*This was originally featured on Wattpad, but I've taken it down. As you can guess, I'm moving it all to Steemit now. The first part of the story was based on an event that actually happened to me as I was walking to the train station last year from my house. The rest is based on what-ifs.
The young woman, fit and healthy, bounced down the road, her backpack swinging, the straps swaying enticingly around her bottom as she walked. Thumbs in the straps on the front, she walked without a care, her floppy hat hiding her eyes, while her tight jeans revealed the outline of her body, and the man driving by her felt his body respond.
Pulling ahead of the girl he stopped, rolling down his window as she crossed the road to come to his side.
Obviously, she wanted his attention.
He didn't assume she was heading to the train station 500 feet ahead, not at all, she wanted his attention!
He pulled off, hoping for a little action from such a lovely-shaped creature. Her pink top covered her, protecting her pale skin from the sun, but in the burning rays of sunlight her body had begun to sweat and the thin material clung to her generous curves, outlining each swell as it thrust forward.
He watched her in the side-mirror, licking his suddenly dry lips as he saw the thick outline of her thighs, sensual thighs made for cushioning a mate. He saw her trainers, soft-soled and dark blue with neon green strings. The kind of strings that didn't break easily.
Perfect.
"Hey, can you tell me where..." he began his usual spiel, hoping to lure her into stopping for a moment as his right arm came across his body, unlatching his door. "Miss, excuse me?"
He called out after her as she walked by his door, his voice filled with surprise.
Why hadn't she stopped? She wanted to get his attention, after all, that's why she'd crossed the busy highway to get to his side.
Damnit!
Something had given him away. She'd started to stop, a ghost of a smile on her face as she approached his battered old, mint green car, everything but her smile hidden by large sunglasses. Her wide smile had faltered as she'd seen his face, her head had turned away, and her pace had picked back up without a single word.
What gave him away? The words came from inside of his mind but he didn't waste time answering himself.
"Lady, please! I'm lost and I've been driving around for hours, I need help to get back to the main highway." She slowed, her feet about to take her past the front bumper of the car as he got out.
She was about to stop, he told himself, anticipation making him almost prance in place.
She started walking again, her arm coming out from behind her, waving at him as she shook her head no. He saw her other arm going around to her front pocket, digging for something.
A cell phone! Move, now!
His mind told him to react and his body listened, his hands clawing at her as she tried to hit the button to turn the phone on, her glasses falling away. With a scream of pain as he wrenched her arm behind her back she dropped the phone to the ground, her hope shattering with her screen. He kicked it away, seeing the battery function flashing through the shattered screen as he did so. She wouldn't have been able to make a call anyway.
He scrabbled with her, her body thicker than he'd imagined, somehow denser and heavier that he'd expected as he dragged her to the overheated metal of his car. He punched her in the face with his large fist, the knuckles already scraped and bloody, and her head bounced against the door frame of the car. She yelped, a satisfying sound he quite enjoyed, and went limp as he pushed up against her for a moment, his excitement getting the better of him.
He could hear a car coming up the deserted highway and his excitement was enhanced by the thrill of fear.
The fear of being caught.
With a grunt, he forced his overweight frame to find the strength to push her into the open window of the passenger side. He'd disabled the door handle years ago, his best strategy against anyone trying to escape the car at any cost. He rarely had passengers and when he did they weren't allowed to decide when it was time to get out. That first one that opened the door as he sped down the interstate, breaking her own neck, had taught him a lesson. Now they would have to climb out of the window and that would be hard to do once he was done.
He'd learned better ways of keeping his victims quiet until he got them home.
Sliding around the car and into his own seat he took a cloth out of a plastic bag and held it over her face as another car sped by, then more, not a single person looking in their direction. He chuckled to himself, laughing at the stupidity of the masses as they drove by, his hand over her face not a sign of aid but of violence. He'd been lucky so far, no cars had stopped as he attacked her, none had gone by as he'd put her in the car. Nobody had seen her with him, so far, not that they'd remember.
Her body slumped further into the seat, her hat falling off as her head tilted towards him. Masses of dark black hair tumbled out of the straw hat, silky and long strands that wrapped around his arm like strips of silk. The man felt his body shiver, responding to her come on.
"Later, sweetie. Don't be so eager. It's off-putting." His voice, little more than a croak, would have made her cringe if she'd been awake but the drug had done its work, she was out.
Shifting his large frame in his seat he bent down, pulling her shoe-strings out with vicious tugs. With a nimbleness that defied his size, the size of his large fingers, he tied her wrists tightly, the sight of the neon strings cutting off her circulation drawing his attention. The flesh was already bruising and he began to pant, his heart racing with his excitement.
Soon.
Soon he'd get to have all of the fun he wanted. He didn't take the time to examine her face, he just did up her seatbelt and left her slumped there, her hair covering her face. Starting the car, he indicated that he was going to pull out onto the road, waited for a final car to pass, and pulled away. Anyone that saw her would assume she was ill or asleep. He'd get her home without any problems. It was definitely his lucky day.
<><>
What felt like hours later the girl finally began to wake up. He had her tied down now to a bed, her clothes gone, her body his for the taking. He'd take his time; he knew not a soul would hear her down in his basement.
He knew not a soul knew where she was.
"Hello?" Her voice was timid, weak, afraid.
He shuddered in the shadows of a support beam, watching her from the darkness. Her hair was still covering her face but this was a most delicious part, the part where they realized they could not escape him. That they were his and his alone.
"Is anyone there? Hello?" He heard her gasp and saw her move, realization dawning on her suddenly. She screamed, her face turned away, stealing some of his pleasure.
The long piercing wail carried in the small cinder-block basement, the cold dank atmosphere amplifying the sound.
He closed his eyes, letting her screams wash away his thoughts, his self-hatred, the loathing for females that consumed him. Her screams washed away the images of the past, the laughing girls, the women that turned him down with a sneer, and left him loathing himself even more.
When she'd worked herself up to a point where she could only sob in terror he left his hiding spot, stalking quietly along the concrete floor. Her sniffles hid the sound of his feet whispering across the cold floor, and she still had not turned to face him, he still had no idea what she looked like without all of that hair hiding her face. Sweat had glued strands of it to her face the entire time he'd been putting her in the bed, and then he'd decided to wait, to build up the anticipation for himself. Undressing her before he tied her up had been enough, at that point.
"Please, I need the bathroom, please let me go." She wiggled on the bed, her legs pressed together invitingly. He knew she just needed the toilet but the way she moved, the natural sensuality of her movements, caught his eye.
"You'll stay where you are." He came out of the shadows at last, his face covered in a pink leather mask, the mouth a slash of zipper but not closed.
"Please!" She wailed as she writhed on the bed, her arms and legs pulling at the rope restraints, her face still covered by her mass of hair.
"You've shaved your privates. You're a whore. A dirty whore who likes what she gets." He stroked a finger over her bare flesh, making her scream again. Her screams made him harder.
"I won't tell, please, just let me go! Please, mister."
His entire body was covered in pink leather, every part of him but the one that counted.
"Of course you will, do you think you're my first? Now shut up, slut, and let me get on with it." He had no illusions that this was love, or that she'd come to appreciate him. He knew what he was doing and loved every moment of his anticipation.
Sliding onto the bed he crawled up between her thighs, his girth stretching her legs wide. She screamed as he came closer to her secret parts, the parts that he so craved.
She thrashed beneath him but his weight kept her pinned to the bed, a tactic he'd learned long ago. He could wait until she'd grown too tired to fight back. He chuckled in delight as she thrashed about, her hair flying, her body straining, and he ducked his head down to her neck, waiting for her tantrum to finish. He had time.
He inhaled her scent, sweat, a citrus-like smell, a perfume perhaps, and the perfume from her clothes. All woman. He inhaled once more before going suddenly limp, something terribly wrong with his body.
He couldn't move.
With a shout of triumph she moved, her deceptively small body throwing him off into a fat lumpy pile in the floor. His left shoulder came out of joint as he landed, his body's weight pinning the limb and pulling it out of socket. He didn't feel the pain, he didn't feel any physical sensation, he only felt fear as he looked up at the ceiling in shock.
He wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, he wanted his body to move but nothing happened. He was paralyzed.
"I suppose you're wondering what just happened aren't you?" Her previously timid voice was now harsh, gravelly, not feminine at all. Yet still, there was a girlish sound there that he recognized as hers, only it wasn't.
"You're supposed to be enjoying your little rape session as I beg you for my life, as I beg you to stop and to take your penis out of me. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Tubs. Oh that's what I've named you by the way. In case you haven't figured it out, you chose the wrong victim today. Today is my lucky day."
She finally leaned over the bed, a long lock of hair tying her to the man where it had wrapped around his neck and intruded through his skin to sever his spine. He stared at her face, at her deeply lined eyes, eyes that had been hidden from him until now.
They were brown, a color that should be full of warmth, a soft color that inspired comfort, but instead her eyes were dead, no emotion but an evil glee present in the orbs.
"You currently have my hair wrapped around your neck. It's inside of you, invading you the way you wanted to invade me. Without mercy, without care. You'll never walk again, even if someone did come to save you right now. Over the years, you see, I've learned that my hair is truly a woman's glory, her only refuge from men like you. I've learned how to control it, how to make it my weapon and exactly how to twist the locks so that you won't die but you will be paralyzed for life." She stopped, her own shudder of pleasure making him ill as she demonstrated for him how her hair, so soft and silky, had become as hard as steel and paralyzed him once it had been lodged in his sensitive spinal cord by sending another lock into the flesh of his neck.
This bitch was enjoying this. He'd kill her if he could make his body work.
His eyes went round with rage as she watched him, a heartless laugh of joy ringing in his ears as she stared down at him. When her hair began to writhe around her head, as if it was a live nest of snakes, slithering over his skin, closing around his face, he wanted to scream but could not control his voice.
"Oh, you were so easy. I just wiggled my ass a little and off you went, on the side of the road, probably trying to resist the urge to jerk off. I've done this so many times now but it never gets old. I entice some old pervert, make him think I'm just some helpless, dependent young woman that can't fight back, and wait. I can get out of any knot, after my childhood, it's a no-brainer." She leaned down, a lock of hair creeping alarmingly close to his eye.
He watched her in terror, waiting for the long, sharp piece of her animated hair to come closer, dreading it, wanting to scream and run but unable to do either. All he could do was sit, helplessly waiting for the torment to end.
"Hopefully your lungs won't shut down too soon, I want you to rot on this floor, thinking of your past glories, of exactly why and how you ended up in the mess that you're about to create. Because I'm not your first, right? Isn't that what you said earlier?" The lock of hair near his eye disappeared and he heard her grunt as she moved it down to his chest, struggling to move as most of her limbs were still attached to the bed. She struggled for a moment more, and then her face popped back up to his, her brown eyes still gleefully dead.
"You can't feel it but I just punctured your lung. I changed my mind, I need you to die quickly, I'm hungry and need food. I'm sorry we don't get to sit and enjoy this little interlude of yours longer, but, well, the body wants what it wants, right? I really don't want anyone to find you before you die so I've made it quick for you. Because you are going to die today, Tubs. Don't doubt that."
He could hear her struggling on the bed, rope flying to land on his face as she tossed it away. He listened to her, his brain racing as he tried to figure out how to save himself. The edges of the world were already going dark. How had this happened? How had she got the better of him?
He could hear her moving around the room and his eyes went wide in shock as she suddenly appeared over him. He could see now she was far older than he'd thought she was, the lines around her eyes declaring she was perhaps 45, maybe even 50. Ugh, he was going to stick his...but he didn't get to finish his thought because suddenly the world went completely dark.
"There you go, Tubs. I told you it was my lucky day." Taking out an instant camera from her bag she took his photograph, removed the deadly spikes of hair from his spine, and left the house stealthily. Her bag on her back once more she started up the road, wondering where she was as she munched on a sandwich she'd made from the contents of the man's fridge.
Deep in the bottom of her bag, covered by a change of clothes, was a pile of pictures wrapped in a large black silk scarf. For 25 years she'd been wandering the roads, ever since she'd escaped her basement captivity at 20 years old. At least once month a man pulled up behind her, offering her a ride, and at least once a month she ended up having to take a picture. One of these days they'd learn but today, well, today had indeed been another lucky day for her.
(Picture created using Canva)
