The Devil Worships Me
TW: Chase through the woods, dub-con, stalking.
THE MUSE
Iswear, last week, I read about this same exact scenario in one of those spicy books.
I know better than to get involved in a game invented by a serial killer, I’m a Detective for fucks’s sake, and yet, I find myself running out of the small house and taking off into the woods. Also, side rant, running in a dress isn’t as fucking easy as actors make it look in the movies.
There are plenty of obstacles I have to face – I don’t know this area, it’s pitch dark outside, I keep tripping over fallen trees and scratching myself against razor-sharp branches, but what’s worst of all is that a psychotic man is about to take off after me.
I don’t even know if he will hold his end of the bargain and give me the five minutes he offered, so there’s no time to waste.
“Fuck!” I hiss as I stumble over another tree trunk, nearly face-planting the ground. I grab the bottom of my dress and start ripping the fabric until the beautiful evening gown is gone and instead, I’m wearing a mini dress that has to look like a wild animal had a go at it.
My feet are on fire, and while I’m sure I haven’t run for that long, I already learned my lesson—this ass was created to sit on a comfortable chair in an office, not sprint through forests in the middle of the night.
The thought makes me stop in my tracks and look around just to be met with another, rather unpleasant realization: I’m completely lost. I don’t know which direction I came from to begin with, let alone where to run.
“Great,” I grumble, trying to notice at least the smallest ray of light somewhere in the distance. If there’s a road anywhere near, I can run towards it and try to hitchhike. Dangerous, yes, but driving away with a possible maniac is far better than staying captive with one by my side.
“Think, Gia, think,” I whisper, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, looking around for any signs of what to do next. “Remember the survival camp? Didn’t you learn anything from that experience?”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the cue I needed to officially pronounce myself batshit crazy. No sane person would talk to themselves like this, let alone while being chased through a dark forest by a murderous creep. And did I already mention that he’s a serial killer? Fucking splendid.
While I’m busy diagnosing myself with some sort of mental illness, I lose track of time. Perfect moment to do that, right? Nope, it’s not. Especially since the creep in question isn’t as far away from me as I want him to be. From where I stand, I can hear him call out my name and laugh.
My hands tremble as I reach them in front of me, hoping that I can feel around my surroundings and avoid more accidents as I sneak away. Worst-case scenario, I might find a place to hide until the demonic man leaves and I can escape for good.
I’m slow, too slow, but judging by how fast his voice becomes louder, I can only assume he has a flashlight in hand, or even worse, he knows this forest better than his own home.
“Come out, come out wherever you are!” He screams so loud, I jump and slap a hand over my mouth to stay quiet.
Step by step, I try to increase the distance between us while he breaks my attempt by striding closer. My heart is hammering so fast, I fear each beat against my ribcage echoes throughout the forest, giving out my exact location. I’ve never been this scared in my life.
Even thinking back to that fateful day when my own father killed my mother.
.. I was scared, sure, but deep down I knew that the worst thing he could do was point the gun at me and pull the trigger.
But now, with this demon, I have no idea what he is planning to do to me, which I believe is the very thing that scares me the most. Not being able to know.
.. Not having any control over my own life.
“Don’t be shy, baby. Come out of your hiding, you know you want to,” his voice breaks the silence, this time even closer than before. A trail of sweat rolls down my spine while the blood in my veins seems to freeze. How did he get so close so fast?
Sucking in a shaky breath, I force my legs to move and walk further into the forest, ignoring every bump in my way. If getting away from him means I end up covered in cuts and bruises, that’s something I’m about to embrace like a proud, badass bitch.
“You know what they say, right? If you love them, set them free. If you hate them, set them on fire.” He calls out again, his voice taking almost a sing-song tone.
“And I’m setting you free, Gia. For the time being, of course.
You do know what that means, right? My girl is a smartypants, I’m sure she’ll figure it out. ”
I know what he’s trying to do here. Not only is he demonstrating how easy it is for him to find me, no matter which direction I run, but also, he’s testing my patience.
The more he talks and teases me with his crazy rambling, the bigger the chance I’ll break the silence and fall right back into his trap.
Not happening, Mister you-belong-in-a-looney-bin, sir. Nope. I’m pretty sure I’d rather feed off the dirt that’s under my feet for the rest of my life than ever get close to that sicko willingly.
Holding onto the thought of escape, I keep walking. Even my legs shake, but I still keep pushing, keep trying to feel for anything that’s in front of me, if only to hold onto for balance. I can hear his footsteps getting closer, or maybe that’s my heart, trying to escape my body.
Another two steps ahead and I run into a massive tree.
I try to feel around it, to check which side to step to, but it’s too late.
Far too late to even think of running again.
I know it sounds stupid, and I can’t explain it either, but I feel his presence right behind me, the warmth that radiates off the devil’s body.
“There you are,” he exclaims cheerfully, stepping so close, his body forces mine against the tree.
And just like always, I find myself squeezing my eyes shut, hoping the nightmare will fade as soon as I open them.
But that doesn’t happen. I’m still in the middle of the woods, trapped between a tree and the body of a serial killer.
“God, help me,” I blurt out, desperately wishing for a miracle to happen.
His hand sneaks around my waist and pulls me closer to him. I feel his lips brush against my ear when he whispers, “you already offered yourself to the devil, darling. There is no God that could help you now.”
I’m not entirely sure why, but it sounds like there’s a hidden promise in his words. Almost like he’s being playful while threatening violence. A cold shiver runs down my spine; I’ve been scared many times in my life, but this... This is something out of this world.
I hold my breath as he loosens his hold around me, allowing myself to be naive for a little while, almost convincing myself that soon, this will be over. Now that he has caught me, the game is over and I’m of no use for his entertainment. Right?
Wrong. He doesn’t let me go. Instead, his hands roam my body until they stop on my hips and grab me painfully hard.
Bruises from tripping and falling clearly won’t be the only ones on my body by the end of this night.
If I’m ever allowed to sleep, I’m sure I’ll wake up with his disgusting paw marks on my skin.
When he sucks in a sharp, almost aggressive breath, I jump and yelp. He chuckles at my reaction, tightening his grip on my hips. Even though I know I’m dealing with a monster, my heart still skips a beat at his touch. I don’t want it, I’m not supposed to want it...
Truth be told, his hands are something that really draws in my interest. If only I could disassociate their size, the thickness of his fingers and the calluses that speak of physical work from what I know those hands have done many times before, I’d consider them sexy.
“I caught you.” He whispers, bucking his hips forward to show how excited he is. “You’re mine, Gia, all mine.”
Great. I’ve bagged myself a psychotic serial killer, who’s been stalking me for God knows how long, and now he’s chasing me around the woods like some animal.
I’m not sure if this is some fucked up gift from God or irony, because considering everything this man has done up to this moment, I’d never want to stay by his side.
“If you don’t move and try to run away, I promise I will make you feel good.
So, so, fucking good that you’ll never be able to think about another man touching you ever again,” he whispers, releasing one of my hips and slowly guiding his hand around me, under my dress and up to my breast to cup it.
I gasp at the unexpected, sudden sting of pain when he squeezes my breast and instantly captures my nipple between his fingers to play with it.
Is enjoying this wrong? Yes. Yes, it is.
Do his hands, grabbing and gripping me everywhere, feel good? Definitely.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stay sane and remind myself I’m not supposed to enjoy the moment I’m sharing with a murderer.
The man who’s grinding against me doesn’t pay attention to anything but his animalistic needs. How is it possible that I feel utterly disgusted and excited at the same time? A whimper escapes me when both of his hands cup my breasts, his long fingers reaching all the way to my collarbones.
God, when I dreamed about a gigantic man just to live the size difference fantasy, I never asked for anything like this, not even close. Am I being punished for my fantasies with my own fantasies?
I try to look over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face since I’m sure he isn’t wearing that dreadful mask anymore, but I’m stopped by a gruff, forced, “no!” His hands squeeze me tighter as his body presses closer to mine. “Feel. Don’t look, just feel and let go.”
I’m sure he’s trying to create a sensual experience in his mind, but fuck, there’s nothing close to sensual happening here.
First, he pulls away and grabs my dress, ripping the piece in half while silently promising to buy me another, better one.
Then, I hear him unzip his pants, his breathing becoming noisy and laborious in the silence of the woods.
“Your hands,” he whispers. “Up.”
At first, I hesitate, but then, my inner voice screams at me to follow the command. Not because I’m enjoying this, because I’m not, but because it’s best to do as I’m told so he doesn’t get violent.
My hands shake as I guide them over the rough tree bark until they’re positioned above my head. He quickly grasps both of my wrists in one hand and groans, “good girl. You’re such a fucking good girl for me. Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect.”
Forced against the tree, there’s nothing I can do to avoid his touch. His wild behavior and burning desire to touch me completely everywhere makes me feel like I’m the last meal of the prisoner who’s about to be executed for his crimes.
Right here, right now, I’m at the mercy of this wild man.
Any resolve to fight my lust fades the moment his large hand reaches around me again and he cups my pussy. I don’t think as I close my eyes and throw my head back, letting a moan slip past my lips.
“That’s right, baby, moan like a whore for me,” he hisses, grabbing my panties and pulling them to one side, ready to claim the last thing he hasn’t taken from me – my body.
Those words are like a bucket full of ice emptied over my head. The haze, created by lust, fades completely, and the dread returns. But this time, it doesn’t freeze me up, no. This time, it triggers the fight-or-flight response in me, and I choose to fight.
I feel him positioning himself against me and just when he moves his hand to grab my ass, I thrust my head back with all my might, smashing my skull against his forehead. There’s barely a few seconds I win, enough to pull my hands out of his grip and push him away.
My heart pounds so fast, I might have a heart attack before I escape him, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. I take off, ignoring his angered screams and the darkness that surrounds us—no matter what, I’ll get away.
Of course, somewhere deep down, I know that my belief that I can escape a maniac is wishful thinking, but I still hold onto the hope, even when I trip over something and collide with the ground.
Just as I try to push myself off it and get back to my feet, I feel a weight settle down on my back. “No worries, I can tame you. Everyone needs a little training at the beginning of the relationship; your defiance won’t push me away. Don’t be scared, baby, I’m not angry, just a little annoyed.”
“Fuck you!” I scream at him, thrashing under his weight.
Then, just like when I was abducted from that gas station, I feel a sharp pain in my neck. I still try to fight against him, even though it’s getting harder to move my limbs, but the only reaction I get is an amused chuckle and another whispered promise. “Shh, sleep baby, I can enjoy this solo.”