#I think that I’m going to plan to rape him on Tuesday. handcuff him and start going to town

[thesunbrokeyourskull]

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[thetorturerwrites]

I’m so excited for Torturer Tuesday’s to resume! I’ve missed you!!! I’d like to please request some hot Flip Zimmerman action!!! Hickies/bruises/marking kink (maybe he likes being marked up too!), possessiveness, being manhandled. I just want to be mauled by that sexy motherfucker! Thank you 🖤

+ Anonymous said to thetorturerwrites:Trying to channel my heathen, I’d love to have some animalistic smut with Flip, please! I just want to have him chase me down, grab me and pick me up, and manhandle the fuck out of me before he fucks me like a wild ravaging beast. Bruises, hickies, scratches, falling off whatever you’re fucking on lol. Maybe him getting extra wound up when you start clawing him. Just some aggressive sexy fun! It’s all good. I love everything you write! Thank you!! :)

***

You were, without a doubt, 100%, royally fucked.

Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong damn car to hot-wire.

It was more than the gun jammed into your head, more than the gruff, irritated voice commanding you to climb out with your hands up. Your fear came from the fact that he was a goddamn beast of a man — broad shoulders, taller than you by more than a little, and wide as a linebacker.  And he was a cop.

Fucking shit ass no good vulture cop.

In less than a minute, he’d stuffed a bandanna in your mouth, latched on the handcuffs, and shoved you into the backseat. You screamed, kicked, and flailed. You balled up both fists and aimed for his face, but it was ridiculously pointless. He growled, caught your ankle in one hand and ....

Darkness.

Groggy, you groaned and tried to touch the unidentifiable throb at your face, but you only smacked yourself in the mouth with the steel bracelet. Pushing up to sit, you shook off some dizziness and found yourself face to face with a crouching, irritated, dangerous predator. An unmoving predator. One who was waiting for you to wake up.

Rising absurdly fast, he kicked you square in the chest, sending you flailing back on a choking sputter. He dug the heel of his boot into your belly and ripped at your clothes. He threw away your shoes and leaned his weight against you to shuck your holey jeans. You pushed and clawed at his boot, thrashed and tried to wiggle away before he could get at your panties, but it only earned you a fist in your tangled hair and a howl of pain as he pulled tight.

Hauled onto bare feet, you pushed at his chest, turning and bending to get loose.

“This is your chance to be good.” He murmured and pulled you in so close you could smell his cologne. “If you are, I’ll take you to the station to do the right thing.” 

“Your plan is to kidnap me? Teach me a lesson?” You pushed at him again, but he was an unshakeable column. “Take me to the damn station then! I’ll tell them I tried to boost your idiot truck.”

“Oh, I will. But first...” Holding you around the throat with one hand, he ripped your light tee and tossed the tatters over his shoulder. “You, your smart ass mouth, and your fucking hands are gonna work tonight.”

Your eyes widened, large as moons. Your mouth popped open in outright shock as the man all but admitted he planned to rape you. He traced the swell of your lower lip as you worked it out; but then, you got your shit together, jammed your elbow into his gut, and bit the hand that teased you.

“I’ll rot first.”

His lopsided grin terrified you, as did the way he canted his head to one side, as though your pretend bravado entertained him. He knew it was bullshit. Lifting one of those massive paws, he shooed you back.

“We’ll see.” He gestured to the tree line, and you blanched. “Go on. I’ll be along shortly.”

The flash of his pistol lit a fire under your ass, and you bolted.

You ran until your chest burned, until your sides needled and your throat caught, dry as a bone. Gulping down frigid air, you wrapped bare arms around a bare middle, turning in an idiotic circle as you tried to get some bearings.  There was no clear path here. There also wasn’t a house, a streetlight, or even a clearing big enough for the moon to shine all the way through.

A gunshot rang out to your left, far too close for him to be back at the vehicle, and you launched yourself in the opposite direction. You fought through brambles, through branches and wet leaves, through dirt and cold mud. You pushed and pushed; but far too soon, your sprint faded to a stumbling jog. Your arms hung heavy, useless in defending you when you tripped on an overgrown root.

You crashed to the ground on a whine, but you barely had time to right yourself before he was on you. Unforgiving arms wrapped around your ribs, squeezing out your breath. He pinned you there in the dirt, shoved his face into the crook of your neck, and bit down so hard you saw stars. The hoarse wail that ripped from your throat rattled your bones.

You didn’t know you could make such a wounded sound.

When he released you, you slumped to the hard ground, wallowing in the grime miserably. The click of his gun foretold the shot, but you couldn’t respond. You trembled, locked between swallowing fear and consuming anger. The look you leveled at him was defiant, but warily so. He was going to fuck you or kill you tonight; it was clear. Maybe both.

The first shot didn’t jar you into movement fast enough. It rang in your ears, but you curled into a ball instead of leaping to your feet.

“Get your ass up.” 

The next shot exploded just to the right of your head, breaking through your fog. You leaped up once more as the unpleasant echo turned to a loud warble reverberating down through your jaw. As hard as you tried to fight it, panic won out and sent hot tears spilling over your dirty cheeks, painting you with grimy streaks.

You stumbled blindly forward until you could no longer feel your fingers or your toes. You pulled yourself from tree to tree on bloodied fingertips, but your feet felt like cinder blocks — too large and bulky to be useful. You mashed swollen, cracked lips together and tried to get your breathing under control. Your throat stung like broken glass from all the screaming and crying.

Thinking you had to do something other than run, you wedged yourself in between two stumps and made yourself as small as you physically could. You ignored the jab of prickly leaves and prayed to gods you didn’t believe in that this man would get bored with chasing you and leave you here. You’d never steal another thing in your life if you made it through the night.

Fool’s prayers.

He yanked you out of your hiding place so hard you crashed into him on a surprised yelp. Benumbed, you palmed his pectorals, trying to inch away, but the cold made you weak, easy prey. Each anxious breath sent steam curling up and around his face as you shook your head over and over, as though you could deal with the devil on empty pockets.

You quaked all over, trembling fear turned to the beginnings of hypothermia. He spun you, forced your face into scratchy bark, and slid up behind you. For all your earlier boasting about how you’d rather die than fuck him, you groaned aloud at the feel of his chest against your back because he was blessedly warm. His feverish hands roamed you from thighs to ribs, and you wondered if it truly would be that bad.

“Nothing smart to say? Hm? Thought you were hot shit?”

You sneered, jolted from a reverie where you pictured him pounding you into oblivion. You readied yourself to spit something snarky at him, but he cupped both of your aching breasts, pressing in so they spilled over his palms. Instead of swearing, you moaned louder than you wanted because the heat was deliriously good. You lost feeling in your nipples a while ago, but he coaxed it back by kneading and squeezing.

The chattering of your teeth eased slightly, along with the outright tremors. He infused you with just enough warmth to keep you from collapsing, but he wanted more. His petting turned to mauling, and he gouged tracks down your sternum and up from your abdomen. You cried out and twisted, but he trapped you with a snarl and a vicious bite to your upper arm. He sucked a bruise into your skin so painfully you thought you could feel him chomping on the bone.

The next thing you felt was the press of his belly against your ass, and you knew his jeans were already open. You flushed and panted, but no longer from the cold. Sighing, partially in defeat, partially in anticipation, you laid your head back against his shoulder. His entire body was a furnace, a heat source you needed more than your dignity.

“Look at that.” He rocked his hips against yours, nipping at the bruise blooming along your neck. “A thief and a whore.”