Invasion (25 page)

Mark huffs in frustration, and possibly lust from the violation, lifting my legs onto the end of the mattress so that my ass is elevated on top of pillows. It is a well thought out plan from a man who is meticulous, sly, and pitiless.

“Don’t fucking move or I will stick my fist up your ass to show you what a misbehaving whore gets. Do you hear me, Carly?”

I nod out of habit. He is about to hang me up like a pig to slaughter. Mark will wear my blood proudly, like a champion warrior in an elite tribe.

He pads over to the middle of the room, the bed situated at the other end of the dwelling next to the fireplace that overlooks the year-round evergreen forest. After returning to me, he stoops to my ankles, swollen, bruised, and begging for mercy. The rough chaff of rope swirls around in an eight motion between my ankles, over and over again until the material makes its way up to mid-calf. After admiring his work, he takes me over to the center of the room, careful not to lower my ankles and risk spilling his precious cargo. Once situated beneath the hook, he lifts me up, attaching my ankles to the medieval contraption.

Stepping back to appreciate his skill, Mark coos approval, rubbing his hands down his chest and stomach until his cock fills them. He grunts, then cups his lopsided sac, playing with himself as he looks at a priceless piece of art that he will soon destroy.

“My seed needs to be fed in your womb. Comforted by it. Loved by it. Hang here and let it flow inside of you, Carly. Accept what you are. Accept what is.”

Cunning, he begins stalking across the stark white carpet like a snow-leopard seeking its prey atop the white flakes.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, little darling. You are stunning, sweet Carly. Such a good whore for me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, carousing in the shadow which greets me behind closed lids. I pray that he will be swayed by his insanity and not give a shit whether I am looking or not. My scalp starts to tingle, the feeling of a million needles is comforting, soothing me from my distorted reality as the thumps of my own heartbeat dwell in my ears, singing the song of my life.

Muted traces assault my breasts, “These were made for suckling. For nursing my baby. For feeding me. Let’s practice, sweet Carly. Show Daddy how good you taste.”

His lips wrap themselves around my nipple, gentle strokes the opposite of his previous movements. I gulp hard, disgusted with the arousal that is brewing deep in my belly; the burning escalating between my thighs. A whimper escapes my mouth. I am a whore, his whore. I am never worth more than that.

He massages my other breast, teasing my nipple. His groans grow needier. His lips part from me, “Tell Daddy you like it. Do it, Carly!”

I feel sick. Disgusted, violated and so many things, but I yearn for acceptance. I expect violence to be the result since I don’t immediately answer, instead, his silky tongue dances over my nipple, resulting tenderness as the aching pools inside me. I move my hips, gently causing a swing as I hang in the air.

“Daddy, I like it.” My words are low, alleged revelations I don’t want to admit. Mark stands, brusquely disassociating himself from the creature who provides me with glimpses of affection.

He grabs my head with his hard dick staring me in the face, the head glistening with precum. I am just as sick as him for allowing it. I won’t be more than a tiny ant. Mark is a giant, squashing me every day, over and over again.

I start to cry. I hate who I have become, someone frail. Someone who craved love, a person who can’t ever obtain the sole thing I was supposed to find.

“Open your mouth for Daddy.”

I oblige. Mark fucks my mouth, my saliva leaking out the corners of my lips giving him more lubrication to fuck another of my holes as deep as he can. He yanks my hair, lifting me back just a little until he finds the angle he likes best. I have trained myself to not have gag reflex, as his shaft moves far down my esophagus.

Mark’s fingers find my swollen hole, tattered from his exploitation, and begins to brutally finger-fuck me, the rough nature taking me to a place I am ashamed to enjoy. I try so hard to hold back, to deny myself from the pleasure I shouldn’t like, but I explode, screaming out in both agony and bliss as my orgasm floods me, turning me amnesic to the hour prior full of torture and hate. Still moaning with my lips around his cock, his jizz fills my mouth and I drink him up, crazy in the moment, imbibing the salty protein he has watered my womb with.

After he is done, he pulls out, silent and sickened once more with the woman who will never perform well enough for him.

That night, I hung there for an hour until Mark deemed it enough time for his sperm to swim and meet one of my eggs.

God help the fire that was started that day. It would soon come out and play.

Mark:

Reaching the cabin I’m delighted to see a blue Prius parked in front of it, a light glowing welcome from the window.

The shit we did in this place brings back such fond memories that I’m smiling as I get out of the Jag, every breath I exhale creating a bank of fog, a smudge between this world and the next.

My heartbeat quickens and I hope to heaven that she’s alone.

She’s mine! She’ll always be mine.

Maybe I should chain her up and keep her here as my captive. She spends so many months in danger that if she went missing everyone would simply assume the ragheads finally got her for interfering with their chain of supply and demand.

Stupid bitch. She never learns. Women don’t get a say. God is
male
, darling. You never mattered, you will never count, and you should stop meddling in the affairs of the gender you were born to serve.

Opening the door to our little love nest what I find waiting for me on the other side resurrects a sorely neglected erection.

No tablets, it’s all me.

I knew Carrie didn’t meet the mark. With Carrie I have to take little blue pills, with Carly it rises on instinct. Glancing about I’m thrilled to note there is no sign of her thug.

She’s rutting her fingers like a desert rat boning a donkey at midnight, and I quickly and quietly close the door, watching her, my blood thrumming when she cums on her fingers, rubbing at her clit like it’s going to get carpet burn.

“Well well well, darling. Isn’t this delightful.”

She snaps upright, shock in her visage, panic in her eyes.

It makes me harder, needing her, missing the moments between us. She doesn’t stare at me with the misery I get from Carrie, she stares at me with defiance.

I love crushing defiance. In one step I’ve connected my fist to her face, gripping her hair, overpowering her with the ease of days gone by, “Oh darling, we have had such good times here.”

She shrieks and wriggles, clawing at my hand in her hair, and I snatch her throat and squeeze. “Be good, Carly, be very good. I’m in the mood for killing so be careful how you play this out. You have two choices. Be willing, or resist. If you’re willing I’ll spare your life when I’m done. But if you fight me I’ll blow your fucking kneecaps off, rape you until I’m depleted of body fluid, and tie you up naked to the elements. Then I’m going to use you over and over and over until you’re dead. You have seven days without food, three without water. You’ll be dead by Christmas.”

Wander the night path with trepidation

Night camouflages impenitent shadows

David:

I
’m in the middle of nowhere, quite literally, in complete silence and in darkness still because the days are so short, and yet … I can hear screaming.

There’s nothing out here anyway. No sane animal would be out foraging until the sun comes up. I was hoping for something nocturnal, and I might yet manage to bag a rabbit once day breaks.

Being stealthy and cautious I return to my digs, my spidey senses going haywire when I spy the light on in the cabin I left in total blackout.

Well, that doesn’t look like an ambush, so maybe they think I’m not here and are doing a thorough sweep now that all bogeys have yelled the obligatory ‘clear’.

It’s not clear, fuckers. I’m right here.

Carefully and quietly I remove the night vision headgear, leaving it behind the cabin to retrieve later.

Shouldering the M249 I pull the Glock out of my waistband, removing the safety and cycling a black talon into the chamber. Old Manny Rodriguez had supplies you can’t even get on the black market. Black talons were also first military issue. It’s illegal for civilians to own them, they shred all the way in. These are bullets that embed, you’ll never get a clean through and through if you’re packing these sweet babies.

Panthering silently, ready to cap the first threat to cross my path I sidle around the cabin, snatching glances in the frosted windows, seeing nothing but an empty interior.

There’s another horrific scream, like someone just took a needle to an eardrum, and my body floods with unfamiliar rage and alarm. Sweat explodes across my back while my mind implodes, all my focus honed on one sound – her.

Fucking Carly’s car is parked here as I round the corner, dropping below window height, crouching while I creep over a wooden porch powdered in snow and leaf detritus. Staying completely silent is near impossible.

Then I spot the silver Jaguar XJ. Mark!

What the fuck are these two doing here together?

Was this a planned rendezvous?

Wrath rages through my being, mushrooming like napalm. I was played. She was so convincing I fell for it. It nigh destroyed me leaving her!

Closing in on the window next to the door I inch up, hoping my black beanie will camouflage me enough that they don’t spot me. What I see bombs all thoughts of stealth clear out of the water. Mark’s holding Carly off the floor by the three piercings in her junk, distending skin,
while
pissing on her, shouting, “Did I give you permission to do this to the body that belongs to me!
Did I?
!”

Where the hell are her clothes? It’s far below freezing and there’s no fire inside, and she’s naked. He’s at least still got his sweater and shirt on, unfortunately for him he just pissed on his mohair socks.

She’s wailing something goddamn awful, the sound a wounded cry that slices my spirit clean in half.

“Did I say you can stop bleaching your asshole? DID I?! Fucking ingrate! You’re useless! You’re a bitch, a dog, nothing more than a cunt for cock!
How dare you defy me!
” roars loud enough to vibrate my eyeballs.

In an instant I’m up, shouldering the door open with all 265lbs of my weight, erupting into the room, metal muzzle aimed at his head. “Release her, real slow. Drop her or I’ll drop you before you can even blink, motherfucker.”

Carly stops screaming, struggling to lift her head to look at me, and the state of her face induces such mania that I’m just done. Apeshit and batshit are nothing compared to me losing all restraint.

I’m not thinking, I’m not in control, my movements so fast that I don’t compute, revenge is driving and I’m a witness to how insane I am. The Glock is in my pants, my fists raging into the fucker, pummeling him over and over in a puddle of his own piss, hearing bones crunching, feeling them give, my gloved hands impervious while I pop and dislocate every fucking bone I can reach until he looks possessed by Mary Rose, hands already on his jaw and head, ready to snap him to death, when the blade is in my hand instead.

His hunting blade is sharper than Satan’s tongue and I’ve sliced all the way along his jawbone, hooking fingers under the skin and yanking it up in brutal tugs, swiping away connective tissue and collagen until I’ve skinned his entire face off.

The screaming doesn’t even register on the decibel range of my awareness, complete silence entombs my senses and I look up, at Carly shaking and crying and screaming, hugging her knees, and everything pops. My ears, my awareness, I’m back here, now, holding flaccid skin in my hand like I moonlight as Hannibal’s fucked up friend.

Glaring at the broken man brutalized on the cabin floor, I roar at him the way he bellowed at my babe, “Want to hurt my woman!? I warned you, motherfucker! I WILL END YOU!”

Wicked inspiration tugs my footsteps to the open plan kitchen of the cabin and I bang the closet doors open, finding a cardboard canister of salt. Speeding back to the bastard I start pouring, his wails so severe he’s losing consciousness.

Salt on a fresh wound is agonizing – what Mark’s living through is hell on Earth.

“Hearse! My name is HEARSE! I am the bogeyman for my government. You’ve fucked with the wrong woman this time, Carmichael!” The rage is incessant and evil, my actions abominable even while I feel split in two, looking on, riding the rage but still feeling as though these aren’t my actions.

My coping mechanism? Maybe I distance myself, attribute the horrors I commit to another me, so I can sleep at night.

And then I turn, rolling an eyeball to Carly where she huddles against the bottom of the couch, shaking her head, keening like a widow. “He’ll never look at you that way again. You’re not a cunt for cock, you’re my everything!”

Furious, I stand from the spastic body, yanking the Glock from my trousers and capping him. Two to the brain, two the heart, and the entire magazine in his groin.

Like a demonic child I stomp on the eyeballs I cut out, splatting optic fluid in every direction. That is justice! That’s how we do it offshore, fuckwit.

Then I hear it. My labored breathing. The thrashing of my heartbeat. The disturbing silence of a cabin far from civilization.

“Gavin!” finally siphons my soul back to the wraith who sings the harmonies of my life.

Dropping to my knees in front of her, leaving the Glock next to my hip on the floor, I lift her up and onto my thighs, wrapping myself around her, trying desperately to give her warmth, to undo the trauma I just subjected her to – that
he
just subjected her to.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair, feeling the wet gloss of her tears in my neck. “I lost it. I’m sorry.”

It takes some doing but I manage to shrug my insulating down jacket off, wrapping it around her, then cuddle her close again, rocking her while she cries it out.

Hiccups ebb and lull, her grip on me tighter and tighter. After what feels like an eternity, she whispers hoarsely, “Are you okay?”

Laughing out loud, I’m shaking my head. “Fuck if I’m okay, are you?”

“No.”

It’s so quiet and broken that the warmth and holiness she’d just reawakened dissolves, leaving me with a scary hurt frosting my chest. My breathing feels too tight, like I have a strap around my lungs, and it’s getting tighter.

Gulping the obstruction lodged in my throat, I query, “No?”

“They don’t send an army for a man just wanted for questioning. I couldn’t stay there. When I found the key missing I knew where you’d gone. I told them nothing other than you’re my handyman.” She lifts her head, traumatized Irish eyes staring into mine. “Don’t you ever abandon me again or I’ll do to you what you just did to that asshole over there.”

My throat is too thick, no saliva left to be had, and I have to clear my throat of the anxiety stealing my macho. “I’m sorry. I lost it completely when I saw what he was doing. I should be a better man, Carly, but I’m not. I’m not a better man, not when it comes to someone hurting you.”

“He deserved it. He honestly did,” she whispers, mouth downturned and tremulous.

Relieved with her answer I grab her head, sucking her face, sampling her lips and warmth, realizing she must be frozen.

Breaking the kiss I stand with her in my arms. “You need heat, asap. I’ll put the water on to boil so you can have something warm, then I’ll make a fire.”

“Never leave me again,” she insists, catching her claws in my neck, holding on while I walk with her to the kitchenette.

“It might get ugly, Carly. I can’t protect you from the entire defense force of the United States.”

“I don’t care!” she shrieks, the feral babe coming out to scold me.

Holding my hands up in peace after depositing her on the kitchen counter, I nod. “Okay.” Filling the kettle after letting the water run for a few minutes, I ask over my shoulder, “Were you followed?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think–”

Far far away I detect a dum dum dum dum dum.

Hand over her mouth, I urge, “Sshhhh.”

I listen, like a shadow I skim to the windows to survey outside, my gut screaming. “You were followed, I know it.”

In nanoseconds I have her clothes in my hand, crumbled and dusty, searching for a tracking device, finally finding it on the green turtleneck. It’s transparent and tiny, the latest model, barely larger than the tip of a toothpick.

Holding it up on my fingertip I stride back, showing it to her. “We’re lucky they didn’t spray the technology on you, this I could at least find. Shit Carly!”

The raptor of despair circles again.

I’ve had no rest, no time to strategize.

“You brought them right to me! They’ll kill both of us now!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, all I know is what I found on the dudes who infiltrated your place. The black ops who were the first assassins sent to shut me up.”

The dum dum draws rapidly closer.

“That sound is the chop of rotor blades through the air. We have to go. NOW!”

Helping to bundle my babe back into her clothes, I hoist her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift, my torso still bleeding profusely, taking her out back after retrieving my gear, then the night vision helmet, and hightailing it into the night.

I put her down at the bike, without time to cover my tracks, stripping the vehicle of camouflage and getting on, putting her in front of me between my arms, helmet back on my head, and stampede into the night, so fucking thankful I filled this gas tank when I was living in her basement.

Speeding over ruts and bumps I rocket us as far away as I can, through the mountainous forest until we’re miles away.

Perched high we look back, watching the lights of a black van approach on the only entrance road to the Carmichael cabin, hearing the Bell AH-1 Cobra helicopter closing in.

Snatching up the M249 I aim, calculating distance, wind direction ans speed, and take the shot in the kill zone. The report of five shots peals across the valley. Four tires are shot out, the driver dead. Scope aimed I keep watching, waiting for the van door to slide open, wishing with all my heart for an RPG.

After a minute of nothing the van door opens, a familiar face from my dreams stepping out, looking around.

I owe you nothing, Tarinda.

All bets are off.

Two men step out with her, looking at the cabin as if its the source of danger, and I engage machine fire, growling metal rage across the distance, leaving the three of them as dead as the bastard inside the swanky shack.

Shouldering the rifle I check on her, she nods she’s okay, and I start up the engine again, careening us down the ridge, hoping we can make it to Canada before that helicopter reaches us.

My wound is beginning to really fuck with me and I stop the bike for a moment to catch my breath, when instantaneously the silence makes me aware that the Cobra is almost right on us.

“Heat! They can read our heat!” I shout, lifting her with me as I launch off the bike, grateful she’s so tiny, pitching her into the closest snowdrift! “Hide in there, Carly! Cover yourself entirely! Quick!”