7. Sam
Sam
My heart is pounding in my ears so loudly I can’t think straight.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I have to run or I’m going to die.
The first arrow narrowly missed my head.
All I saw was a blue light coming straight for me.
I didn’t know what it was until I saw the glowing arrow lodged in a tree.
Another arrow lands in the ground next to me.
Rushing to turn the other way, I slip. Sticks and rocks dig into my knees and the palms of my hands.
It’s a red light this time. The same color as the flags I apparently love so fucking much.
Red.
Say red and everything stops.
I leap to my feet, wiping away the dirt from my hands onto the front of my hoodie. He skids to a halt and raises the bow with another glowing neon arrow knocked and aimed at me.
“Red,” I shout, bracing myself for my final breath.
Immediately the bowstring is relaxed, and the arrow is pointing towards the ground at his feet.
I let out a strangled sob, and a tear runs down my cheek.
This is just part of the game. A smile creeps across my face as I stare at the blue X’s covering Shadow’s eyes.
His head tilts when I start laughing. “Green,” I scream and take off on a sprint again.
I’m terrified, and I love it. This is real, and this is happening.
Now that I know I’m not going to be murdered, just hunted, I can enjoy the thrill.
One wrong move and I could still end up dead or at least with an extra hole in my body.
I dart behind a large tree, making myself as small as possible so I can have a couple of seconds to catch my breath.
Thunk.
Pieces of bark pepper my neck and cheek, and pain burns my shoulder.
I try to run but I can’t. My eyes widen to the size of the moon above us when my shoulder brushes against something and I catch sight of the arrow pinning my hoodie to the tree.
I yank my zipper down and jerk my arms out of the sleeves.
Blood coats my fingers when I press my hand to the top of my shoulder where the burning sensation is radiating from.
It’s just a scrape, but my mind is still telling me I’m in danger.
The wires get crossed somewhere down the line because my feral kitty is moaning yes, yes, yes.
A part of me is begging to call out red or yellow, but the other part of me wants to see how much I can take.
Another challenge. I could be sitting in a beautiful restaurant in a dress drinking champagne with a nice guy in a suit and tie but noooo I choose a man in a mask with a bow that is currently shooting at me with pretty arrows while I run for my life.
A psychiatrist would have a field day with me.
I dodge two more arrows before I land in a clearing.
One glance at the cabin up ahead tells me this was the whole point.
To guide me here. I hesitate. Red fucking flag, Sam.
I could run in there and very well be stuck inside it for the rest of my life.
Before I can decide for myself what my next move will be, I’m face down on the ground with a knee in the middle of my shoulders and my arms yanked forcefully behind me.
Any attempt to wriggle out from under him is pointless.
The speed at which he wraps and ties the rope around my wrists tells me he has done this many times.
And now my body is sending mixed signals again.
I’m scared. Truly. But the way my body reacts is deranged.
I gasp for air when the weight is gone from my back.
My hands are crushed beneath me when I’m rolled over to face him.
The organ in my chest is screaming at me.
He was always several yards away from me until now.
Now he’s hovering over me, and this game is coming to an end.
Or is it just beginning? I scramble to kick my legs, but it just makes it easier for him to dig his fingers into my thighs and push my knees to my chest, securing them there with the excess rope he had lying on either side of me connected to my wrists.
The rope burns my skin when I try to fight him, and he tightens it even more.
When I’m completely helpless, a tear falls without permission and runs over my temple.
“No, no, no!” I shriek as the dark figure kneels beside me, bringing a lime-green cloth to my eyes.
Taunting me. Why am I not screaming red?
I cannot move, and now I’m swarming in darkness without even the stars to keep me company.
My body jerks when a finger drags up my center, stopping on my clit.
A moan slips from my lips, and my leggings are stretched away from my body, and then cool air brushes over bare skin.
When a ghost of a touch brushes over my panties, my skin prickles.
And then that material falls away too. I don’t need to see to know I’m exposed.
He doesn’t remove his gloves before a finger dips inside me.
“Get off me,” I breathe, the rope digging into my skin when I do my best to move.
Shadow hesitates only for a brief second before adding another finger.
I didn’t say the right word. The word that seems to have disappeared from my vocabulary.
Teeth scrape my clit and my back arches off the hard, unforgiving ground.
The more I writhe, the faster Shadow’s fingers move.
His tongue remains steady, dragging my orgasm from my depths until I come, waking the dead because I don’t have to be quiet out here in the middle of nowhere.
Shadow doesn’t give me time to come down before slamming his cock inside of me.
The zipper of his jeans digs into my ass with each thrust, too eager to fuck his victim to bother pulling them down.
I’m in a whirlwind of sensations and unable to form words, only inaudible moans.
Pain scratches at my skin with every movement before I realize I’m fighting against the ropes on purpose.
Not to escape, but to feel them. Knowing I’m stuck, that I can’t get away.
My climax is swirling inside of me, growing stronger with each thrust of his engorged cock that is hitting all the right places.
The stars that were hidden from my sight reappear behind my blindfold, blotting my vision when he forces another orgasm from my body.
He pulls out, leaving me empty and begging for more. I’m quickly lifted off the ground and carried, a blanket of pleasure wrapped securely around me.
“Shadow,” I breathe.
“Still green?” His voice slightly robotic from the voice changer beneath the mask.
He’s hidden everything. I could walk by him on the street tomorrow and he’d still be a complete stranger.
Somehow I’m okay with that. At least for now.
I’ll deal with the aftermath of my mental state later, once I return from visiting hell and its devil.
“Still green,” I reply, tugging against the ropes and moaning. I’m so undeniably fucked up.