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Author Topic: First Ch. of Her Nightmare  (Read 3217 times)

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Offline DragonMom

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First Ch. of Her Nightmare
« on: November 15, 2006, 06:03:47 PM »
This thread doesn't seem to be too well-traveled, but I'm giving it a shot anyway.  :azn:  This is a psychological thriller about Nick, a serial killer and rapist, and his hostage Pamela.  He's just escaped prison and while his original intentions are merely to use her as a shield, he starts to develop feelings for her.  Nick doesn't bother to hide these feelings, becoming at times intensely passionate.  But at the same time, his other personalities either play headgames with Pamela or torture her, depending to Nick's mood and Pamela's actions.  Meanwhile, her insecure husband Jack vacillates between harassing the detectives on the case, and worrying over what the neighbors will think.  Stuck in a nightmare she has little control over, a very confused Pamela starts questioning her loyalties to her husband.  The answer she finally reaches almost scares her into insanity.  [WARNING: Graphic language, including a few sex scenes.  The book is in three sections - the first is done, and I'm working on the second right now.  I don't want to give too much away - if you want to read more than this, let me know & I'll email it to you.  Any reviews are appreciated!]

Her Nightmare, Part 1 - Taken
Chapter 1

It was around seven in the evening when she pulled into Casey’s.  The small-town bar was remote, nearly five miles off the highway and a mile off the main road.  Pamela frowned at the new jail as she passed it turning on to the side street; the building was frankly ugly.  Nobody else seemed to mind, but she considered a jail-adjacent hangout creepy.  But Thursday was the only night she got to see some of their friends, so she tolerated it.  A close friend of their group ran the bar, so league night at the alley was also league night at the bar: half-price drinks.  And the barkeep was a personal friend, so her drinks were never watered down.  The fact that she tipped generously probably helped.

The lot was nearly full, so she swung her car into a slot near the entrance and hurried inside.  The friends had finished their games for the night, and almost everyone was here.  Pamela sat down at the bar and looked around, but she did not see Jack.
“Hey, Pamela,” the bartender called from the end of the bar.  “Usual?” 
Pamela nodded and reached into her purse.  “Thanks, Larry,” she said as her brought her a wine cooler and a glass.  She set three dollars on the bar and took a drink before asking edgily, “Is Jack here yet?” 
“He was only here for a few minutes,” said a woman’s voice.  Pamela turned around to see a brunette coming up behind her.   
“Joyce, hi!  How was your game tonight?”
Joyce made a face and drank a swig of beer.  “Not so good.  Didn’t even break my average.  Something’s off tonight.”
“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.  You said you saw Jack?”  Pamela prodded.
“Yeah, he was in a foul mood.  Bitched about you two fighting this morning.”  Joyce frowned again.  “His game was lousy, too.  Barely made a hundred.  Matter of fact, our whole team sucked shit tonight.”  She shook her head and drank more of her beer.  “You know I like Jack, Pamela, but you also know he can be a real jerk when his game is off.”
“Oh,” Pamela frowned, flushing angrily.  She looked down at the bottle in her hand as if for the first time.  “Well, I guess I’d better be going,” she said, smiling stiffly.  “Make sure he doesn’t tear up the house or nothing.”  Ignoring the glass, Pamela pulled an uncharacteristic long drink and banged the bottle down on the bar.  “See ya next week, Joyce.”  Joyce nodded and waved as Pamela hurried out.  “Can’t believe he told our friends we were fighting,” she grumbled as she stalked out the door.  “Dipshit.”
She regretted it almost immediately, hoping no one had heard her.  Pamela had never liked watching couples fighting in public and never wanted to become one.  The day had started badly, with their almost-daily fight over money, and had only worsened.  Clients were leaving the caterer she worked for left and right, and as low man on the totem pole, she was taking the brunt of her employer’s frustration.  Normally she would receive an apology for the regular temper tantrums, but none had been forthcoming today.  With Jack’s position as an executive at a long-distance company becoming increasingly unstable, she couldn’t quit to look for something better.  It was good money in what had been an enjoyable position, but was rapidly becoming a new source of major stress. 
Pamela’s stride was long and quick as she looked for her keys in her purse.  She had at least a half-hour drive home, more if she hit traffic.  It was the paradox of living in a small farm town: safer than the city, but everything was spread through the countryside, connected only by the highways.   Where the road wasn't splitting the small towns, empty, unused fields and forests often surrounded the farmlands.  As she unlocked her car with one hand, her purse slipped from her fingers.  Cursing the strap’s designer, Pamela crouched down to the gravel to feel for the leather strap, one hand still on her keys.  She pulled the key from the lock just as she found her purse.  Standing, she swung the door open, slid into the seat, and, forgetting to relock the doors, she yanked the door shut.  The moment the door latched, Pamela sensed movement on her right, but reacted too late.  A gun was already being shoved into her ribs, a cold hand was clamping onto the back of her neck, and a rough voice sounded in her ear as her breath drew sharply.
“Move, or scream, and you’re dead,” the voice rasped.  It was a man’s voice, with a slight mid-western drawl.  Her heart pounding filled her ears.  Fear grabbed hold and clung tight; her breath came short and quick.  Frozen hands still held her keys and purse.  Seconds stretched out while Pamela waited for him to react.  Only from sheer will did she manage to not wet herself.
“All right,” he said finally.  Pamela nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound.  “Start the car.  Let’s go.”  Pamela’s hands jerked as she tried to get the key into the ignition.  As the car started, the man released her neck and sat back slightly; but the gun still pressed into her side.  He took a ragged breath and prodded, “C’mon, back out.  Get back to the highway.” 
Pamela whimpered and tightened her hands on the wheel.  Forcing herself to focus, she guided the sedan back to the main road.  They passed a car she didn't recognize on the way out, but he was watching her too closely.  Pamela carefully kept her gaze on the road. The fight with Jack seemed trivial now; she desperately wished he could be here.
“Don’t speed,” he cut in suddenly, startling Pamela again.  “And if I catch you signaling anybody with the lights or anything, I’ll put a bullet in ya.  Nice ‘n’ easy, honey.”  He nuzzled the gun against her side as he talked.  Pamela kept getting glimpses of her captor as she watched the road, and there was something disturbingly familiar about him.  He had short, shaggy brown hair, with a thin face and a ragged mustache that curled down around his chin in a goatee.  His eyes were clear blue and intense, almost crazed.
“There,” he said as they approached the interstate.  “Head north.”  He relaxed visibly as the car sped up.  Sitting back, he pulled the gun out of her ribs but kept it pointed at her.  “Keep both hands on the wheel,” he snapped as Pamela’s hands drooped slightly.  She white-knuckled the wheel as his gun dug into her side.
“P-please,” Pamela ventured, “what are you going to do with me?”
“Oh, relax, hon,” the man drawled, “do as I say and I won’t hurt you.  I just need a way out of this state.  That’s you, honey.”  He reached over and touched her shoulder-length hair.  “My, but you’re pretty,” he added quietly.  "I just love a girl with green eyes… and brunette at that."  He gently played with her hair, but after a few seconds, his fingers shook and curled into a fist, pulling away from her.  "No," he muttered thickly, squeezing his eyes closed.  "No time... can't..."  Relaxing, his eyes opened and he dropped his hand, watching her intently as if nothing had happened.
Pamela bit her lip hard to keep from screaming.  “Um, I – I’m Pamela,” she started, her voice cracking.  “W – what’s your n-name?”
He chuckled.  “Nicely deflected, Pam.  Well, you’re gonna figure it out anyway, so I might as well tell ya.  Nice to meet ya, Pam – I’m Nick Swanson.”
Her heart skipped a beat or two as reality crashed down, leaving Pamela gasping in shock.  “You – you’re – you – “
“Me, me, me?” Nick mocked.
“You – you – they said –” Hyperventilating now.
“Whoa, hey, slow down,” Nick broke in, putting his hand on her shoulder.  He was again quiet, almost tender.  “Calm down, Pamela.  Take it easy.”  His voice was oddly soothing, so that Pamela was gradually able to slow her breath.  “That’s it,” he purred, “just relax.  It’s okay if you’re scared.”
“I – I heard about you,” Pamela sputtered.  Her fingers were starting to ache.  “What you d-did.” 
Nick took his hand back from her shoulder.  “That I gave the pigs the slip?  Oh, sorry – ‘escaped from police custody’.”  Giggling, mocking again.
Tears dripped slowly down Pamela’s cheeks.  “I – I heard what you did,” she repeated, “t-to those – those w-women.”
Nick said nothing – only stroked gentle fingers on her knee. 
She lost it.  “Please don’t kill me, I have a husband, I—“
“That’s great!”  Nick chirped, removing his hand.  “I have a wife; we should get them together.  Or, no, wait – I had a wife.”  Pamela winced.  “She went bad.  I had to throw her out.”  Nick chuckled.  “Sorry, lousy joke.  My next wife, she was too small; she went back in the pond with the rest of the fishies.”  More giggles.  “The next one: well, she turned out to be an ice queen.”  Nick burst out laughing.  “Ice queen – get it, Pam?  Ice queen!”  He roared with laughter.
Pamela sobbed.  The murders of which he was accused – he was listing where they'd each been found.  Next victim, she mentally yammered, gonna kill me, I’m next, he’ll kill me--
Nick’s laughter trailed off into a sigh as he studied her.  “Not in the mood for jokes, huh?  It’s okay; we’ll have fun later.  Let’s see, where are we?”  He looked around for a road sign.  Pamela sagged slightly; her stomach was knotting up.  “You getting tired, Pam?”
“I – I’m okay,” Pamela lied quickly, stiffening up.  She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes.  Although she had not realized it until he mentioned it, she was getting fatigued as the shock wore off, taking her adrenaline rush with it.
Nick lifted her bangs away from her eyes and peered closely at her.  “I don’t know about that, Pammy,” he rumbled, suddenly ominous.  “I think maybe, just maybe, you’re lying to me.”  His fingers laced into her hair and tugged ever so slightly.  “Now you wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie to me, would you, Pammy?”  His voice rose in volume until he spit her name.
“No – please, I-” Nick tugged her hair harder, causing her to yelp.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint, manic smile curl his lips.  So that was the game.
Forcing her nerves to calm, Pamela licked her lips nervously.  “I thought – I thought I was okay, but I’m – I am getting t-tired.  Please don’t hurt me –“
Now there was a wide grin on his face.  “Good, Pamela,” he murmured, his fingers again stroking her hair.  “Don’t worry; just pull off at the next stop up here.  We’ll get some grub and gas, and then I’ll drive.  Okay?”
“No, I – I –“His fingers tightened on her ear, sending chills down her spine.  “I – I mean, y-yes, Nick, okay.”  She shot a glance at him, tensed to flinch.
Nick smiled happily and sat back again.  “See, now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Pamela?  You’re a quick learner.  That’s good.”  He looked around as the car slowed for the off-ramp.  “Let’s see, there ought to be something open around here… yeah, there.  Take a left, hon.”
At Nick’s direction, she drove around the pumps to point the car back in the direction of the highway: “just in case,” he told her cheerily, choosing not to explain himself.  As soon as the engine stopped, he reached up and deftly pulled the keys out of the ignition.  Pamela did not move as Nick searched the floor.  “Now where did your purse go?” he mumbled, rummaging through the clutter.  Pamela tried to spot the gun, see if it was accessible, but he had tucked it into the front of his pants.  “Aha!”  Nick shouted; Pamela jumped and nearly screamed.  “Found it.  Okay, let’s see how much we’ve got.”  She spotted a phone stand under a streetlight towards the end of the lot.  Hopefully, she would have a chance to try for it.
“Twenty bucks; not bad, not bad.  You got an ATM card?  We’re gonna need more down the road.”  He searched further as Pamela finally, slowly, took her fingers off the wheel and carefully flexed.  “Yep, here it is.  What’s the PIN?”
Pamela was quiet.  She was still trying to decide whether to bolt for the phone.
“Pammy, the PIN code.”
The deeper voice and menacing inflection were already familiar.  “I-it’s five-two-three-one,” she stammered, clenching her hands back onto the wheel.
“You’re not lying to me again, are ya, Pammy?”
“N-no, Nick, I wouldn’t –"

“Fine, fine,” he interrupted.  “What’s the balance?”
Horrified, Pamela realized she could not remember.  “Um – ah – I don’t – I can’t –"
Nick grabbed her chin and jerked her face to his.  For the first time since he stepped into the car, Pamela looked at him directly.  She gasped in terror as dead, jet-black eyes tried to swallow her along with the dim light.
“Gonna ask you just one more time, Pammy,” he growled.  “What… is… the balance?”
Pamela swallowed hard, her heart racing.  She tried to pull away, but his eyes held her as surely as his hand did.  “A-about th-three hundred...I think.”
“Three hundred.  That’s it?” he repeated in disgust.
“We’re broke.”  The embarrassing fact flushed her cheeks hot, but she would've said anything if only to get away from those eyes.  Muscles tensed in reflex, waiting for his wrath.
Nick smirked at her answer.  “Now, listen closely, Pammy.  I’m gonna get the gas first, then I’m gonna go inside and get some food and some cash.  You stay right here, you keep your hands where I can see them, and we won’t have any trouble when I get back.  Otherwise… well, we’ll just see, won’t we?”  Pamela whimpered, unable to even blink as he roughly squeezed her jaw.  “Now you be a good girl.”  He let her chin go and looked away, breaking the spell; she nearly fell onto him as her eyes blinked rapidly to clear the mental fog.  “Stay put.” 
Pamela watched him get out and pump gasoline into the tank.  She watched him stride quickly into the store, crunching gravel the only sound to follow him.  She watched him enter the store and disappear into the aisles.  Then finally, she allowed her muscles to unfreeze.  It wasn't in her nature to sit and do nothing – and it was now or never.
Fingers fumbling, Pamela threw open the door and tumbled out.  She crawled awkwardly to the end of the car and peeked around the nose to peer at the station.  Nick’s back was to her as he selected drinks.  Pamela took a ragged, shallow breath and, focusing on the phone stand, gathered courage.  She took one last look back at the store – it was still safe – then sprinted to the phone.  Her feet pounded the gravel, her shoes falling off after the first few steps; she stumbled but kept running.  The phone stand was impossibly far.  With each step, she feared he would catch her.
Pamela was panting when she collided with the phone.  Crying out in relief, she lifted the receiver and dialed nine-one-one.  It was a few rings before an operator answered.  “Help me, please,” she cried.  The operator was talking, but there was no time to listen.  “It's Nick Swanson, he's going to kill me, he –"
Suddenly the line died.  Pamela’s head whipped around and she saw Nick’s finger holding down the phone lever.  Looking up further, she saw his angry scowl. The receiver slipped from her nerveless fingers, and she backed away; her palms came up defensively.  “Oh, Nick, oh no – please, I’m sorry, I –"
Nick's hand darted from the phone to her arm.  Just as swiftly, he yanked Pamela to him; she stumbled and fell against him.  Somewhere in a detached part of her mind, Pamela noticed that he was less than a foot taller than she, with a slim, strong build that felt warm against her stomach.  His clothes, a torn plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans, were soft on her arms and legs.  If they’d met in a bar, she might have been attracted to him; instead, she felt a warm, slow trickle down one leg.
His breath was hot on her cheek; she didn’t meet his glare.  Heart thumping, voice breaking, she blubbered.  “Nick, I’m sorry, I –"
“Pammy,” he cut in harshly, “that… was stupid.”

She was crying again.  “P-please don’t –"
“Punish you?” he interrupted.  He turned, still holding her, and stomped back to the car, forcing Pamela to stagger along with him.  The bag of food was still in his other hand, forgotten.  “I’m gonna have to, Pammy.”  She could only whimper.  “You were a stupid, bad girl, Pammy.  Bad girls get punished.”  Now at the car, he jerked the passenger door open, threw the bag in the back seat, and shoved Pamela into the front seat.  Before she could recover, he was leaning in to buckle the seatbelt.  Just as quickly, Nick was out and slamming the door.  Pamela clawed at the door, but her hands refused to work the lever.
She looked out her window and could barely make out the clerk in the station.  He was ignoring them, reading a magazine.  Pamela pounded on the window, but it refused to yield.  “Help me!” she wailed, just as Nick sat down and slammed his door.  He reached over, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her to him despite her pained shriek.
“Shut up, bitch,” he hissed, “or I’ll shoot you right here.”
“No,” she moaned as her eyes drifted closed.  This isn't real, this can't be happening...
There was a loud double click as the gun poked her in the ribs again.  “You think I’m fucking kidding, Pammy?”  He shoved the barrel further into her side; she cried out again and reflexively tried to lean away.  “Just keep on prattling, bitch.  Give me a goddamn reason!”  Her mouth worked but, thankfully, nothing came out.  “That’s better.  Now let’s get the hell out of here before that gas jockey gets more suspicious than he already is, thanks to you!”  Shoving her roughly against the door, he put the safety on and pocketed the gun.  “Not to mention the fucking pigs!  You better hope the brain surgeons at dispatch don’t put two and two together, bitch.”  He started the car and pulled out of the lot, heading back to the highway.  Pamela stayed still, trying not to shake.
They drove in silence for several minutes.  Pamela, unable to move, cowered against the car door and bit her lips bloody to keep from speaking.  Nick’s wrath was tangible in this small space; it threatened to smother her.  She could hear his rapid breath as he sighed loudly, increasing in volume each time.  After a moment, a low, quick thumping started; she looked up to see his fist rhythmically banging the armrest.  Nick’s eyes burned with a fierce intensity that belied the calm on his face.
Her arms twisted around her body, hands gripping her sleeves.  Under her sparse skirt were coiled her legs.  Her cheeks itched of dried tears that had, at least momentarily, stopped.  Distantly, she noticed her ripped stockings and admonished herself for wearing thigh-highs instead of full pantyhose.  Suddenly feeling very naked, Pamela pulled her knees up higher into her skirt as her mind whispered all the things he was reputed to have done to previous victims.  Picturing her husband, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her body to stop shuddering. 
Jack would’ve handled this differently.  At the first threat, he would have jumped on Nick.  Pamela imagined him, tall and strong, as he pounded Nick senseless.  She had never been a violent person, but she knew Jack could be if necessary.  The idea had always been a daunting one, to know Jack would kill for her.  He wasn’t the only one, either; many of their friends were aggressive people.  Bob Cullen, Jack’s best friend, popped to mind: a big guy, slightly overweight but still powerful.  Bob was a brusque, sometimes crude guy, but would leap to the rescue of any lady friend.  He had once told her that since chicks couldn’t defend themselves, he certainly would; and any guy who would stoop to strike said chick, would get pounded.  Although chauvinistic, it was still sweet.  She imagined Bob breaking Nick's nose, and Jack breaking a bat over his head, and was comforted somewhat.
Feeling the car slow, Pamela looked up and out the windows.  The major interstate had turned into empty highway.  She didn't think they'd gone more than ten miles off the main highway, but these barren stretches tended to all look the same.  It had been barely sunset when they left Casey’s, but now the sky was completely black.  A single streetlight, several yards back, cast the only thin, dim light.  There was nothing here, only bleak fields surrounded by murky, impenetrable forest.
Nick pulled the car off onto the shoulder.  Pamela’s side was tilted down somewhat, so that she had to look up slightly to see Nick.  He was backlit by the light, silhouetting his sharp face, but Pamela could still tell that his mood had not changed.  Quickly, she looked down at the gearshift, where she could sense his movements without having to look at him.
Nick stopped the engine, removed the keys, and pushed them in a pocket.  His head did not turn.  “Get out.”
Pamela hugged herself tighter, shaking her head silently.
Nick cocked his head towards her but still did not turn his gaze on her.  “Get out of the car, Pammy.”  His voice was low, almost singing, but still angry.
“N-no,” she whimpered, as if to say it would make it so.
Now he turned to her; Pamela fought the increasing urge to look up.  “Out of the car, Pammy, now!”  He reached down and unbuckled her seat belt.  The belt popped up and smacked her on the neck; by the time she was over her surprise and had untangled herself, Nick had come around and was opening her door, catching her unawares.
“Nicky’s back!” he sang as she fell out backwards, landing on her back.  One foot was still in the car, forcing Pamela to quickly yank it out as he shoved the door shut.  “Let’s go, Pammy,” he yelled as he grabbed her arm to roughly haul her up, “on your feet!”  He flung her away into the field; Pamela backpedaled several fast steps, but only managed a few feet before she lost control and fell gracelessly on her butt.
Nick wasted no time, already closing in on Pamela.  “Where are ya going, Pammy?” he yelled.  “Fun’s just starting!”
Pamela let out a short scream and rolled over to get away.  She crawled only a few more feet before he caught her ankle and yanked, knocking her flat.  She yelped at the impact; she was shrieking wordlessly as he dragged her back.  Her fingers clawed the damp grass but found no purchase.  Pamela’s right hand caught a small branch, but she had barely closed her fingers around it when he grabbed that arm and flipped her over.  Pamela huffed painfully as she landed on her back and Nick kneeled over her, straddling her legs.  He still held her arm stiffly.
Pamela froze; so did Nick.  For a long moment, they stared into one another.  Pamela’s breath caught in her throat.  Nick’s eyes had turned jet-black, and reflected no light.  Rather, his eyes seemed to absorb light; she could imagine being sucked into that black hole.  Then Nick pointedly looked at her hand.  Pamela looked over and, realizing in dismay her error, quickly loosened her fingers.  She glanced back over at Nick as the stick fell.  His head was still turned, but he was giving her a disapproving glare.
Pamela’s head shook violently, her eyes frenzied.  “Oh god, Nick, no – you can’t think-“ 
His head turned the other way, giving him a “you should know better” look.
Pamela lifted her left arm weakly.  “No, please, ” she cried desperately.  His fist came down and a blinding pain exploded in her cheek.  The blow stunned her, crossing her vision briefly.
“Pretty fucking stupid, Pammy,” he roared at her, shaking her limp arm.  His fist pounded a rhythm to his tirade.  All too soon, she tasted blood.  “Do you know how many bitches I’ve gone through trying to find the right one?  Tell you a secret – it's more than the cops think, the fucking morons!”  She was getting dizzy now, almost blacking out.  “But they all got stupid!  Is it too much to ask for a bitch to not turn fucking stupid?”  He pulled his arm back again, but abruptly stopped.
Nick panted hard; Pamela’s breath came shallow and rapid.  She peered up at him, groaning as the left side of her face throbbed.  Nick was looking her over for the first time.  Through the haze in her vision, she could almost imagine he wasn’t real.  She’d had worse dreams than this; she had woken up out of a sound sleep being chased by monsters before, though they had never been human.  If it wasn’t for the pain, she might attribute the fatigue to such a dream.  Pamela closed her eyes as his arm came down again.  Maybe next time she opened them, she would be in her own bed, shaking but safe.  But instead of more pain, she felt hot fingers squeezing her heaving breast.  His touch was rough, frenetic.
The sensation snapped her back to reality.  “N-no,” she managed thickly, reluctantly opening her eyes to Nick’s lustful gaze.  He dropped her arm and ripped open the buttons on her blouse.  “No, please,” she whimpered.  Groggy from the blows, she could hardly raise her arms as his hands grabbed her breasts before pushing her bra up.  “Nick, no—“
“Now, this is more like it,” he growled hungrily, yanking her skirt up.  “Easy access, huh?”  He sneered up at her as he unzipped his jeans.  “Sluts like you deserve to be punished.” 
Pamela moved her hands towards him but couldn’t lift them more than a few inches.  “Nick – please-“
Looking annoyed, he shot his right hand out and clamped down around her throat.  “That’s enough, bitch!”  Pamela gasped in shock; he squeezed a bit, and she started choking.  “You’re gonna be nice and smart now.  Aren’t ya, Pammy?”  Her mouth worked as her muscles strained for air.  Eyes bulged; fingers came up to claw at his hands.  Nick loosened his grip slightly, and Pamela took a sharp, gasping breath.  Lungs worked furiously to recover.  "Answer me!"
After a moment, Pamela told him, “Y-yes, Nick.”  Tears dripped steadily down her cheeks.
Nick smirked down at her but still firmly held her neck.  “Good girl, Pammy.”  Pamela closed her eyes again, this time to pray for release.  Her fingers involuntarily scrabbled against his. 
“You just better hope I don't get bored too soon,” he informed her as he pushed her panties to one side.  Pamela’s eyes popped open.  Did he mean he would kill her?  He pushed his pants down and her knees up, and then looked up to sneer at her.  “It's inevitable, Pammy.  I got bored with my other wives.”  She cried out loudly as he slammed into her.  He was too big for her, he scraped her insides.  As he thrust, Nick continued to rant.  “As long as you’re a good girl, I've got no reason to get bored.  And they'll find you... eventually.”  Pamela’s sobs matched his lunges.  The excitement in Nick’s voice rose as he leaned down on her, capturing her hands in his fist above her head.  The weight of his body nearly smothered her.  Imagining him away was becoming impossible.
“But if you’re a bad girl—” His breath tickled her ear even as his hand worked her neck.  The constant squeeze and relax was making her dizzy and tired.  “If you’re a bad girl, Pammy, I’ll leave your hands and feet with all… that… blood.”  He was thrusting faster now; Pamela burned inside.  “And your tight little body… well, I may just keep your body as a fuck-toy, Pammy - I only need one hole!”
Pamela stared up at the endless stars, wishing she would awaken.  God, Jack, she thought, help me
“But your head,” he added suddenly, lifting up to look her in the eyes, “I’m gonna send your bruised, broken head back to hubby.”  Nose to nose and unable to look away, there was no more pretense - she was face-to-face with the monster.  “Maybe he’d like a souvenir of our little adventure, whaddya think, Pammy?” he roared in her face.  He lifted up off her and wrapped both hands around her throat.  She gasped; he squeezed and pushed into her harder, faster.  “Is this how you like it, bitch?” he grunted thickly as a smile crept across his lips.  Pamela scraped futilely at his hands again, but she was quickly losing strength; muscles strained for breath and her heart pounded loudly, slowly, as blackness tiptoed in to steal her sight.  With one final shove that raised her hips off the ground, Nick tightened his grip; Pamela’s hands dropped away as her eyes fluttered closed…

"When Mister Safety Catch is not on, Mister Crossbow is No Longer your Friend."  - Terry Pratchett

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