Freedom

Section 8: The Endless Night

The silence would almost be peaceful if it wasn't for the commotion that came before. The calm after the storm. Or is it just the eye of the hurricane? Pamela hasn't moved in the hours since she was left on her side, hands and ankles still bound. She's had moments where she was unconscious and moments where she was fully aware, tears spilling from her eyes like the rushing waters coming down the mountains and filling the lake she bathes herself in. If she could get there now, she would wash all evidence of what happened to her from her body and run back into Jared's arms to try and forget last night. But she can't. She is stuck in place not just by the ropes that bind her but by the paralyzing fear that has been put in her.

The longer she lies there, the more she thinks about what she would do if she could get free. Feeling disgusted by what happened to her, but almost equally disgusted by how quickly she turned to thinking of Jared. Afterall, she was here to get away from him and the rest of her family. And now one thing goes wrong and her instinct is to run back. She feels so pathetic and weak. Last night she was raped, but was she any more violated than she had been the rest of her life? What is the difference really?

That question lies heavily in her mind. All her life she let people take advantage of her. She let it happen. Last night, she didn't let anything happen. She fought and she struggled. He took what he wanted. She didn't just sit back and watch it happen. The more she thought about this, the more confused she got. How could she feel so strong in such a weak and vulnerable state? It wasn't about physical strength, but the strength to fight for what she wanted. That was something she had never done before. And now it was time to fight again.

Knowing it would be a futile effort, Pamela struggles against the ropes anyway. Twisting and turning her wrists, trying to see if she can get the knot loose. She manages to shred the skin of her wrists and not much more. She probably shouldn't think about the fact that she is bound with her own rope, but somehow that thought can't leave her head. It almost makes her laugh, knowing that when she packed it she didn't even have a good reason to bring it, it just felt like a survival essential. And now it is possibly the cause of her demise.

With no way out and nothing she can do, Pamela is left in a world of her own thoughts. Life goes on around her, but she is trapped in her head. The sun begins to shine, animals and birds come to life with their musical sounds. Once in a while Pamela closes her eyes and imagines she is waking up like any other day at her camp. Listening to nature, feeling the warmth of the sun. She is always startled back to reality by a new found pain or an involuntary spasm. Thirst and hunger not important enough to set in until mid afternoon. The sun beating down on her all day finally taking its toll. She can't even seem to produce tears any more. But throughout all this time, she doesn't scream or call out. Her mind is calm enough to know it would be a useless effort.

At nightfall, Pamela takes note....24 hours since she last ate and drank. A combination of exhaustion and lack of food has her mind fading. She spends most of the night passed out, occasionally waking and needing a moment to realize where she is before falling back into the depths of sleep. In the morning, the sun stings her eyes, waking her. Beating down on her, hour after hour. She can't help but think about how long it will take for her to die like this. Initially letting these thoughts break her spirit before getting angry and trying to free herself from the ropes again. Tugging and struggling against the rough and torn cord. Allowing herself more time to try and get free this time. Ignoring the feeling of the fibers embedding themselves into the exposed flesh of her wrists and ankles. She is determined not to stop until she is free.

The sound of footsteps chases off her determination like a startled animal disappearing into the forest. Her body locks up and she is unable to move. On her side still, she opts not to look up. A pair of boots appear in front of her as the man stops in front of her. Standing there a moment before he continues to walk around her. She can't tell if he has a purpose or is just pacing. Finally he stops again behind her. She can sense him crouching down, and when he places his large hand gently on her thigh it feels like a ten ton weight on her. The section of rope between her wrists and ankles starts to move, rubbing the already damaged skin of her pelvis before it eventually drops away. Her wrists and ankles are still tied, but the rope between them is now cut.

Not wasting much time, he scoops her up in his hands, putting her over his shoulder. It digs into her stomach as he carries her away. She doesn't struggle or cry. She thinks about how she should feel ashamed. This man's hands on her unclothed body. Her exposed ass and pussy inches from his face. But at this point, what is there left to be ashamed of in front of him? He has had her in every way already, what's the point of being embarrassed now? She should be more worried about what he is going to do to her next. But if he was planning to kill her then he could have just left her to die where she was. If she was being honest with herself, his hand on her ass holding her in place on his shoulder might be the most warm and comforting feeling she has felt in a long time. A delusional thought, she knows, only thinking that because she feels saved from the torture of dieing from starvation or dehydration.

Turning her head slightly as it hangs upside down by Jordan's back, Pamela watches her temporary home from the last couple of weeks slowly disappear from her vision. Moving at a steady march, it takes about thirty minutes to get to their destination. He takes no breaks, shows no signs of fatigue carrying her this distance. Pamela is put down on the ground, seated with her back against a downed tree trunk. Looking around she sees a small pop-up tent, the remnants of a fire, and some small piles of trash and food scraps. Then her eyes go back forward, meeting with Jordan's. Staring into her face since putting her down, he sees the mix of fear and confusion in her eyes now. Holding her gaze for a moment, he suddenly breaks and walks away behind her.

Looking around, unsure of what is happening, Pamela takes a moment to see if she could get up if she tried. Not wanting to draw attention to herself too much, she bends her knees to pull her legs up and feet flat. Even in this position, her hands being tied behind her back and her ankles bound together make it near impossible to do much more. Jordan appears again out of nowhere and Pamela goes still; an apologetic look on her face, fearful he will be angry that she has repositioned herself somewhat. In his hand, a large pale dripping water. He crouches down and starts to pour it over her mouth. Tilting her head back, Pamela tries to catch as much as she can. She immediately realizes that it is water straight from the lake, not boiled and sterilized as she had been doing, but she doesn't care. Her dry lips feeling relief, her throat thankful for the cold liquid.

Water drips down from Pamela's lips to her chin. Jordan's eyes can't help but follow it as it pours down over her chest. Washing away some of the blood and dirt covering her chest, which heaves as she desperately tries to catch the lake water. He notes the bruising starting to form around the deep red teeth mark surrounding her nipple. Familiar feelings start to take over and he pulls back the water. He glances up to Pamela's face and catches her forlorn look. She's not looking at him with fear, but with a desperate need for what he has. And he realizes she has what he needs.

He puts the pale on the ground and quickly pushes his pants to his knees. She's not sure why, after all that had happened a couple nights before, but the sight of Jordan's groin. She has only ever seen one man this way before. She's discomfited by the fact that she can't take her eyes off of it. She's not sure what it is that has her so locked on. A bed of pubic hair hides the base of a thick trunk of a shaft. Rigid and smooth, save for some deep red scratches across the top, the shaft has a throbbing vein that her eyes follow down the length of his member to a thick, red head. The ridge around his head is so defined and strong looking that it appears as though it was carved by a master sculptor. As he takes a step towards her, she is distracted by the swinging pendulum under his cock. Two large balls held together in a loose sack that sways with each step. Her eyes are locked open as the vision of Jordan's package blurs and his pelvis is all she can see.

Jordan's hand gets a grip of Pamela's hair and his cock is pressed to her lips. "No fucking teeth this time, slut!" Her lips part as the words sting her ears. She purses her lips around his shaft as they are pushed open. Opening her mouth as wide as she can and trying to keep her head still, allowing him to control the movement. Struggling not to choke as Jordan's immediately thrusts deep into her mouth, she closes her eyes and tries to focus on making her mouth as open and usable for him as she can. As he starts to push deeper and his balls swing, hitting her chin, she shamefully suppresses a moan. Her eyes begin to water as her throat starts to fill with saliva that she has trouble finding the right time to swallow. It starts to spill out of the corners of her lips, bubbling out and spilling down to her chest. Soon, the saliva is mixed with cum, as Jordan orgasms into her mouth but doesn't stop thrusting until he has drained himself into her completely.

As soon as he is done, Jordan fixes his pants and goes into his tent, leaving Pamela against the tree trunk, a mess of saliva and cum. She doesn't move for a minute, trying to put together in her head the mix of emotions that are bubbling up. Soon, her eyes turn to the pale of water still sitting nearby. She debates whether to try and find her way to it or not. She knows that if he catches her trying to get to the water he will be angry. And she also has faith that he will give her more when she needs it. Faith. She doesn't understand how she could have faith in this man, but she does.

Pamela's skin becomes slick with sweat as she sits in the sun, waiting for Jordan to emerge from the tent again. When he does, he has a length of rope in his hands. He staggers towards her, a look of anger and disgust on his face. Yanking her by her hair he tosses her face first into the ground. She realizes that he is starting to position her similar to how he had when he took her ass. As she contemplates whether she should scream, plead with him, or try to get away somehow; he pushes her knees together and ties them with the rope. Grabbing the extra length that is hanging from her bound wrists, he wraps it around her neck and ties it tight, barely long enough to make it she needs to try and hold her hands up slightly for it to not pull tight. Her face in the dirt, sweat collecting a muddy paste on her skin. She holds her wrists slightly up off her back to relieve the pressure on her neck as she is forced to stay in a knelt position with her ass up.

"Please...please don't do this again," she says in as calm of a voice as she can, her words trembling as they leave her lips. He doesn't need to give a verbal response. The crack of his hand on her ass tells her that she needs to keep her mouth shut, and she does. But for good measure, she is given five more hard spanks. The already battered flesh is now a deep red, broken skin leaks small droplets of blood. The tears falling from her face drip into the dirt and she watches as they form a stream on the ground. He walks away from her, muttering to himself.

Her tears eventually stop, she isn't sure if she has come to some sort of inner peace with her situation or the well has just dried up from dehydration. Jordan approaches so quietly that she doesn't realize he is there until a small saucer is placed in front of her and he spills some water from the pale into it. Crouching next to her, she starts to build a fire as he occasionally looks over and watches her trying to figure out how to get some of the water. She doesn't know if he is watching because he enjoys seeing her struggle or he wants to make sure she is able to get some, but she cannot worry about his motives. After a few minutes of desperate attempts, she stops and takes a moment to breathe and focus.

Not strong enough to lift her upper body up, Pamela tries a new tactic. Turning her head to the side, she rests her nose on the side of the saucier, tilting it slightly towards herself. As the water moves towards her, she laps at it with her tongue. It takes time, but she eventually drinks most of it. Behind her, she feels the warmth of a growing fire. As more water spills into the bowl, her eyes move up to see Jordan filling it. He almost looks proud of her for figuring out how to get a drink for herself.

She takes her time drinking the second bowl, not sure how long it will be till he gives her more. Meanwhile, she can hear something sizzling on the fire. Slowly working to turn her head the other direction, she sees Jordan cooking something. He takes it off the fire and she sees that it is a hotdog as he sits back and takes a bite. Watching him eat, she tries to keep herself in check. She wants to call out that she hasn't eaten anything in two days except for the few drops of cum that made it into her stomach. She hopes that if she stays quiet and doesn't do anything to make him angry then she might get some for herself.

When Jordan finishes his meal, he starts to cook another hotdog. Pamela watches on, not taking her eyes off of it. His eyes look over at her as he cooks it. The fire illuminates her body. Her tits hanging down into the dirt. Her back looks strong as it arches, pushing her ass up into the air. Her strong thighs tensed and flexed some in the position she is forced into. She watches as he takes the cooked treasure and walks over to her, placing it in her water bowl. She hesitates, unsure if she should dive right in like she wants to, but he walks away and she takes that as a sign to eat.

Struggling again, but trying a similar tactic,, she is able to get the hotdog to her lips. It burns her lips at first, but she doesn't care. So focused on the food, she manages to get a little bite off of it. In this moment, the small piece of hotdog that she manages to swallow down tastes like the finest gourmet meal. Preparing to get another bite, she doesn't realize Jordan is behind her until he grabs her hips. Even as his cock forced its way into her still tender pussy, she didn't stop trying to get more of her meal. He fucked her. She ate. Each one of them is focused solely on getting what they need at this moment. The movement of her body makes it a bit more difficult, but she manages to eat all of what she was given. And as soon as she is finished, Jordan picks up the pace. Fucking her deeper and harder. Her whole body shaking, unable to fight against anything he did if she even wanted to. Feeling him pull out, she feels his hot reward shooting onto her back and surely into her hair. It is something that has never been done to her before, but something that she will surely need to get used to.

Jordan resumes his seat by the fire when he is done. He doesn't look at her the rest of the night, but as he heads into his tent he gives her ass a little rub and even bends down to stroke her hair a moment, her face still flat on the ground. Pamela doesn't sleep that night. Her mind is a mess. The fire keeps her warm as it burns out, hot embers still radiating with heat just a few feet from her. Her body feeling so many new sensations, when a familiar one arises. She wants to call out to him, to tell him she needs to be untied so she can relieve herself, she will let him tie her back up. But she is scared. She whimpers some, wondering if that will get his attention. She even tries to speak, a weak, "please," fights it way out of her throat and past her lips. Her attempts go unnoticed and she pushes her forehead into the ground and cries as she feels the hot piss running down her thigh, trying to hold it in to no avail. Finally just letting go, feeling the puddle of urine forming by her bound knees and shins. She has never felt so disgusting and shameful, even with all that he has done to her.

In the morning, Jordan opens his tent and immediately starts filling a bowl of water for Pamela. As he brings it to her, she can't even look up at him. Somehow she can't bring herself to face him knowing what she did and that he will soon discover it. As predicted, shortly after this he walks around behind her and notices. "Fuck," she can hear him say. But she doesn't sense anger as much as sorrow in his voice. She can hear him walk away and soon hears him coming back. A pale of water poured over her to wash her. "Thank you," she says into the dirt, sobbing some. Kneeling down by her head, he places his heavy hand on top of her scalp, "Twice a day. I'll take you twice a day. Now drink."

Over the next few days, things continued in similar fashion. He fed her when he ate, gave her water regularly, and carried her out into the woods twice a day as promised. Of course, he also continued to use her sexually. Initially there were still times of great violence. Whether it was simply an extremely brutal fuck--especially when he used her ass--or when he had his fits of screaming to himself and would whip her with branches he had collected for kindling. As time went on, and Pamela began to take the whippings without much protest, she noticed they also became more infrequent. There were even a few days where her trips out into the woods included her being fully untied and he would turn his back to give her privacy. The first time this happened, she had a moment of thinking she might run. But she didn't. She didn't know why, but the thought quickly went away and never came back.

Pamela isn't sure how long she has been staying with him now. She didn't lose count of the days, she never started counting in the first place. Waiting for him to get up and take her for her morning walk, she doesn't know the time but feels like it is getting late. He finally emerges and looks down at her. She is tied in a new configuration. Last night he simply tied her hands behind her back and her ankles together. The knots didn't even seem that tight, but Pamela didn't dare try to remove them. "Time to go," he says, and scoops her up over his shoulders. She wonders if she did something wrong. Lately he has been untying her ankles and letting her walk out with him. She looks around as they walk from the open area he has his camp into the more dense woods that she has started to become familiar with. She is confused as they walk past her usual spot.

As the minutes fly by, this journey starts to feel familiar. A long walk through the trees from a place she has started to become familiar with, carried tied up and naked on the shoulder of this man. She soon comes to see another familiar sight, her camp. He takes her off his shoulder and sits her down on the ground. Looking up at him, her eyes start to well with tears as she realizes he is going to leave her here. He takes a moment but doesn't say a word, simply turning around and disappearing into the forest again like he was never there to begin. Pamela doesn't speak either. She doesn't understand what happened, why he took her back, why he left her tied up. He didn't even try to do anything to make her unable to retrace his location and tell someone where he was.

Hours go by before Pamlea even attempts to escape from her ropes. Even though more recently she hasn't struggled against them, her wrists and ankles still burn from the torment of constant friction against them. As soon as she starts to struggle, she realizes two things. First, that she will get out of these ropes; it might take awhile but she will get out. Her second realization though is that it is going to hurt like her. She takes her time, working on the ropes some and then taking a break to settle her mind of the pain. During one attempt, she falls over onto her face. At first she is disheartened to be once again face first in the dirt, but she starts to realize that this position might make it easier to get out of the ropes binding her wrists behind her back. She soon discovers that she was right. As she pulls her wrists from the rope, she lets out a scream.