looming over me, and no other options available, I turned to him.

"I'm- gonna- fall." I choked out, through loud grunts of equal parts lust and shame.

The whole while he'd been fucking me like that, with me essentially hanging from the roof, he was staring at my jiggling breasts with what I could only describe as a starved fascination. When I spoke, he looked across at me and saw the predicament I'd put myself in. He didn't say anything, but he stopped fucking me for a moment, before glancing back at my breasts. He really liked them, I could tell. I knew why as well. They were perfect. Almost every guy I'd ever been with had told me that, verbatim. They were large, but not unwieldy, being just the right size for most guys to get an easy handful. They were perky, and had some bounce to them, but they didn't flop about everywhere, like the massive fake tits you saw on all the celebrities and trophy wives. Of course, they were all natural, with rosy pink nipples and slightly smaller than average areolae. I knew they were stunning, but right now I was hanging on for dear life, and my rapist was just staring at them. Finally, he looked back up at me, an odd look on his face.

"If I lift you back up, you're gonna ride me, understand that, cowgirl?" He said after a moment, his hands still glued to my waist.

"Okay." I got out.

Immediately, he leaned forward and grabbed the leash, roughly pulling me upwards. I felt myself spasming around his cock as the leash choked me, but he soon had me pulled back up onto his lap, where I sat, cross-legged, catching my breath as best I could, considering the monster I was currently impaled on. He then put a hand around my waist and pulled me into him. I adjusted my legs back to how they were before, so I wouldn't fall backwards again. I knew what he expected of me, so I slowly began to raise myself off of him, wincing as I felt the tip of his cock scraping along my walls. That quiet wince turned to a grunt of painful pleasure as he pulled me right back down again.

"Hold up a minute sweetheart." He mumbled, pulling me roughly towards him, wrapping both arms around behind me.

I didn't know what he was doing at first, but when I felt him grab my cuffed wrists, I figured it out pretty quickly. He only released my right wrist though, before pulling both around in front of me and cuffing them together again. My shoulders already felt better, and while I wasn't overjoyed about the task ahead of me, I suppose this had to be some kind of improvement. The belt around my neck was starting to seriously chafe though.

"Can you-" I began, but stopped, thinking better of it.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Can I what?"

I hesitated, but after a moment I figured I had little to lose in just asking. I gestured loosely at the belt around my neck.

He shook his head and smiled regretfully. "Nope, sorry sweetheart."

I thought for a moment. Perhaps I should've just left it, but now he knew that I wasn't just tolerating my own rape, but that, despite the shame and humiliation, I was enjoying it. What's more, he'd stopped me from falling and getting hurt. After that, I felt like... maybe something had changed a little bit, and I might have a bit more wiggle room.

"Please? It hurts." I asked after a moment, doing my best to look and sound compliant.

He sighed. "It's to stop you running off." He replied bluntly.

"I won't run off." I told him, and in that moment, I was telling the truth.

I genuinely didn't intend on trying to run off at that point. I was resigned to my fate, and I knew if I ran, not only was there no chance of any outside help arriving, it meant a very high chance that I'd be caught, and that I'd die a horrible, fiery death, and that videos of my disgrace, as well as my demise, would be forwarded to my father. I was an only child, and he had a heart condition. He'd been a firefighter for 25 years, before retiring early last year, and he was the greatest man I'd ever known. I'd rather die the worst death than have him see me raped and burned. He wouldn't be able to take that, I knew it. No father would.