Fear

Her face, the terror, I remember it well. I don't know the name of the movie, I was probably only 10 years old but I thought about it for weeks. The image of her anguish wouldn't leave me alone, not for a moment. I didn't like it, it didn't make me happy, but it haunted me, following me around like a shadow that I couldn't shake. What was worse though was that I knew that really, I didn't want to shake it at all.

I'd been exploring the nature of power exchange for years when I met her, on a BDSM dating site one boring afternoon. I was experienced by then and I had developed a thorough understanding of the female submissive mind as well as coming to terms with my own and it's prowling, relentless demons. There was then and still is now, always a hunger though. Always a longing... For more... For much more.

Her initial email simply read,

"are you interested in rape?"

That's always a good way to get my attention I thought and responded immediately,

"yes, I love rape games."

"No, I meant rape. It's ok, I'll keep looking."

Shit, now she really had my attention. I better find out where she was going with this but I knew it wasn't going to be anywhere good. It struck me immediately that I wasn't going to be able to resist being lured into this if she was genuine; The shadow was back, but she's not genuine right? She's not for real surely?

We talked for a while and she sent me pictures. I was surprised to see and elegant but demure girl in her late 20s with a pretty face and a petite frame. Her clothes revealed her to be conservative by nature and she filled me in on her mundane existence in a ordinary office job. I played along, it was a fun game but I decided that it was just another internet fucktard playing late night funnies on stupid Australians. I felt like my suspicions were confirmed when I offered to supply some pics of myself to which she responded

"No, I don't want to know what you look like."

The conversations soon got dark. She let me into the dreadful yearnings that she'd felt since childhood. No history of abuse or mistreatment and she seemed genuinely upset about that. Her thoughts were truly horrific even for me, "there are some fucking sick internet geeks around" I thought to myself as I pretended to believe this wasn't some sick cyber fantasy,

"What is it that you crave the most?" I asked.

"Fear" she replied. "I need fear. Don't do this if you can't do it properly,"

Suddenly I was back in my 10 year old head, plagued by thoughts of this girl's terror. Her face contorted, her arms flailing and me drilling the fear straight through her skull and into her cerebellum. This wasn't a game she was talking about so it captivated me completely. The shadow was there always, never leaving my side, it was always on my mind but hey, at least it was just a wind up.

"Fuck, it's not a wind up."

She sends me an invitation on the Find-My-Friends app. I can see where she is, watch her walk down the street. I can use Google street view to look straight at the building she's in. I can follow her every move and now, it's me that's afraid. I'm afraid of this situation, of my self and the grim realisation that I probably won't be able to stop myself going through with this, even if I want to.

I wait for her one day as she passes a coffee shop. I needed to get a look at her. I'd not heard a thing from her since she sent me the invite and there was still a chance I'd been geo-stalking some fat man with pie spilt down his shirt. I wasn't, she was actually way prettier than her pictures had led me to believe but in the brief moment as she passed me by I was sure I could see sadness in her. I followed her for a while as she walked home from work and watched her interact with people. I was right, she was sad, something was missing. I wasn't the solution and I knew it.

I spent hours contemplating fear and what role it plays in my life. It was a constant, I knew that. Girls never feel completely comfortable because hell, they shouldn't. I go to great lengths to make them feel safe and protected whilst hiding the monster in plain sight, right there in front of their faces. But this girl didn't want to give me that opportunity, that satisfaction, the comfort blanket I had grown used to wearing. She wanted to meet only the monster and no one else.

I stalked her again a couple of times. I knew her routine now and she stuck to it like clockwork. No more communication had been sent and it had been over six weeks now since the invite. She could have turned it off, she could hide if she wanted to. What was she thinking? What the hell was I thinking? I was oscillating wildly between the thrill of this and how sick it all made me feel hourly. I needed to stop so I decided it was over, done, forget about it.

Who was I kidding? The shadow was all over me and I needed to taste her fear. I had no choice so I made my plans.

A short winters evening brought on the dusk as I waited. My plans had taken for ever to put in place and it had been 9 weeks since the invite. The service still ran and I watched her wander out of her office ten minutes later than normal. I was jittery, my hands shaking and my mind unable to focus. I'd tried to control all the variables but knew that it was an impossible task and that made me nervous.

She approached, another ten minutes later than normal and the waiting had made me angry. It was gonna happen now and I was on the brink of pulling out. She passed me, "don't do it" I told myself, but I didn't hear it. I turned, two steps and I was behind her, she heard me, turned, I had hold of her hair.

"Don't mess around your prick, get her off this street" I was screaming to myself,

Crunch, flashes in my eyes and pain through my nose. She'd hit me, square in the face and I couldn't see. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I didn't let go, just kept dragging her,

"more aggression asshole," I ordered, as I threw her around the corner of the grim disused alleyway, into the bare brick wall, safe from prying eyes. She turned, looked at me and there it was, pure unadulterated, de-sanitized, morbidly tangible fear.

Bang, she hit me again, this time in the side of the head. I know how to fight as that point I had had nine MMA bouts and had handled men much bigger than myself but hitting a girl is wrong, we all know that. Her arms flailed at me, whack, again in the eye and rage boiled within me. I wasn't angry at her, I was angry at myself. I was fucking this up for both of us.

I hit her back twice and she screamed. The noise from the road drowning it out as planned. It felt like it happened in slow motion. Once across the side of her face and once in the ribs. She slid down the wall holding her face and crouching in a ball. Adrenaline surged through me as I paused and looked down on her, my hand raised threatening another blow. She covered her face but fear was radiating off her in waves. It ran through me and filled the alleyway like a fog. I could smell, taste and even feel it.

I had manhandled girls before, never like this. I dragged her over a bin and tore at her clothes. She continued to fight, scratching and wailing. Taking hold of the back of her head I slammed it into he metal as I forced a group of fingers inside of her.

"No! Fuck No,"

She screamed as I drove my cock into her, hard, fast, relentless. She wouldn't stop trying to break free, I had hold of her right wrist and was twisting it up her back, it hurts like hell, It's been done to me many times but the pain wasn't sedating her.

"Stop fighting you fucking bitch or I'll break it" I growled in her ear,

She ignored me, forcing herself up with her other arm. Slam, her head hit the metal again, blood poured from her nose and she went limp. I looked down into her eyes. They were wide open and staring blankly at the wall, she didn't blink but tears streamed down her face. I grabbed both shoulders and fucked her as hard as I could. I forgot all about the chance of being caught, the sickening feeling brought on by hurting another human being, the conflict I suffered between protecting and terrorising girls. The fear in that alleyway was palpable like a drug and it drove me into her without remorse.

I turn to look at her as I walked away. She was slowly curling up on the floor, her arms hugging her knees. She didn't watch me leave.

After 20 minutes I went back but she was gone. I went to the nearest hospital and gave her description but they hadn't seen her. I check the app and she'd turned it off. Dread is all I felt. Nothing but dread.

I called her and wrote to her but nothing. I could go to her work or her home but shit, she wouldn't want that right?

Two weeks past and I struggled to consolidate my thoughts on what had happened. It wasn't the fear or the violence, the monster loved it and dined on the memories nightly before bed. It was the fact that I didn't know if she was ok, if that's what she really wanted or if she was even sadder now than she was before. Then one day another invitation arrived accompanied by a text that simply read,

"Again?"

The end