What Happens in the Dark Ch. 03

Dear Readers,

Here is the next chapter for you! Again, a million thanks to Bry1977 for all his efforts in checking these over for me. I really appreciate it.

~NaughtyPaladin

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Chapter 3

(Karen)

"Oh my fucking god, Karen!" Katie groaned. "This is fucking rediculous."

"I'm serious!" I protested.

"So am I!" Katie snapped. "Did you forget everything we learned in college the moment you graduated? Weren't you sitting right beside me in Professor Tallin's class? Don't you remember everything we learned? Who caused all the income inequality?"

"Men." I repeated hollowly.

"Who are responsible for the overwhelming number of violent crimes?" Katie reiterated the lines our professor had repeated months ago.

"Men." I parroted the proscribed answer. It had always been the answer. Was something wrong? Who was at fault? Men.

"And you'd do well to remember it," Katie gloated. "Gosh, you got a job in HR at that Fortune 500 company, right? Well, if I were you, I'd keep my mouth shut with this freaking MRA shit."

MRA. Men's Rights Activists. It was a term that I'd thrown around too. "MRA". Pick-me". "Trad". There were countless names I'd thrown around, and now... they were pointed right back at me.

"What the hell happened to you on your road trip?" Katie criticized. "You left a smart, sharp, independent woman, and now you're what? A whiny 'Pick-Me'? Did you find some guy on the road and you're trying to win him over or something? Fuck."

"No! No... that's not." I tried to explain, "I just saw some things and learned some things and I think we've been mis-"

"What? You saw some paradise where men aren't raping women? Where women don't earn three-quarters of the same as men?" Katie countered with a snap. "I'm not listening to this. You need to get your shit together. I'm going to dinner with my mom."

And with that Katie walked out the door, closing it loudly in frustration.

I sighed. How could she be so blind? Her mom was a perfect example of what I was trying to talk about! Her mom had married her dad who had been a successful small business owner, then had been together for seven years, and then her mom had divorced her dad, taken the house he had owned before they married, to a car he had bought her, took half of his business, and was pretty set for life, when her job as a hair stylist didn't earn her NEARLY enough to support the lifestyle she lived.

And what had happened to her dad? Well, he was slowly recovering. He had tried to buy out his wife, since she was intent on ruining him, and she'd wrung him dry to the point that when the first economic struggle had happened, his formerly successful business had folded. He was now renting a small apartment and starting a new business, but if he was lucky, he'd get back to where he was when his wife had ruined him when it was time for him to retire, if he could at all.

I sat back disappointed. That wasn't the worst result of my attempts to convince my roommate that we'd been had. It was just so frustrating. Yeah the statistics that she'd thrown at me were the same I'd been marked correct for answering on tests in college, but that's only because it was the answer the professors wanted us to believe.

The wage gap myth was just that, a myth. If I took a few numbers without context, yeah it looked bad, but it took me like 20 minutes to find the problem with the statistics. It was without context. In similar roles, the pay gap was non-existent, if anything, women were paid more.

And yes, men committed the majority of the violent crimes... if you only counted the violent crimes that men committed. And crimes by women were underreported and under prosecuted, leading to a nice statistic that feminist could wave around like a trophy. For example, the threshold on the amount of domestic violence required for a prosecution against a man was far lower than that for women. The only place that was overturned was in lesbian couples and domestic violence rates in lesbian households were sky high.

Then there were the things that you had to find people like Pearl and a few ShoeOnHead videos on Youtube to get a good start on finding information on. But quoting a youtuber who claimed women were too emotional to vote and a libertarian who seemed to flip-flop like a fish on whether she was a genius or a sellout (depending on the day and who you asked) did little to give credibility.

However, their sources were solid. Men were not okay. There were the Hikkomori in Japan, men who had been so burned by women that they withdrew entirely, giving up on happiness in society since all they could look forward to was being used and abused by women. Incels, involuntary celibates, were mocked by modern feminists, with no thought as to why they existed. I never had thought about these things before my time with my friend, as I thought of him.

I sighed.

My friend. It was a strange way to think about him. Had he knocked me out, taken me to a sex dungeon and had his way with me for a month? ...yes. But I was sure it was more than that. If he was just looking for a sex toy, why release me at all? He'd had me for two months. I'd looked it up and a kidnapping victim not found within 72 hours had a 70% chance of never being found. After 2 months, the odds were so slim it was obscene. He could have kept me in his dungeon for the rest of my life... but he didn't. He even made sure to return me with enough time to have a couple of days to pull things together before my job started.

Speaking of which, I had to head to work.

My mind churned during my drive to work. Which passed far too quickly, and I had to start working.

It had been... what, two weeks? Three? It didn't matter to me. I was going through the motions, and doing the training, and did the work, my brain was elsewhere.

Work was another problem. HR dealt with conflict, hiring and protecting the company. In our company, white men (so most of our applicants and employees) were the last picks. If anyone other than a white man made an accusation against a white man, the odds of them getting fired were ten times higher than anyone else. If white men accused each other, the odds were only double that of anyone else getting fired.

I sat at my desk. Looking through my training documentation, I couldn't help but see how our society could easily be blamed for making a poor man like my friend.

If only I could talk to him again... What would I say?

I'd been thinking about it for a while, but there were several things I could say. But it would entirely depend on how he responded.

My next interview walked in. I wasn't interviewing alone, so I'd have to at least try and play ball, but we should hire the guy we just interviewed, but one look at this petite blond and her resume told me we'd be hiring her instead. She was cute, tiny, and her mother worked in accounting. The guy was better in every way, but I already knew what was gonna happen.

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(Steven)

I lay on my bed, staring at my ceiling.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. I was supposed to grab a girl, pound her holes and use her how I wanted, then toss her back and move on to the next bitch. It was gonna be so simple. I'd planned everything so even if she went to the police they wouldn't be able to figure out who I was. But since rape was so underreported, I'd hoped it wouldn't even get reported, and it hadn't been. It should have been perfect. Everything had gone exactly how I planned...

...Until Karen came back to the park.

It was driving me absolutely nuts. It made no sense. Everything I'd seen said she should be traumatized, hiding at home and only going out for what she needed, until she got years of therapy. But the day after I dumped her, pussy full of sperm, in her car in the same parking lot it had been in when I snatched her up, she was back at the park doing exactly what she'd been doing when I grabbed her in the first place.

Was it a trap? It had to be a trap, right?

But I mean, I wasn't sure I wanted her anymore. That was the whole point of this shtick. Grab a girl, preferably some hot, bitchy, preferably virgin feminist, have my fun with her, and throw the bitch back.

I mean, Karen had been fun to have my way with, but I'd specifically chosen her because she was a bitch and I wouldn't feel bad having my fun with her. I guess if I had a chance, I'd hit that ass again, but... that was the problem. It almost seemed like she WANTED it.

What woman WANTS to be raped?

I mean a little bit of googling found me the term "consensual nonconsent" where women would play out being raped, but with a man they trusted and a safe word and it would let them pretend. I'd even read about cases where a woman had told her boyfriend he could use his key to 'break in' and go through the fantasy with them where she wouldn't really be prepared and she'd get to pretend she hadn't given him permission in advance and she could live out the fantasy... But to actually encourage me to kidnap and rape her again, by doing EXACTLY what had made that happen the first time?

I checked the news again for what must have been the millionth time. Nothing.

I went about my day again, the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind. It was driving me nuts enough that I was going to risk it. I began making all the proper preparations. I knew what was needed. I'd planned this before, I knew what I needed to do.

It was Wednesday though, and if I was going to have time to do this, it had to be on the weekend.

That gave me two days to prepare.

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(Karen)

My nightly run went as it had every night since I had returned. I could barely see on the dark parts of the path, but I knew it by memory at this point. I was terrified that someone else would take advantage, but... this was the only way I had ever gotten in contact with my friend. The possibility was worth the risk.

I wished I knew more about my friend. I knew the feel of his dick, the taste of it, and everything about being WITH him, but not about him. I would do almost anything to get back in contact with him, but I didn't know what would help and what would hurt. I would do the run completely naked if it increased my odds of getting back in contact with him, but for all I knew it would scare him away, or bring another man who would do far worse to me than my friend would ever do.

I could feel my arousal increase as I approached the spot. The place that rag had been put on my face and my world had changed forever. I'd had to start wearing pads to keep from arriving home with a wet spot on my shorts like I'd peed myself, but it was just how aroused I got at the hope of meeting him again. The music playing in my ears would mask his approach if my friend was there. My pulse quickened and my brain buzzed with anticipation.

Then I passed through, and the horrible disappointment set in again. He wasn't here. I was alone again. I finished the run with the tears that came each time I did this late night run. I trudged back to my car, the aching desire in my crotch making it that much worse again that I was going home, and home alone.

I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried.

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(Steven)

Again, I sat in the shadows of the trees, watching her run, and watching her cry. I knew I shouldn't be here. If the cops were working with her to try and catch me, I was playing perfectly into their hands, but I couldn't stay away.

I had thought I had known exactly how Karen would react, but this was not even close.

I kept sitting still in the darkness. I waited for the twenty minutes it took for her to cry, pull herself together and drive off. I waited another ten minutes before returning to my car and driving home myself.

I went down to my sex dungeon. I'd cleaned it up and prepared it for the next girl. I'd decided to start with only one of the BDSM racks in there. I could always strap the next girl into it, bring in what I wanted to use next, then move her and remove the no longer desired rack, but it made the room empty. I decided to put the BDSM X-Cross in. It would give me a good chance to interrogate the bitch and satisfy the pressing questions I couldn't get out of my head, then I could do whatever I wanted.

Wednesday night had been a success, sort of. She'd given no sign she knew I was there, and I'd been close enough I could have snagged her. She was maintaining her habits and nothing had seemed to change since my previous observations.

Thursday night would be my last night observing, then Friday night I'd put my plan into action.

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(Karen)

Yep, sure enough I was sending off the email to that little twit who was only getting the job because of her mother. Yes, she had the degree in communication, and it was a marketing position, but she had no drive, no passion, and the man who had talked about having ideas, and could have done it so much better for the company got a generic, automatically sent rejection letter.

The worst was that I saw myself in her. Myself from just a few months ago. She had parroted those same talking points during the interview that told me everything I needed to know about her. Her mother was divorced, she would marry a man that would be happy without her, was self-sufficient, and good, and she'd live with him just long enough to establish a claim on his assets and divorce him and wring him out for everything he was worth. I hated her already.

"You are doing so good!" Jannelle, my supervisor exclaimed. "I knew you'd be a great fit. Fighting the patriarchy from within! Just watch, give it a few years and we'll have a woman CEO, and a wholly female executive suite!"

"Yay!" I faked.

Oh god, that would be horrible. Why was the content of their underwear the only thing that mattered? I had watched a video where Pearl had said that she believed that men were better than women in every way, and she'd been trying and failing to find a way that women were better, and she was failing. I was really starting to agree. It was a weird way to come to the conclusion, but it was starting to ring true. I'd begun looking and the more women were on executive boards, the worse it was for the company. Sure it might be okay for a while, but once the women had their say the businesses just started to bleed money, bleed success, and bleed talent.

"We'll make this the best company ever!" Jannelle celebrated.

I just gave a nod, my gut sinking. She didn't want the 'best' company, she wanted the most 'female' company. God, how long has this been going on? No wonder men were in trouble.

There was no way I could fight this in society, but maybe I could find some way to make a difference in my sphere.

Fuck, I needed help. I needed my friend... and my vagina needed attention.

God, my vagina was aching and empty. It was the craziest thing, not going more than a day without his dick inside me, then suddenly nothing. I wanted it, I needed it, and a cheap substitution was nothing. I'd tried masterbating, bought a dildo, but it was almost depressing how insufficient it was. The orgasm was hollow, and just left me crying.

I ran in the park again that night, and again I was disappointed. How long would I have to keep doing this before my friend would finally respond?

The next day, that new girl came in. Grace was her name and her mother in accounting was Jennifer. I had to smile and give her the tour to get her laptop, her cubicle, and everything. I was so sick of her by the time I walked away that I had to go to lunch twenty minutes early. Why were women so insufferable now?

Luckily, the weekend was here and Katie was going out of town with her mother to some ski resort or something, enjoying the money her mother had cheated her father out of. I would be alone. I wasn't sure if I was excited for the time that I could just do more research into the ways modern feminism was failing women, or terrified of the fact that I'd be alone with my thoughts.

I arrived at the park as the last other patron was leaving. I tightened my shoes, put in my ear buds and began jogging. My thoughts were a jumble, thinking about Grace and Katie, and everything. I didn't ever realize I was approaching that same spot, until it happened.

A rag was shoved in front of my face, and that smell like acetone filled my nose. For a second I gasped and squirmed as those familiar arms wrapped around me, but then I realized... it was him. I just took a deep breath of the fumes and leaned back on him, happy and ecstatic.

He was here. I was home. And my world faded to black.

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(Steven)

It was the weirdest thing. Almost freaked me out enough that I just left her, but no, I'd committed. But where last time, Karen had screamed into the rag, and fought and tried to break free... This time, she just accepted it, almost happily, and leaned into me. It made it harder to tell when she passed out because of the chloroform, but her legs giving out was enough.

I still had to be careful, chloroform was nothing to be taken lightly. Underdosed, she'd wake up before I was ready with her in the dungeon, but overdosed she might never wake up. Luckily, I had done my research and knew I wasn't overdosing her. It would take more time with the amount of chloroform and for a longer time to overdose her.

I had to hurry, I didn't want more time visible than possible, and until we were within the walls of my home that would be the case. I got her in the car, cuffed and blindfolded just in case she woke up before I was ready. Her phone went straight into the faraday bag. I took her keys and got her car out of there. I drove very carefully and didn't relax until her car was safely in my garage.

I quickly grabbed her from the back seat, hurried to get her down to the dungeon, stripped her naked (cause why not) and strapped her into the cross. Finally, I could relax. Everything had gone as planned.

Well, aside from her weird acceptance of the abduction. I had no idea what was up with that.

I had decided to leave the blindfold on. I wanted to maintain as much control as I could, because I was feeling more and more like I wasn't in control. I should have just picked a different park. If I had never seen her return to the scene, I could have moved on, and maybe would have never thought about her again, but now here I was staring at Karen, naked and strapped into my rack again.

That was when I noticed it. The glistening moisture between her legs. She was aroused as fuck right now. I checked and, holy shit, this was the most lubricated I'd ever felt her, and I'd used lube on her before. While my fingers were still inside her, she moaned and began to move.

"Is it... it is you, Master, isn't it?" She breathed happily. A moment later she began to pull against her restaurants for a moment, realizing they were there

I extracted my fingers from her pussy, drawing a groan of disappointment from the restrained woman.

"Please Master, I need it so bad!" Karen whined.

"First, tell me what the fuck you were playing at." I demanded. "You working with the cops?"