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Little Red
Content Warning: Mf, Primal, Prey, Chase, CnC, Age Gap, Rough, Hunting
I hunt.
Branches whip across my face as I push through the trees. The woods are cooling fast. Dew clings to the leaves and grass. Turning everything darker. Heavier. My boots sink slightly into the soft ground. I pause. Just for a second. Listening. The sky above turns the color of an angry bruise. I imagine her thighs becoming the same color.
Sister Moon is already out, watching me. Smiling down.
If I had paws. If I were down on all fours like some animal. I might howl.
I breathe in. Dirt. Pine. And a faint, sweet-musk smell. A hint of perfume and fear. Warm skin. I draw it into my lungs. Letting it hold there. She’s close enough to smell. Lacey things.
Focus.
It’s hard keeping my mind on just the hunt. Hard not to imagine. All the things I want to do. All those desires. Those needs. Needs. I don’t just want her. I need her. Need to consume her. Feel her. Everything.
Clothes ripping. Body twisting under mine. Heat. Bare skin. Her nails raking across me. Her cries filling the night with such sweet music. Need. Later. Hunt first.
A snap. Rustle of branches. Soft breaths. Not running. Careful steps. She’s trying so hard to be quiet. Trying to think her way through this. Being human when animal is what's needed. Modern woman. She tries to move quietly. She’s no good at it. Bet she’s good at screaming. It makes me twitch, just thinking about it. Leaves crackle ahead. Just ahead. Her caution dooms her as I follow.
Soft-soled shoes. Whisper quiet in the woods. Closing on her. The perfume, a hook in my skin. Drawing me to her. I stop. Quiet. She heard something. Faint breathing ahead in the pitch. So close.
The ground slopes here. She has to be cautious. A wrong step will send her sliding. Thrasing. Gravity kills.
We wait. Who will break first? I have experience. Patience. She is young. Frightened. Knows what happens when she gets caught. Knows she will be devoured. Taken without mercy. If I were canine, there’d be Pavlovian drool running down my chin. I twitch again in anticipation. I will have her.
There’s a stream below. It will make hearing her more difficult. And slow us both down. She probably doesn’t even know it. A break to the left is her only hope of escape. A gravel trail. Then a short run. To streets. And houses. Escape. Can’t let that happen.
I move. Confident. Steady. Quiet. I know how to use the dark. The woods, the dark, home to me. Cutting to the left I move forward. Calmly. Step by step. By the time she notices, escape will be cut off. Wolves, when they’ve tired out their prey, will nip at it, chasing it for miles right to their den.
The wind shifts.
Fast, short breaths. Quick. Uneven. A chorus of them. All from her. Fear. Fear makes people sloppy. They forget themselves. Fail to notice the small things.
I picture her bare thighs. Pale. Milky. A perfect canvas for bruises. How beautifully they’ll mark. My fingers printed on her. Maybe teeth. I shake the thought away. Focus. Too early to feast. Now is hunt.
Darkness cloaks her. And me. Another sound. Further. She changed directions. Went right. She’s moving blind. But closer. Doubling back? Lost? My teeth bare in a feral smile. Mistakes. Hers.
Forward now, turning into her. Quick step. Feeling the ground as I go. Dark looming shapes around me. Trees. Brush. Light vanishing, almost gone. Sky full of black now. The woods at night belong to those that don’t need to see.
In my chest now. With every breath. Low steady pull. Nervous tension. A spring waiting to release. A part of me coiled since she looked at me across that table. Doe eyes. A bunny. Nervous little bird hands. She’s here because of that. That helpless little look.
She stepped out of the car. She ran.
And I’m going to catch her.
I stop again, listening. Another branch snaps. Just ahead. She’s moving. Faster now. She heard me. Or her nerves broke. Don’t matter. She’s running. Panicked. Thrashing through the dark. I follow. Letting her hear me. Chasing her deeper. To places few ever go. Doubly so at night.
She gasps, turns round stumbling. She knows she can’t outrun what's right behind her. Me.
I bare my teeth again. Feral smile. Fangs.
She’s mine to take.
It started at a cafe. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill eatery. This one had a separate dining room. A place where groups could reserve for meetups. When I discovered there was a Primal/Prey meetup on FetsBook I signed up. A few other people had committed, and another dozen maybe’d. I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Disappointment was what I encountered. With the exception of her. There were just shy of a dozen attendees. Most young. Under thirty. I was easily the oldest, most experienced. Easily twice the age of the youngest, who were sitting chatting in pre-meeting cliques.
She sat alone. Timid. Eyes darting, and a nervous smile. The first stirrings of hunger announced themselves. She was the kind of pretty that she couldn’t see in herself. And she was definitely overwhelmed when others approached her. She was polite, but looked like she wanted to crawl under the collection of tables set in a line in the center of the room.
Too young. Mid twenties, maybe. I preferred my own age. Nearly twice that. The other youngsters were pressing her hard, greeting her, and bombarding her with questions. When she glanced across the table to me, it looked as if she were ready to flee. I gave the kid a warm smile, and her eyes darted away. I’d like to think the flush was mine, but she was struggling with the attention from others.
The meetup started when the second-oldest person, a portly guy in biking leathers and a ponytail, called things to order. He introduced himself and asked us to consider ordering something to help support the establishment hosting us.
He then talked about what it meant to be primal and prey.
I, of course, have my own ideas. It's all about passion. Being consumed with it. Letting it overwhelm the senses. Basking in it like being swallowed by a tub tub. I wanted to be driven to erotic heights. So smitten with someone that I lost control. Was unable to continue being civilized and just let the passion explode out in a heat, desire, and need.
The organizer's definition was different, involving spirit animals, something called yiffing, and other bdsm tropes I’d never been particularly interested in. To each their own. I’d always orbited kink, but bdsm had turned me off. Too ritualized. Too rigid. I wanted messy, passionate, out of control.
He asked everyone to talk about what their spirit animal was and why, going around the table. People started explaining how they felt kinship with wolves, or deer, a narwhale, too, I think. When it got to her, there was a kind of shrinking nervous energy. It seemed like she didn’t want to answer the question, but was compelled to because everyone else was. Her voice was so quiet that I couldn't hear what she said, but it didn't matter. She answered robotically, looking down at the table rather than the others, typical of people answering a question they have no interest in or don't believe.
When it got around to me, I was a little irritated. What animal? None. That had nothing to do with my vision of feral prey play.
“What animal? A human being.”
The organizer snorted. “That’s not an animal…”
I cut him off, “Yes, it is. The most dangerous fucking apex predator on the planet.”
There were confused looks and some smirking around the table.
I decided to continue, “I want to be teased. Driven. Enticed to the point where I lose control and have to have her. I want passion to boil over, to explode. Something that makes me ditch the veneer of civility and become a caveman. No other thought in my head than how much I have to have her. And to chase, capture, tear clothing away, and ravish her until we’re both exhausted and panting.”
Some of the looks changed. On a few, the confusion seemed to melt into anger.
Except her. She looked at me like she was trying to find some deeper truth in what I’d said. She was college age, maybe they still taught critical thinking these days? There was a sort of hunger in her eyes, and I knew that was exactly what she’d wanted. Even if she weren’t able to put it into words.
“Well,” the organizer said, “We’ll have to make sure to mention more clearly in the future that noncon is not a part of primal…”
I like to think my glare shut his mouth. Whatever. The next person answered as the rest of the table sort of exchanged odd looks. It wasn’t the first time I’d said something socially awkward. Just like the pomp in the BDSM community, this would be another waste of time.
I expected to be thrown out, but continued listening half-heartedly. I didn’t want to leave and make anyone else feel judged. It was hard enough going to kink events publicly. Feeling shamed would make these communities feel more isolated. So I listened to the rest of the conversation, but didn’t really add anything except a few nods.
When it ended, groups of people continued chatting at the table and around the table. I got up and made my way to leave. And there she was… Trying to make her way to the door while one of the kids her age was pressing her with questions. She looked like she wanted to bolt, but didn’t want to be rude or hurt anyone's feelings.
I approached, and the kid talking to her shot me an annoyed look.
“You look like you could use a drink,” I told her without acknowledging the horny boy at all. “Wanna grab a coffee next door?”
I could see her considering it and rushed to an answer as if leaping into a pool of icy water, “Sure, yes.”
The kid tried to say something that the meetup was a safe space. I let him explain it to my shoulder as I placed a hand on her back and guided her to the exit. At the touch, she went rigid, but then melted into my firm touch.
We dropped into a quiet pub down the street instead. We grabbed one the many empty booths. A couple of barflies, a few old timers, that was all that was in that day. She kept adjusting her sleeves. Pulling them over her hands like she was trying to hide inside them. I sipped at my pint and watched her. She never complained that we skipped the coffee.
“I’m Shane.”
“Umm, Allie.”
“Pretty name,” I told her.
She blushed and looked nervous. Compliments were not her thing.
“So,” I asked. “Was that your first time?
She blinked and nodded, becoming interested in her coffee, taking a long, slow sip like she was trying to calm her nerves.
“Are you really into this, or just there out of curiosity?”
“I… I think I am,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Reading. Watching stuff. But the meetup felt… weird.”
I almost smiled. At least she was honest.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was weird.”
She glanced up at me, then back down at her cup.
“I liked what you said, though… About being human. The most dangerous predator. Everyone else was talking about wolves and deer and whatever. It felt like they were playing dress-up.”
She was younger than I usually went for. New. I normally stayed away from that. But something about the way she looked at me made it harder to keep that line drawn.
“You ever done anything like this before?”
She shook her head, “No. Not really. I mean… I’ve thought about it. A lot… But I’ve never… been… Wanted like that…” Her voice got smaller on the last word.
I watched her. She wasn’t playing coy. She was actually embarrassed by how much she wanted it. Even though she couldn't say it. That was rare.
Leaning forward, I told her, “You don’t want it to be play. You want someone to want you so badly that they will do anything. Break things for you. Do anything to have you.”
She nodded, still unable to look at me. “Yeah. I think so.” She finally looked up at me. “I don’t want someone to ask if it’s okay. I want them to just… take it. Like they can’t help it.”
Leaning back, I gave her a feral smile. My eyes devoured hers. Maybe there was more to her than I originally thought?
We chatted for several hours. She was a medical student. Cute in a wholesome way. The type of girl you’d be surprised to see showing up at a kink meetup. We talked the length of my pint. The conversation was awkward and stuttered, like pulling teeth in an interrogation. She sipped tea, and even though there's no alcohol, she began to relax a bit more as I finished. Exploring a person, getting them to talk about themselves, always does that.
“All done here,” I told her. “Walk you to your car?”
She had her phone out. “Uber. I don’t have a car.”
Of course, she didn't.
I nodded, letting silence sit between us. She waited to see what I would do with that information. Smart girl.
I’d planned on keeping this short. Drive her home and move on. But she kept answering my questions like she actually wanted to be understood. That I might say something to make sense of the mess whirling around in her head.
I drained the last of my pint and set the glass down.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
She blinked, surprised. Like she wasn’t expecting me to offer anything at all.
“You don’t have to…”
“I know I don’t,” I cut in. “I’m offering anyway.”
She hesitated. I could see the war happening behind her eyes. Part of her wanted to say yes. The other part was probably screaming that getting in a car with a man she just met at a kink meetup was a terrible idea.
I didn’t push. I just waited.
After a few seconds, she gave a small nod.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
I stood up and drew out my keys. She followed, still fiddling with her sleeves like they might protect her from whatever she thought this was turning into.
As we walked out to my car, I already knew I was probably going to regret this. But something about the way she looked at me back at that meetup is still stuck in my head.
And for some reason, I wasn’t ready to let it go yet.
Turned out her place wasn’t far. Apartments for the nearby University.
“This is good,” she said. She looked at me a moment, and I stared back. After a long, awkward pause with her getting visibly more frustrated by the moment, she shot forward, planting a small peck on the cheeks. The door opened, and she fled, stopping at the building doors before disappearing inside.
At home, I flipped out my laptop to check email. The FetsBook page was still up, still showed the primal prey meetup. I stared at it a moment, then clicked on the attending link. All the Yeses had pictures, none of them her. I go back and check the Maybes. Two profiles with no pictures. Both women, but one is twenty-five. The handle was Little_Red. It was her. I check the profile, no pictures at all, and only the minimum
Without thinking, I typed out a quick message.
“Just wanted to let you know I made it home ok.”
I checked my email and checked out.
The next day, as I was microwaving dinner, I checked FetsBook and saw a few messages. One was from Little_Red.
“hey thanks for letting me know and for the ride earlier. i really appreciate it. sorry if i was weird at the end there. I get nervous sometimes. but yeah thanks”
The next few weeks surprised me.
I told myself I’d reply when I felt like it. That I wouldn’t get pulled in. She was too new, too young, too green for the kind of thing I usually want. But she kept answering. Not just the easy questions either. She thought about things. Pushed back sometimes. Asked questions that actually made me stop and consider my answers.
I started looking forward to her messages more than I wanted to admit.
One night, she sent something that stuck with me. She said she was scared of losing herself in this, but more scared of never finding out what she actually wanted. I read it twice. Most people her age don’t talk like that. Most people, period, don’t talk like that.
I caught myself asking her more questions after that. Not the surface ones. Real ones. What scared her the most?. What she thought would happen if she actually gave in. Whether she’d ever told anyone else what she wanted.
She answered every time. Sometimes it took her hours. Sometimes she’d type, delete, and type again before she sent anything. I could feel her overthinking through the screen. But she kept showing up.
That was the part that got to me.
I’d spent years finding women who already knew what they wanted. Women with long, quiet hungers. This one was still figuring it out. And for some reason, I kept replying anyway.
By the third week, I stopped pretending I was going to walk away.
“Second Date?”
I could see that she was on the site. Then she wasn’t. Then she was, and wasn’t. It took a few hours, but she finally replied.
“yes what do you have in mind?”
There was no need to play games. I wasn’t nervous.
“Something special. Do you want to feel how deep the rabbit hole goes?”
She replied soon after. Probably still anxious.
“kk”
The next day, I texted her when I pulled up to the building. A few minutes later, she came out, and I did a double-take.
She knew I liked her FetsBook handle Little_Red. So she came to the date armed. The first thing I noticed was what I originally thought was a bolero jacket. As she approached, I could see it was, in fact, a short velvet cape. Under that was a white blouse, its neckline low enough to draw my eyes. And I let it. She wanted me to look, and so I did openly. A black corset framed her bosom. A red and white checkered skirt well above the knees also begged for my attention. And I let my gaze wander over her above-the-knee stockings.
Little Red indeed.
When she saw the way my eyes moved, she smiled. Small but knowing. She’d done this on purpose, knowing, damn well knowing the effect it would have.
I smiled casual-like and opened the car door for her. It was difficult watching her approach. Her smile was radiant when she saw me do that for her. It was difficult to keep the howl in my throat. My blood was racing. And Hyde, buried deep down inside me somewhere, rattled his cage, aching to be let out. To put his hands all over her. To unwrap the gift that had been delivered. Two me’s fought viciously in my head, the gentleman holding her door open, and the beast that wanted to show her what big hungers I had.
She stopped and did a small bouncy curtsey just an arm’s length away. I wanted her right then. Wanted to throw her down, tear the wrapping off, and play with my toy. Wanted to do that on the grass of the curb. In front of her building. Both of us howling to the audience of her startled neighbors.
Instead, I smiled, “You certainly live up to your handle.”
“I thought you might like,” she said getting right up under me on her way to the car.
I pushed the door closed just enough to stop her in her tracks. She looked up at me with wide watery eyes, her breath stopped in her throat, waiting and looking up. Looming over her, I lost control, just for a moment, and swept her into my arms. I wanted to crush her, squeeze the life out of my little plaything, force her to me so hard we became one.
Instead, I took the kiss she’d wanted to give me a few weeks ago. I crushed my lips to hers, devouring. Sucking her breath into my lungs, feeling her inside me, her essence becoming a part of me.
When I let go of her, she had the glassy gaze of a deer under headlights, knowing the enviable is rushing toward them, but being stunned in its splendor.
“That was for stealing my kiss last time.”
She laughed, a nervous titter, and blushed crimson. She tried to say something, but I knew she was overwhelmed with thoughts, feelings, a hurricane of emotions. I guided her into the passenger seat and shut the door.
When I slid in, the car started with a growl. She was still trying to speak, but nothing came out. I let my hand glide from the shifter between us to her bare knee and gave it a squeeze. Coherent thought vanished from her eyes.
To a degree, I felt sorry for her. She had no defense. In this day, all the boys she dated in high school and college had probably asked permission for every little thing. Can I call you? Can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you? She was struggling to deal with someone from a different time, when men simply took what they wanted.
I gave her knee a last squeeze, then the car was moving.
Even without a word, I could feel the anxiety radiating off her like a furnace. She kept smoothing the skirt down over her thighs as if trying to make it longer. It wasn’t doing much but drawing sidelong glances from me. And a hungry smile.
She caught me looking and didn’t move her hand away. Instead, she slowly dragged two fingers up her thigh, stopping just at the edge of the skirt. Her breathing changed, but she left her hand there.
The fabric was thin, and it rode up just enough every time she moved in her seat. She looked good in it, too. Damned good. And that's probably why she was so tense. Not anxious nerves, but I could tell her mind was racing, trying to take it all in, trying to fit it into the right cubbyholes of her mind.
“Where are we going?” she asked, with a small voice.
My eyes were on the road, “Somewhere quiet.”
She swallowed. I could hear it.
“I feel… stupid,” she admitted after a minute. “In this... I don’t know if it looks ridiculous or not. You said tonight was special, but I don’t even know what that means. What if I look like an idiot?”
I didn’t answer right away. I let the silence sit for a few seconds while I drove. She fidgeted again, tugging at the hem like she could hide in it.
“You don’t look ridiculous,” I said finally. My voice was low and steady. “You look exactly like what I’ve always dreamed about.”
She went still beside me.
I glanced over at her, just for a second.
“I told you it was special. I meant that. You wearing that, just for me, means something. Almost like you could read my mind. So stop pulling at it like you’re ashamed of it. Most of all, stop overthinking and relax.”
She let go of the fabric, but her hands stayed clenched in her lap. She was breathing faster now. I could see it in the way her chest heaved.
I reached over without looking and put my hand on her bare thigh, just above her knee, as we pulled into the park. Not high on her knee. Not yet. Just enough to let her feel that I’m here. I knew her heart was skipping beats.
“You’re nervous,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
She nodded.
“Good,” I told her. “You should be.”
I squeezed her thigh once, then put my hand back on the wheel.
We stopped in the middle somewhere. The dark shape of trees loomed above us in a sky turning indigo.
She looked around, then back at me. “What’s this?”
“We’re here,” I explained.
She had no words, but her eyes said it all. She was wondering where all this was going. What would happen out here? Her chest labored, the low cut drawing my eyes to it. I’d see so much more of that skin soon. I suspected she knew it too. Was it too soon for her? I wasn’t a modern boy, I wasn’t going to ask.
“I’ll give you a head start,” I explained to her slowly. “You open that door, and if you can make it out of the park, you can have my car. Full title. Free.”
Her lips opened and closed, gears spinning furiously behind those darting eyes. “If you catch me?”
“It’s what you wanted. To feel someone so hungry for you that they would do anything. Chase you down. Toss you down into the leaves. Unwrap you completely. And take you.”
Her breath was absolutely ragged. “And if I don’t get out?”
“You take the blue pill, and forget everything. Wake up back in your bed, safe and sound. And perhaps wonder what might have been.”
With her eyes locked firmly on mine, her hand reached out and touched the latch. The fingers were shaking visibly.
I stopped her.
“Make it count. If you want this, run as if your life depends on it.”
She nodded slowly as if in a stupor, weighing a thousand variables, counting a million odds. We both knew if she opened that door, she’d never make it out of the park. She lingered there, fingers practically drumming against the cool metal.
Still looking into my eyes, she swallowed.
She took one last breath, her eyes looked into mine, then she opened the door.
Without a look back, she ran across the gravel road and plunged into the tree line. I leaned back, a hand on the wheel, the other tracing the warm seat she’d just vacated. Breathing in, I could smell her lingering, a ghost in the car. I dragged her into my lungs a few times, savoring her.
Closing my eyes, I just savored the moment. She was running through the woods not far from me right now. The scent of her still wafted in the air of my car. We were in the middle of the Central Park with trails and woods stretching out in each direction. It was big enough that it would take ten to fifteen minutes, even at a good jog, to make it to the edge. Through the woods, a little longer.
As the seconds ticked by, I could feel my heartbeat thumping ever faster in my chest. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have her, but every moment wasted made that more exciting. Five long minutes ticked by, and I got out of the car. I followed at a steady jog.
Dark was thickening in the sky, but I could still almost see under the wood’s canopy. It wasn’t a matter of looking for broken branches and footprints, but instead thinking like prey. She’s never mentioned hiking, never talked about anything but living in the city. In a new or strange environment, I decided she would follow the path of least resistance.
Shoving through the branches, pushing past brush, I simply followed the first trail I ran into. I didn’t hit the trail evenly but at an angle, so I followed the easiest path, doubting she would turn completely around to go back the way we’d just come. I continued jogging as it got ever darker.
I could feel Hyde locked away in his cage deep deep down in the dark of my soul. He wanted out. Wanted to join the chase. But I didn’t need an animal just yet.
The first shortness of breath hit me just within just a minute. She’d never mentioned jogging as a fitness routine. Gym, yes. But never mentioned cycling or a treadmill. If she weren’t a regular jogger like I was, chances were that at her first shortness of breath, she’d slow to a walk, depending on how hard adrenaline hit.
She might be slowing or even walking, but I wasn’t. I just continued from trail to trail, trying to stay in a straight line and following the path of least resistance.
And it didn’t take long to catch up.
I heard her before I saw her. Her breath uneven and loud as she pushed herself, still trying to run, but succumbing to the fiery pain lancing through her lungs.
This is where I left the trail, circling through the woods around her. I smashed through the brush on purpose, going loud. Something in me had slipped its leash.
My thoughts were getting tangled, jumbled. Shorter. Hunger consumed me. The pale skin of her chest. Oval face. Knee hot under my palm in the car. How I wanted fingers to slide up that thigh. I wanted to tear her top open. See her spill free under me. Expose her. Put lips in skin. Teeth on skin.
After that, everything changed. She heard me coming and ran again, pure adrenaline driving her. I followed, crashing through the brush. We couldn’t see each other in the dark, but we could hear. I was hunting. She was running.
We play this game. But… Hyde has her now. Moving to her left. To drive her right. We circle. And eventually, we are back where we started. She thrashes through the brush. Breaks free. A road. Hope? Disappointment? I’ll never know. But she freezes in place for just a moment. The sprints to the other side running hard.
When I break from the trees, I see it. My car. Parked. I laugh. She realized she’d gon nowhere. All that effort. Just to be tired. Exhausted. Now she’s trying. Sprinting. All out. So much noise.
Stars dance in the sky. Big Sister shines down. I plunge into the trees in pursuit. I stop myself from tearing my own shirt off. Too many clothes. No need for quiet now. I snarl. Grunt. Let her know. I’m just behind her.
Desperate, helpless gasps. Her breath… My breath… Labored. Scent full. Sweet perfume. Musky fear.
And I’m on her.
She slows panting, desperate to breathe. Lungs on fire. Been there before. I drive on. Pushing self. Crashing through.
I see her.
Little red cape. Checkered skirt. Muddy boots. She’s gasping hard. Turns. Eyes wide. She chose this.
I land on her. Arms engulf her. Yank her back, up off her feet. Spinning. And we go down to the ground.
Shielding her with my arms, she lands unhurt. But captured. Still trying to escape, she thrashes hard. Still in that headspace. She only knows to fight now. Escape mindset burned in. The same way Hyde’s is all hunt.
Our limbs tangle as we roll through grass. Bursting out of bush to a tiny open spot. Just big enough for us.
She scarmables on all fours. I’m on her back. Hand captures her wrist. Pulls her back. We twist again. Snarling embrace. She fights. Driven to get away. Half my weight. Panicked. I lock her down. Calmly. With hunger. Toss her onto her back. Pin her down.
Our eyes lock for a whisper of a moment.
Wide. Whites. Mind racing. I smother her. Crush her lips with mine. Suck her breath away. She struggles, but it's useless. Just relaxing my weight onto her crushes her lungs. Forces her to breathe out as I suck it hungrily into my own lungs.
Sitting up fast. She’s dazed. Struggles slowly. Hands find top of blouse. Rips with suck beautiful music. Yanked forward as fabric rends. Falls back. White bra exposed.
She thrashes legs. Tries to get one around me. Sit on her tummy. She oofs. I squeeze my thighs, constricting her. Her hands scramble, trying to cover herself, trying to fight me off. Both fail.
I grab her by back of neck and wrench her up. Eyes wide, she opens her mouth to cry out. I crush her lips to mine again. Forcing her into me. Pinning her. Helpless marionette. Break kiss. She’s dazed again, so much happening so fast.
It only takes a heartbeat to reach around and unhook bra. Year and fucking years of practice. Snaps free. That wakes her up. Hands go to hold it. Too late. I grab between her breasts. Yanking hard. She cries out in pain as straps bite, then give way. The bra yanks away. Exposed.
Grab her throat. Shove. Back down to ground. All my weight on her. Pin her down. Palm on base of neck, weight on chest. Nowhere to go. Her hands grab my wrist. Trying to break its iron hold. Arms framing her breasts perfectly. As I look down at her. Wide watering eyes begging up at me. No mercy. She opened the door.
She screams. Short. Sharp. I only tighten fingers around base of throat. Strangle the sounds to silence. She’s mine. All mine. And her eyes show she knows. Nothing. There is nothing she can do. Anything. Anything I want.
The corset is impossible. To compress, straps, strings, chords. I want to see all of her. Soon enough. Now, we get the best bits. The sweet, soft, tasty things.
Lifting my hips. Reach down with other hand. Fingers slip into skirt. Lacey things beneath. Fist curls. Heave with all my might. There is a crack as hem fails. Lean in. Yank back twice as hard. She howls with what little breath she has left. Oh, so lovely ripping sound as skirt gives way. But straps of panties cut deep into her skin.
We could have prepared better. I’ve done this before. With and without Hyde. All it takes is a few snips in the seams. Almost invisible cuts. Fabric has threads that lie in multiple directions. Rope all lies in line. Clothing can be stronger than rope. All it takes is little snips in those hems, and clothing comes apart so easily. Without the snips, the hems will bite into skin. Painfully.
I was fully gone now. The cries of pain driving him on. Another yank and long pull. They snap. Panties no more. Just scraps now. I pull on the skirt again. No go. It’s tougher than I thought. Scootch down, trapping her legs between my thighs.
Let go of neck. She coughs. Grab skirt and yank up. She flails weekly. Trying to reach down. I’m a thousand places, touching her everywhere, and her hands aren't fast enough. She tries to pull down her skirt. Nope, it's a belt now. White panties. Ruins. Straps broken. But still hiding her. Without touching. Even then. I can see. Even in the dark. Wet stain. My dirty little girl, Red.
Fingers reach in. Pull back. The meager scraps of her dignity now gone. She truly is exposed. Whisps of fine light hair. Bald lips. Perfect clam shell. How I yearn to pry it apart. Wet. No, soaked. She is a mess like I haven't seen in a long, long time. Sopping wet. Slippery slick. From navel to thighs gushing.
Lifting off her, I let a leg escape. She twists. Scrambling in the grass and leaves. Fighting to escape. Grab the skirt hem. Broken, but still the fabric holds. I yank on it, try to force it over her hips. No dice. It just pulls her back to me. Yank up, getting her on her hands and knees. Shy tried to scramble away. I’ve got her by the skirt in just one hand.
Other hand moves. Flips her skirt up. Pale moon. Exposed in dim light. Her flanks are perfection. Muscles working under skin. Trying too hard to crawl away. Her cries are like music. Driving me on. Begging for more.
I slap my other hand up between her thighs. She clenches, capturing it. But it's so damn slick. Sodden. I wriggle fingers, push deeper, it slides. I can feel her lips on the heel of my palm. Wet. Hungry. My fingers dance in pools of liquid just under her navel. How is she this wet? Slut.
Reaching back up, I shove her down, face-first into leaves. She tries to slaw away. Hands tearing clumps of grass. Fistfuls of leaves. Other hand on between shoulder blades. Shoving her down. She squirms, and my soaked hand pops free. Drenched in her. Grab her skirt, gather it at small of back. I yank her up. Ass up. Face in grass. Perfect ass floating in the dark, with delicious quim right below. Framed by shiny thighs doused in her own fluids. What a mess.
Hyde can’t help himself. Let's go of her back. There is a loud crack as he slaps her ass. She jolts. Her whole body in motion. Thrashing and struggling. Fighting hard. We roll. Limbs tangled. I end up on her again. Our faces just a whisper apart. She reaches to claw at me. I grab a wrist. She flips, I follow. I reach up with my hand, going between her legs. Impossible to grab. Absolutely wet. Unlike anyone before. Hyde wants to lap it up. Smear his face in her.
She throws everything she has at me. Snarling, claws, teeth. Both of us roll. Bodies bucking. Holding her arm, I drive myself between her legs. The heat of her is intense. I can feel it through my jeans. I press my hips down. I can myself hard against her. Nestled in her. She soaks me. I get her pinned. Face down again. Ass high up, pressed to me. As we struggle, I fumble at my jeans.
When cool air touches my cock it supercharges everything. As she struggles, she brushes against me. Slick skin again, rock hard flesh. Hyde wants to stab it so deep to her core. When she feels it, she locks up. Only for a second. The struggle resumes. Pressing forward, I get a knee under her before she can press her hips to the ground.
She snarls at me, fighting with an urgency I’d not imagined for a girl who overthinks. Pure instinct and hormones. I have to manhandle her. Have to wrestle her. My cock pressed to her slippery ass. As we teist and turn, I take a few stabs. One makes her cry out in shock. The next one catches a little lower.
Her struggles lock up as I force my way in. Filling her. She moans, throaty, guttural. I grip her and stab in fierce. It turned into a high-pitched gasp. Gripping her hip, I force myself all the way, bottoming out against her, and she quakes and clutches at me.
When she twists, she's so slippery I nearly pop out. I shove into her again. Hard. Vicious. She clutches at me, making me moan in her ear. I catch a whiff of her again, sweet perfume, something musky. It drives me wild. Wild. Hyde indulges. Relishing the feel of her as he pounds brutally inside.
Grunting and groaning, slippery, wet, and just gliding through her. I batter her. I fuck her down to the ground. Hammering hard. Taking exactly what I want. She thrashes, but like her groans, it's incoherent, just a body going through the motions. Trying to force me out. But just amking it feel so so fucking good.
I drive into her with relentless force. Cock aching it so fucking hard, just engulfed in a wet, tight grip of her hole. He fucks her with abandon. Trying to hurt her. Bruise her. Ruin her cunt. Churning her insides. It doesn't matter. She thrashes and moans. Her pitch getting ever higher as he continues to relentlessly slam into her.
The wet, sloppy slapping sounds, the sighs, grunts, and whimpering fill the night air. For what seems forever. My body just driving into her with a desperate need. I’ve wanted this for weeks. Wanted to hear her sweet sighs. Wanted to feel her grip my like a tight wet glove.
Finally, she arches her back. “No…” she moans. Again, drawing it out. Again begging.
I hammer into her as I feel her legs shaking wildly around me. “Cum for me,” Hyde demands. “Cum on my cock.”
And she does. I don’t even have to move. Simply pin her hips, pulling her against me hard. She thrashes around, gibbering as I hold her tight against me. She works my cock as she bucks with it buried deep inside her. Her whole body quakes. Incoherently. Both of us. She’s made me lose the ability to even speak.
I am so close. But Hyde won’t have it. He wants more. I hold back painfully. My core is on fire with ache, trying to keep from exploding in her. She spasms around me, making this the hardest fight of my life. Hyde wins, though I don’t explode.
I hold her against me for what seems hours. She convulses. Her cunt squeezing the life from me. But he’s already decided. He will have more.
When the shakes fade from her, I slip out so easily. She’s still drenched, leaves and grass sticking to her thighs. I exit with a pained sigh. I want that warmth again. I grab an ankle and quickly flip it around, driving her to her back. Her eyes are closed, lips quivering.
I press back down. My cock, hard and angry, nestles into her. She moans and turns her head away.
“Look at me,” Hyde hisses at her.
I grind against her. Sodden. Molten. So fucking delicious.
“Look at me,” he demands.
Her head turns and her eyes open. We are staring into each other. I want to see her this time. Want to watch her eyes. Want to read her thoughts. See her reaction. When I make her cum again.
“Keep looking at me,” I whisper.
I’m moving my hips. Looking for her entrance. Gliding my cock across her. So fucking wet. I keep slipping past and below her. Failed attempts. Each one making her eyes widen just a moment. Another shift of hips to change angle, just drag the tip and nothing else. I find her. The entrance to her. Her opening. Her hole.
I ease forward, watching her eyes. Her chest heaves and her eyelids droop dreamily.
“Look at me,” he demands forcefully. Her eyes snap open with a pained look as I fill her. I push in as her mouth forms a perfect circle. Her O-face. There is a deep satisfaction as I slip without effort all the way to the bottom. I grunt at the final resistance.
She grips me. It makes me jerk back. Angry that she was able to make me do that, Hyde stabs forward. She moans. She tries to push me out. And we are fighting again. She pushes against me. I force my way back deep into her. Our bodies moving on their own volition.
Every time she tries to look away. Or roll her eyes. Or turn her head. I snap at her, “Keep looking at me. I want to see you when it happens. I want to watch your face when you climax. When your cunt squeezes me. Milks me inside you. I want to see into your thoughts when you cry out. You will cum again. For me.”
Her chest shudders. Her lips form strange shapes as she listens to my words. Along with me filling her, driving into her, it builds a tension inside her. I can see it in her eyes.
I wonder what she sees when she looks into my eyes and sees Hyde staring back at her. Does she even know? I’m moving in her still, finding the rhythm. She was quaking around me again. Caressing me. All I can feel is my cock engulfed in her. Wearing her. Masterbating into her. I’m stroking myself with her body. Using her like a toy to get myself off now.
“Are you going to cum for me?” I ask, “You are. I know you are. Know your body better than you. Go on. Try to prove me wrong. Cum for me.”
She’s gasping and trying to fight it, possibly. Her eyebrows arching as sensations flood her. I tell her again, “Cum for me.”
She does.
Her whole body clutches my cock. Tight. Wet. I can feel her fluttering and spasming around me. Her eyes wide and watering, quivering as she stares into me. I growl. I howl into the night.
I explode inside her. Grunting as I better every spurt as deep inside as possible.
Snarling, I float back down to her. My hips are working on their own. It feels like my entire cock is pulsing inside her. The slippery noises we’ve been making only get worse as I pump load after load into her. I end with a sigh as she squeezes the last bits out.
There is a volcano of heat at my crotch. We’re both flooded and sticky with fluids.
I roll to my side, dragging her with me as I slip out. Her eyes are closed.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Those eyes open. There’s something strange and distant in them. Something awakened. Her arms go around me, and she pulls her face to my neck. Her entire body still quivering, everything spasming randomly.
We sit like that for a while. Fluids cooling on our exposed skin. Cool air tickling at us. I push her away, and she gives me a hurt, pained look. I drag her back into me, turned around, she’s the little spoon now, and I wrap my arms around her. One hand drifts down to softly brush her. Wet sticky pubic hair, puffy lips, our messy juices. Fingers trace patterns through it, making her shudder.
I keep her trapped in my arms for a long time as Sister Moon swings through the sky.
“I didn’t expect you to go through with it…” I whisper, my hot breath caressing her ear. “But, I’m glad you did.”
I can feel my cum trickling out of her, my fingers toying with it. She’s marked now. She’s mine.
