36. Adair
36
ADAIR
I crash through the woods on shaking legs. My only, only hope for evading Jack is to get outside whatever the range is on this shock collar. I’m running blindly, with no idea of where I’m going. I realize I’ve just gone straight out from the house, which is pretty fucking stupid.
The next tree I come to that has a double trunk, I make a ninety-degree turn and tack left. Jack was right; there’s nothing tracked out here. When the ground slopes up on a gentle incline, I add downhill to my mental list of return directions —as if I have a prayer of making it back to the house without detection.
For better or worse, there’s a nearly full moon shining in the clear sky. With the leaves bare, it makes shadows tough to come by, but at least I can see well enough. When I see a tree big enough to offer some shadow cover, I tuck up against it, pressing my body against the rough bark to try and contain my body heat. I mute my breathing as much as I can, my ears straining for any sound that might give me a clue about Jack’s location.
There’s nothing. After a minute, the damp chill starts to creep into my limbs. My shoulders slump. Shit, for all I know, Jack sent me off on this fucked-up game of hide-and-seek just to screw with me. He could be sitting in front of the firepit right now, warm and relaxed. And no doubt laughing at my expense.
I don’t smell woodsmoke, though.
A twig snaps and I stiffen. As I press myself more tightly against the tree, a sudden jolt from the collar makes me jump.
Shit . I bite my lip hard to keep from making a sound, but I worry he might have heard my movements. A second shock comes, this one a little stronger, and I squeeze my eyes shut, my body shaking with the effort of staying still.
Where the fuck is he? I don’t know what the range of this thing is. It’s possible he’s still within outrunning distance. I weigh my options. If he keeps bumping up the current, I’m going to make some kind of noise eventually that leads him to me. I take a deep breath. I’m probably better off on the move.
I double back the way I came at a sprint, following that downhill slope and keeping my eyes peeled for the tree with the double trunk. The collar shocks me again, but this one is fainter. Maybe I’m losing him.
I realize Jack’s just toying with me when I see his figure in the moonlight up ahead. Fuck. I veer to the right, figuring I can reorient myself later.
Like I’m going to make it out of here. Dumb bunny .
This might have been a mistake. The ground here is muddy and treacherous, and I have to slow down so I don’t lose my footing and faceplant. I feel a little better at the thought that the slippery terrain will also slow Jack down, at least.
I’m getting along pretty well, but when the next shock from that collar comes out of the blue, it catches me by surprise and I lose my footing on the slick ground. I try to catch myself but I land hard, knocking the wind out of me. By the time I’ve given my head a shake and caught my breath, I hear fast footsteps.
Goddammit. A surge of adrenaline sends me scrambling to my feet, but I’m too late.
Jack takes me down hard. I let out a strained oof as his weight knocks the breath out of my lungs. “Should’ve stayed down and saved yourself the trouble,” he says with a laugh as he looms over me.
I don’t want to admit he’s right. Oh, and there’s the collar. Probably just as well I don’t have the breath in me for backtalk.
“Get that snotty look off your face,” he says, but he doesn’t really sound angry. I think he’s having funtaunting me. I’m sprawled underneath him at an awkward angle, uncomfortably pinned down by his weight. I lower my brows and glare at him.
Jack’s eyes narrow as he shakes his head. “I don’t like to repeat myself. Wipe that fucking pout off your face or I’ll do it for you,” he says, an edge creeping into his voice.
I squirm underneath him. He shifts his weight abruptly and makes a grab for my arms. I try to yank them free, but he pulls them together behind me. Hard plastic encircles my wrists. Fuck me. Another zip tie.
Jack flips me onto my back. Still straddling me, he undoes my belt and my jeans, pulling them and my underwear down. My stupid dick pops up as soon as it’s free, which makes Jack laugh. He gives me a menacing smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Now, what are we going to do with you?” he says in a contemplative tone.
Jack suddenly climbs off me and, to my surprise, tugs my shoes off. I open my mouth to protest, but when he holds up the remote, I shut it again quickly. I realize he wanted better access to my ass when he takes my jeans and underwear off, tossing them onto the ground next to my shoes. Standing over me, his mouth twists into that cruel smirk I know all too well. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. His face pulls into an evil grin.
Oh no . God only knows what just went through that sadistic brain of his. I’m sure I’m about to find out. I’m on my back with my arms trapped behind me, looking up at Jack. He comes very close and I think he’s going to drop down and straddle me on his knees like he was before.
I’m horrified when, with his next step, he brings his foot down squarely on my sack. The pressure is nowhere near his full weight, but it’s sure as hell not comfortable. And just the feeling —just the implication — of his muddy boot coming down onto such a sensitive part makes me gasp.
“Please! Please, don’t —” I shake my head wildly.
He twists his foot a little and increases the pressure a bit. I yelp as the discomfort grows painful, my balls sandwiched into a too-small space between the ground and the toe of Jack’s heavy boot.
“Please, no — don’t —nothing permanent. Please, please,” I whisper, too scared to string together a coherent sentence. My breath is ragged and my heart is trying to kick free from my chest.
Above me, Jack snorts. “Give me a break. Permanent? Seriously? Do I look like a fucking amateur?” I shake my head hard, afraid to say anything else as he makes a sound of amusement. “I did like hearing you beg like that, though.”
He shifts his foot again. My breath catches in my throat. “Please don’t. Please, please —no more. Let go.”
With a shake of his head, Jack huffs out a laugh —such a cold response to my abject terror that I burst into hot, hysterical tears.
“Did you forget your safeword, you dumb bunny?” he says sharply.
I suck my sobs back into myself and shake my head, suddenly ashamed without knowing why. “N-no.”
When Jack doesn’t respond right away, I realize he’s giving me the space, waiting for me to say it: maple . It’s on my lips, but I waver.
“Sorry,” I whisper instead.
Jack makes a little noise of surprise before abruptly lifting his foot. He crouches down and palms my improbably, pathetically hard dick. I cringe, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me, especially when he laughs.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” he mutters. He straightens back up. “OK,” he says, in a tone like he’s made a decision.
Uh-oh .