Posted by hisdinner on June 30, 2008 at 02:06:29:
6/30/08
When you’re all tied up and no place to go, it’s amazing how many useless T-shirt slogans flash through your skull. Like Tessa’s brother’s favorite souvenir from his spring break trip to Florida: “ I’m up to my ass in alligators!” (That was just an excuse to strut around the house wearing that cheesy picture of Bettie Page.) Or how about her dad’s standby sermonette: “Be careful what you wish for—you just might get it.” Tessa had to admit it—that one hit closer to the mark.
Yeah,
Tessa was caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea. No, Tessa
thought, it was more like she was trapped between the devil and the
vast prairie.
That made her think of old western
melodramas--Snidely Whiplash, twirling his moustache, tying Polly
Pureheart to the tracks as the locomotive’s engine screamed as it
steamed around the bend.
“But the damsel always gets rescued in the end!” Tessa realized that she was banking on clichés to save her life. She blushed, as much from the whine in her voice as from the idiocy of her words.
“Shoot.” His voice, a rich, deep baritone, stretched that word into at least three syllables. “Shuh- oo- oot.” It floated through the dark, through the dry night air to where she stood, nearly naked, bound and squirming.
Tessa could picture the smirk behind that voice, how he made that single word a whole commentary on her and how badly she was handling this situation. It infuriated her that he thought she’d come up short, mostly because she knew she had, and damn it all, damsels DID always get rescued at the end, why—
“—Why it’s true, you damn bastard know-it-all bullying bastard. It’s why I always hate that sort of movie. Just when you think the little cheerleader bitch finally is going to get what she deserves, then some Chunk BeefRock frat boy shows up and saves her, and they go riding off on his dick-replacement horse, or in his dick replacement Hummer, and evil triumphs again. Damn bastard.”
Tough talk for a girl tied to a telephone pole—or was it a telegraph pole, this far out here in the boonies? Tessa didn’t know. She did know that she hadn’t seen a cell tower for miles. Even if she’d been surrounded by a forest of them, all wearing their silly faux-pine branches, she couldn’t call unless she could get herself out of these damned ropes. Across from her, she sensed her captor standing up.
“Wait a minute, pretty little thing. Evil triumphs? However came you to that strange conclusion?”
She was sure he was talking weird like that just to drive her crazier than even the ropes around her ankles, thighs, ribs, arms—
“Gah!”
She sputtered and pictured herself frothing like a mad dog, unable as she was to gesture with her arms.
“Evil, yes! The evil conspiracy of empty-headed sorority chicks who serve no earthly purpose being allowed to live and procreate and spawn even more idiotic girls who manage to get freed from the Dark Prince of Hoodoo at the last possible minute—gah! Gahhh!”
“Trouble is, young lady? This ain’t no movie deal. All your bets are off now. Y’hear?”
Firelight sputtered and held as he lit a cigarette. She could just make out his angular features before his smoke caught fire and his match went out.
“Dark Prince of Hoodoo, y’say. I kinda like that. Maybe get me mudflaps ‘at say that. Dark Prince o’ Hoodoo, shitfire, that’s a good ‘un.” The tip of his cigarette flared and she could see wry laugh lines crease around his glinting black eyes.
Tessa’s mind raced but damn, it was tired of racing, she was just tired of this whole game and damn it to hell, she just wanted it to be over and she wanted to go home, or at least back to the dorm room back on campus. Hell, she’d settle for being dumped off at the dirtiest truckstop anywhere in North America if he’d just r—
“If you’d simply realize that it was just a game!” Tessa rolled her eyes at him and at herself. Criminey, now she sounded like one of those spoiled sorority bitches she’d just been complaining about.
“Oh, I like games, little girlie. I like them fine. But you see now, now that you’re my game, we’re playing by my rules.”
“You’re a pig bastard asshole, is what you are! A pi—“
In the dark, his backhand caught her completely unaware.
“Shut yourself up now, girl. Be careful now. Hush.”
Tessa’s
neck hurt and her cheek felt hot where his hand had struck her. She
sniveled and tried to shrink away from him, but her bonds allowed her
little movement. He ignored her and set about collecting more dried
brush and wood from the little gulley nearby. When they’d first
arrived, he’d tossed her out of the back seat of his truck and she’d
rolled almost to the edge of the drop off there. She’d screamed and
nearly suffocated from choking and coughing behind her gag. Finally,
after she’d passed out for a little while he’d taken the thing
off—ripped the duct tape off and she had spat out the horrid cloth he’d
stuffed inside her mouth back in the parking lot. Back in the first ten
minutes of meeting this guy. Back when it was all so fucking hot that
she could cum. Shee-it.
Tessa wished she could just knock herself out and not have to think at all. It was too humiliating, really. Right now, while her very own southern-fried version of the Dark Prince of Hoodoo collected wood (no doubt to burn her at this very stake) she was picturing her stupid blog and her MySpace crap.
“Fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Tessa-turd, just tip top turdy, yup.”
See, she was always blogging about how boring and predictable men were in college—well, boys, actually, she didn’t think they deserved to be called men, and on and on…and lately, she’d been blogging about how the most enticing men she had ever experienced were movie madmen—guys like Hannibal Lecter, and those swell guys in Hostel—and on, and on. To top it all off, she’d posted a sort of invitation. Kind of a truth or dare thing. No! She was disgusted at her amazing ability to keep downplaying her fuckups, even while tied to a post out in the wilderness.
“Come on, admit it,” Tessa chides herself. “You dared this crazy bastard to come out from under his rock and he did!”
True. And she’d been secretly pretty damn proud of how good her blog dare had turned out. She’d uploaded a sexy picture of her in a little black dress holding up a sign that said, “Thrill me to death!” Underneath it said, ”Think you can scare the pants off me? I don’t! Msg me if you think you have the huevos.”
All she really expected out of it was maybe a little black leather collar party and teasy bullwhip junk followed by some fun sex, if she even got that much. Better than frat boys and beer.
So when this guy started messaging her with promises of “dark delights beyond her senses,” well—
“I fell in fucking lust and look what it got me.”
She’d messaged him back and forth and set up a date and—well… now this.
Tessa tensed as Mr. Hoodoo dumped another load of wood in front of her. The pile had grown several feet tall now. He grinned, having heard her last few words.
“Got you a thrill ‘r two, did it?”
She fumed and
growled, but she didn’t call him names again. Tessa was sort of
surprised, after being so turned on by bondage porn, to find out that
she really didn’t like being hit at all. It hurt, and hey, when it’s
your own nerve endings, and not some online chick’s, it’s no fun at
all. So she bit back her urge to swear at him. Time to try something
new. It hurt to think, though. The ropes were cutting her, too.
He had built an impressive crisscrossed bier (she thought that was the word) of wood and brush. When he set a match to it, flame licked at the base and shocked her as it whooshed and grew and rushed up feet at a time to claim the tower. In scant seconds, the whole structure was in flames. In minutes, the heat began to reach her. She trembled and watched him as he crouched upwind and had another smoke. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know.
“So, you gonna have me play Joan of Arc or something, here?” She grinned her best, silly, “aren’t we just a couple of pals having a laugh together” sort of grin.
The
question hung between them as he fed the fire fresh wood—thick, heavy
branches now, maybe whole trunks, like those stunted little trees she’d
glimpsed in the washes north of here. The fire was a living thing now,
gorging on the wood, booming, crackling, sending spires of sparks up as
red coals broke and tumbled to the base of the conflagration where they
glowed, becoming the fire’s evil eyes.
Her captor circled wide
around the fire and stopped next to her, facing the flame. He barely
took his eyes from it. Coal eyes must have hypnotized him, Tessa
thought.
“Fuck that crazy talk,” she thought—time to wriggle myself out of here and—“
Finally he spoke: “No, honey. I am not going to burn you up.”
Immense relief cascaded through her—so thrilling, it was almost orgasmic. Tessa sagged against the pole, unmindful of the slivery surface invading the soft skin of her back. “Not going to burn me! Not going to burn me! Not! Going! To! Burn! Meeeee!” She was whispering it, chanting, singing, practically dancing on the pole. Tessa, the pole dancer. She howled laughter and beamed at him. Great. Finally! Seems he’d won this game, alright. But wasn’t she a good sport? She couldn’t speak for the sheer relief and joy of it. Damn. Once she got her breath back, and her heart stopped pounding, she would have to step up and admit it. He definitely
“I’m just going to cook you some.”
“You definitely—what ?”
“This Dark Prince of Hoodoo’s hungry, darlin’. Gonna have me some dinner, here, long about two-three hours from now, though sooner if I just can’t stand it and carve me off a piece of this—“
He reached out and cupped her breast, casually pulling her torn blouse aside.
“Or, maybe this—I understand it’s remarkably sweet.”
He ran his hands down to her belly and then around to the curve and swell of her hips.
“Of course, I worry that I might lose too much of those good juices by cutting into you after you are started roasting. “ He frowned and shook his head, absently stroking the stubble on his chin.
“Still, it’s really going to be hard not to sample up those goodies. And why not? If I get it partly wrong this time, there’s always again, and again, and again.”
He touched another part of her each time he spoke the words. He used his knife to strip her of the little that remained of her summer clothes. Tessa’s head felt hot and her brain just wouldn’t work. She couldn’t get her mind around it, no way, no how, and found she didn’t want to try very hard anymore. To think, that is.
“Gonna leave you be for a minute, pretty miss. I got to set up my equipment. You sort of caught me unprepared, but when I saw your picture, I spent all night soldering, and …well, here she is.”
He
went to the back of his truck and hauled out something clanky and heavy
sounding. Tessa was weeping and whispering idiot stuff to herself, and
her tears prevented her from really seeing it.
It was a couple of
long rectangles made of metal poles, like giant frames with sturdy
metal mesh strung tight across each one. They seemed to be clamped
together on one side already or hinged, or something. It reminded Tessa
of something her Daddy had wanted for their ---
“Oh god, oh no.” Tessa felt sick. It looked like a giant version of the barbecue tool her Daddy’d wanted. He’d sent her a picture of it and asked her to look in the Bass Pro Shops next time she could. A fish basket. But this thing would hold a shark at least. Or one pretty little college girl. Tessa felt her belly roil and churn.
“You just hang on there a minute and I’ll have you loose, little lady. Don’t go getting sick all over your sweet self. Let’s get you loose, now.”
Hoodoo set down his contraption and took hold of her bonds. “Damn, all your squriming’s really tightened them up! This gonna take me longer than I figured. Shoo-ooot.”
Have me loose? Tessa trembled in panic and confusion. Loose? He’s kidding around again? I should laugh and tell him he’s won. Or should I? She worried that it would only anger him. Or worse yet, that it would make him change his mind. What if he’d only planned to scare her to death, but then she got loose and clonked him over the head with that big, honking piece of wood over there—well, what if she missed and he got mad, and decided to really roast her after all? She felt as if her brain were boiling.
His fingers worked the ropes, agonizing in their clumsy slowness. Every now and then he’d pause and run a hand over her nipples or her pussy, and she did her best to not cry out and anger him again. She needed whatever advantage she had…but why not just ask him and get it over with? Make it all a joke, maybe he’ll see how dead-on crazy it would be for him to DO this, for chriissake, you can’t cook a girl and get away with it!
“You win, I admit it! You win, you win, you win. Has my whole head of hair turned white now, or what? You scared the be-JAY-sus outta me!”
There. Tessa gulped and tried to stop her heart from exploding right out of her chest. She’d said it. She was still bound tight around more than half of her. Either he would grin and get out his camera and make her repeat it all for You Tube, or…she didn’t really want to think about the or part just yet.
Instead of answering her right off, he stopped plucking at the knots he’d made and got out a gleaming hunting knife. He held it to the firelight and turned it this way and that as a grin slowly spread across his face. Tessa grinned back, her cheek muscles twitching from the strain. Her gaze kept being drawn back to the knife and now, god-god-god, he was playing it down her abdomen and teasing her lower lips apart. The sharp tip grazed her tender skin and she cried out, unable to stand it. Her neck ached from the strain of trying to watch him. He took the knife away and stroked her with surprising gentleness, then worked his finger inside her. She heard him rumble, growling? Was he laughing? It was all too much, and Tessa began to sob and gasp nearly incoherent pleas.
“No, oh, no no, why are you--? What are y--? “
His rumbly chuckle grew and he sang, mostly to himself, “Girl’s half wet down here. Got to be a superfreak, yeah. She’s superfreaky.”
“No! I am not, I—“ Tessa twisted, humiliated and so confused again. Something trying to surface to her forebrain, what? She wept and twisted, burbling in his grip.
He was humming as he raised himself, dusted off his knees and grimaced. “Terrible position. I don’t recommend it for long stretches.”
His knife appeared again. Sweat droplets collected and fell into her eyes as she tried to crane her neck and look away. He’d been drawing circles in the air just beyond her breasts as if to outline them and now he began closing the space until the tip of the blade contacted the skin below her right breast.
“Mm.” He squirmed and did nothing to hide the huge bulge in his pants. “Well now, why the hell not?”
He used his knife to free her knees and thighs of their bonds, but kept her ankles bound to each other. He surprised her by slipping to his knees and ducking beneath her joined ankles, then rising up inside her thighs. He forced his way inside her and Tessa howled. He pounded, jerked and lunged, gripping her flesh and leaving bruises. But it was over soon. Tessa lolled on the pole as he slipped out and down and away from her.
Was it over now? She realized she’d squeezed her eyes shut tight. She opened them.
He gripped her breast firmly with his right hand as his left guided the knife around the lower hemisphere. A line of tiny red dots formed, then the dots merged, and finally, a thin trickle of blood began to slip down Tessa’s belly toward the ropes just below her ribs. She shivered, and a rivulet of sweat invaded the cut and Tessa screamed.
“Oh, yeah, that’s got to hurt. Stay still, here.” Hoodoo repeated what he’d done, underscoring her left breast. He stepped back and regarded her. Cocking his head to one side, he nodded and said, “Yeah. Stuffing.”
“What?” She was bleary, terrified of everything now. Tessa didn’t want to piss him off. What was he saying?
“I got to get something out of the truck, girl; be back in a jiffy.”
Tessa jerked against the ropes but he was right—they seemed tighter than ever. He hadn’t responded to her first attempt at calling his bluff, or crying uncle, or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, unless you wanted to call his knife an answer in itself, and Tessa didn’t think she wanted to do that at all, no Sir, no way. She’d ask him again. She’d call it off, cry uncle, tell him he’d won. Again. What could it hurt? Either way…but no, Tessa didn’t want to play that either/or game just yet.
He’d disappeared into the gloom outside the fire’s glow. When he reappeared he was carrying a covered dish. Tessa felt hysterical laughter rising inside, threatening to erupt and oh mama! She didn’t think that once it started, once it got out– she could ever get it back again. To squelch it, she bit inside her bruisy cheek as hard as she could, and that did the trick. She felt safe to talk again.
“Wow, ok, you really got me. I will never run down men again. No wait, in fact, I will blog it all tonight, I will declare you the chamPEEN of the world, wow, you SCARED THE CRAP OUTTA ME! You win! You win!” Her voice cracked a little on the last bit. “Just let me go now, we’ll have what? …a nice dinner? Then you take me back and—ta daa, the end? ”
He didn’t speak, so she repeated herself as she watched him peeling back the foil from the pan he held.
“So, We’re going to eat dinner now? Victory supper for you, and I eat crow? Bet there’s plenty of crows around here. Well. Sounds really g-g-great.” She nodded toward the casserole dish.
He set down the dish on a flat rock next to the hunting knife. “It’s stuffing. You lied about them tits in your profile, girly. They really need some filling.”
Without another word, Mr. Earl Thompson, aka the Dark Prince of Hoodoo, thwacked Miss Tessa Stevens, aka ScareMyPantsOff21, upside the head with his granddaddy’s fishwhacker. And he whacked her good.
“Fire’s done burnt down to the coals, and the time is ripe for roasting girls.”
Old Earl got darn near poetic at times like this.