In Pursuit

This story has nothing to do with Reluctance, and everything to do with Non-Consent. If forced sex offends you, go back now.

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She was a runner. That would prolong the pursuit. He had already chased her about one hundred yards into the woods. Why she headed in that direction he'll never know. But in another fifty yards or so, she'd be facing a steep embankment that would allow him to get her.

He ran behind her with that familiar satisfaction of another successful capture. He took the opportunity to watch her ass sway inside her running shorts as she sprinted ahead. He wondered if she wore panties. It was already obvious she wore a sports bra under her t-shirt.

All it meant was that the final act would take longer. The anticipation only heightened the pleasure in the end.

She had a long, blonde ponytail that flapped as she ran. She was tall and, maybe, twenty years old. He had seen her twice before on the same path. He knew she was the one he wanted. Her youthful face, firm body, and long legs attracted him immediately.

Now she was almost within reach and the embankment loomed straight ahead. Trees and undergrowth whizzed past, sometimes scraping against their legs. She leaped over fallen logs with ease. He loved the athletic types.

Upon reaching the hill, she took two giant strides forward. Then she felt a hand around her ankle. She shrieked as she fell to the ground face first.

"Don't scream," he said. "Scream and you die."

He had hold of both ankles, pulling her backwards. Her fingers scoured the grass and dirt. He had her and she would not escape.

They were both panting heavily as he settled onto her legs. He grabbed hold of her ponytail and pulled her head back, at the same time using his other hand to seize her throat. The pressure he applied to her neck would have been enough to choke her in the long run.

"One more time—do not scream. You will live if you obey the simple rule."

He didn't ask her if she understood. Of course she understood. He let her gurgle for a few seconds in her attempt to breathe.

He knew from experience she was too exhausted to struggle much right now. But once she caught her second wind, she'd fight. He knew she would. For now, his weight on her legs was sufficient restraint.

She didn't believe for a second his promise to let her live. He'd rape her and kill her in the woods. So she had only one option, and when to make her escape would take focus. When his hand left her throat, she was nearly at the point where she could begin to think straight. If he had handcuffs, or if he tied her with something, she'd be doomed. She needed to act quickly.

He loosened his grip on her ponytail next and she immediately kicked, rolled, and punched wildly. Her high-pitched grunts added noise to the effort, but paid no benefits. He simply spread his ample body over hers and essentially smothered her. His victims didn't always end up on their stomachs, and this part was sometimes difficult. Today it was unproblematic.

"Relax. Don't you realize I could have had you a few yards off the path? You can't outrun me, babe. Settle down."

Her squirming continued until something made her suddenly stop. The undeniable feeling of a hard object rubbing against the cheeks of her ass brought home the reality of her situation. He was getting hard and her struggling excited him even more. She waited for another opportunity.

Sensing that she was calming down, he leaned back, making sure to keep pressure on her calves. He'd learned before that even running shoes can hurt when they hit you in the wrong place. He reached back and pulled off both of her shoes, tossing them aside.

He was on his knees, straddling her legs. He ran his hand up the back of one of her thighs. The skin was supple and smooth, warm from her running but already cooling off. He reached the bottom of her shorts and inserted his fingers under the silky material.

She wanted to scream, to slap away the hand, anything to make him stop. The hand was completely under her shorts now and reached the bottom of her right cheek. It stopped, and then crept higher.

No panties, he thought to himself. His cock twitched at the feeling of his fingers on the malleable, soft skin of her ass. He held his palm open before closing his fingers around a large portion of her cheek.

It felt to her that every muscle in her body tightened. He hadn't removed a single piece of clothing, or touched a single sexual organ, and she already felt the grip of fear and disgust. Even on her worst dates a guy had never done this. She had no way of knowing how she'd react, but she was going to have trouble following his order to relax.

He only lingered on her ass for a moment. Then he leaned forward and casually pushed up on the bottom of her shirt to expose her slender waist. He marveled at the perfection of her tanned skin as the shirt rose to her sports bra. Her back was well defined and the skin flawless. He ran his fingers across her back from left to right. Again, she tensed up.

"You have beautiful skin," he said softly. "It would be a shame to have to tarnish it."

So this is how she'd get her orders, she thought. Compliments and not-so-veiled threats. At least there hadn't been any weapons displayed...yet. The one she feared so far was the one between his legs.

He lifted the shirt past her bra and up to her neck. She was forced to raise her arms above her head along the ground, and he moved the shirt so that it covered her head and held her arms in place. Then he shifted his hands down to her back and slid them under the bra. She expected him to lift it off her. Instead, he simply felt her skin and slid his hands left and right until they were touching her sides.

His cock was pressing against the front of his shorts, eager to get out and explore the young body. But he would wait. He loved this part of the exercise. And this girl was being good. He wanted, and expected, more of a struggle. Maybe as she had clothes removed...

He pulled the shirt off her arms. The moment the arms were free, she flung one of them back at him while attempting to rotate. He dodged her swing and, at the same time, held up his hand containing the shirt to protect himself. Her hip caught him between the legs and came very close to doing damage, but he was too quick. He caught her flailing hand and avoided her thrashing legs, but she had managed to get onto her side.

He brought his legs together like a clamp around her thighs. He pulled her arm behind her until she let out a painful screech and leaned down onto her body.

"Uh, uh, uh," he warned. "Don't scream."

She groaned as he held the arm in place.

"Do you want it broken?"

She fought back tears.

"Do you?!"

She shook her head in defeat, a sob faintly audible at the same time.

He let go of her arm and she brought it close to her body to relieve the pain. He looked down on her and saw the first hint of her breasts inside the sports bra. He ran his fingers over the exposed skin above the bra.

"Now, we're going to continue and you're going to behave. Right?"

Her eyes were wet and wide and fearful. Their beautiful blue tint was somewhat lost due to circumstances, but their splendor was not totally diminished. She was prettier than he had first anticipated. She nodded.

"Good. On your stomach, please."

She refused to move on his command, so he forced her over. She wasn't sure she could escape him, but she knew she wasn't going to give in. She felt his hand on her bra and this time he pulled it up. All his actions seemed a little more emphatic after her latest weak endeavor to get away.

He yanked the bra off and she felt the cold, hard ground against her bare chest. Would he turn her over? Would he take off her shorts and do her this way? Would it hurt when he...? She tried to concentrate on defeating him.

He grabbed her left wrist and moved so that none of his body was over hers. Quickly, he jerked her by the arm so that she flipped onto her side and then onto her back. She squealed at the force of his actions.

Almost before she could look over at him, he was attaching the loop of a rope around her wrist. With a rapid tug, it was taut around her forearm. He was on his knees next to her, pulling the rope—and her arm—towards a small, nearby tree trunk. Despite her thrashing about, he managed to tie the other end of the rope around the tree and gaze at his bound victim.

The 'freedom' she now enjoyed gave her renewed energy to struggle. But she was in more danger than before. Nothing was going to free her from the rope. The more she pulled on it, the tighter it got around her wrist. Her back scratched against the ground and a new pain arrived.

His gaze started at the strands of blonde hair hanging over her face. He looked at her bare shoulders and arms. He looked at her breasts and stomach and waist. Her shorts rode very low on her hips and he looked at the gap between them and her navel. He gazed at her legs and feet.

He was hard. She could probably see that now. But he had work to do before any relief would come.

He reached down and began to clean the dirt and grass from her breasts. Almost daintily he picked off individual pieces of grime until her chest was nearly spotless. Then a swipe of his hand discarded any remaining dirt.

Her breasts were full and firm, but not large. They rose gracefully from her body, topped by delicate, pink nipples amid small areolas. He'd had much bigger tits before. But few as perfect as these.

He was well acquainted with the effect purposeful manipulation of the breasts had on women of all ages. He always started there. Always.

She fought the urge to kick at him and punch with her free hand when she saw him starting to bend over. She chose not to. Then his tongue made contact with her left nipple, followed by his lips.

She swung her right hand towards his head. His left arm blocked her effortlessly.

The slap of his hand on the side of her face, and her accompanying shriek, echoed in the woods around them. She was dazed, shocked by the sudden force of his hand. When she regained her senses, tears were rolling down her face and across the bright red point of impact.

He stared at her looking for recognition. Her lips trembled, and her eyes made contact. She blinked as the tears flowed.

He bent over and licked her nipple once more. He put it between his lips and sucked gently. She didn't try to hit him. She didn't pull her body away. Perhaps she was conquered, he thought.

He took her tit in his mouth and allowed his tongue to feel her skin and her hard nipple. He massaged her with his mouth, not quite biting and not quite lying his lips on her breast. He would be gentle at first. It soothed the wildest of his captives, and this was a wild one.

He had been at her side. When he felt she was more composed, he moved between her legs, ever alert for a wayward kick. Safely in place, he put her other breast in his mouth. That nipple also responded by hardening the more he licked it, sucked it, and lightly bit it.

She was contemplating the situation: bound too tightly to flee; tired from the run and subsequent struggles; mentally exhausted; and, now, stimulated by his constant treatment of her tits. Yes, stimulated. She wanted to scream. Not to get attention, but to deny what she was feeling. When she masturbated at home and needed to cum, she played with her nipples. When she was mad at her boyfriend, he played with her nipples and the fight was over.

She almost raised her chest toward the mouth currently sucking her, but she caught herself in time. She couldn't allow him to know.

But while his mouth was on one breast, his hand was on the other, rolling the nipple between his fingers and squeezing it roughly. Deep inside her throat a moan formed. She bit her lips together to refuse the sound. Somehow, he felt the whole thing happening.

"It's OK. Relax," he said.

Then she almost froze. His hand was on her stomach. Then lower. Under the top of her shorts and inches from a spot that almost certainly would make her scream. He purposely slid past it and onto the top of her leg.

"Not a sound. Understand?"

He didn't expect a response and didn't get one. Just as his hand made contact with the side of her pussy, he pulled on one of her nipples with his teeth.

"Ohhhhh, God!" she muttered.

"Shhhhhh."

His hand found the folds of skin hiding his ultimate goal. He made no effort to enter her or fondle her in any other way. It was just a notice to her that he was there, and could go there any time he wanted. With his hand, his mouth, his cock...he could go there.

She had one overwhelming fear at the moment—that he would know she was wet. He didn't press hard enough with his fingers to enter her cunt, but he was close and would return to the same spot. She was angry and embarrassed, with herself.

His momentary journey through her shorts ended and his hand reemerged. He no longer played with her tits. He was staring down at her as if trying to make a decision. She wanted to beg him not to hurt her, but chose not to speak.

He backed away a couple of feet and put his hands on the top of her shorts. With a deliberate motion, he pulled them down and slowly slid them off. Once she was naked, he stood between her feet. Her legs were spread, one arm was behind her head tied to the tree, and the other arm lay at her side. Her breasts rose and fell along with her breathing. Wisps of hair stuck to her forehead.

He unzipped his shorts and reached inside, pulling out a generous cock. If it was meant to give her one final indication of the final result of her capture, it worked. She stared at his erection for a few seconds, then up at his face. She admonished herself for even thinking that the cock was impressive and he wasn't all that bad looking. He was about to rape her.

But first, he needed to follow a plan that had worked virtually every time in the past. He knelt between her legs once more and spread her legs with his hands. He began to lean forward, his face headed directly for her pussy.

'No. God, no,' she thought to herself.

She felt his breath before anything else. He was close enough for the warm air to hit her wet cunt and send signals through her body. And then she felt it—his tongue touched her pussy.

She closed her eyes. The tongue slid upwards between her folds and stopped as soon as it found her clit. She twitched and tried to squirm away. He held her by the waist and applied more pressure with his tongue. It made no difference to her that she was tied down and being attacked by a total stranger; his attention to her clit was causing the predictable result.

He wouldn't stop until he felt her react positively. He licked her clit, put it between his lips and sucked on it. He moved down and slid his tongue inside her increasingly wet cunt and probed her. Then, finally, with one more effort at her clit, her lower body rose to meet his face and a moan escaped from her mouth.

It was time.

She heard him fumbling with his shorts as she peered up through the branches of the trees at the clear sky. Her shame didn't permit her to watch as he moved into place between her legs. She didn't resist. She didn't scream.

But his delay and an unfamiliar sound caused her to look down her body at him. To her total surprise, he was opening and putting on a condom. It was the last thing she ever expected and put to rest that last hidden thought in her brain of what the consequences of the next few minutes might be.

Only now was he truly ready. His cock barely entered her cunt and, already, he knew it would be easy. She was warm and wet. He took hold of her unbound wrist and held it above her head. He pushed forward and felt his cock slide into her.

"No, no, no," she murmured.

"Relax," he replied. "It's almost over."

The words had an overwhelming effect on her. She was being raped, his cock now fully inserted into her cunt, and she felt comforted that it was 'almost over'. She nearly relaxed.

He groaned with satisfaction as his balls hit her body. Quite often at this point he was having to hold down a less receptive victim. That, too, had its own form of stimulation. But this was better. A beautiful, sexy, young woman was taking his domination with calmness. He could just fuck her.

Which he started to do. The lubricated condom made it an effortless job, and the tightness of her youthful cunt made it more than a pleasure. He could cum anytime. But he had one final arrangement to fulfill.

He leaned down and took one of her tits in his mouth. The nipple was harder than before, certainly more sensitive to the stabbing of his tongue and the pull of his teeth. She started to fidget underneath him again. Not an attempt to stop him, it was too late for that. More an attempt to escape her own body's stimulation. Or deny it.

He wouldn't let her. He sucked on both tits while continuing to relentlessly fuck her. He gripped her wrist more tightly, knowing it would heighten her sensation of fear. Fear, mixed with lust, always made them cum harder. Always.

It took about two minutes, maybe three, for the first sign to surface. Her body started to react in rhythm with his. She moaned continuously, sometimes audibly and sometimes never leaving her throat, but he heard it. He felt it.

She was fighting tears behind her closed eyes. She wasn't able to stop herself from feeling it; feeling the need to cum. His cock was thick and filling her body wonderfully. His mouth and tongue manipulated her like an instrument. His clenched fist around her wrist was powerful.

She knew she gave in when she unconsciously tightened her cunt muscles around his throbbing shaft. He bit a nipple again and deep inside her stomach, it began. She would not be able to contain it.

"No! No! God, no!"

He didn't speak this time. He listened and felt for her to start.

"Ahhhhhhhhh, fuck no!"

She writhed and muttered unintelligibly. He fucked her harder and faster. He looked down on her, no longer needing to suck the lovely tits that rolled on her chest. Her face was damp with perspiration. She was truly lovely.

He started to cum. Together their moans filled the woods. He let go of her arm and she unexpectedly put her hand on his back. His cock spasmed inside her and filled the condom to the limit. Their heads were side by side and he smelled her hair; felt it against his face. She squeezed his cock one last time and he thrust it into her with finality.

By the time he pulled out of her, she was limp on the ground, eyes closed and mouth gasping for air. He was almost finished dressing by the time she looked at him. She didn't know what became of the condom and only cared slightly. It would be evidence; but then a serious consideration struck her. Did it matter?

He stood next to her, looking down with a relaxed grin. Was it time to die, she wondered?

"With a little effort you should be able to get yourself free," he said. She watched him pick up her clothes. "I'll leave your shorts here. I'll take the rest, if you don't mind. It should buy me a little more time to leave town."

She had an urge to ask him if he really wasn't going to kill her, but quickly realized it wouldn't be a smart question to ask. He looked down at her one last time, turned, and climbed the embankment. He disappeared.

It did, in fact, take her considerable time to untie the rope from the tree. He was obviously a master at knots, and she wasn't. Once freed, she slid on her shorts and sat on the ground.

No, she would not report him. How could she when, at some point, they would ask her about the rape and she'd say, in her usual truthful way, that she had cum. She had cum long and hard. They would ask and she would admit it.

She would leave him to move on to the next town, the next victim. Her only pain was a sore back and wrist. Her major concern: how to walk the short distance home in just her shorts—without being raped.