Chapter 3 - Manhunt

As soon as Moni sat in her plane seat, a terrible sense of foreboding came over her. She tried to use her phone, but the cabin crew reminded her to keep it off. Moni's feeling of unease grew on her flight to Seattle. It appeared to her that the close she gets to her destination, the worse she felt. Moni spent the last thirty minutes tapping her foot, waiting for the plane to land. As soon as the wheels touched the ground, Moni switched on her phone, getting a lovely message Sally sent her. This didn’t ease her mind. She called Sally walking towards the exit; the phone kept ringing without an answer.

Pete waited for Moni at the exit barrier, waving to her as soon as he spotted her. She ran up to him, giving him a hug then Pete led her out to the car. They lived on the outskirts, not too far from the airport, so it took less than an hour to get home. Pete wanted to chat with Moni, but seeing her concerned face and tapping foot, he drove in silence. Twice he saw her make a call and hang up frustrated.

Moni’s mom welcomed her home with open arms; she practically dragged her inside, offering her tea and cookies. Moni looked around; her home looked exactly the way she left it. Crosses and little icons of Jesus on every wall. If there were vampires, this was a home they’d never come to. This constant religious oppression was one of the main reasons she couldn’t wait to turn eighteen and leave her home. It felt like living in some cave with primitive people who believed in ghosts and spirits and shit. It was the main reason why Moni never had any friends. Everyone knew her family were religious nuts and teased her; nobody wanted to be seen with her, lest they be painted by the same brush. This ultra-conservative setting contributed to her staying a virgin for so long. The kids knew Moni’s stepdad. He was a great hunter and a mean drunk. People used to joke how Pete’s got more ammunition at home than a military base. In a sense, it was true since bullets were expensive, so Pete made his own.

It was late, and Moni wasn’t in the mood for talking. She excused herself, claiming tiredness and went into her old room. She sent many texts and made calls with no responses. She felt it deep in her gut; something was very wrong. If she was a different person, Moni might imagine that Sally ghosted her for some reason. Still, Moni knew how her fiancee felt. Both girls loved each other like crazy. It would be inconceivable for either of them to break up that way, especially as their relationship was getting even better with Moni being accepted by Sally’s family. Something terrible must have happened.

Moni couldn’t fall asleep the whole night, something that showed at breakfast in the morning. Her parents worriedly asked her what’s wrong and she promised to tell them in the evening. Moni loved her parents. She disagreed with their life choices and despised the religious dogma and pressure they exerted on her. Still, they were kind and loving people who didn’t know any better. Moni ate her breakfast in misery, a couple of tears rolled down, but she discretely wiped them off before her parents noticed. They saw her do it and just kept quiet, greatly unsettled by it.

Moni spent a day calling all her friends, asking if they saw Sally, nobody did. By the time her parents came home, she was almost hysterical. Moni knew deep down in her heart that something terrible happened to Sally. Her mom heard her screams and gently came upstairs, knocking on the open door “please, honey, come down, talk to us, we can pray together, it will help”. At first, Moni wanted to explode, take everything out on her mother, but something broke inside her, and she flew in her mom’s arms, sobbing like a baby. The years of mental conditioning steering her in a moment of despair.

The family sat in the living room, praying for protection and assistance. In tears, Moni begged god to look after Sally, help her and guide her, protect her from harm. Her mom and dad watched her surprised; they never saw Moni pray so hard, with such humility in earnest. Mom later made some tea and cookies, sitting everyone at the table and asked, “who is Sally?”. Moni was mentally exhausted. She had no energy left for tactfulness. She just blurted it out, “Sally is my soulmate, my girlfriend, my fiancee; I came here to tell you I am getting married to her”; then she burst into tears.

The shock of the revelation rippled through Moni’s parents, then another one once they processed what she was saying. Their immediate reaction was a rejection of the idea, followed by self-righteous condemnation, threats of hellfire and scorn. Still, as they saw their desperate daughter in anguish, all was forgotten, replaced by love and genuine concern. They never saw Moni in so much pain; all they want to do was protect their little baby.

Moni planned to spend a week with her parents, but after Sally’s phone ran out of battery, Moni freaked out completely, returning on the third day. She spent the whole flight tapping her foot, palms sweaty despite taking her mom’s prescription Xanax to calm down. She practically ran out of the airport, wrestling a cab from some guy in a suit and told the driver to step on it.

She burst into her home, running everywhere to check if maybe Sally was sick. Everything was exactly as she left it. Both girls were very pedantic, borderline compulsive. Coming to the living room, she saw Sally’s phone on a coffee table with her jewellery but not her engagement ring. Moni took a few deep breaths, forcing the calmness just like she learned in her yoga class. She methodically went from room to room, paying attention to the tiniest details, looking for any clues. Quickly she saw Sally’s tracksuit missing, the trainers were gone too, so she must have changed at some point after coming home. She looked in the hamper, finding the clothes Sally wore the last time she saw her, including her underwear. “Why would you change underwear before going out for a run?” Missing her scent, she pulled her clothes and sniffed them, feeling somehow closer to her loved one

“wait! What was that?” Moni sniffed Sally’s clothes again, this time carefully; they smelled like piss. “Why would you pee yourself?” Dried piss could be smelled all the way down the legs of her jeans. She even took a taste to make sure of it. “Who pees themselves and by this much, and more importantly, why?” She dug in the hamper finding a purple towel smelling of piss. It was used to wipe it off something. She carefully looked at everything then went inch by inch over the floor until she found uneven smudges of hastily cleaning some liquid. Moni smelled the floor, detecting the faint scent of urine and looking up, noticed a few scratches on the wall right next to it. One had a red tint, just like the nail polish Sally wore.

It all came to Moni at once. Someone was here when Sally got back. Someone attacked her, held her against the wall, she peed herself in fear, then she was taken, all evidence removed. In sheer panic, Moni ran to the living room and called the police.

Dressed in a black leather motorcycle suit, I carried a massive black duffel bag down the street wearing a full-face tinted helmet. I walked up to a black Toyota Camry that I stole earlier that day from a nearby family that I watched through my telescope for some time. It was the most popular brand and colour of a car in California. The owners went on holiday a couple of days back. Nobody will notice the missing car till they came back. I opened the trunk, placed the duffel bag inside, unzipping it a little to facilitate airflow. Two pale-blue frightened eyes watched me slam the trunk door, locking her in.

I sat in the car and drove for a couple of miles before removing my helmet. It took a while to get out of the town, fighting the LA traffic but soon, it all quieted. I pulled on the far end of the freeway rest stop, parking on the most distant truck stop, next to my Hummer and the massive custom metal trailer. I opened the trunk and transferred the duffel bag, putting it on the back seat next to the pillow I placed there, unzipping it and covering Sally with a blanket. I sat in the driver’s seat and slowly took off. I headed straight for Las Vegas, intending to reach Utah before sunrise. I could drive to Idaho during the day without worrying too much about the police disturbing me.

Despite fiction and heroic movies, the reality was that most kidnappings are never solved, and those that were, are usually overwhelming in clues often related to freak accidents like being searched by a cop when transporting the victim. Once the victim reaches the final destination, it is usually too late. I was methodical and careful. I knew I couldn’t prevent a random stroller or a nosy neighbour from seeing a strange guy carrying a big bag. Once the alarm is raised, it all becomes the race for time. I figured I’ve got at least two days of a head start. Barring the situation outside my control, it was already too late for Sally.

It took her a couple of hours to get out of the bag. At first, she lay there petrified, her panic increasing. In her imagination, all the terrible thing that will happen to her multiplied and grew. She cried herself into a hazed state. All the fight left her; only desperation stayed. She felt the car's steady movement, the constant hum of engines, and decreasing traffic volume, knowing with each mile she is just that further from any help. She felt she should scream and fight, do something. Instead, her body stayed frozen, her mind accepting her faith.

The dawn found us in Utah. We had another twenty minutes to go before I turned onto a dirt road towards an abandoned farm I found on google maps. I pulled in, drove for a while, then stopped in the middle of the arid, dusty field. The hilly terrain hid us from the road. There was nobody around for as far as the eye can see. The girl sat on the back seat, frozen in fear, unable to move. Reaching inside, I grabbed a fistful of her thick dirty-blonde hair, yanking her out of the car, onto the dirt. She cried and trembled, not knowing what’s going to happen next.

I turned to her, slowly unzipped my pants, pulling out my cock. She tried to pull back, squealing in desperation and terror. I just turned my back to her and pissed into the dust. Shaking off, zipping up, I turned to Sally and looked at her. She still lay curled up in the dirt, so I pulled her up by her hair, my other hand pulling down her pants, then I forced her in a squat position. I didn’t have to explain; she immediately let it go and peed. When she was done, I forced her back up, leaning her against the car, pulling up her pants. I stuffed two Xanax pills into her mouth, gave her a cup of water and made her drink, then forced my fingers into her mouth, checking if she swallowed it tall.

The girl had no idea what I gave her. Whatever it was, she had no control over it anyway. One of the pills would be enough to keep her calm. Two was a slight overdose. I figured it would keep a featherweight like her nice and docile for the rest of the day when more cars are on the road and more chances of unplanned encounters. Back on the road, the girl curled herself into a corner, wrapped in a blanket, shivering from sheer emotional stress. Too much adrenaline pumped through her body, her flight response curbed by immense fear. I set my back mirror to watch her; she slowly calmed down and drifted off to sleep. I took a swig of strong coffee from the thermos, focusing on the long road ahead. I used our pitstop to refuel the Hummer. I packed the back with metal canisters full of gasoline, having no intention of stopping at the gas station as it was a significant risk.

The first out of four planned refuel stops went without problems. In my estimation, we should reach home late that night. I relaxed comfortably in my seat, set the cruise control to speed limit and drove. The girl was out of it. The drugs combined with mental exhaustion knocked her out, just as I hoped it would. I wasn’t planning on getting her any more liquid till sundown. I didn’t want to add the risk of pee-stops to my journey. I kept an empty plastic bottle on the seat next to me if I had to go.

Hummer ate miles, working perfectly. I made sure to service it just before my trip. The trailer behind me was massive. It looked like I was pulling a greyhound bus, an easy job for Hummer’s ten-litre engine. It was essential to pack everything I needed in one go. I loaded the trailer to the max with all the tools and building materials I would need. The whole house was neatly flat-packed inside. It made me think about how my entire life fit in one car and a trailer.

I chewed on a sandwich, washing it down with coffee. This was to be the last food before I reached my destination. The sun was high in the sky; the girl slept snuggled at the back, occasionally kicking with her limbs. Whatever she dreamed about wasn’t good. Given her current predicament, I couldn’t blame her. I was happy she was asleep; it made my life easier. I didn’t bring any food for her and didn’t intend to feed her until we arrived. Hungry people are easier to control. They focus on the hopelessness of their situation rather than opportunities to change it. This is something I learned in the middle east, watching hungry kids running around with guns and bombs; cannon fodder for the ones sending them.

Back in Afghanistan, I saw the way the Taliban handled their women. Take care of them, give them freedom but keep them on a short leash, so they don’t forget their role in life. We had it good in America, too many liberties and people talking about shit they knew nothing about. It sure is proper for men and women to have equal rights; it would be a fool who disagreed. Women have earned that right many times over, but what those retarded aggressive loudmouth cunts have done with it was an insult to everything women like my female fellow soldiers bled to achieve. That sleeping sexy feminist lesbian blonde in the back of the car was up for a rude awakening and a valuable life lesson, the Taliban way.

I used to have a friend stationed with me in Iraq. Tony was the toughest girl around; she could drink, fight and fuck better than any man I knew. She had my back, and I had hers. Tony used to rant about the feminists all the time. She called them privileged cunts who never had to do anything real in their lives, just bitch about the things they don’t like. I used to laugh at her and tease her about it. She always claimed that she was the real feminist, doing the hard thing like any man, showing the girls how it was done. Tony never minced her words, and I loved her for it. We’d get together in secret every chance we got and fuck like there was no tomorrow. I wanted to marry her when we got out of the sandpit, and she said yes. It turns out there wasn’t tomorrow after all. The brass found out and split us up. Two weeks later, I found her raped and tortured, impaled on a street sign in some fucked up ruin of a town.

I wasn’t on the roof anymore to have her back. The fucking cunts got her. Fucking spotter was too busy jacking off with his phone or something instead of looking out for my love. I smashed his face when I saw him earning me a week in the hole. They chucked him out on dishonourable discharge, releasing me free as a bird. Someone gotta kill all those terrorists, after all. When I got out, I found the asshole in Baltimore arranged a little accident for him before I got home. It didn’t make me feel better, but that one wasn’t for me. It was for Tony. She’d herself if she was alive.

Both Starla and Sally reminded me of Tony. They had the same body type. I asked her once, “why does such a beautiful girl end up here” she looked at me seriously and said, “because someone has to show the others that we can”. She always was straight to point, no bullshit, no chitchat, no fluff. I imagined our kids with strong minds and bodies; nothing less could come out of her.

I heard a siren in the distance. I quickly sat up, checked my speed, removed my two guns' safety, and then watched them in the mirror and as they passed by. Still not out of the woods, I looked at the maps for county borders. There might be a roadblock ahead. On high alert, I dove over the line, nobody there, nothing in sight. One after another, I stretched my muscles, drank some cold coffee and drove ahead.

“Dean”, said detective Baylor, extending his hand. Moni shook it, noticing the firm handshake and sat down. “I know you’ve already said it several times, but please take me through the events step by step, and please include anything else you feel might be relevant”. Something told Moni Dean could be trusted. He was a tall man in his early forties with curious blue eyes that wouldn’t stay still. His demeanour was confident and calm, his voice soothing. There was a deep dark shadow on his face and an unusual timbre in the tone of his voice, making him come across as mysterious. Intuitively Moni sensed that there was some sort of horrible tragedy in his life, something she could connect to on a primal level. Through sobs and tears, Moni told him everything. She repeated herself many times. The detective listened attentively, never asking questions, never interrupting, never hurrying her along. He let her tell her story at her own pace, watching carefully her body language, breathing, reactions, studying her in detail like his psychiatrist friend Cyrus taught him.

Dean let Moni cry after she finished, using that time to write down some notes. Then he sat and thought, replayed everything back in his head. Unlike other policemen, he asked Moni to show him Sally’s clothes. They were packed in evidence bags. He went to the kitchen, found a pot of Nescafe, and took a few deep whiffs, then pushed his nose into the bag and took a deep breath. Immediately he detected a faint odour of urine. He sealed the bag and stood in the centre of the living room, looking around, absorbing every detail. Closing his eyes, he imagined multiple possibilities. With his eyes clothes, he walked towards the bathroom and stopped. “Is this where you saw the markings?” He asked Moni, and she confirmed.

He took out his cellphone, turned on the camera, increasing magnification. For the next half an hour, he painstakingly examined every inch of the wall, every irregularity, every scratch. Standing in front of the wall, he lifted his arm, pointing it up and down, measuring the angle, then wrote something into his notebook. Finally, he sat down again with Moni. “I believe your intuition is right. There are some indications that she was taken against her will, but there is no strong evidence. There are many plausible explanations more believable than kidnapping”. Moni started to cry, nodding in understanding. “I will look for the evidence to support your story, but so far, there has been no communication, nobody saw her and no ransom demands. It has been three days since you last saw her. Based on what you told me about her, the only probability fitting that version of the events would be that she has been taken by a psychopath”. Mony covered her mouth and wept. Her whole world was crashing down. “In case this is true, the chance of her being found or saved is next to zero. You need to prepare yourself for the worst news. As long as there is no news, it is good news, and we’ll keep digging. We’ll keep looking, I promise you that. I will not stop”. Moni looked into Dean’s eyes. There was something else there, a cold steel determination and perhaps pain.

Dean did the last sweep around the house, looking through the windows, then got out of the house and walked up and down the street, memorizing everything. He noticed broken street lamps several streets away. This did look suspicious. Assuming that, indeed, it was a kidnapping, the precision and brazen audacity of the act would suggest someone who knew Sally well and knew her movements. The problem was, she was quite a vocal public figure. There was no shortage of lunatics to pick her out. The problem was, judging by the way it was done, there wasn’t any evidence, and there likely never will be; this crime was just too clean. It was three days since Sally disappeared; deep down inside, he knew she was gone.

I stopped in a deserted truck stop, hidden from the view of the road. The sun was still high up in the sky. I jumped out of the car, stretched for a few minutes and refuelled. I looked closely through the tinted window and couldn’t see the girl, which was good. She was still sleeping; the Xanax I gave her knocked her out good. Not wishing to waste time, I started the car and got back on the road. I was more than two-thirds of the way there, still in Wyoming. Only a few more hours before I crossed into Montana.

A car pulled up in front of Sally’s home, three girls ran up, hugging the distraught Moni, all of them in tears. Moni called her friends immediately after calling the police, asking them if they saw Sally, telling them what happened. The girls wanted to help, burning up ether, asking for help on social media, calling their friends. Within just a few hours, a large group of women, many of whom knew Sally and Moni in person, were incensed. One of their own has been taken; it was unacceptable.

Late in the day, one of Moni’s friends went to the airport and brought back Sally’s parents, who couldn’t just stay home and wait to see what happened. They had to be there and help somehow, so they booked the first flight out of New York; their only baby was taken. Moni ran into their arms as they entered the apartment. She felt somehow connected to Sally’s parents, the only people who loved her as much ash she did, and she cried.

By the following day, the whole feminist lobby was up in arms. They called people, bombarded social media. They were very pissed off. Around eight in the morning, the first news van showed up in front of Moni’s house, others following shortly. Sally’s dad Mike was a spokesperson with his wife and future daughter in law clinging to his arms teary-eyed. He made a brief statement, then answered questions. Unknown to him, another bunch of news vans surrounded a police station wanted an explanation. What was done to find Sally? Is there a serial killer in town? Should people be worried, lock up their daughters? They asked all sorts of questions, intelligent and otherwise, the commissioner patiently answering what he could.

The news about Sally’s kidnapping exploded all over the evening news. Citizens were asked to come forward if they saw something. The narrative quickly turned to Sally’s work. People speculated that it was one of those crazy men organizations who disliked the feminist movement, promoting hate speech, women abuse, and championing toxic masculinity behind the kidnapping.

Over the week, the narrative took a complete left turn. It wasn’t about poor Sally anymore but about the dangers of men. The feminists capitalizing on free exposure to get their message across. They quickly organized a protest calling it “a march for Sally”. Thousands of girls took to the streets with “stop the rape” placards. Prominent feminist figures, Sally’s peers used her misfortune to gain a leg up in the community. They were competing with each other for the leadership position. It helped with book sales and talking tours.

Moni’s mom took a leave of absence from her work and flew to Los Angeles, where she met Sally’s parents. Two very different families united in grief over the daughters who loved each other. Mike had to go back to New York, and the two mothers stayed with Moni, who was barely able to function. She ate little, slept less. Moni would wake up with tears in her eyes and fell asleep crying. Every waking moment she would spend calling around, offering her help, anything to find Sally. She clearly couldn’t function alone, so the mothers took care of her, forcing her to eat and sleep.

Sally stirred on the back seat, stretching, feeling the warm blanket. For the moment, she forgot where she was before it hit her. Her eyes flew open, looking around. She was in the car with that man who kidnapped her. It was getting dark outside, which meant she spent the whole day sleeping, immediately realizing what those two pills were. There was more chance someone would see her during the day, so the man drugged her, and now they were god-knows-where. Curling up to a fetal seating position, Sally sat in the corner looking through the window. The terrain looked different from what she was used to. The man clearly drove for the night and the day. Looking at the car’s dashboard over the man’s shoulder, she did quick maths, realizing they were far, very far from home by now.

Still, under the influence of Xanax, she felt less panicky than before and started to think. The man was strong, capable, well organized and methodical. Everything he did had some purpose. He didn't talk with her, didn’t try to scare her or threaten her anymore, feeling no need to reinforce his absolute control and dominance. This frightened her more than any violence could; crazy violent people tend to make mistakes; this man didn’t. Typical violent men are huge egotists; it was all about them. They can’t stop talking about themselves. “What was it that the man said? No more talking.” Sally remembered clearly the last words the man spoke to her. He clearly was a man of action. He used his words with a purpose, not just to avoid awkward silence.

Sally played back her capture over and over again, everything she noticed, every sound and smell. She didn’t put up any resistance, just followed his lead. He didn’t even really threaten her that much or force her into submission. He gave her a choice; her life or Moni’s, and she believed him. “My dearest Moni, she’ll never see me again”, Sally thought to herself, feeling tears bubbling in her eyes. She pinched herself and took a few slow deep breaths to control her emotions “losing it won’t help me now”.

The man drove his car in silence as Sally looked through the window at the darkness, settling over the land. It’s been a while since she saw another vehicle. She had no clue where she was, just that it was far and, judging by the types of the trees, somewhere north. Sally remembered asking the man what he wanted and his response. It was a silly question. She knew what he wanted from the moment he grabbed her, and duress or not, she made a conscious choice. In the moment of great stress, she chose to sacrifice herself instead of a loved one. “Of course, the man said he would kill me if I chose Moni but, honest to god, I wanted to save her”. Sally kept thinking, grasping at anything but reality, feeling good for sacrificing herself instead of someone she loved. At that very moment, she knew how much she loved Moni.

A steady hum of the engine continued into the night, terrain turning into a deep forest. Sally watched it change, feeling empty inside. She knew her final destination would be somewhere behind those woods. There she’ll spend the rest of her short life until the man got bored of her, becoming her kidnaper, rapist and murderer, burying her in some unmarked grave. A solitary tear ran down her cheek. Inside her heart, she sent all her love to Moni, her mother and father, saying a silent prayer, a final goodbye.

Dean expected a building manager to meet him in the lobby. Instead, the assistant superintendent showed up explaining how the building manager recently quit due to a family emergency and moved out of state. Writing down his details, he asked to be shown the roof. Taking a good look, Dean thanked the assistant, asking to be left alone, after which he carefully walked to the edge. In the distance, he could clearly see Sally’s building. He took out his phone to examine the floor using the exact meticulous nature he used before. There wasn’t a single scratch, cigarette bud or drop that would suggest someone was here. Taking a broader view, he saw that the dust and dirt have been disturbed in one spot. Kneeling there, he examined the area for a long time when he found one small brown spot. Someone cleaned this area to place something requiring a firm grip of the ground, like a tripod, then sat and waited, drinking coffee.

Dean took out a small evidence bag and dug out the brown spot using a pocket knife. He would take it to the police lab to confirm it was coffee, but it was all a far fetched theory. Sally was an adult. She could have escaped a suffocating relationship or went for a holiday, or millions of other things could have happened before it became a kidnapping. All the media pressure trickled down through the police command structure. His bosses pressuring him to close the case, “close it to what?” he asked them. There were no leads, no evidence. He could just drop it on a pile of other unsolved missing cases and set fire to them as that's what good it was for.

Los Angeles was a busy town, busy for the police, busy for the criminals; it was a volume business. For some reason, and he knew why he cared about this so much. His own daughter was taken this way. He found her in the end, regretting that he did. This is why he transferred to LA. He couldn’t stay in Detroit anymore.

Moni noticed Dean leaning on his parked car the next day. She waved to him to get in; he waved back as if to say “later”. He’s been walking up and down for an hour, trying to figure out how it all went. Yesterday he gave the piece of the roof to the lab, asking them to confirm whether it was coffee before sitting at his desk. The report said none of the critical cameras on the street were working; all were damaged. Dean sent the team to knock on doors asking people if they would allow them to take their broken cameras into the police lab to figure out what happened. Meanwhile, he just stood there trying to fit all he knew about the kidnapping into a single narrative.

Assuming all that Dean knew was correct, it all pointed at someone tall, strong and highly skilled at gaining access to places unnoticed. Someone who can pick locks and threaten people to give him long term access to the rooftop of a large commercial building. So much made sense, but there were big holes in the story. “How did he know Monique was leaving the city? How did he know to time it?” Dean mumbled. The obvious answer was that he hacked into the girl’s computer or phones. He had techies check everything. Nothing was hacked; the alternative was that he had spying equipment. Dean had that examined as well, and nothing was found; plus, it raised a question of how would he bring it in and when. “Why not incapacitate one girl? Why wait?” He agonized, sure he was missing something important, determined to find out what.

“Here you go, inspector”, said Moni’s mom as she poured him a fresh cup of coffee. “Unfortunately, we have no news. The team is working hard, but so far, we’ve come up empty-handed”. Moni just sat on the sofa, staring at the wall, listening to Dean’s report. She felt empty inside, too much bad news, too many failures lately; she clung to hope desperately.

The car started to slow down; noticing the change in engine sound and speed, Sally sat up on the back seat, watching through the windows. The road snaked through the thick forest, with only the car's high beams and moonlight illuminating the way. All the effects of calming drugs evaporated a while ago. At one moment, the car came to a stop and slowly swerved into the opposite lane, then in a wide arch, slowly, turned into a narrow opening between the trees. Sally had a good look. This wasn’t a dirt road or a path, just some grass and bushes between the trees; the man took the car into the forest.

Sally held on hard as the car started to bounce and sway, stop and start again, the engine struggling with a load of the heavy trailer moving off the road into raw land. The engine growled and tugged until a loud clanking sound was heard, and both car and its trailer disappeared inside the forest. The man skilfully navigated zigzagging clearing, sometimes driving over fallen branches, carefully avoiding uneven parts.

Sally watched everything mesmerized, like in some bizarre film. After some twenty minutes of that, her panic started to rise. She realized the man wasn’t just stopping for a pee-break. They started the final portion of their journey, which meant whatever was going to happen, it was going to be soon.

Some forty minutes after entering the forest, the truck pushed through to the other side. Sally was greeted by a broad vista, an endless prairie, a vast nothingness with just tall grass. The man drove for ten more minutes, looking at the compass attached to the dashboard. It was clear to Sally, there were no maps to where he was taking her. She felt tears well in her eyes again. She was just so scared of everything.

At one moment, the car just stopped in the middle of the field. The man left the lights on, slowly getting out of the car and stretched before reaching into the back seat, grabbing the girl by her hair and pulling her out. She stood wordless next to the man while he closed the car door. Turning to Sally, he unzipped her tracksuit jacket, pulling it off. In one swift motion, he removed her bottoms, and running shoes, leaving her standing there barefoot and completely naked in the tall grass. “He will rape me now”, thought Sally starting to sob uncontrollably. She was scared out of her mind, but the man just turned his back to her, threw her clothes into a bag at the back of the car, pulling out a canister to refuel, not paying any attention to the girl.

The first thought that popped into Sally’s mind was to run as fast as she could, immediately realizing why the man took off her clothes and shoes. She couldn’t run anywhere. Her soft, gentle feet weren’t used to walking barefoot on any terrain, even standing on the ground felt uncomfortable. Tentatively she made a few steps deeper into the grass, then squatted and peed. “I could hide like this. He can’t see me”, she thought, unable to force herself to stand up again. Freedom was so close. All she had to do is sneak away and hide, the man wouldn’t be able to find her, then somehow she will escape.

The man packed up the canisters, pulled out his cock and peed into the grass, then opened the back door of the car and like by some magic, Sally felt compelled to get up and meekly walk back inside. She felt her heart beating so fast that her breathing was erratic, everything told her to run, escape, and put up some resistance, but none of that happened. She sat in her spot; the blanket was gone, there was nothing to protect her modesty anymore. It was just her bare skin against the leather seats. If one could call it that, the only piece of clothing left on her was the fine metal mesh collar around her neck, looking more like a fashionable choker than something a dog would wear. It felt like those delicate metal mesh watch straps on expensive wristwatches. On the front of it was a small yet distinct nub with a small ring. Sally’s hands scrutinized it. There was some sort of a mechanism to remove the collar, not a simple catch or a padlock but something that couldn’t easily be removed by hands.

The man drove slowly, always forward, always in a straight line, further and deeper into the nothingness, no trees, no hills, no lights, just endless grass. The car growled, the engine fighting uneven terrain, but the solid military vehicle just kept pulling, never complaining or getting stuck. Despite her fear, a part of her was curious where the man was taking her. In some sort of bizarre emotional twist, getting back into the car of her own will broke something inside her. The man was scary, she was petrified of him, but he hasn’t hurt her so far. Everything he did was measured. She remembered how he effortlessly lifted her by her neck, then carried her like she was some sort of a plastic doll. The man was so strong, so powerful, he could have easily have raped her at any point, and there would be nothing she could do to stop him. The man was built like a beast. He looked like one of those prized Belgian bulls, but he wasn’t too muscular, just right, just perfect.

Sally shook her head, realizing what she was thinking about. The man was evil. He is her kidnapper, her rapist. She was a victim, and she had to be wise, play her role, the role he put her in and buy her time. Sooner or later, the man will make a mistake. Sooner or later, there will be an opportunity for her to escape and then take it. Until then, she had to stick to her bargain, do what she promised, no matter how distasteful it was to her. She had to obey the man, fuck the man, do everything and more, go above and beyond to convince him that she will stick to what she promised, then take her chance and run.

As the car drove through the wilderness in darkness, Sally steeled herself for what’s to come. If the man just forced himself on her, she would be broken and violated. Still, as it took so long, she had enough time to process it, get ready, get her mind, heart, and body to a place where she could handle it. There was no doubt in her mind that the man will rape her. Regardless of her feeling about it, it was inevitable, unavoidable, something that will happen. Her survival, however, depended on her being level-headed and in control. She couldn’t let herself fall apart, lose her self control. She had to be strong and wait for the right moment and only then act. Broken people can’t act; they just react. She was a powerful, independent woman. She was strong and knew she could do it; she was a fighter, she was going to survive.

Sally’s inner monologue pep talk made her feel better, stronger, determined until the car started to slow down then finally stopped. As the headlamps illuminated the space ahead of them, Sally saw an old, dilapidated wooden house falling apart. It was apparent to Sally that it was their destination. She felt her tears starting to flow, her panic rose. None of what she told herself will come to pass. Nobody can live in that house. Clearly, the man was some sort of a psycho. He was going to rape her and kill her there, or do god knows what with her. She felt her soul suddenly die, in sheer panic and despair. The shivers and shakes have returned, and she curled up into a fetal position and cried.

Loud metal banging sound came from the outside, then car doors opened, and the man reached for Sally, pulling her out of the car, letting her drop into the soft grass. Before she realized what was happening, the man attached a long metal chain to her neck. “Oh, Jesus, Oh, god! Please! Oh my god! No, please no” went through Sally’s mind. She was in a sheer state of panic, hyperventilating, her heartbeat going a mile a second, tears in free flow, sobs uncontrollably coming out. She couldn’t think about anything. There was just fear.

The man disappeared somewhere for a while. At first, Sally felt relieved, but as time passed, she started to get even more scared, left alone chained in the middle of the field. She was about to scream when she saw the man return and put something on the ground in front of her, then disappear again.

Touching the object, she realized it was a thermos flask. She opened it and smelled the content. It was just water. Hesitant to drink it, afraid it was drugged, she licked it, then took a small sip followed by a bigger one. She almost choked seeing the man return with a scythe. An image of Grimm the reaper flashed in her mind. The second flash was an image of the man disembowelling her and raping her dead body. Before her imagination could get better of her, she saw the man was cutting the grass in a wide circular pattern. “Is he going to rape me there?” She wandered in fear, watching him clear a wide patch then collect rocks, placing them in some sort of a formation in the centre of the clearing. “This must be some sort of satanic ritual. He is going to sacrifice me”. All sorts of thoughts went through Sally’s mind in her confused, frightened state. She didn’t know what to think, what to expect. Her nerves were shot. Her mind played tricks on her. Everything she saw in her mind interpreted through a prism of a traumatic experience.

She saw the man light a fire, immediately realizing how stupid she was to think about rituals; she almost laughed at herself. Still, her mind played some more tricks, convincing her that the man was going to burn her. The high levels of psychological stress and a constant state of panic, coupled with fear, made Sally irrational. It wasn’t until she saw the man start grilling meat that she realized what was happening “he is hungry”. Sally watched with fascination the squatting man prepare two steaks, smelling the grilled meat, her own mouth watered. She didn’t eat since before the kidnapping. She was starving; she would eat just about anything.

Impatiently she watched the man prepare food. When it was done, he let the meat cool, still skewered by the sticks he used for grilling, then took a smaller steak and threw it on the ground in front of Sally, sitting down, chewing his own. It was at this moment that she realized what was going on. The man didn’t speak to her, mostly ignored her. He kept her on a chain, feeding her like a dog. She was a dog or at least a farm animal. The man certainly treated her as one. In all her imagination, she could never envisage this. She wasn’t a human, or instead, she was a human animal. All this time, she through how she was this poor, abused girl, raped by a violent man. Instead, she wasn’t even that. She was less than that. She was a little more like a pet. In fact, she was less than a pet “I am livestock”. Sally felt her tears bubble up again. She just sat there frozen in silence, tears quietly running down her face. She felt another piece of her soul breaking off. There wasn’t much of it left.

After eating his stake, the man threw some thicker wood on the fire and just laid down on the ground covering his face with a cowboy hat and slept. With nobody watching her debase herself, she reached for the meat and ate, feeling like she was accepting what the man was turning her into, hating herself for it. “Domesticated like a dog, all it took was some food”, she whispered in disgust. As she finished her food, a thought popped into her mind, how she was a vegetarian, she shouldn’t be eating meat. It was so random, so bizarre, she almost laughed. This brought back sweet memories of Moni and how she missed her. Curling up in a fetal position, laying in a soft yellowing grass, Sally thought of Moni, listening to the wind and cried herself to sleep.

Gentle sea-breeze touched the naked bodies of young women gathered on the beach. Moni stood in the middle of a semicircle, facing the morning waves gently caressing the shore. It was getting bright in the east. The sun was just about to come out. One of the women spoke. “We give thanks to the Origin and welcome the gift of light”. The rest of the women chanted as one, “blessed is the gift of light; blessed is the Origin”, then together they hummed in a soothing tone. Carried by the pure beauty of the moment, Moni watched the sunrise, filling her with light. She felt its warmth on her skin and closed the eyes adding to the hum. Moni felt her worry and pain just drain away, and there was just this very moment, the presence, in the now, complete and utter peace. She took a deep breath, smelling the salty air, and just let go. Tears rolled down her face. For the first time since Sally’s disappearance, she felt fine. She felt alive.

As the ceremony ended, the girls gathered their clothes, going about their business, when an older girl approached Moni, asking, “how do you feel?”. Moni smiled, taking another deep breath, “thank you for inviting me. I feel better, I feel alive”. The older girl responded, “blessed is the gift of life”, two other girls adding, “blessed is the Origin”. The older girl extended her palm “come, let’s swim”. Taking her hand, she followed her, few more girls joining them. Moni swam, enjoying the cold water, refreshing her body and clearing her mind. Somehow she felt better, she was still worried sick about Sally, but the welcoming ceremony untangled her emotions, unblocked her mind. Before, she had nothing, but now she had faith. She joined the girls when they invited her out of desperation. She would do anything but expected a little. In turn, she felt blessed, like a huge weight coming off her shoulders, a burden she couldn’t carry alone. The ceremony allowed her to open for one second and decompress. It was all it took for her to find her light again “blessed is the gift of light, blessed is the Origin”, she mumbled.

The girls swam for ten minutes, then pulled Moni out and sat on the sand in a circle. The older girl pulled out a book and opened it on her lap. At that moment, a cute blonde jogger Moni’s age came upon them. Surprised at seeing a group of beautiful naked women sitting on the sand, curious as to why she asked, “whatcha doing?”. One of the girls turned to her, “come, sit down with us, we'll tell you about the Origin”, the girl hesitated then shrugged, about to sit when another girl said, “no clothes please”. The jogger stopped, looked around her, thinking, “this is too weird, I better leave”, when the third girl smiled at her, “come on, don’t be shy, you’re very pretty, sit with us”. The jogger looked at them, they all seemed nice, and it did sound like an adventure. She said “ok”, quickly undressed and sat on the sand, joining the small circle. “I’m Emma”, she said; the girls introduced themselves, then the one with the book started to read, “In the beginning, there was void, neither darkness nor light, wind or rain, human or god”.

“Cold, it is so cold, I am freezing”; Sally’s teeth chattered. She woke up many times at night feeling cold, sleeping on the grass. She moved closer to the fire, but that didn’t help much. She felt the cold in her bones. Looking at the man sleep, she wondered how did he do it. He was dressed in light clothes, which couldn’t keep him that warm. He didn’t move at all since he lay down. In her mind, Sally imagined that the man died; she observed him, noticing his chest rising in a slow, steady rhythm. Now that he slept, he didn’t seem so scary anymore. Sleeping by the fire with a cowboy hat on his face, he looked like one of those men from old western films, a gunslinger type on some sort of a mission, not like a bandit hiding from the law, more like the hero.

Sally studied the man in the light of fire for a long time. For the first time, she had a chance to look at a grown man in the prime of his power, a strong man, not a boy or a weaker person like a banker or engineer. She knew from her experience the man was immensely powerful, but despite all that he’s done to her, somehow, he didn’t come across as genuinely violent. His eyes were like death, hard to look at; so scary and cold, Sally shivered just remembering them. His actions were measured, purposeful. She remembered the man’s hand grabbing a fistful of her hair just behind her head, pulling her out of the car. She remembered the goosebumps instantly spreading over her body. What she felt when he did that wasn’t pain. It was arousal suppressed by fear and the sense of panic.

Alone like that in darkness, she had to admit to herself that if she wasn’t lesbian, if she met this man in a bar or somewhere, and he didn’t have those scary eyes. If he bought her a drink, she would have let him take her home. She would have enjoyed him pulling her hair, getting on top of her with his powerful body. Absentmindedly she played with her chain. How many times did she play this fantasy with Moni? To be kidnapped, tied up in a cave and used violently by men who didn’t care about her feelings, just their own needs. She remembered how Moni put on a strap-on dildo and fucked her hard doggy style, pulling on her leash while her arms were tied to the headboard. She came so hard then, loving every moment of it. If she met that man in a bar and he was her man, she would let her do all this and more, loving every moment of it. She would let him kidnap her, take her to a field, keep her on a chain and fuck her any way he liked. She would, in fact, love it; it would be a fulfilment of her deepest fantasy, but the reality was very different. This man was a stranger who kidnapped her, took her away from her love. He was strong, masculine and manly; tall, dark and handsome, brooding type, but he was a stranger, some psycho, a dangerous man, a rapist.

Sally dozed off thinking about the man and her predicament, reminiscing the time spent with Moni, imagining her warm body, heating her up. Many times at night, she would awake in a shiver and think herself back to sleep, always thinking of her love, wrapped up around her, heating her, keeping her warm, loving and protecting her. Sally woke again just before dawn, seeing faint light on the horizon. She got up and walked towards the morning as far as her long chain would allow her, some thirty feet. Imagining in her head how Moni would be doing the same, she said, “I give thanks to the Origin and welcome the gift of light. Blessed is the gift of light, blessed is the Origin”. As she said it, the sun emerged behind the distant mountain. Sally felt the warm sunshine penetrate her body, cleanse her soul like a million sparkles emerging from her body and flying out into the heavens, becoming little stars. She closed her eyes, letting go of yesterday and tomorrow; only “now” remained. In wave after wave of energy, she let go of everything, of all her fear, pain and sadness. Tears rolled down Sally’s cheeks. She felt it all go away, all the darkness inside her replaced by the light, filling her up with love and hope, freeing her from all attachments. Naked in the field, chained to the ground for the first time in her life, she felt free.

Dean massaged his head, looking at the whiteboard. All that he knew about the case was there, all the evidence mapped and interlinked. Hours of effort scrubbing through the videos feeds from cameras several blocks away yielded a stroke of luck that turned again into a dead end. Given the estimated timeframe of the kidnapping, the team listed all the cars passing by. They checked thousands of license plate numbers against the database. One of them was reported stolen. They blew up the photos and saw the man driving, except that he was wearing a motorcycle helmet. Dean immediately knew he was the guy. Within days the car was found abandoned at a truck stop, dusting for prints, resulting in nothing; the man wore a full motorcycle suit and gloves. The team looked at more video evidence for weeks prior, having a hit on a matt-black sports motorcycle with a guy wearing full black gear but no license plate; it was another dead end.

Dean stared at the blown up, enhanced picture of a man on a motorcycle, knowing in his heart he was the man who took Sally. The forensics put him at six-foot-five, just like Dean estimated from the scratches on the wall. The man’s posture looked like someone agile and muscular; the way he rode was practised and confident. He wasn’t some weird creepy guy pissed off at the feminists, trying to take revenge on one of their leaders. This guy did everything on purpose; he was planed, precise and methodical. The man clearly had skill and patience; he must have watched Sally for months. Dean was convinced that it wasn’t Man’s first time in girls’ home when he came to take Sally. He was there before. He knew the exact layout and content of the house. The man set a trap and patiently waited, decisively striking at the right time. Just the fact he wore a helmet inside a car, as well as the choice and colour of the vehicle, spoke enough to Dean. The man knew exactly what he was doing. He was familiar with police capabilities, potentially the processes as well. The car that was left was placed on that road on purpose, sending the search in the wrong direction if it ever came that far. There were no traces past that point; the trail went cold; It was a dead end.

Pissed off with that, Dean smashed a cup against the wall, attracting coworkers' attention. “What is going on?” His boss snapped at him. Dean just closed the folder, dropped it into the unsolved drawer, kicking it shut with his foot and walked out. “Motherfucker, fucking motherfucker”, Dean fumed, walking out of the building towards his car, just to realize he forgot his keys at his desk. In impotent frustration, he punched the car window, breaking straight through it, taking a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the glove compartment and walked away into the park.

Dean wandered for several hours, his mind replaying his past. He barely noticed the people around him. In deep emotional turmoil, he marched on, “Are you ok? Tell me, how do you really feel?”. His mind replayed the first meeting he had with Cyrus. He was the genius psychiatrist that specialized in psychopaths and abnormal psychology, author of many books, professor at a local university and special consultant to the police and FBI. Cyrus came highly recommended. He saved his colleague’s life, and he was the only person who could fathom his pain and perhaps help him. “Of course I’m not fucking ok, I am broken, I am enraged, I am this close to pulling a gun and shooting someone or myself”.
“Hit me!” Said Cyrus, “come on, get it all out, hit me now”. Dean tried hard to control his anger, but Cyrus kept pushing, pressing his buttons “come on, little bitch, show me what you’ve got”. The world went dark, and Dean swung with all his might. In his head, he saw Cyrus fall, but something else happened. Cyrus blocked his punch with ease, slapping Dean hard “come on cunt, is that all you’ve got”. Dean went nuts. The two of them ended up in a full-blown brawl, destroying the furniture, breaking glassware. Dean gave it his best, pouring all his anger and strength into beating up Cyrus, but he just laughed, mocking him, taunting him. At one point, Cyrus’s secretary Sunny put her head in through the door, just to slam it shut the next second, narrowly avoiding the chair mid-air.

Finally, Cyrus punched Dean so hard in his stomach that he flew across the room, landing on a three-seater sofa, breathing heavily. All his frustration and anger drained away. Sunny came in again, and Cyrus calmly asked her for two cups of coffee and to call for cleanup for the demolished office.

In the course of his visits, Dean and Cyrus have got to know each other quite well. Cyrus managed to dig him out of the hole, taught him how to decompress, deal with his pain and curb his anger, move on with his life, and find his purpose again.

Dean stopped walking after hitting the beach. He didn’t plan it. It just happened that way. He felt so hot, still angry, so pissed off; without thinking, he quickly disrobed and, wearing just his boxer shorts jumped into cold water and went for a swim. He swam out far, wrestled with the waves, then struggled back. His head cleared, he calmed down, starting to think, finding his centre like Cyrus taught him.

Dean sat on a large piece of driftwood looking at the waves, breathing, deep in thought when a voice interrupted his mental journey “mister, are you ok?”. He looked to the, seeing a little girl with her mom a few yards away. “Yes, honey, thank you for asking”. A little blonde girl with the most penetrating blue eyes he saw giggled “what is this?” She asked, pointing at Dean’s many scars. He rarely went shirtless. His upper body was crisscrossed with scars and burn marks, several knife holes, there was a long rectangular scar where his skin was cut and peeled off; it frightened most people.

“These are old scars from an accident from a long time ago.”

“Does it hurt ?”

“It used to but not anymore” Dean smiled at the little girl, thinking how he never saw a more beautiful girl. She looked like a little angel, watching him with her curious emphatic eyes.

“Can I touch it?” She asked with genuine concern, “go ahead. It really doesn’t hurt”. The little girl’s soft fingers gently touched his scars. That was the first time Dean let anyone touch them. Her warm little hand felt soothing as if it was healing him with her concern and love.

Two gorgeous women walked up to the little girl. Before they start asking questions, Dean offered her hand to the little girl, “My name is Dean Taylor. I work as a detective for the Los Angeles police department”. The little girl’s eyes grew big and even sparklier than before, if that was possible. She took his hand, shaking it seriously and said, “my name is Eve, this is my mom Kitty” pointing at the beautiful slim brunette, “and this is my other mom Joy”, pointing at gorgeous long-haired natural blonde whose face and body belonged on the covers of fashion magazines. Eve came closer, covering her mouth and whispered, “shhh! She is a cat. It’s a secret.”

Dean offered his hand to two women. Kitty said, “nice to meet you”. Joy just meowed. The four of them sat on the log together, talking. The girl's voice was soothing. The subtle timbre of her voice vibrated as she spoke, resonating inside him, calming him, putting the runaway emotions into their place. “Thank you for talking with me”, Dean said as the women got up to leave “before I met you, I was distraught, my head swirling with thoughts; your words calmed me, brought me peace”. Kitty squatted in front of the man, took his hands into hers and their eyes met. She kissed his forehead and said, “blessed is the gift of peace. Blessed is the Origin”, then got up and walked away. Eve run-up to the man, embraced him tight, kissed his cheek and said, “blessed is the gift of life”, then ran after her mothers.

Dean felt his tears falling. It was all so simple. Simple enough for a child to see it. For the first time in a long time, Dean wept. He sat on that log till sunset, feeling the sea breeze, breathing the salty air, feeling reborn. As the sun faded, he muttered, “blessed is the gift of life”, then he got dressed, walked up to the street and hailed a cab. He’s got work to do. The manhunt wasn’t over. It will never be over. No matter how long it takes, he will find that cunt and make him pay.

Sally screamed, waking up, suddenly seeing the naked man standing above her. His massive erection hovering inches from her face. His cock larger than any she’s ever seen before, a cock of a man, not a boy she used to date. Even the married guy whom she fucked was much smaller than this colossal thing. All the dildos Sally and Moni bought were smaller than this monstrous, pulsating thing. “Omg! It’s happening! I am getting raped! Omg! Omg! Omg! Please no! Oh god, please don’t rape me, please!” Her mind exploded in panic. Sally's resolve to be strong shattering to million pieces. Again, she was just a little girl about to be raped by this huge man with a monstrous penis. “Oh, god! Please don’t let him do it to me”. The man pulled her up by her chain, replacing it with a leash and started to pull. Sally followed like an obedient puppy knowing this was it. He is taking her to the house to fuck her, take her against her will, defile her. After this, she will never be the same. She will be ruined.

Confused, Sally didn’t know what was happening. Instead of the house, the man tied her to a rock next to a well. Sally’s heart beating so hard she thought it would jump out of her throat. Se watched the naked man pull out a bucket of freezing water and empty it all over himself. A few ice-cold drops splashed on Sally. They stung how cold they were. Again the man pulled out more water then unceremoniously emptied the bucked all over Sally.

Thousands of little knives and needles simultaneously pricked Sally’s skin. Whatever Sally expected, it wasn’t this. She screamed in surprise and sudden pain, begging the man to stop; he just ignored her, reaching for a rough brush and started brushing Sally all over her body. If she thought the water was terrible, the rough brush on sensitive cold skin felt like he was peeling it off. Sally screamed and begged him to stop, wishing at this moment she was being raped instead. This was the most painful, excruciating experience she’s ever had.

Men dragged her back to the fire, re-chaining her, then gave her a mug of hot coffee. “Oh god! The heat! Sweet heat! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, such wonderful heat” never before has Sally been more thankful for the heat, she almost purred. She saw the man in a completely different light. Regardless of how evil and fucked up he was, at least he cared enough to give her heat. Sally quickly swallowed a few gulps of hot liquid, feeling warm inside out. “Oh my god, this is the best coffee I ever tried”, it was the most incredible feeling. Both of them stood close to the fire drying up in silence. While drinking her coffee, Sally secretly watched the man, studying him.

The man was tall and very muscular, like a boxer or martial artists. His strong chest was covered with sparse short black hair muscles crisscrossed with veins. There were a few scars on his back, some straight ones from cuts and a few irregular ones Sally couldn’t figure out from what. Hist big strong hands held onto a cup similar to Sally’s. The cup looked tiny in his hands, like a toy. Firm muscular butt ended in powerful legs, keeping the man rooted to the ground. When he turned to her, Sally almost gasped, seeing again his now flaccid cock. His powerful organ dangled between his legs in front of a large pair of balls. The man’s muscles danced as he moved, his abs looking like someone photoshopped them in a sports magazine. Despite her better judgment, Sally wondered how it would feel to get fucked by such a machine, to take his massive beast inside her and surrender to his thrusts.

The man got dressed, pulled out a bag of granola bars, took two and threw the rest at Sally. Immediately she sat down, ripping one open, stuffing her face with it; it tasted so good. She lifted her head to say “thank you”, but the man was already gone. He drove away, leaving her chained in the grass by the fire, with a pack of granola bars, coffee and water. A bunch of extra wood layered nearby so she could keep herself warm.

At first, Sally felt a great sense of relief when the man left her. She was free; she could run away. Sally tried to get herself unchained, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime. Besides, where would she go? She was in the middle of nowhere, it took car hours to get there, there was nowhere to go.

Sally spent hours sitting in the grass, completely alone, thinking about her life, about the man, how he washed her, fed her. She thought about his huge cock, his balls swaying. She remembered how it was erect, veins popping out, throbbing in her face. Sally tried to think about something else, anything, but it kept coming back. The more she tried not to think about it, the more it came back. At one point, Sally just gave up, letting her imagination loose. If she was going to rape her, she might as well get mentally prepared for it. Her vivid imagination ran free. She imagined the man on top of her, slamming his powerful cock into her, holding her by her neck, pushed against the ground, drilling her endlessly with powerful thrusts, mercilessly without any concern about her emotions.

Unconsciously Sally’s hand found its way to her pussy, surprisingly wet and sensitive. She absentmindedly rubbed her clit, imagining the most graphic sex scenes with the man. In her mind, the man chained her collar to the ground. She couldn’t move, couldn’t run away. He would come every hour and fuck her, harder each time, pumping her with his sperm, squeezing her tits painfully to remind her she was his, he owned her, she was his slave, his fuck toy, a farm animal to fuck and breed as he liked, to violently abuse as he saw fit.

A long scream spread through the prairie, Sally’s body squirming in a powerful orgasm. Her pussy twitched, contracting so hard as if to expunge some unseen intruder. It took Sally good twenty minutes for her mind to clear from post-orgasmic fog, her hand still rubbed her pussy, feeling the slippery wetness it spat out.

“I am such a disgusting pervert”, Sally said loudly and cried, covering her face with her hands. “How could I masturbate to that” she blamed herself for getting aroused by her rapist, for violating herself, for enjoying the idea of being brutally taken. She lay in the grass, blaming her body for betraying her, blaming her mind for starting it in the first place. She tried to force herself to hate the man. “I hate you, I’ll kill you”, she shouted, not believing the single word. It was true the man kidnapped her, but he didn’t rape her, it was all her, she did it, she wanted it. “I am such a horrible slut. I deserve to be taken and raped”, she spoke to the wind. It didn’t say anything back.

Slowly she calmed down, started to rationalize, blaming her situation, tiredness and cold, but no matter how hard, she couldn’t bring herself to hate the man. He hurt her with a brush and cold water in the morning, but she needed a wash, and there was no other option. He made her hot coffee, fed her, kept her warm. She kept interrupting her train of thoughts. For some stupid reason, her mind kept justifying man’s actions, finding excuses, defending him.

Nothing made sense anymore. Sally just knew she hated being alone with her thoughts. The time passed, it was getting dark. Sally started to worry then panic about being alone. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s hurt and can’t return”. She found herself missing the man, hoping nothing terrible happened to him, wishing him to come back. The darker it got, the more panicked Sally felt. “Please come back, I forgive you for kidnapping me. Please don’t leave me alone here. I promise I’ll be good and obedient. I’ll honour our bargain, I will be your woman, just please come back”, she kept mumbling, talking to the wind, worried about the man.

A great sense of relief washed over her when she saw car lights in the distance approaching slowly “oh god! Thank you”, she said, impatiently waiting for the man to return. Feeling ashamed of her thoughts and feelings, she forced herself to feel angry, but she knew it was all fake. She was so glad to see the man. She would kiss him if she dared.

“He caught a horse? He can catch horses?” Sally thought in surprise and awe. She never knew anyone who can catch a horse, especially not so big and beautiful one. The man led the horse, and it followed, “it is tamed! He tamed it! Omg!” Sally’s eyes followed the man, a feeling of growing respect for him. Suddenly a bird fell into her lap, and she screamed in surprise. The man gave her a small knife and left. He looked like he bathed in the mud; a strong sense of man-sweat wafted in the air. It was something Sally always found repugnant in the gym. The men with poor hygiene flexing their muscles trying to impress the ladies whose stomach was turning at their stench. This time, however, the pungent odour was exciting. It was the smell of a man after hard work in nature, a different kind of smell. Unconsciously she kept taking a deep breath.

The man left her there with a dead bird and a knife “he wants me to clean it” she didn’t know where to begin. She pulled on a feather and almost cried. “I can’t do that. I am such a loser”, she sat there, unable to do anything. Twenty minutes later, she saw the man return naked, his massive cock swaying between his legs. Instantly it reminded her of an orgasm she had, her face turning red in shame. To make it worse, the man sat next to her, pulling the feathers with his strong hands. His shoulder touching hers. It felt like her skin was getting singed. Discretely she gave in to her urges, breathing in the man’s scent, trying to will her pussy to stop getting wet, resulting in getting turned on even more.

This all stopped as man sliced the bird, ripped the entrails out and cut off its head. Sally almost vomited seeing that. A hard break to her arousal, it made her instantly sick. The man cut up the turkey in pieces, giving her metal skewers and left to wash his hands. Sally calmed down a little. She knew what to do now. It was the first time she tried a wild turkey. The meat tasted so good. She didn’t care what it was because she was starving. She just loved the taste. A thought of her vegetarianism crossed her mind, and she almost laughed at herself. “I was such a privileged idiot”. Here in nature, in the middle of nowhere, Sally learned how little pleasures mean so much.

The man fell asleep quickly, except this time he was naked as her. His clothes washed, drying on the rope. Sitting in tall grass, Sally watched the man breathe. Quietly she studied every inch of her body. She’s given up trying to control her body. It seemed to have the mind of its own. For hours she tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning, always opening her eyes, watching the man sleep. She watched his naked, powerful body, feeling her pussy getting wet, then quickly turning her back to him, closing her eyes, but that was even worse than before. The most explicit of fantasies rolled through her head. For some reason, the men in her deepest fantasies she used to have since she was a teenager got a face and body. Sally used to fantasize about being taken, beaten and raped, sold to sheikhs and used by faceless men. She remembered those clearly. She used to masturbate to that for years. Now all those men in her fantasies got a face; they became this man, her rapist, her owner.

She got up in frustration, changing her position over and again, the stupid thoughts refusing to live her head. She was desperately tired just couldn’t quiet her mind. In sheer frustration, she finally hid in tall grass, through which she looked at the naked man and slowly played with her pussy. She was only a few yards away from him, able to see his cock in great detail; imagining it extend and plough inside her, then her body stiffened, she bit her lip and came.

Right before dawn, Sally did another welcoming ceremony then sat in the grass studying the man. His morning erection slowly rose, Sally watched it carefully, her pussy on fire, but she forced herself to sit still. Seeing the man stir, she quickly hid her face, avoiding the man’s eye contact. He got up and leashed her. She followed him, mentally ready for what comes next.

Sally spent the whole day watching the man work. She never saw so much stamina, so much power and determination. Sally saw him shovel a trench around the house. He was like a bulldozer, lifting huge rocks she wouldn’t be able to move. The man worked tirelessly until midday. She lined up the grilled turkey for him to eat, serving him like a wife would. The man patted Sally's head for it in thanks. It felt good; it felt gentle. She shook her head, “I’m here against my will. I am a prisoner”, she kept forcing herself to think, believing it less with every moment. What kind of slut masturbates to her rapist, “but he didn’t rape me” the idea just popped in her head. Immediately another voice latched onto it, the new one, finding excuses for the man, justifying his actions. It was a disturbing and frightening thought. Sally was angry with herself. Inside her head, she was screaming, but that other voice just wouldn’t shut up.

Sally watched the strong man work tirelessly, “how much energy does he have?” The man looked like some sort of angry god, ripping down the roof like it was straw; such violence without any rage, such unstoppable raw, endless power. There was so much brutality in his movements. “That is my man”, a thought popped into her mind. She slapped herself for even thinking it “this is not my man, he kidnapped me”, she paused for a second, realizing her brain trapped her in a logical loop. “I am his woman” she was shocked at this revelation; she was indeed his woman. He took her, and she belonged to him; she was his woman in the most literal of all senses.

That thought kept reverberating in Sally’s mind. “I am his woman”, the idea felt revolting to her yet somehow good. She couldn’t explain why it was like that. She was confused as hell. After ripping out the roof like some sort of hulk, the man came down and took care of the horse. Sally watched with interest and attention how gentle the man was with a horse, how kindly he treated it and brushed his mane. “I am also like a horse. The man owns me too”, she thought, instantly starting another round of inner dialogues. What shocked her the most was that she felt jealous. She was envious of how nice the man treated the horse. He stroke it gently, fed him fresh apples. The horse didn’t seem to be afraid of the man. In fact, he liked him; he pushed his nose into the man’s shoulder, asking him to touch him some more.

The man went to wash up, returning naked again, squatting by the fire. While he was away, Sally heated up some turkey and brought it to him. “I’m feeding my man”. She sat next to him without fear. She also was his property like a horse. Inhaling his scent, she felt her arousal grow, but she forced herself to sit still, preserving little self-respect and chastity she had left, knowing it was all a farce. “Whom am I kidding? I like this man. I hate him, but I like him”. He was a man unlike any she saw before, so strong, masculine and powerful; so brutal yet so kind. She couldn’t deny the truth, she felt drawn to him, and she resented him for the same reason.

The man lay on the grass again; within minutes, he was asleep. “I was such an idiot”, Sally thought. So many times, she spoke about the evils of men, and she was right. This man did an evil thing to her but spending a few days with him in the wilderness showed her how wrong she was to say that. The man was a man, a real man. He knew what he wanted and went for it. He worked hard, demanded no thanks or praise. He did it because he was a man. She saw now what her grandparents used to talk about. The men and women need each other, they are so different, and that’s a good thing. It is those differences, when combined together, that give something bigger than the sum of its parts. The men and women belonged to each other, they were the polar opposites, but together they were complete. They augmented each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They needed each other like they needed air. It wasn’t about love or sex; it was about life. The girls who never saw a real man in action couldn’t understand this, his power, strength, sheer determination, unbendable will, stone-cold and hard as steel. Such man needs someone to fight for, someone who gives him softness and love, someone who takes his brutal force and takes it in explosive, passionate sex, just to show him that he can be loved, taken care of when he’s asleep. Sally didn’t feel demeaned by serving man some food. On the contrary, she felt like she’s helping, doing something, no matter how little to add to his work. She might not be able to build houses or tear the roofs, but she was able to feed him, give him a reason for doing something, a purpose, a goal.

Sally watched the man sleep, cold wind blowing into her back. She knew she won’t be able to sleep, just like the last night. She was too turned on. Like before, she masturbated, watching the man’s naked body while he slept. Long after her orgasm, floating on a cloud, she looked at the man, her urgent need gone. “I am his woman. I belong to this man”, she kept thinking, listening to the sound of the wind, feeling it cool her body.

At one moment, something just snapped inside her. An image of the horse rubbing the nose against the man’s shoulder kept coming back. She got up, quietly walked to the man and sat next to him. She could see every detail from up close. She sat there for maybe an hour, observing every pore in the moonlight and nearby fire. In one moment, Sally made a decision, lay next to the man, then wrapped herself around him “if I am his woman, then he is my man”. Her body shivered in excitement, her adrenaline pumping hard. The man woke up at her first touch, then just stretched his arm, pulling her in closer, wrapping it around her. Sally trembled in sheer excitement. She felt his male body, so hot and hairy, so different from Moni. His smell overwhelmed her senses, her pussy instantly started to drool. “I want this man! Omg! I actually want him!” She couldn’t believe her body. It was surreal. How could she ever even imagine something like that? The man took her like one takes a puppy, she was his, she realized it now, but she couldn’t understand her reaction to him. It was deep, primal and undeniable. Her mind said one thing, telling stories she didn’t believe. Her pussy was on fire, wanting the man to take her and breed her. Her whole body reacted to him like gasoline does to fire.

Too scared to do anything, she forced herself to calm down. The warmth of the man, his strong hand holding her, it felt so good, so safe. Sally lay her head on the man’s chest, taking deep breaths, getting high on his smell “my man, my man”, she kept repeating in her head until the world went dark and she fell asleep.

Sally felt stirring and woke up in a daze. She slept like a baby; in fact, she was surprised to realize that this was the best sleep she ever had in her life. The man’s huge cock rested fully erect against her leg; she saw it up close, her pussy instantly wet, saliva in her mouth. She wanted it like a drowning person wanted air.

The man pulled her up and lead her to the well, then both of them came back drinking coffee; it was granola bars time again. Sally spent another day watching the man work hard and take care of the horse. He was erecting the tent. She saw how she could help him but stayed away. Clearly, if he wanted her to help, he would have asked. It was a man’s work, and he was strong. He spent the whole day working, harder than the day before. Sally sat munching on granola bars watching the man “her man”. The man lifted large pieces of wood, nailing them to the structure. He worked like a man possessed, sweat dripping down his body. Sally watched that like in a movie, her pussy burning, begging for the release. Once she accepted the fact that the man owned her, it was like someone gave her permission to stop fighting him.

They ate corned beef and beans the man cooked in a pan. Sally could never imagine the two ingredients she hated could taste so good together. She ate with such gusto, the man gave her half of his portion as well, stroking her head gently. Sally really liked that, the man stroke her like a horse “he cares”, she wanted more, but he left and unpacked a sleeping bag inside the tent then laid on top of it. Sally was in agony; she was in desperate need, She felt horny the whole day and really needed to masturbate, but now she couldn’t see the man. Deciding not to risk it, she ran to the tent, wrapping herself around the man “my man”, immediately putting her head on his shoulder, sticking her nose into his neck. She inhaled a robust masculine scent like the best perfume, almost like a junky getting a hit.

The following morning Sally didn’t feel so good, her head hurt badly, she had a cough. She couldn’t say what was worse, the illness or the horniness. She tried to will the man to stay in bed, hug her keep her warm, take care of her “how stupid can he be? Can’t he see I am not feeling well? Can’t he see I am horny?” She wasn’t in a good mood, her throat was sore, she had a bit of a cough. “It must be the sudden change of weather”, she thought, dreading the bath. The man got up; Sally expected him to yank her leash. Instead, he wrapped her up in a warm sleeping bag, “he cares!”. The man disappeared, coming back shortly with fresh coffee and a bunch of pills; she didn’t want to take them, but the man wasn’t asking; he grabbed her jaw, squeezed it open like one does with a dog and just stuffed her mouth with the pills. He made her drink it all down with hot coffee and refilled her cup.

The man took care of the horse and made sure Sally was ok, cleaning the ground around the house, storing some dry firewood in the tent. At noon he jumped on a horse, coming back a couple of hours later with a bag. She saw him take a pot and fill it with something, then put it on the fire, adding more wood.

Sally watched him get back to the house and bare-chested nail heavy wooden sheets to the roof structure. The cold rain soaked his body, but he ignored it. Like some sort of a giant, he pushed and pulled, carried heavy pieces of wood. Something four people would carry, he lifted in one hand and pulled it up. Wrapped in warmth, she watched his muscles tense and work hard on a herculean task to erect the roof. She realized at this moment what the man was doing and why. He was building them a roof, a home. He wanted to have a house, to share it with her, “he cares, he wants me”. Sally felt a little tear come out of the corner of her eye. The man might have been a crazy lunatic, a kidnapper, and god knows what else, but he cared. In his crazy mind, he wanted to have a home. Sally could understand that. It was heartbreaking to watch the man work in a cold rain, the hot mist surrounding him from the heat of his body. Sally saw the sheer strength of will by which the man carried heavy pieces of wood, where many would have faltered, even gave up he just worked. The sheer power, stamina and strength it took just to keep this insane tempo were beyond admirable. Even if she hated him from the bottom of her soul, she would grow to admire him now. He was putting the roof for the house where he wanted to take her, so she would be safe from the weather. The way he defied the rain told her the man would survive the worst winter sleeping in a tent covered with snow, but she wouldn’t. The house was for her.

It took the man the rest of the day to get the panels done, then completely wet, he got back to the fire, ladled something into a bowl and gave it to Sally. In absolute horror, she realized the man cooked a snake. She would have vomited if she wasn’t so hungry, and the stew smelled divine. Tentatively she tried a little, and it tasted great. She stuffed her face as fast as she could “this is incredible”, she thought. It tasted better than it smelled. The man peeled her a baked potato, adding it with more stew to her bowl. Sally couldn’t believe the taste; she kept having more even after she was full.

The man took care of the dishes, then joined her naked in the sleeping bag. He was ice cold, frozen to the bone. She immediately wrapped him up, getting on top to use her body heat to warm him. His cock went erect almost immediately, pressing har against her. Without thinking about what she was doing, acting purely automatic, her arm roamed the man's body, somehow ending wrapped around his pulsating cock. In shock, Sally realized what she’s done; she changed everything, took it to the next level. She didn’t want to do that, she certainly didn’t want to initiate it, but her hand had its own mind. Even as she froze, her hand gently squeezed the man’s large organ. She couldn’t help herself; it was the most fantastic feeling she couldn’t resist.

“Omg! He is going to fuck me!” Her mind screamed as the man got on top of her, then to her surprise, the man slowly went down on her, eating her pussy, making her cum, then making her cum again. It was way too much, her little clit too sensitive. She tried to stop him repeatedly until he had enough, trapped her hand and ate her pussy regardless of her protests. Sally felt something deep building inside her, something she’s never felt before, something primal, irresistible, scary. Like a sleeping dragon waking up.

Then it all hit her, the orgasm so powerful it took her breath away. Sally often read of those in books, thinking they were just literary exaggeration, but now she knew it was real. She felt it, the feeling stronger than million suns. She exploded like new years fireworks, her body taking control, her primal brain going on fire, stronger and stronger until the world was a bright light.

Sally woke up at dawn, still reeling from the most intense orgasm she ever experienced. Kidnapped or not, forced or consensual, nothing really mattered. It was all a blur. The man gave her something she would kill to get again. She was hooked like instant heroin. Knowledge was a curse. Her life was happy before she came like that, but now that she had the supermassive orgasm, she knew deep in her soul that her life would never be great again if she couldn’t get another one like that.

Without thinking, Sally slowly peeled herself off the man, got between his legs and started to suck his cock. It felt huge, like sucking an orange, she could barely put it into her mouth, but it turned her on beyond any cock she handled before. It wasn’t its size but the promise of what it would bring. She saw the man wake up and watch her. She sucked faster, feeling the cock twitch in her mouth, then high-pressured flood, a torrent, tsunami of sperm blasted, filling her mouth. She swallowed hard, as fast as she could, drowning in sperm. At one moment, she thought she’ll choke and die. But the river slowly became a stream, then just a dribble, she sucked to get the last drop. She didn’t know how much sperm she swallowed, but she wasn’t hungry anymore. Her stomach was full of her man’s seed.

The rest of the day was like a blur. The man worked and hunted, catching another bird. Sally cleaned it like the man showed her, not caring anymore about the disgusting things. She sat and watched the man “my man” work, feeling a sense of pride inside her. Sally knew that now she was his, sure he owned her, kept her on a chain, but now he owned her body and soul. She knew now that if ever the man kicked her out of his house, she would camp outside, begging him to take her back in, willing to do anything for another orgasm like that. She played with her chain smiling, “I am his! He owns me! He wants me! I belong to my man”. What once was a symbol of misery and debasement quickly became an assurance of the future. She looked at her engagement ring “my poor Moni” she loved her so much, but at that moment, if she was given a choice to stay with the man or go back to Moni, she would be stuck between the two.

Sally took care of his man, fed him. After they finished, she happily joined him in the tent. Her hand went straight for the man’s cock then he took control over her. Before she knew what was happening, Sally felt a large bulbous head pushing her tight pussy open, far beyond anything she’s ever tried before. Even Moni’s fist felt smaller than that. In a few strokes, the man was entirely inside her. She felt something never experienced before, a colossal pressure against her cervix, sending incredible feeling throughout her body. She heard some women like that but never believed she’d be one of them. The man fucked her rough and hard, just like in her teenage fantasy. That deep feeling returned, her whole body electrified, ready for something big. Then it happened again, but this time much stronger. Sally couldn’t breathe, just scream so loud like she’s never screamed before.

When she woke up again, Sally felt heavy. The man fell asleep on top of her. She tried changing position and wiggled, but the man woke up and fucked her again. That happened one more time a few hours later; she learned a lesson “I am his property to fuck as he pleases”. She smiled wickedly at that idea, wrapped her hands around his neck and fell asleep.