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anaburbononburbon · 3 days ago

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Do I have other ideas that I need to work on?

Yes!

Have I already started a prequel to how Simon and Reader met and fell in love???

Also yes!

I'm suckered in. The ropes are tightening around me and it refuses to let go. I must get this out. I must, I must, I must!

Bark like a God

Summary: Simon goes for a night out with the guys and brings home an unwanted guest...

Trigger warnings: dark fic, non-con, rape, unwanted three-way, unwanted oral (m & f receiving), language, smut, dark Simon, dehumanization, some electroshock, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MDNI

Banner by the lovely @/ilium-ilia (please stop feeding AI!!)

The pub was full tonight. Corner to corner, wall to wall crammed with strangers drinking and laughing. The yellow glow of the overhead lights put off a sickly color, but for once, no one cared. A match was playing on a screen on top of the bar. Darts were taken by groups in teams, playing for drinks and peanuts. The pool tables off in the corner held a playoff, and people were rooting for losers to buy everyone a round. It was fun. It was relaxing. It made the regulars take in the outsiders in stride and it made those outsiders eager to be noticed. It made them careless, comfortable, unwilling to let things go. Some always have to fight, either for attention or honor, but a fight is a fight.

The relaxing evening made a stranger think that walking up to Simon was okay. That he was single and free for the taking. That batting her eyes, flashing some skin and biting her lip, was enough to get him going.

And, in another life, it was. It did. Those were the moves that you once pulled, albeit slightly differently, but still. You looked over at the beast once, and he was yours. Attached at the hip and forever ingrained with you.

Simon doesn't know much, but he knows loyalty. He knows dedication. He knows he'd rip the head off any bloke who dare talk you up and think they could steal you away, and he can't hold himself to any other standards without you ripping his head off.

Deservingly so, might he add.

Younger Simon would have thought differently. Would have put up unnecessary fights, demanded that you admit he was right, uncaring of your tears, or how it would affect your relationship down the road. Younger Simon was a terror. That was the old him, not him now. Not Simon, who has a pretty, perfect little wife at home. His perfect person, who loved him entirely and utterly, with his past in the military and the questionable work he got in after. Someone who knew what a monster he was but loved him like no one else ever could.

The same person who begged him to leave the flat with his mates, to go and watch the match, drink some, come back and fuck your brains out after your bath and three glasses of wine. How could he say no with you begging him so sweetly? Who only wanted him to have a well rounded life after retirement? Who, maybe, just wanted to watch your show in peace without Simon telling you how unrealistic it all was while being unable to walk away. Silly man. Your silly man.

And he just couldn't get that through this woman's thick skull. That he was taken. That he wasn't interested. It didn't matter to her, though. She saw a tank covered in a worn out leather jacket, a white compression shirt underneath, form-fitting jeans that flaunted his thick, corded thighs, and a forever scowl sketched on his face. He held himself in the corner with two other men and claimed he was hers to her group of friends. They all laughed and said 'good luck!'. It was insulting. She was beautiful and incredible looking tonight and full of confidence. It wasn't like she was looking for marriage. She was looking for a man who could fuck her stupid and leave her sore for upcoming days. A delicious looking man who she could rub in her friends face. Show everyone that she could get whoever she wanted between her thighs. It didn't matter what he said and how he rejected her. She wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. And why should she? What man turned down sex? She knew the game. She knew he wanted to play hard ball and wanted her to work for it. She could. She would. Even when he flashes the gold band wrapped around his left ring finger, she barely registered it was there. She only saw the thick digits, imagined how they would feel stretching her out, wrapping around her neck and tweaking her clit until she came on his cock. She gave him a smile and a wink before bending down and whispering:

"I can keep a secret."

What was Simon to do? What could he say? Especially with Kyle and Johnny sitting right beside him, holding their breath and watching this play out. They knew Simon. They knew his temperament, and when he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, they saw that she considered it a win. She broke him down and got him to reconsider. They knew that Simon just came up with a plan that would not be in the beggars' favor.

They glanced at each other, eyes asking if they should interfere, drag Simon away from this woman.

Before they could agree, Simon stood suddenly, grabbed her wrist, and began taking her out the door to the parking lot.

Decision has been made.

They'll wait for his call.

Another round for the boys?

The rest of her friend group came over laughing with extra drinks to share.

Don't mind if they do...

She was giddy, a smile plastered on her face as her prize all but dragged her outside to his beat-up truck. She felt like a warrior, a huntress who gathered up her kill and was being rewarded for her persistence.

Men were all alike. This one was no different.

Her core pulsed, warmth wrapped ahold of her and tightened. Her slick gathered in her panties. She couldn't wait to feel his wedding ring pressing against her throat as he pounds her in the mattress.

"Where we goin'?" She finally asked as she climbed in the seat, almost a bit sore that he didn't open the door for her, or grab her ass as she got on the seat.

"Does it matter?" His voice tumbled out, rough and thick. She squeezed her thighs together, her mind racing with all the dirty things she wanted him to say to her.

She stayed silent, letting her hands talk for her. They wandered over his forearms, thick with veins popping out with how hard he was gripping the wheel. She smirked, lapping up his eagerness to get her into bed. She began tracing some of the tattoos that painted his flesh. A skull here, a rose on fire there, a small handprint of a child wrapped in peonies. After that, he gripped her hand tightly before shoving it off. No words needed to be said.

She wasn't here to be his therapist or his wife. She was here as a quick fuck, something to shove his feelings into until he could breath again.

Perfect for her, perfect for him.

He pulled down a dirt road off the main highway. The road was smooth but still unpaved as it made her bounce around in her seat. Her stomach began to roll as the alcohol in her system screamed at her to make it stop, and before she could properly complain, they came to a standstill.

The cottage was quaint, from what she could see. A small light fixated on the driveway, flowers covered both sides of the walkway to the home, and she became giddy again.

'No way did he invite me to his home...his martial bed!'

A small voice spoke up in the back of her head, a voice that was silenced by the beer and cocktails from earlier. She tried to ignore it, but she still found herself asking:

"Is the house empty?" His reply was a grunt.

She swallowed her fear of being caught and hurt by the wife down. Down with her own inadequacies. Down with her doubts. Down the drain as he got out of the truck and began walking up the path. She followed him quickly, not wanting to be left alone out in the dark.

'He wanted me. He could have said no. He could have pushed me away. He drove me here. He wants me. He wants me more than her. He wants me.' A mantra played over and over again. Something that stopped as he opened the door for her and ushered her inside.

She took it in. Pictures of the married man and his married wife over the walls. Pictures of ultrasounds and a child of both of them combined covered the living room. A jacket thrown over a chair. Shoes piled by the door. The smell of pot roast filled the air, making her mouth water.

Fear began trickling in.

Footsteps became louder until you came in, happy to see your husband back from the pub, confused when the complete opposite of you stood in front of him.

Simon held a shit eating grin. A dark twinkle in his eye. His muscles tense and ready to pounce, like an animal seeing its prey for the first time.

"Simon?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. You were wrapped in your bathrobe, skin moist, and dewy from your skincare, nail painted a deep red. Simon's favorite.

The women turned around, eyes wide and full of unshed tears. This was not her plan and she did not want to be here anymore.

"I need to leave!" She demanded, but the married man, Simon, refused to look at her. His eyes were locked on his spouse. A moment of silence and then a click, followed by the slide of a lock and another lock until Simon reached up, much higher than she ever could, and activated the final lock on the door.

She choked on air. Her heart battered in her chest, stomach falling to the floor and to the hell that laid below.

"What the fuck is happening-!" Simon interrupted her, pushing her out of the way so he could walk up to you and crush you against his chest.

"Happy anniversary, lovie. I know we said no gifts, but I just couldn't resist." His eyes soften and his lips grazed your forehead and pressed, so gently, against your cheek.

"Is she...a gift?" You asked, taking her in again as you melted against your husband. The woman was stunned as she watched you both interact with each other. Frozen, seemed more accurate, but it allowed you to take in her smudged make up, her chipped nails, heels that dug deeply into her skin and had to be completely uncomfortable. Her skintight dress, snake skin in design with a matching clutch that she held tightly to her body.

"I told her to bugger off. Showed my ring and everything." Simon's voice became agitated talking about their guest. You knew Simon, and 'no' was 'no' to a man like him. His voice became quiet, but obviously enough for her to hear him still. He wanted her to know that he was telling you. "She told me she could keep a secret." You couldn't help but laugh, the idea was so absurd and it made your heart ache on how many times it must have worked.

"Oh? Is that right?" You asked Simon, but your eyes refused to leave hers. You wanted her to look ashamed, look defeated, look like she regretted her actions. She didn't. She just stood there, begging to be let out. You decided to ask her directly, knowing it didn't matter what her answer would be. Her fate was sealed. Too bad, so sad. "You like married pussy too? Or just married cock?"

That made her stop bouncing from foot to foot. Her eyes narrowed at that question. Before she could answer, Simon laughed and in two giant step was directly in front of her with a manic smile plastered on his face.

Maybe she made a mistake. Maybe she should have left him alone...

"Oh, she loves married pussy. Don't ya? C'm here." His hand wrapped around the back of her neck tightly as he began dragging her deeper in the house. Her feet kicked out, her nails dug into his arm, her pleas and yells came out but it was all for nothing. There was no hope to be found at the Rileys.

You went to the kitchen to grab your wine and two glasses, make sure the roast was off but still warm for later and grab a blue pill for your husband.

He was nice enough to bring you a gift, why waste it?

Ten minutes rolled by quickly. Simon tossed the pill back with a sip of raspberry wine. The dress the woman wore was bunched around her stomach, baring her tits and white g-string for the couple to mock as they sat her on the bed and told her not to move. Her arms tied behind her back tightly and tears covered her face, making tracks in her makeup. The couple stood talking, holding each other, caressing and rock side to side, ignoring their guest for the moment.

"It's been awhile since I've been with someone else," You whisper, lips trailing up and down Simon's neck. Teeth nipping at his Adam's apple. Soothing kisses placed immediately after.

"I'll make sure It takes good care of you, hm? Gives you sweet kisses. Licks your pussy just how you like it. Make sure It eats all my cum from your tight little hole before I stuff you full again." You giggled, heat rising up and covering you in a warm glow. His eyes lock on to hers as the next words flowed out sharply. "If It hurts you in the slightest, I'll rip Its fucking teeth out and make It swallow em." A warning. A promise. It made her cry harder.

You laughed before kissing him.

Your soft lips encompassing his, the taste of beer and a bit of sweetness filled you as your tongue tangled with his. Growls erupted from his throat and you drank them completely. His teeth pulled your lips before releasing and you both stood there, taking each other in before officially starting your night.

You moved first, turning towards her as you loosen up your robe and dropping it.

Simon loved your body. It didn't matter if it was when you first fucked in a random parking lot, or during your pregnancy with his child, or after, breastfeeding and soft from your body taking on such a life changing event. He loved your body. He loved your mind. He loved you entirely.

He especially loved after your bath. Your warm skin, gently scented and soft. The patch of curls between your thighs that begged for his mouth. Your breast. Your tummy. Your nails.

Your toes. Perfectly painted and matching.

Simon just wanted to devour you whole and keep you chained to his chest until the end of time.

"We need a name for It." You chimed softly, mostly to yourself but Simon wouldn't dare not hear you. His love. His peace. His everything.

Simon chuckled, drinking in the fear that painted their guests face. His wife was right. A name was needed.

"Well, It was eager as a fuckin' dog. May as well."

"Name It 'Dog'?" You giggled and Simon felt his heart exploding. They could name It anything for all he cared, just as long as he kept you happy. His smile was your answer and you turned back to Dog, looking her over before bending down and easing the straps of her shoes off.

She was humiliated and it only grew more when she felt your warm breath against her core. A small shiver ran down Dog's spine and it didn't go unnoticed by you. You chuckled at her, allowing your breath to dance over her skin even more. Once her shoes were off, you parted her legs and stepped between them.

"I want Dog to lick my cunt as you kiss me." You look back at him with a grin on your face. Simon melted. Whatever you want, you get.

"Of course, baby. Of course." He happily dragged Dog to the floor and took her place on the bed. Her legs were forced apart to accommodate you, her eyes at perfect level with your hair covered pussy. Even in the low light she could see your glistening folds, your slick traveling down your thighs and your scent making a home inside of her.

Having Simon directly behind her was terrifying, and she couldn't get his earlier threat out of her mind. Maybe that was the point and maybe it was only a threat. But she didn't think so, the man didn't care that this was kidnapping and rape and his wife certainly didn't care either.

She needed to make it out. She needed to make it out alive.

Simon dipped his head so his lips pressed against the shell of her ear and his breath hitting her face before whispering: "sink your teeth into my wife and you'll wish I'll just fuckin' kill ya." Her head was thrusted between your thighs before she could respond and your lips found Simon's.

Your cunt was soft and wet. You tasted like soap, of earth and sea and a bit sweet. The more Dog licked, the more slick was coated out of you and covered her mouth, her cheeks and dripped down her chin.

Dog was a sloppy eater. A bit new to it too, if you had to guess. She lapped at you, not quite caring if she touched your clit. You could tell she was willing but you couldn't find yourself getting in a groove with her constant rhythm change.

Simon knew something was wrong instantly. You weren't moaning, crying out, panting, or vibrating like you usually do. You were a bit quiet, your hips were moving too much and your eyebrows were scrunched, like you couldn't stop thinking.

You are his darling wife. You already think too much, that's not the point of his gift.

Simon broke away, pressing his forehead to yours as his fingers rolled and pulled at your nipples, changing between them to keep you guessing.

"What's wrong, love? What's going on?" At first, Simon was scared that you wanted Dog gone. And he would do that for you in a heartbeat. He'd let her lose and call the boys to clean up his mess, let them have her as compensation but he didn't want to make you upset. Not you, baby, never you.

You waited a moment before responding, like you were unsure of how to word it.

"I think Dog needs more help in what to do." Simon felt the exhale leave him before the words fully registered. You were okay. You were fine.

Dog, though? Not doing Its job?

Not okay. Not at all.

Simon brushed his hands up and down your arms before tugging you around and up on the bed.

"Let's lay you down, love, yeah? I'll show the stupid fuckin' Dog what It needs to do." You settled nicely on the bed. Thighs spread. Your perfect pussy on display. Your clit peaking out and desperate to be covered in a warm, wet mouth. Your little hole clenching on nothing underneath you. His poor wife. He'll make sure you're taken care of, he always does.

Dragging Dog on the bed and forcing It down so It's face is up close to your exposed core. Simon curled his hand around her neck, getting a good grip in order to move her around like he deemed necessary.

"Stick out your fuckin tongue." Dog immediately stuck out her tongue, tears forming and falling as Simon dragged her head around and forced her tongue over your soaked cunt. "Taste that? That's my fuckin wife. This is your new home until we're sick and fuckin tired of you. You're gonna thank your Mistress and gon' fuckin' mean it too." He snarled. In between tears and hiccups, Dog manages to say: "Thank you, Mistress."

Not good enough.

"Thank her fer what?" Simon tightens his hand around her neck, digging into her soft points and warping her sense of self and sending agony throughout her body.

"Th-thank you for letting me taste your cunt!" Dog squealed, and you couldn't help but smile.

You could train Dog.

It would be nice having someone else around when the kids went off with family.

"Awh, you shouldn't thank me, Dog. I'm happy to do this." You waited a moment before catching Simon's eye. "You should really thank God for allowing you in our home, don't you think?" There was something soft and bubbly at Dog's confusion. It was sweet. She was so naive.

Simon shook Dog's head at her silence and disrespect, ripping another cry from her.

"Mistress asked you to thank God, didn't she?"

"Ye-yes, thank-thank you, God! Thank you for bringing me to their home!" A sob escaped Dog's mouth when Simon laughed, mocking her cries.

"You're welcome, Dog. I mean, you insisted. I'm always willing to help out." He laugh was cut short, his glare coming back full force. "Don't you ever forget who we are, you understand? She'll always be Mistress. And I'll always be God. Now, stick out your fuckin tongue so I can show you how to lick your Mistresses cunt."

Dog began getting it eventually. It took some guidance from Simon on how to suck your clit, how to ease her tongue in your hole and stretch you out. How to pull your clit gently and flick it side to side. He didn't trust Dog yet, so he roughly fucked her throat with his fingers to lube them up before gently easing them inside you. He held Dog down, feeling you tighten and pulse around him until you came with a short cry and trembling thighs, Dog's lips around your clit, softly humming to get it over quicker. Simon pulled his fingers out nicely before offering them to you to taste.

You accepted eagerly. Throating them as Dog cleaned up your hole from all the new slick that poured out. You giggled when he pulled his fingers from you and yanked Dog away. Your eyes hazy and full of lust, of love for the man in front of you.

"How do you feel, Daddy? Can I show Dog how you like your dick sucked?" How could Simon tell you no when you look at him so sweetly and ask so nicely?

Anything you want, you got.

"Of course, baby. You know I love it when you let me in that perfect mouth of yours." Dog must have relaxed enough for Simon to see because he instantly added: "After It sees you, we'll see if It picks it up."

She wasn't intimidated. She had one night stands before. She sucked her fair share of cocks.

She regretted her thoughts when she came face to face with it.

'What the fuck...'

It didn't pull up like others she had encountered. It was thick, heavy, barely moving as he laid on the bed while Mistress took his place beside Dog. The head, a angry red, precum weeping from the slit as Dog could see the veins pulse with a desperate need. It was horrifying.

Mistress looked on with pure delight. Maybe at her horrified expression, maybe at the sight of Simon and his awful desire. Maybe both. Before Dog could whimper or plea or beg for mercy, you ducked your head and took Simon's cock in the back of your mouth and swallowed.

Hearing Dog cry shouldn't make you happy, but it did. It took you tons of practice to take Simon like this. Before, you would choke and gag until your tears and snot became one. Now, you were a pro. His pro. He needed to cum in a warm mouth in three minutes or less?

You could do it.

Maybe he wanted a nice, slow, sloppy blowjob that lasted over an hour and he wanted to cum down a throat, over a face and across some tits?

You could do it in your sleep.

You loved your husband and would do anything for him.

Who was she to think she could take your husband like this? Make him feel this good? Did she honestly even care for him? Wanted the best for him? Would she take him to meetings, to cemeteries, to the ends of the earth if he had only suggested it?

Or did she want his body, his muscles, his cleft lip, his crooked nose and huge cock that swung between his thick thighs?

Did she see him for the man that he is, or the man she projected onto him?

You didn't care the answer, and to showboat even more, you plugged your nose with your thumb and forefinger and held yourself down on Simon's dick. Your nose pressed against the curls nuzzling his base. Your jaw screaming in protest as your force it to stay open. Your lungs demanding an ounce of air, but you refused to listen to any of it. Your comfort didn't matter, especially when you could hear Simon losing his mind at your expanded throat, at your red and glossy eyes, at your willingness to plug your nose and your absolute refusal to let up.

For a quick moment, you felt his hands tug the back of your head before throat fucking you with wild abandonment.

The sounds you made were terrifying to Dog. The way you looked, the way you took his cock and let him slam into your throat was indescribable. The type of porn Dog would watch at 3am just so she could cum and pass out. The kind that she would never admit to watching, but it intrigued her.

Seeing it play out in real life? Directly in front of her, all as a warning of what she had coming next?

She wished she never went out tonight. She wished she stayed home, got on Tinder, texted her ex, flashed the old man that lived across the street. Anything other than this.

Eventually, you released him from your mouth. Gallops of spit and snot connected you both. His dick shined and his head grew into even a deeper maroon. She knew what was next, but she couldn't stop herself from begging to be let go.

'Please, I won't tell anyone.'

'I made such a mistake, and I'm so sorry.'

'Please don't do this.'

'I'm not a bad person, I swear. I promise.'

It didn't matter.

Before Dog knew it, you curled your hand around her head, like you've done this plenty before, and shoved her mouth until she hovered over his cock. You bent down and whispered against her ear, "If your teeth graze him, I'll yank them out and force his dick back down your throat."

Dog could only whimper and nod and cry as her mouth stretched obscenely open and was forced to take him down and down and down and down...

Her jaw was locked, her throat ached and burned like she ate some too hot and thought swallowing it would be a good idea. Her eyes stung with his second load. Dog's lips were raw and chapped and bloody. Mistress and God laid beside each other, cuddling and cooing as Dog was thrown to the floor and on her back. Her shoulders screamed in agony, her joints and ligaments were pulled too tightly, held in this position for too long and she was scared how much damage was occurring.

Who was she kidding. Her shoulders and back were the least of her concerns.

Dog had to get away. She had to make it out, break free, run until she couldn't.

"Okay, Dog, we decided to have a bit more fun and then you could leave." She instantly perked up, her eyes wide and still stinging, but hopeful that this horrible, horrible nightmare would be over soon. Simon tossed his phone aside, a wide smile from you both covered your faces while Simon picked up Dog from the floor and situated her on the bed.

On her back, head towards the foot of the bed as you hovered over her face.

"Do you want a treat, Dog?" Dog didn't know how to reply, but anything she needed to do to get this over with, she'd do and happily.

"Yes, please, Mistress." Dog tried to be good, but felt her soul crushing at your scoffs.

Simon stood away from Dog, out of her sight. What wasn't out of her sight was your puffy cunt above her face. Almost dripping on her with your want. Your clit swollen and almost pulsing with need. If she needed to eat your pussy again, she would. That was easy. Dog could do it.

"Is that how you ask for your treat?" You ask patronizing, mocking Dog's inability to know exactly what you were thinking.

Dog must have taken too long to answer, because Simon found what he was looking for and pressed something cold and sharp against Dog's pussy. Her white g-string was a mess, covered in her slick and spit from God ruining her throat. Her body was confused, her mind was numb, and it hurt to talk.

She didn't know what they wanted.

"I-I-"

zap!

A horse scream shot from her chest, the shock started in her inner thigh, traveling up to her shoulder and down to her toes. Her teeth snapped as her mind refused to settle at this new, horrific development.

zap!

The other thigh and her screams didn't stop until her voice was almost gone.

"Bark, Dog. Bark for your treat." You whispered, ignoring the wand in Simon's hand and the zaps that covered Dog's thighs, leaving red welts in place.

"Arf!" Dog cried out, desperate to get God to stop. To make Mistress show Dog mercy. Dog was trying, can't Mistress tell?

"Again!" You called out. There was no mercy here.

"Arf! Arf! Arf, arf, arf, arf, arf!" You laugh, and God finally stops. He doesn't put it away, but it sets it down and gets behind Mistress. His cock and balls, still huge even though he came multiple times on Dog and Mistress but the pill was doing its job and God wasn't done yet.

Dog watches through tears as God nudges his cock between your lips before splitting you open and forcing you to take his length. Watching you stretch to accommodate his mass, hearing your gasps, your whines, your high pitch moans brought Dog nothing.

Dog didn't care.

Dog wanted to go home.

Soon, God sunk in all the way and you were stuffed full of him. It didn't look comfortable. It didn't look right, but you were begging him to fuck you, to move, to play with your clit, so, you must have loved it.

And you did. You loved when Simon fucked you. When he forced you to take his entirely, feel each veins, each pulse, each inch of him inside of you. His perfect wife. Perfect love. Perfect everything. You were everything. And you deserved to have your clit sucked as he fucked you, right?

Dog got to work.

Her lips, still chapped and bloody and raw and aching, pressed against your bud and suckled like God taught her. Her tongue danced around the swollen flesh, flicking before sucking, kissing and then rubbing, all while God pounded you, hitting your g-spot with an accuracy that only he would know after all of your time together. You gushed helplessly down Dog's face, in her eyes, up her nose as his balls made a home on her forehead.

"Cummiiiiing!" You cried out, shaking and moaning as you clamped over Simon, and you milked him for all he was worth. Simon couldn't fight against it and emptied himself inside of your tight cunt.

Dog barely got a chance to breath before Simon snarled at her to clean you up. Now your hole was sitting over her mouth as his cum poured down her throat. It was too much to keep up with, but she desperately tried. She could feel the wand by her and refused to let it touch her again.

She couldn't take it. Not again. Not ever.

It took Dog a minute to clean Mistress up, but she did it. No more cum was dripping from her stretched hole, even when Mistress pushed and pushed.

Dog wanted to scream as God mounted you again.

And again.

It had been hours since Dog had arrived at the Rileys. You and Simon had tied her to the table and took a shower together, washed each other, and talked silently about your lives together and the next chapter you were heading into. The Dog was brought up but only briefly. It was taken care of, Simon encouraged you, and who were you to question your God?

It was basically morning, but you both ate the roast, starving from such a strenuous evening together. The meat was cooked to perfection, paired with herb soaked carrots and potatoes, sweet onions balancing itself out and a homemade roll off to the side.

Simon was so lucky he had you.

After your bellies were full, you decided to head to bed, making note that you'd clean up the extra room. Simon gave you a kiss on the cheek and forehead before patting you away. He promises to be there soon.

Dog is terrified. More terrified than before.

She knows there's no going home. There can't be. Why would anyone let her go after everything had happened? Everything she'd seen? It was nonsense. A lie.

But Simon gets in front of her and releases her binds, takes her arms out from behind her back, and even massages them as pinpricks consume her back entirely. He guides her up and walks her to the door and unlocks all the locks that kept her from her freedom. He opens the door and before anything else can happen, Dog runs.

She's free.

She doesn't care where she's going. She doesn't care about the rocks under her feet, or her dress still bunched in the middle.

She's free.

Until she hears the sounds of a truck barreling towards her and two men that strangely sound familiar, hooting and hollering and begging her to run faster-

And faster-

And-!

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anaburbononburbon · 4 days ago