The thin air burns my throat as I push my naked back against the bark.
I’m certain that if he’s close, (which he has to be,) my rabbit heart will give me up. In the growing darkness, the temperature begins to drop, and a wave of goosebumps wash over me. It’s difficult to think through the fog of adrenaline, and I have to fight hard to control the animal in me that just wants to hide.
I cling to this tree, trying to decide where to move next. He expects me to be frozen to the ground, and as it stands, my only chance of getting ahead of him is to do the opposite of that.
*I need to move now.*
Eyes darting, I will myself to take the first step, but as soon as my foot is planted firmly on the ground, my blood runs cold.
I hear him.
Muffled steps, crunching against the thick layer of brush. If I had to guess, he is no more than 100 feet away, but I have no idea if he knows I’m so close.
I hold my breath and try to determine what direction he’s approaching from. Somewhere to my left. My panic is rising, and the urge to remain hidden grows stronger. I might be able to outrun him if I go right now, but any further waiting will mean my demise.
With undiluted panic coursing through me, I step forward and begin the sprint. I can’t hear anything over the sounds of my heart and the wind in my ears, but when I reach the bridge that leads over a long-dead brook, I have to stop and catch my breath. It’s close to pitch black now, save for the full moon throwing shadows amongst the trees, and I use a boulder to leverage myself into the bedrock, where I lie in wait and listen.
~
Just an hour ago we’d been sitting on the porch, watching the sun set.
“Are you ready, Bun?” He asked. I nodded, trying not to betray the anticipatory tremble that found its home in my stomach, and I stood. I stretched, attempting to calm the tendrils of energy weaving their way through my muscles. I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks, but in a moment of brazen impulse, I looked back and grinned.
“When you can’t catch me, should I just stay out here? Dig myself a burrow and call it home? Or should I come back and let you ask me nicely to keep the bed warm for you?”
He chuckled, gently shaking his head. “Every time you open your mouth, I’m taking a minute off your head start. You’re at 4 minutes now. Go, sweet girl, or I’ll take you right here.”
And with that, it began.
~
It’s been over fifteen minutes of jumping at every sound, and my brain is fried. I realize that this subspace is new to me; I don’t even know if I really like it yet. At this point, all I care about is getting away and staying away from him. The loss of control to my instincts is simultaneously exciting and terrible.
It’s time to accept defeat.
As I shed the last of my awareness, and allow my mind to start processing my surroundings like an animal, I feel free. Right now, my body and the creature are one – all I am able to understand is that it’s time to freeze, stay small, and wait until I know it’s safe to move.
I startle when I hear a branch splinter. Then, another. The steps are slow, careful. I see a shadow move from one tree to another.
He’s here.
Somewhere in the last reservoir of my dampened mind lurks a realization; he isn’t trying to be quiet. He either doesn’t know I’m here, or he doesn’t care that I can hear him. I’m well-hidden against a large boulder, but my legs are twisted uncomfortably beneath me. He’s growing closer. Cramping is invading my calf and I feel tears begin to squeeze themselves out from the corners of my eyes from the overwhelming pain. I bite down on my clenched fist to stifle the whimpering attempting to find its way out of me.
He’s still getting incredibly close to me now, and growing ever closer, when I shift ever-so-slightly and the pain reaches a new level of intensity. I let out a small whine.
To my absolute horror he comes to a stop less than a yard away immediately following my cry. In excruciating pain, I hold my breath and plead with my muscles to stop writhing under the skin. The forest is frozen, like me; even the insects are holding their breath as we wait for him to depart. To my immediate relief, he continues walking normally, seemingly dismissing the noise I made. I wait until he’s far enough away to stretch my leg out until I’m able to walk again. I struggle to think through the exhaustion fogging my mind. I’m vulnerable here; if he decides to circle back after failing to find me up ahead, I don’t know if I’ll be able to run fast enough to get away, especially with my strained calf.
I wearily begin to walk, scouring the area for a new shelter, taking frequent stops to work the muscle before continuing on. After walking the same way he’d gone shortly before, thinking I’d turn off shortly so I don’t catch up too close to him, I sit on a stump off to the side of the trail and continue rubbing my leg.
It’s too late to slip away by the time I realize what’s happening. In one fluid motion, arms snake around my waist, pinning my arms down. I violently struggle against him, making strained noises. Pulling me against his chest, he easily hikes me up a few inches higher so I’m unable to drag my feet, but I continue to shout and thrash against him.
Before I know it, I’m on the ground again – he’s flipped me over and is pinning his knee squarely in the center of my back. Despite my effort, he pulls my flailing arms back one at a time and begins to tie rope around my wrists. I begin to calm down slightly, and assuming I’ve accepted defeat, he stands up and releases my body.
The repositioning, however, affords me enough room to wiggle to my side. Without thinking about it, I kick as hard as I can away from him, sliding over the ground. I groan in discomfort as pinecones scratch my shoulders and arms, and I hear him clear his throat in frustration over my sad attempts to escape.
“Stop moving, you’re only going to hurt yourself,” he sighs with exasperation. He sits me up and attempts to brush the dirt off my back, but again I’m fighting. I can’t think; I feel like an animal, caged and terrified. I’m not going to respond to words like this, and after clipping him hard enough with my thrashing legs, he’s no longer interested in playing my game.
He bites down on my shoulder in retaliation, and I yip in pain. He hadn’t broken the skin, but I can tell the bruise forming will be a mean shade of purple-red. He bites me again when I start up the struggle again, and yet *again* when I refuse to allow him to help me stand.
“You don’t learn, do you?” is growled into my ear before I feel another bite on my neck. I’m finally subdued by the pain and exhaustion. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, where I accept my fate.
A few steps later I find myself being positioned and tied horizontally to a fallen pine tree. I’m on my back, and despite my haze I am thankful to find a fleece blanket protecting me from the bark.
His fingers begin to trail along the bruises forming on my pale skin. In the moonlight, I can just barely make out his outline; tall, lithe, and stronger than he looks. I’m paralyzed but desperate to further this scene. I close my eyes and savor the gentleness of his touch in contrast to what he’d been inflicting upon me just moments earlier.
He begins to inspect me with his hands; running fingers over sensitive spots, seeing how my animal brain reacts to different sensations. I start to groan softly when his fingers meet the ridge of my nipples, and he responds by replacing his hand with his lips. I can no longer think about anything but the warmth radiating from his mouth onto me. He does this until I’m moaning, completely absorbed by the sensation.
One of his hands has found it’s way between his own legs; the other is starting to work where my thighs meet my body, giving me the opportunity to grind up into the heel of his hand while the pads of his fingers explore the slick spot quickly forming at the entrance of my slit. With little warning he begins to push his index and middle finger into my slit, allowing the warmth and silky wetness to envelope him.
I can’t even hear myself moaning anymore – it feels so good I am unable to process anything but how floaty my head feels, and how deep his fingers are prodding me. He pushes against my g-spot in slow circles, all while gently working that bundle of nerves sitting at the crest of my labia. Mouth, still sucking hard on my nipple, I find myself begin to spasm on his fingers while small, breathy grunts escape me. Words evade me in this headspace – I don’t know how to ask him to please go just a little longer to let me cum, so I have to moan unintelligibly and hope he keeps going.
Sensing my frustration, he pulls away and positions himself between my conveniently spread legs. I’m whining, trying to plead with him to continue for *just one more minute*. His hand reaches up from my pussy to block the sounds coming from me, and I impulsively take his fingers in my mouth to clean. I can practically feel the pulse in his fingers, betraying how excited this makes him. Taking his saliva-covered hand, he brings it down and gently runs it just between my pussy’s outer lips and then over his cock.
Setting it just at the entrance of my wetness, I’m whining into his hand again, trying to express the intense desperation I feel.
Slowly – so slow it almost hurts – he begins to push in. When I hit the base, he pauses, allowing me to adjust to the filled sensation. My stomach is tensed, abdomen tight with pleasure and the intense hunger for more. It’s so intense, in fact, that I find tears spring to my eyes, and I know my face is red with effort.
My body is filled with pure energy, and as he finishes savoring the first push in, he leans over me to get even deeper on the next pump. Hot breath tickles my neck and I find myself grinding into him with the same hunger he’s pushing into me with. In between breathy grunts, I find the only word I know: *”please, please, please, please, please,”* and will him to listen.
As soon as I start my single-word monologue, he’s fucking me hard and fast, covering my mouth with his hand when I start to make too much noise. His pace is quickening, and I feel the hilt of his cock stretching me as I squeeze to make the pressure even more intense. The only sounds are that of our grunts and heavy panting, mixed with the wetness now dripping down my thighs.
As he tenses, I feel warmth fill my abdomen. He’s moaning and thrusting rhythmically, but slows down before coming to a stop. My pussy – his, now – is clenching hard, milking as much cum from him as I can.
His hands are bracing himself against the tree, taking a moment to recover. I’m throbbing, still unsatisfied. He carefully pulls out of me, and I feel no cum escape me – he came deep. There is not a drop wasted.
He takes his thumb and begins circling my clit again. The previous edge sneaks back up – I’m getting close, fast. With his other hand squeezing the sides of my throat, I find what little light I can perceive in the darkness fade out. He releases his grip before I lose consciousness, but keeps the hand resting there.
He stops massaging my pussy before I’m able to reach orgasm, and in frustration I produce a gutteral cry that echoes through the woods. He shushes me by leaning in to kiss me, and I can’t help but kiss him back – I’m whimpering into his mouth now, desperate to free my hands so I can finger myself. He’s pinching my nipples now, twisting and pulling so hard I swear I can feel it in my – no – his pussy.
I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I find the spot between my legs is responding the same way to his manipulation of my nipples as when he’s rubbing the clit directly. Finally, it’s building again, and I’m losing whatever semblance of control I had under his handling. My breath picks up pace as the grip on my throat tightens.
I’m panting hard as he squeezes, making my head rush and eyes flutter. My orgasm is throbbing deep within me – I swear it’s about to crash over me – when he squeezes down a final time, and I temporarily clip out of existence.
~
I re-gain awareness as he unties me. Although I don’t remember actually cumming, I can feel the twitchy sensitivity with none of the relief. My abdomen is aching and sore – unhappy with (what appears to be) a very ruined orgasm.
He’s cradled me in his arms while I make small chirping noises, still unable to make or express coherent thoughts. He squeezes me tighter and rubs the indents the rope has left on my skin. I wiggle closer to him and let myself drift off into space again.
Before I know it, the screen door is clicking shut behind us and I hear him drawing a bath. He sits me down on the edge of the tub, allowing me to lean on him for support, and helps lower my aching body into the scalding water.
He washes the filth from my hair, inspects the bruises and welts covering my shoulders, and when I complain about the cramped muscle he brings me Advil. By the time he’s done taking care of me, I am fed, watered, and clean. Past the point of exhaustion, but absolutely blissed out from the physical and mental workout, he tucks me in and I pass out.
They both lived happily ever after.
The end.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/12xt23f/fight_flight_freeze_primal_play_from_the_preys