The Light Between the Trees Ch. 10

Author's note: Traumatised by being held hostage in the cafe siege, Chloe has chosen a new direction in her life. She gives up her steady boyfriend and stable job to seek out new thrills in risky encounters. Covalent has laid out his plans to make her disappear and Chloe finds herself spiraling deeper and deeper into his fantasy of total control.

The story contains themes of female submission, edge play and autassassinophilia. Discretion is advised: please check the story tags to see whether this a series you'll enjoy.]

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INTO THE WILD

I must have fallen asleep, because the sudden silence rouses me. The gentle rocking motion of the vehicle has ceased, and the engine is off. I strain to try and catch any sound, but there's nothing. I'm trapped and helpless and I have no idea where I am.

Gradually, I stretch out, but the shiny plastic sack is still wrapped tightly around my vacuum-sealed body. I squirm, but it's useless: I can't move. There is the sound of a car driving past at speed, and I realise we're stopped by the side of the road. I listen intently for any other clues.

There is a metallic rattle and then slamming of a little door, just next to me. I hear a clunk. Covalent's filling up at a station, which means we must be out on the main road now. I don't know how long I've been asleep, lulled into it by the car's motion on the dirt access road out of the forest, and the physical exertion of me walking barefoot and naked on a track through the trees for over an hour to meet him. I can't move, I can't speak. All I can do is wait for him to return as I lie sealed in my sack, ready for transportation to the mystery location he's chosen for my abduction.

I start to go back through it all again, and the doubt creeps in. Shaving my head, putting me into the sack, making sure I'd ditched anything that could identify me, it's obvious that Covalent is serious about what we've been talking about, what I've agreed to do with him. I have to accept that his intention is to carry out his plan, the plan that I accepted and volunteered for, to allow him to fulfil his dream of making someone disappear. I saw it in his eyes just before he pulled the sack over my head, a briskness to his manner that tells me he means to do it. For the first time, I start to wonder what I've done.

In the boatshed, he revealed his plan to me, pushing me to the edge to show me. We are deep inside his fantasy now, me helpless in the back being disappeared. The water had only been knee deep, but he hadn't told me that. I hadn't begged him to stop either, and I keep coming back to what the fuck that means about me.

I hear a man's voice, but I can't make out the words. Someone else is filling up their car nearby. I worm my way to the back of Covalent's vehicle, until my feet touch the back door. I can kick out, banging as hard as I can, and attract the stranger's attention. He'd come looking, and see me sealed in the sack, there would be a commotion. I would be discovered.

I hear the door open. Covalent's back: it's now or never. The man calls out, and I hear Covalent answer.

"Yeah, sure. Gimme a sec."

There is a hand on my shoulder.

"Just stay quiet, Raven. I'll be back in a minute. Don't move."

The hand is removed and I hear the car door slam. There are voices again, right outside the window. I can hear the stranger asking questions. I think he's lost. They're laughing. I'm acutely conscious of the fact that all the man has to do is look in through the window and he'll see my body, bound in the black plastic in the back. Just one kick to raise the alarm; my last chance to avoid the future he's planned for me. My body is coiled tight, like a spring.

Instead, I relax, rolling my shoulders back, flattening my spine against the floor. A wave of nihilistic serenity overwhelms me as I decide that I'm not going to struggle or kick. I let the seconds tick away quietly until Covalent opens the car door again, gets in and starts the engine.

"Good girl. You don't have to worry, Raven, no-one saw you."

I feel the car move and I know that whatever turning point there was, it's now receding into the distance.

---

I lose track of time again, but I don't go to sleep. I'm listening to the radio, feeling the rumble of the tyres over the tarmac. A song comes on that I recognise, and I hear him singing along. He's got a strong voice, mellow and baritone. I want to hear him sing more songs, but he's picking and choosing. I've never been with anyone who sang for pleasure before, and it's strangely comforting.

The vehicle bumps and the sound of the tyres change. We're on dirt again, bouncing through the occasional pothole. I try to keep track of time, but it seems to be forever until we come to a halt. I hear the door again, then the rattle of chain on metal. He's opening a gate. He gets back in and we pull forward. He gets out. Another rattle. The crunch of boots on gravel.

The tight plastic cocoon that has enveloped me has shrunk my world, all my senses, down to just the sounds I can hear. I can't see, I can't smell, I can't touch or taste. Cut off from all other sensations, my brain is conjuring up images of where I am and where we're going.

I stretch out again, feeling the stiffness in my body from being left lying in the back so long. I feel the tightness of the sack pressed against my skin, and I become aware of the way it cups my crotch. I imagine how I look to him, sealed in the shiny black plastic with the contours of my pussy lips clearly defined. I'm thinking about my pussy again and, as if on cue, the aching restarts. I struggle in the plastic, once again trying to get my hands close enough to touch myself. The sweat on my skin has added a layer of lubrication now, and my hands slip under the plastic, just marginally, but enough.

"By all means."

I freeze with the heel of my palm over my clit.

"No, really. Please continue."

I shudder, ashamed of getting caught red-handed. He must have been getting back into the driver's seat as I moved. Oh shit, now what is he going to do?

I feel his hand press onto mine, pushing down and grinding my palm slowly against my pussy lips, compressing my engorged nub nestled beneath. I feel a desperate longing, the product of a fortnight of denial and relentless teasing on his orders. He continues the motion, and I feel slickness welling up from within me.

"There you go. Isn't that better?"

The pressure is released, but my hand is still moving on its own now. I stop.

"No, keep going. We still have some distance to cover."

I don't move, dreading the idea of being forced to edge my orgasm until we reach our destination. It's better not to move and not subject myself to the rolling agony of denial.

"I told you to keep going," he says, "You seemed to be so keen a moment ago. Did you plan on maybe stealing a little one while I was distracted?"

There is a searing pain in my breast as he squeezes my nipple, hard. I buck and writhe.

"Keep going, I said."

He releases me, and I'm panting. I hesitate for a moment and then I'm grinding my palm into my pussy as ordered, making a show of it, leaving him in no doubt of my eagerness to comply.

"That's better."

I hear the door close and feel movement again as we continue our journey.

I know what he's done to me, sealing me up in the sack. I'm a featureless shape in the back of his vehicle, stripped of my humanity and my agency, expected to perform on his command. He's ceased to think of me as the woman he met online, or as a person at all. From the moment he pushed me into the back of his vehicle, I've become a toy that he's going to use to fulfil his fantasy. The only options left to me are to go along with it obediently, or receive punishment for non-compliance. Either way, he'll get what he wants.

I masturbate, feeling the stickiness between my legs from my own juices. I'm frictionless now, able to move my hands freely over my crotch, sliding beneath the vacuum-sealed plastic to explore myself. Each movement of my hands triggers a fresh sensation of bliss, but I need to slow down to avoid tipping over into orgasm. I edge myself relentlessly for several minutes and then I have to stop.

My chest tightens with a searing pain as he twists on my nipple, punishing me. I begin to work my pussy again, plunging my fingers deep inside until he finally releases me, satisfied. I'm not allowed to stop, so I slow down. He pinches me again. I don't have a choice anymore; teetering on the brink I alternate between my palm and my fingers, trying to spread the sensations. Somehow, he's watching my every movement, even while driving, and I'm not allowed to stop.

I'm beginning to regret moving my hand from my thigh in the first place. My mind is beginning to slide as I lose myself in the ecstasy, until the only things I know about are my burning desire and the dread of what happens if I tip over the edge. I slow down without meaning to and am rewarded with another savage tweak of my battered nipple.

Covalent keeps me like this, on the brink, until I've lost all track of time, until I'm putty in his hands, ready to be moulded. I don't understand how he's doing this to me, why I'm responding like this, but there's something more. He's rewiring my brain, blending my overwhelming need to climax with the pain of his punishments, with the fear of his retribution if I don't obey. He tweaks me again and I realise I've slowed down without realising it. He's punishing me now, and he's merciless.

At last, we come to a halt and I relax.

"Keep going. You're only allowed to stop when I tell you."

I'm dimly aware of door opening and the sound of boxes being dragged. He's emptying the back, making multiple trips until the only thing left in the vehicle is me. I feel strong hands on my ankles and then he's pulling me out. His arms slide under me, hoisting my helpless body unceremoniously over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, with my head and my legs dangling down.

He's carrying me somewhere. I hear his footsteps on wood and it feels like we're on stairs, then the rattle and a moment later the bang of a screen door. All of a sudden, I'm in space, falling, and I shriek, but then I hit something soft. There's tugging behind my head and the sack loses its smothering grip on my body. The black plastic is peeled back and I can see again, squinting up at Covalent's face.

His expression is impassive, his jaw set. He doesn't speak as he raises me up to a sitting position so that he can roll the sack down to my waist. He wrinkles his nose, and I can smell it too: the scent of sex. I've spent the last couple of hours marinading in my own juices and I feel grimy.

"Get up."

I find myself on the same camping mattress he had in the boatshed, but now on the verandah of a wooden house. It's enclosed with flyscreens on all sides, but still exposed to the elements. I get to my feet unsteadily, shedding the sack and stepping out onto the old decking.

I take stock of myself, at the way that the dust of the track has become grime embedded in my skin. My body is coated with a thin sheen of perspiration from the cloying plastic, the scents of sweat and my secretions mingling in my nostrils.

"Thirsty?"

I nod. Covalent opens the door into the house and I follow him, but he turns back sharply, barring my entrance.

"The house is for people. You're an outside toy."

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my lips as I see the look in his eyes.

"Are you going to keep me out here?" I ask.

"Yeah. I'll get you a bowl for water. You have your mat. That's all you need."

I'm filthy, stinking, horny, tired and at my wits' end. I make a mistake.

"Like I'm a dog?" I ask, pointedly.

He reaches out to me, taking my chin firmly in his fingers and forcing me to look up into his eyes.

"No. Dogs have collars. You don't need a collar."

My spark of resistance grows.

"What if I escape?"

He doesn't answer immediately. I can tell he's working me out.

"Feel free. Run. It's half a day on foot back to the road, more if you're barefoot, and bear in mind that I'll be coming after you."

He looks out through the flyscreen.

"Or you could take your chances in the trees. I'd never find you," he tells me with a little smile, "But then, neither would anyone else, ever again."

He runs his hand over my scalp, and his tone becomes more conversational.

"This is where you stay now, until I'm done with you. I don't want a trace of you in the house. In this arrangement, all I'll need to do is burn the mat to get rid of the evidence that you were ever here. Nice and neat."

With that, he turns and goes inside, leaving me standing on the wooden decking. Dusk is drawing in, and in the reflection of the window I can see a woman. She's bald, dirty and naked, staring back at me with a hollow, lost look in her eyes. What the fuck have I done? Did I really think this through?

I know it's too late now. I had so many chances to stop this, so many other paths I could have taken, anything to avoid me being here now. I've locked in on this, made a bee-line for this outcome. There was never really any chance that I'd run from this in the end.

Covalent returns, holding a steel bowl filled to the brim with water. He puts it down by the mat. I stare at him incredulously, but he doesn't respond.

"Can I have a glass?" I ask.

"No."

"You expect me to drink out of a bowl? Seriously?"

"Pretty much."

"Why?"

He shrugs, his face unreadable. "Why not?" he responds.

I stare at him, but he doesn't relent. He means to make me get down on my knees and drink from the bowl he's offered. My mouth has become parched in the incessant heat; I've only had half a bottle of water all day.

"So, there's no reason?"

"Does there have to be? Other than because you have no choice?"

"Fuck off," I hiss, goaded by the evenness of his tone, as if it's entirely reasonable to make a woman drink from a bowl on the floor.

"Suit yourself. It's all you're getting."

He gives me a quick smile and then goes into the house. I'm rooted to the spot, glaring after him, but he doesn't look back. After a while I can hear him inside, unpacking the boxes he brought, the clanking of cans being stacked on shelves. I curse myself, I should have paid closer attention to how much food he's brought, how long he intends to stay. How long, I think to myself with a sudden icy chill, I have left.

In a fit of pique, I open the screen door and go down the wooden steps back to the silver all-wheel-drive we came in. It's locked. I walk all the way around the house, but I find nothing other than a wood pile stacked under the eaves, and a large rainwater tank. Beyond that is a shed, but it's empty. There is a pile of scrap metal that used to be a windmill for pumping water out of the bore, but it's long since toppled over to rust in the grass.

The house is set in the middle of an extensive paddock, ringed on all sides by trees. The sun has gone down now and I'm standing alone in the withered, brown grass, looking up as the sky fades from blue to orange, and then into pinks and finally to purple in the direction of the oncoming night. There's not a sound, anywhere. I've lived my entire life in the city, with its constant background buzz. This sudden silence is frightening.

I finish my circuit of the house quickly and retreat back up the stairs and through the fly-screen door to the relative safety of the verandah. I entertain the idea of opening the front door and walking into the house just to fuck with him, but I remember the look he gave me and I think better of it. I see the bowl; I'm so thirsty. I sit down on the mat, looking at it, wondering if I'll debase myself by drinking from it. In the end, I need the water, and I pick up the bowl, bringing it to my lips.

"Stop."

I stop, looking up hurriedly to see Covalent in the doorway.

"No hands."

"No way. I'm not an animal."

He surprises me, crossing the gap between us in three strides and snatching the bowl from my hands, making the water slosh over the rim. He puts it down on the wood, crouching down next to me, and points to it with his finger.

"Drink," he tells me, "No hands."

I look down at the bowl, refusing to give in. He presses down on my head with his hand, a slow, persistent pressure that forces me gradually down towards the water. I push back, but he's too strong, using his bodyweight now, irresistible. My neck starts to hurt with the strain of resisting him and inch by inch I'm losing the battle. I fight him though, all the way down to the point that my lips touch the water.

He pauses, not pushing any further, waiting. I don't want to give him the satisfaction, but my urges get the better of me and I begin to suck up the water. He releases his grip on my head and I continue to drink, huddled on the wooden deck on my hands and knees. It's utterly humiliating, drinking from a bowl like I'm his pet. I can't imagine how I could sink lower, but then I feel his hand between my legs, cupping my pussy. He presses his palm against my lips and then removes it, bringing it round to my face to show me. Even as I drink, I can see the slick trail on his palm, the evidence of my arousal at being treated like this. I hate that my body has betrayed me to him.

Covalent has succeeded in debasing me entirely, turning me into his pet, and I'm sopping as the consequence of his treatment. The hand is pressed against me again, and I feel the intrusion of his fingers inside me. I should protest, but it's been so long since my body has received his attention, and I'm moistening rapidly under his ministrations. I lap obediently at the water now and all the while he dips his fingers into me, building up a steady rhythm. My body starts to rock back against each thrust, showing him my need, how much I want to be fucked.

I hear his zipper and brace myself. His fingers part me, splaying my outer lips wide, and I feel an intrusion pushing against my entrance. I thrust my bottom back against him, sinking his erection deep into me before he can react and pull away. I need to be entered. I need his cock inside.

Fingers snake over my hip and between my legs, seeking out the delicate folds of my clitoris as he begins to rock back and forth, sliding in and out of me. I meet him mid stroke, embedding him completely, revelling in the simple, long-anticipated desire to be filled.

His fingertip plays over my clit, stimulating deep, urgent sensations within me.

"I'm going to fuck you now. I don't care if you cum or not. You're free to try."

He removes his fingers from my clit and I feel both hands seize my hips, holding me firm. Suddenly, he drives into me savagely, all the way to his hilt, making me squeal with the sudden onrush of ecstasy. He quickly builds up his tempo, taking me harder and harder. He isn't making love to me, he just using me for his pleasure, and I feel my body responding.

Each thrust is deep and satisfying. I close my eyes to relish the sensation, feeling the deep, unyielding desire rekindle in my groin. I need this, I need him to fuck me as hard as he can. I want to be used for his climax. I want to feel him fill me. I start to moan.

I hear him grunting, the sound of his balls slapping against my skin. He feels absolutely rigid inside me, and I realise that giving in to him, drinking from the bowl, has made him so very hard for me. He steps up the pace, his breath hissing through his teeth with each colossal thrust, pulling out almost completely before slamming all the way in.

I'm starting to quiver around his unyielding shaft, but I can feel him twitching inside me and I start to feel the unreasoning dread that he's close to his edge. I have only one chance to orgasm, and I know he won't think twice about leaving me wanting even as he finds his own release. I screw my eyes closed and concentrate all my awareness on the cock slamming into my eager, sopping hole. I'm so close. I just need a little more, another few thrusts.