{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"8b572c64-e668-4b93-8dfd-b9d4027702c9","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2018-09-02T21:38:02.325Z","title":"Holidays","slug":"holidays","shortId":"qlgzseRV","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Holidays in a natural isolated place didn't go as it was expected.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"4230e7e7-2f7d-42a5-b987-53fb1f906134","title":null,"summary":"(Disclaimer: Written for a friend who wished exactly to read something with very strict parametres.)","wordCount":1424,"readTime":7,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

(Disclaimer: Written for a friend who wished exactly to read something with very strict parametres.)

You have driven long and far, you needed to get \nout of your city, your routine, a change of pace; You’ve picked ten days\n of holidays for yourself, driving almost aimlessly for two days now, \nstopping at cheap road motels, with a backpack and your tent, you ache \nfor contact with nature, to cleanse your mind.

Finally\n you made your mind, you parked your car and followed a trail into a \nbeautiful and isolated place by a small lake. It is so peaceful, shining like a\n mirror. You are caressed by the scented fresh breeze in this untouched \ngreeness. Your tent, a small fire and just the silence; or better yet: \nthe non-silence, for you always hear creaks of trees, wind howls, \ndrops of water and all this landscape talking softly to you. You’ve \nnever sleep so good in years.

Next day you enjoyed the simpled \nthings: sun, swim, clean air. You’re just laying down on the lake’s beach, \nsoaking the sun, closing your eyes and disconnecting your brain.

You\n didn’t heard him arrive. How could he close the distance to you so \nfast? Clenching strong hands fetched you and lifted you from the ground like\n if you were a ragdoll. A strong slap on your face makes your head spin,\n dizzed and confused he drags you to your tent pulling you from your \nhair, while you kick the dust and cuss, feeling blood in the inside of \nyour mouth.

A second punch to your face and \nanother on your stomach keeps you down. He hits like if he had bricks in\n his hands. He wraps your arms with crude tape and lifts you again. He \nhangs you in a lower branch stump on a tree as if you were some kind of meat. He \nlooks at you playfully. His rough hand lifts your head, looks you in the\n eye with dark deep sight, staring every curve of your body, smiling \nthreatenly. His hand gropes you over your clothes, taking his time to \nsavour the freezing terror of your hanging self.

He\n draws a knife, sharp and with a jagged edge, big and heavy, in dull \ndark iron, not shiny like those who use knives for show. He puts it in \nfront of your eyes so you can study it ; the menacing point could \ntransperce your ribcage with the slightest of pressures. You can feel it\n through your clothes, on your stomach, on your soft breasts, the tip \nplaying against the piercings of your nipples.

You\n panick, your body reacts, from fleeing to fighting. You scream, you \ntwitch, you kick him. Suddenly you realise the big error for he looks at\n you with severe eyes, and punches you again and again and again. Your \nface, your ribs, your stomach, your breasts. Blood pours from your nose,\n your side of your face is swollen and throbbing; there’s a dull pain \nrunning through your whole body; your willing to fight is reduced to a \nsorry meeping.

He pinches hard both of your \ncheeks on your face with his left hand, his thumb burrowing on your \nswelling. He makes you look at him , you cannot close your eyes. He uses\n his kinfe to cleanly cut your clothes. Your trousers, your shirt, your \npants, exposing your body to him as if he were some kind of butcher. He \nundresses you with the blade, taking his time to observe you, to study \nyou, ripping pieces of your clothes to unveil you carefully.

Your\n body trembles, your meeping is turned into crying. You’re so terrified \nto even breath, but with your uncontrollably shaking red lines have been\n slightly cut on your skin, leaving red traces on you. He hasn’ t spoken\n a word yet in all this time.

Your crying turns into a violent outburst of tears, your body escapes your control \nand you cannot stop shaking. He looks at your eyes unamused and tired of \nyour ceaselessly whimpering. He leaves the knife in its sheath. He \nclenches both his hands around your neck and squeezes. Not your \nwindpipe, just the sides. You begin to lose conciousness, feeling heavy,\n always looking at his eyes, until you pass out.

You\n wake up face down and naked on the ground. He’s penetrating you from \nbehind and at each hump little stones, pine needles and bark scratch and\n dig into your skin. You don’t feel anything, your eyes and your mind is\n lost to a beetle moving in front of your vision field. It’s like if \neverything was happening to somebody else, somewhere far away from you, \nto the body of another person.

He\n turns you face up and keeps hitting you, doing with your body as he \npleases. You’ve zoned out, your mind escaping in the sky, the trees \nsurrounding you; the sound of the river stream is more audible than his \ngrunts to you. Suddenly your body \nreacts on its own, a warmth flowing from your clitoris, fully expanding \non your womb, your stomach and your chest. You can feel your heart \npounding savagely, your legs shaking, but your mind is out of there; you\n don’t even moan, or blink, or anything. Just the taste of blood in your\n lips feels real.

He\n finishes and leaves you lying exposed to the wind, naked on the ground,\n dirty and covered in red spots, welts, and black and blue marks. Your \neye is rapidly bruising, there’s blood pouring from your lips and nose \nas well as the dozen cuts on your skin. He stares at you. You don’t see \nhim, but you know he is there, standing in front of you, like if you \nwere some kind of trophy.

As\n a flash, everything becomes real in the espace of a heartbeat. You feel\n again the chill wind, the cold ground, each and single one of the cuts ,\n abrasions, bruises, knots and bumps in your skin; like if time had \nstopped and \nnow it were suddenly going fast forward and you felt all the abuse at \nthe same time. Each punch, each strike, each cut. You cry, you wail, you\n curl into yourself. Your matrix hurts like it’s never hurt you before, \nlike if your inner sex had been pounded. It contracts and expands in \nfast successions. You moan like if it were a primal roar, your body \nbecomes uncontrolable, you are lost in your orgasmic epilepsy.

Night.\n You’re on your tent with a hot mug of strong coffee in your hands; \nwrapped in warm soft towels that you didn’t bring here. An ice pack upon\n your eye, bandages and strips on your cuts; some soothing balms on your\n swollen bruised torso.

He’s outside, \ncooking something on the bonfire that smells delicious. You sip your \ncofee, still with the lingering aftertaste of blood in your mouth.

+ So how are you feeling? - He asks with his cavernous voice.

- Much better - you answer - I needed it. I feel cleansed. You’ve emptied me.

+ Take this, you need to eat and recover.

- Thank you for coming. I know that I left you a message in such a short notice..

+ I needed to clear my schedule in a hurry. I began to chase you when you were already left. I’ve been following you for days.\nYou almost lost me.

- I thought I lost you when you didn’t came last night at the motel.

+ What, would you have liked to be beaten in that flea-ridden cranky place?

- Oh, fuck no, much better here!.

+ I saw you had a tent in your car. I wished to take you down somewhere much more meaningful for you.

- That’s what I \nlike about you, your attention to the detail - A little laughter escapes\n from your mouth. Your jaw hurts, your throat hurts; you bite the small \npieces and swallow them with difficulty. - It’s exciting to know that \nyou’re hunting me. But honestly, I thought I got away this time.

+ Do you want to be here some more time, or go to the hotel?

- Lets be here together. Let’s take photos in nature. Let’s swim naked in the lake. - You smile.

After a moment of silence where he strokes your hair, you say: - Thank you so much for always delivering.

+ Hey, what are friends for? Just tell me when you’d want to do this again.

-You will lose my track next time. - You say with determination, looking at his eyes .

He\n smiles while he brushes his thumb on your painfully swollen eyebrow, \nwhich is sagging upon your eye + I’m a proficient tracker, sweetheart.\n\n","authorName":"The French Collector","authorUserId":"7846a505-eaf7-492e-b488-ebbcb57e1474","rating":4,"ratingCount":2,"reviewCount":0,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Heavy","Real Life","Domination","Humiliation","Pain","Rape","Sadism","Consensual","Non-Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":7,"recommendations":[{"id":"fec18bb7-c0c0-4bba-a04e-e490a1464b58","title":"If You Were My Slave","slug":"if-you-were-my-slave","shortId":"pTQyw32V","synopsis":"This is not a story, but musings about what I would do to you if you were (un)lucky enough to be my slave. I'm really a very nice fellow...","rating":5},{"id":"9ef8e391-ef87-4b35-bfa6-09f19e41ded0","title":"Leanne Sacrifices Her Clit","slug":"leanne-sacrifices-her-clit","shortId":"dGxqO0Io","synopsis":"Leanne, my slave, asks me to martyr her clitoris. But i will do it my way.","rating":5},{"id":"15e4fe59-2c3f-4461-83a1-e54f2f2e9fe8","title":"A New Friend","slug":"a-new-friend","shortId":"g3jW2VcQ","synopsis":"Jim and Jake make a wonderful new friend.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}