Predator’s Desire

Author’s Warning: Always remember to separate fantasy and reality. Nonconsent and violence are prevalent in this story. Other fetishes are touched on lightly. Names and locations tailored to spark the imagination. Inspiration is given to mythological Greek spirits.

I wrote this to evoke a slight shiver in my readers. I hope this story makes you feel as if I stepped on your grave.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

Predator’s Desire

“Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another.” – Lemony Snicket

I wish this story had a happy ending, I really do. Still, as I stand outside Sarah’s work with a hood in my hands and zip ties on a D-ring carabiner, I suspect it won’t.

How did I even get here? I’m truly baffled. I had always been the nice guy. So how did I end up here, minutes away from raping someone who had told me no?

That’s not to say I couldn’t make someone shit themselves if they didn’t know me. My time in combat zones had put a bit of steel in my backbone and an edge to my gaze. Yet, when people got to know me, they enjoyed my company.

I was the man most fathers wish their daughters were dating and with whom their sons were friends. I worked in the public service sector, usually helping the less fortunate communities. In short, I was the good guy.

I had known Sarah for nearly a decade. Our group of friends would routinely game online together for many hours every week. I had been witness to her relationship failures and dreams.

We were very open about our lives and, truthfully, my fantasies were pretty vanilla compared to hers. She did get teased a bit for being so damn horny all the time, but I think most of our group were all nymphos so it was just friendly ribbing. I know I was just as horny; I was just better at hiding my habit of multiple daily masturbation sessions.

It’s not as if I lacked female companionship, I had enough confidence that I was comfortable in my ability to score at the bar. Fun fact I never shared with my friends, but I am secretly a hopeless romantic. My empathy is through the roof, so I had to learn how to guard my feelings.

“I believe the most empathetic people can easily become the cruelest if they put their mind to it.” – The Dark Librarian, as he passed by the irradiated remains of Atlanta, GA. Circa 2085 A.D.

As my mind shifts back to the present, my eyes trace the contours of the inside of the borrowed van I am using. Sarah wouldn’t recognize it. I don’t know why, but that fills me with sadness. Maybe I want someone to stop me, I really don’t know anymore. As my eyes wander out to the sign of the Rent-A-Car agency that Sarah works at, my mind drifts to the events of the last few months.

– – – – – –

I’d had a light crush on Sarah for years. I had never said anything due to not wanting to wreck a beautiful friendship or ruin our group dynamics.

That had all changed a few months ago when we all had the chance to hang out in person. Sarah was a bit more forward than I was accustomed to. She thought she was socially awkward and… perhaps she was. I, however, was fascinated by her seemingly openly living out her life and sexuality.

Fuck it!, but I was jealous. I wish I could so easily live my life like that. Oh, who am I kidding!?! I doubt it was easy for her. She had a similarly strict religious upbringing to myself. And, given my knowledge of her, it must have been hell. Fuck, I was aroused.

How did this witchy little Strix worm her way into my heart? Nay, not a Strix, but perhaps a Naiad. Sending her Siren’s call deep within my soul. Her openness and the fact she shared it with me was an ambrosia to my soul.

– – – – – –

And time snapped again; and I was watching the lights turn off inside. ‘No, go back inside! Are you serious? You’re 45kg, soaking wet. There’s too many areas with low visibility, an attacker could be anywhere! Run, Sarah! Run!’

‘Or don’t,’ the logical side of me chuckled darkly. It’s so easy. As easy as sneaking up behind two enemies in Afghanistan and killing their dog in total silence not one meter behind them so an op could continue as a stealth mission. Those hadn’t been the only skills I’d learned in the war.

Did the lock just twitch?

“Right or wrong, I can hardly tell.” – Five Finger Death Punch, Wrong Side Of Heaven

– – – – – –

And, like that, time blinked again. And I saw her face light up in simple joy at seeing me. She squealed out my name and ran over to hug me. I half-wrapped my arm around her, but she squeezed me tightly. I easily laughed, a practiced smile to accompany it, as my easy going nature washed across my face. It’s amazing how few people remember a washed face merely shows what it wants the world to see.

A bemused smile graced my features. And hey, I’m a bemused person most of the time. A veritable sheepdog, contentedly taking care of their flock. Not the sheepdog’s fault that he did as trained and noticed every detail, including his flock. Damn that bewitching ewe!

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? – William Blake

– – – – – –

It was the adrenaline rush I noticed, after my next blink. No, the lock hadn’t moved. Every place has a closing or shift change procedure. Humanity will survive the apocalypse as long as there’s a schedule.

“Alternate routes! Every time you go out, alternate routes.” “Watch your 10s and 25s,” a half-remembered combat instructor yelled inside my head. A snarl worked its way up my lip, memories were not welcome here.

There was time. The schedule had to be kept after all. The adrenaline was dying down. I was going into a holding pattern with my body. The seconds were counting down; my breath became smoother. The logical side took over. The transition was smooth and seamless. Everybody has to do their job.

When did my job stop being the sheepdog? How did I get here?

– – – – – –

Sarah snuggled up next to me as we watched Howl’s Moving Castle. Or was it Metalocalypse or Happy Tree Friends? I truly don’t know. I was intensely aware of the shared warmth where our bodies touched. Did she notice it like I did? Surrounded by our friends, I just enjoyed that she was beside me. That damn sheepdog tendency. I had to protect. I must protect. Protecting was in my blood, through either nature or nurture.

A hooded glance at my side urged every fiber of my being, defend. I was good at that. Don’t worry little lamb, I’m here. Everything was right in the world, this was a job I was good at. I’m a protector after all. I’ll keep the wolves at bay.

– – – – – –

The zipties bumping against my right thigh brought my mind to this moment, as I awaited Sarah’s nightly rituals to conclude. It was a feeling I was used to. Flashes of Talib fighters ziptied meters away from an assortment of rifles danced through my head as my mind went on high alert.

I chuckled. What if someone else decided tonight was a good idea for a hunt at the local Rent-A-Car? A smile threatened to split my face. That would turn out very poorly for them. This was a lone wolf operation tonight. The thought of someone else attacking Sarah united dog and wolf, protector and predator. Not tonight. Not Sarah. Sarah, my masochist queen.

When did things get so mixed up? I’m the good guy.

“The moral of Snow White is never eat apples.” – Lemony Snicket

– – – – – –

It was a good guy that had Sarah jump on his back so he could carry her around the park. Her light laughter echoed through my ears as I served as her humble beast of burden. Not even the Biblioburro would carry a more precious cargo. I could feel the trust she had in me as I carried her around, her light frame hugging my neck.

Why did this wondrous beast exist and why did she like me? They say there’s always a person out there who will drive you to distraction. Was it our similar backgrounds and interests? Was it simply that she was living her life as she wanted, while I merely existed in mine? Whatever it was, the beast was awakening. And it knew what it wanted.

– – – – – –

The beast watched the burrow for its prey. It was nearly time. The hunger gnawed the belly. Nearly time. A light yelp from the back of my mind, ‘Run Sarah, run.’ It was useless. There’d be no running tonight. When I put my mind to it, prey would never get away. It was prey. That was its purpose. I’m a predator, that’s my purpose.

I had already mapped the place out. A reflective ball cap and face mask had turned me into one of the many non-descript characters you’d expect to see in any small town. I was proud of my ability to blend. That had allowed me to wander around and see if I could find any trouble points that might make the night’s mission fail. Fortunately, I didn’t run into too many issues. It helped that it should be a fairly simple grab.

– – – – – –

I still remember my surprise when Sarah plopped down next to me while I’d been on a dirty site. I had to have blushed, yet Sarah didn’t say anything even though I knew she recognized the site. This was a girl who got me.

She understood the substance abuse. We all have vices after all. I just happened to use mine a bit more liberally. I’d never told anyone the reason why I preferred the world with a bit of haze to it. I have no doubt that Sarah would understand that sometimes the nightmares and memories wake you up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, right?

– – – – – –

It wasn’t sweat that brought me into the present. It was the saliva that gathered in my mouth. I was excited. My cold gaze swept across the Rent-A-Car agency. It was nearly time.

When did I become the predator? Honestly, it was after the prey became too tempting. The cold steel of the K-Bar along my left leg lent to the chilling reality of the moment. There would be no going back after tonight.

– – – – – –

Sarah had felt comfortable enough to share her darkest fantasies with me. Truthfully, it was a bit farther than I had ever explored. I had developed a feedback loop where my satisfaction was raised based on my partner’s enjoyment. Pain and terror had never done anything for me, but I had a bit of enlightenment as to why others enjoyed such things.

Yet Sarah… somehow awoke something within that I couldn’t explain. It was the raw innocence that she exuded, combined with her dirty little mind. It made me want her so much. A sheepdog shouldn’t feel such things for his flock. Maybe an old dog could learn new tricks.

– – – – – –

It was the sheepdog that noticed the door handle turn as Sarah started her journey home. ‘No, please don’t! Run! Please, please, just run for my sake.’

The Wolf was pleased as the goosebumps raised on it’s skin. Few people can at will call on the chemical cocktail needed for the fight or flight response that causes goosebumps, but I can. The excitement that normally signified a fight, rushed through my system. Strange, as I doubt this will be much of a fight.

– – – – – –

Strange would also describe the way I viewed relationships. Sex and feelings were at once intertwined and separate. I had no problem with my partner having other sexual relationships at the same time. In my opinion, sex was simply a release. Yet… inexplicably the emotional connection could blast my sex drive through the roof.

It had truly been a magical weekend and it changed things for me. No longer did I want to sit back and watch this enchanting creature stumble through life on her own. No… I wanted to be alongside her. When life would dare to blindside, I wanted to be the bulwark. After all, isn’t that what a sheepdog is all about? I’m the good guy here, right?

– – – – – –

Sarah smoothly stepped outside and turned to lock the door. With a practiced turn of the hand, the lock smoothly latched in place. Actions she had done a thousand times. The good guy had been locked in his cage. Tonight… there was only predator… and prey!

The wolf hunched, waiting to lunge in ambush. Four steps between it and the successful completion of the hunt. Step one, wait for Sarah to start to put her key in the lock. Step two, open the sliding van door. Step three, pin her against the door of her own car. Step four, use one arm to stop her struggle and the other to slide the hood on her head.

Why grandma, what a big nose you have!

All the better to smell you with, my dear!

-Little Red Riding Hood, as told by The Wolf

– – – – – –

It was the smell that really drove me insane. I swear the little minx just emanated pheromones. Though, it might have just possibly been that she was wet all the time. That little Nymph! Was she doing it on purpose? The animal part of my brain would wake up when she was near. Mine! Others needed her permission to be in her presence, but I was special. She always seemed a bit happier when she saw me.

That might have been why I finally got up the nerve. I’d act, dammit! Yes, it might poorly affect the friendship. I’d have to word it just right so that she had an easy out. The old, well it was either you or the apple pie maneuver. Make it seem casual. And truthfully, maybe I thought it could be casual too.

– – – – – –

Sarah began her walk toward her car. One foot after the other. The moment between footfalls seemed to stretch for an eternity of agony and anticipation as sheepdog and wolf watched. She made her way across the lot. How did time seem to move both fast and slow? Was it in an instant or an eternity that she managed to cross halfway?

She stopped. SHE STOPPED!!! Why did she stop? Maybe she knew! Maybe against all my planning, her instinct had proved superior. ‘Run! Run Sarah, run! Now’s your chance! Set off some car alarms. Run in the opposite direction along the empty road and hope someone appears.’

“Hope at its core is taking an impossibility and turning it into a possibility.” – Pope Francis at a gangbang

– – – – – –

It was hope that drove me to type the words in my phone. Fourteen words that forever changed our friendship. Changed because I was putting in writing what, at best, had been alluded to or casually flirted around. No matter what, things couldn’t go back to how they were. No matter how hard one could try, there was no erasing those fourteen words. Pushing send was easily the best and worst action that I had ever made.

Immediately a sick feeling wormed its way into my stomach. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was a combat vet. Hmmm… 19 minutes since she was last online. Fuck, hopefully this feeling would go away. It shouldn’t be but a couple hours until Sarah was online and seeing her messages if she held true to form. Just a couple hours to get through and the sick feeling would go away. I’d know. Just a few more hours.

– – – – – –

Just a few more seconds until she reached her car, but she had stopped! Did she know? The wolf wasn’t worried. His planning should continue unimpeded. Still, the best laid plans of mice and all that. There was always a possibility that Murphy’s law would raise its ugly head.

Oh, she’s just checking her phone. I wonder what she’s doing? Her thumb danced across the black mirror in her hand and then she put her hand away. My phone vibrated from its place on the dash, Sarah’s picture appearing momentarily. She had texted me something. A warmth surged at how she always tended to have something new to share with me. A quote or an idea. A meme or a picture of a cat. We truly are a generation that live and die by our phones.

– – – – – –

The phone never rang. I waited. Night fell and I just felt drained. Eh, stuff happens, maybe she’d open her phone by the morning. I awoke to a morning where time had stopped on the Sarah front.Still no answer. Not one. The hours of the morning passed excruciatingly slow.

I’m not one to wait around forever to deal with potential problems. I decided that she had seen the notification and had wanted to avoid a friendship-altering conversation. Yes or no? I needed to know. And so I sent Sarah a much longer message that was very clear about what I was interested in. Would my little lamb be interested?

“And it is not an unheard thing if the Wolf is thereby provided with his dinner. I say Wolf, for all wolves are not of the same sort; there is one kind with an amenable disposition — neither noisy, nor hateful, nor angry, but tame, obliging and gentle, following the young maids in the streets, even into their homes. Alas! Who does not know that these gentle wolves are of all such creatures the most dangerous!” – Charles Perrault, explaining the morals contained within his tale Little Red Riding Hood

– – – – – –

Sarah’s steps resumed across the parking lot, but she looked lighter. Was she thinking about her recent text? She was at the end of her car now. Just a couple more steps and she would turn to put her key in the door.

Those last couple steps would have imprinted themselves in the minds of onlookers had there been any. They would have seen civilizations rise and fall, destroying themselves in an instant or an eternity. Nobody was there though, so the only reliable account seemed to come from the Wolf.

– – – – – –

It seemed as if the air had dried out around me. I was waiting for a text that never came. Finally after two days of waiting, Sarah texted me back.

She’d had a recent obsession that had pulled her into its world and didn’t release her from its clutches for the longest time. Thus she had missed my original text and the follow up clarification. A curtain had been lifted about an aspect of her friend she hadn’t seen revealed before, but this was not a welcome opera.

– – – – – –

The Wolf gazed as Sarah fumble with her key for a moment. That was step one. The moment was now. The universe held its breath as the van door slid open. Step two was finished. Sarah started to simultaneously jump and turn as the sound startled her. Step three caught her mid jump and crushed her against her car.

Her confused brain let out a yelp as the foreignness of the moment caught her off guard. Before she could get herself together enough, step four let it’s arm find purchase on her not-yet struggling body. It held her in place as the hood was slipped over Sarah’s head. The darkness became consuming.

“All men are the same in the dark.” – Helen Keller, as she worked the pole at Alley Cats

– – – – – –

The fog of uncertainty faded as the light of knowledge drifted into his brain. His heart leapt as her first paragraph assuaged his fear of being ignored, of not being important enough for her to take the time to deal with his advances.

And then his heart plummeted as he read on. He could read between the lines. She truly wished that there was a possibility as he had described.Nevertheless, the siren call of her own Phantom rang in her ears. His dream fell to the possibility that her dream could be realized.

“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.” – Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

– – – – – –

Sarah’s dream filled head quickly gave way to an unending nightmare of darkness. She didn’t struggle much, the violence and intensity of the situation paralyzing her with fear. For years, she had wondered what it would feel like to be in such a situation.

Today, she was. And it was mind-numbingly petrifying, as she tried to process the signals and emotions her body was going through. Blindly sensing her hands get ziptied and her body getting put into a vehicle.

– – – – – –

A gloom came over me as Sarah sympathetically explained that, even though it wouldn’t work out, she understood why I had approached her as I did. Even in her refusal, why did she have to be so perfect?

I didn’t expect it to hurt that much. Yea, maybe I’d had a bit more riding on my question than I had let on to myself. A gut punch wouldn’t pull out half the reaction. I staggered a bit. Did I cry? Did I feel a droplet cross my face? I didn’t know. Suddenly a storm had broken out in my psyche. And deep within, a lupine form shifted restlessly.