Page 74 of Massacre Monday

My heart still pounds hard in my chest as I take a rest against a rugged tree trunk. While I huff air in and out, white clouds form from my open mouth. It’s chilly, but I can’t feel it, the fear making me single focused on getting out of this situation. Every pulse of blood through my arteries gushes until I spook myself into hearing things, whipping my head around at tiny sounds.

With a hand on my side, I stroll closer to the garage as a tight stitch develops beneath my rib cage. I wasn’t expecting to be sprinting tonight… Outside… Without shoes… In the crisp October air.

No worries. I did it. I think I might be in the clear.

As I pass the last tree near the building, Ryan pops out directly from behind it and stands like a wall in front of me.

“D-don’t!” I bark as my body jolts, taking a step back, but he follows me.

“Before you get to grandma’s place, I think I ought to walk with you for a ways…”

“Ryan, I’m serious… I-I?—”

He lunges at me and ensnares my waist, but I raise my legs up and flip him over, then strike at his mask, pressing the heels of my hands into the eyes. The padding of it protects him enough so that he attempts to roll us until he’s in guard position.

With a swivel of my hips, I get a leg out and kick his snout, then set a foot on the sopping ground. Fingers grasping at the mud beneath us, I pull myself up with a frustrated groan and sprint back toward the house. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, and he falls on my back, taking us both down, with him landing on top of me.

A visceral scream erupts from my lungs as I scramble against the wet grass, gripping at it for any hold, kicking my legs andsquirming. Anything to get him to let me go. Instead, he lifts my dress up and spanks the shit out of my ass as I wail from shock more than pain.

In my fight to get away, he snags both of my wrists, then locks them with a set of handcuffs, holding them together above my head. His knees pry mine apart as he digs a finger up to my panties, then rips them off as I try to buck him off, to no avail. With my butt, I press back against him, nearly freeing myself as the weight of him releases. Only for his arm to tuck over the front of my waist with a tighter grip, tugging me up to him.

One hand wrapped around my throat, he nestles the wolf mask on my shoulder and whispers, “No more fighting, little red ridin’ hood.”

Using my locked hands, I dig my nails into his forearms.

“You want to keep going? We can, but I’m going to win,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” It’s not a very powerful statement with his grip tightening to cut off my words.

“It would have hurt a lot less if you’d let me take you upstairs.”

Rapid breaths huff through my nose as I consider him. The realization hits my stomach so hard it flips like I’ve jumped off a cliff. There’s no going back.

He’s going to fuck me.

And it’s going to be painful.

But fighting it will only make it worse.

I blink once and my hands relax. “O-okay,” I whisper—not because Iwantto necessarily, but because I know he’s already won. Or maybe…maybe it’s because I do.

I feel his lips creep into a smile as he places them on my neck. “Okay…” he echoes, quieter.

In one swift motion, he grabs me and flings my body over his shoulder as he stands. My handcuffed arms bounce behind himas he takes off in a slight sprint, just as the heavens open up and fat drops of frigid rain pour down upon us.

He shakes his hair, shirking off the wetness that now soaks his clothes and my dress, which suctions to my skin like plastic wrap. When he enters the back door, I squirm in protest, knowing that everything underneath my skirt must be on display for everyone to see.

Ryan tosses open a door to a conservatory, where the distinct sounds of skin slapping skin and moans ring through as several people engage in scandalous acts. His palm hurriedly cups my pussy and stays there, covering me as he carries me into the manor.

In the crowded games room, the smells of sweat and beer fill the space.

“Fuck yeah, Cardell! Got you one!”

“Oh shit. Who is that?”

“Chained up like a bitch, I see. Good game, Cardell!”

The guys yell their encouragement, and when we pass through, I lift my head enough to see all of them pausing in their keg stands to give envious stares at Ryan’s back.