A flickering street sign read PennyWise Market in big, bold white letters set against a faded, blood-red background. The signs twin set precariously above the shop’s doorway. On the walls, drab brown paint peeled out from under the out-of-date cigarette posters haphazardly pasted on the shop-front. Neon beer signs blinked in the windows, their effectiveness dulled by the lattice of iron security bars bolted into place, blotting them out. The mud-and-gravel parking lot was deserted except for one late model Japanese economy car; poorly lit by a couple of badly placed yellow floodlights.


The little market was settled in a nook just off from the old highway. I’d driven by it earlier that afternoon when I blew into town. I’d almost missed the place, badly located around a bend in the road. I barely caught it out of the corner of my eye as I motored past. I was getting low on supplies and cash, so I decided to head back and check it out. It was tiny, packed with the usual convenience store crap; mostly a place for the locals to buy cheap beer and cigarettes, just like they advertised out front.


A cowbell bolted above the door jangled when I walked in. A few rednecks with ratty baseball caps loitered by the old coolers at the back of the store, pulling out six-packs and jawing with each other about their fishing or hunting stories. I had a quick look around. No security system at all, not even an electronic bell at the door. Just a bent-up old cowbell that jingled when someone gave the door a good shove, a round, grubby mirror mounted to the wall, set up to deter kids from making beer runs, and a crappy old alarm box mounted on the wall next to the door.

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Only one employee I could see, probably the owner: a crabby, middle-aged Asian guy working the counter.


Easy money, I thought.


Still, I took a couple minutes and walked around, scoping the place. I found a few things I thought I might need later, and bought a box of large plastic zip ties, heavy duty plastic bags and a couple bags of cheap, women’s nylon stockings. Waited in line for the talky local-yokels to buy their beer, and when it was my turn at the register, I counted out a handful of crumpled bills from my pocket, slapped the cash down on the counter, and suddenly felt like splurging. I had the Asian guy throw a pack of generic cigarettes, a big bag of chips and a six-pack of beer in along with my other stuff. After adding dinner, my bill came to a little more than thirty bucks - more than half the roll I had left in my pocket, but that was okay. If everything worked out later tonight, I’d be making that back and then some.


The Asian guy gave me my change and I left. I hopped back into my ride and eased out of the bumpy lot, the van’s trashed shock-absorbers squeaking and groaning all the way. I had to drive another half-mile, to a three-way intersection by an out-of-commission bridge, before I could turn around. I drove right back the way I came and parked next to an abandoned gas station with a weather-beaten for lease sign posted out front, a couple hundred yards down the road from the market, where I could sit and watch the place. I coasted in to the lot and found a good spot to park, just out of sight from the road. I cut the motor and settled in. The building next to me was falling apart; in the same state of disrepair as my van, which blended in perfectly with the rest of the dying town.

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   if a cop happened by, I wouldn’t draw a second glance. I tore open my new pack of cigarettes, lit one, ate some chips, and waited.


Half a pack later, right around sunset, another Jap car pulled into the lot. An attractive, middle-aged Asian woman got out of the car and went into the store. The crabby guy who’d sold me my stuff walked out a few minutes later. He got into the other car that had been sitting all afternoon and left.


I smoked some more, drank some beer to wash down my chips, and watched a semi-regular stream of customers come and go until about eight o’clock, when the flow trickled down to nothing. At ten to twelve, no one had driven by me for more than an hour, and other than the Asian woman, the market was deserted. I figured I wouldn’t have a better chance than right now. It was time to get a move on. I started the beat-up old white loading van, drove back across the street and pulled into the parking lot, stopped and backed up, parked alongside the dumpster just alongside the building I killed the ignition, grabbed my stuff from the passenger seat and shut my door, but kept the van unlocked and dropped my keys into a spare pocket in easy reach. If I needed to get out fast, I didn’t want to have to waste time fumbling around for my car keys.


My boots crunched in the gravel and sucked mud as I stepped onto the curb. I loitered by a broken pay phone, getting another look at the place through the bars on the window.


Not much different from before.

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   Some shoddy, homemade candy and magazine racks. The coolers full of beer and a soda fountain mounted along the back walls. The counter with the cash register at the front left-hand side of the store, every inch of it cluttered with open cartons of cigarettes and lighters, containers full of beef jerky and pickled eggs, lottery tickets and other assorted knick-knacks for the drunken rubes to spend their hard-earned cash on. A small portable television sat on the countertop next to a cordless phone, playing the nightly news.


Other than the whirring of the air-conditioner hung above the doors, everything was nice and quiet, inside and out. No sign of the Asian bitch. I put on my clown mask and eased up to the doors. A worn cardboard sign taped to the window had the store hours handwritten in black marker - open every day, 7 a. m. till Midnight.


I tried the doors. Another handmade sign in black marker was taped to the glass on the inside of the right door: Push hard. The lights inside started to blink off, one by one. It looked like the Asian broad was closing up shop a little bit early.


That suited me just fine.

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I pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves and took my knife from my hip-sheath; twelve inches of wicked, gleaming steel. I checked to make sure my gun was in place in my pocket.


I turned to the door. Put my shoulder to it and pushed hard, using a nice, even pressure to avoid making the bell mounted at the top of the door frame from ringing.


The door squeaked open. The television was turned down low. Straight ahead of me was an open doorway leading to a short hallway, with stacks of cardboard boxes crammed waist high up against the walls. A woman’s voice drifted my way, probably from a back room or office. The Asian bitch, I guessed. I couldn’t understand what was being said, but her tone sounded angry. The cowbell clanked as I walked inside, softly, but still audible. I let the door swing shut behind me, then bent at the waist so my head was lower than the top of the racks and hurried to the end of the main aisle. I quickly shuffled to the back aisle and hid behind a rack of porn magazines. I squatted down on my haunches, out of sight.


The angry, jabbering voice got closer and louder - the Asian bitch sounded pissed.

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   I wondered if she was ticked about being here alone so late, and I grinned behind my mask. The lone security mirror was mounted on the wall right behind me, but it was tilted at a bad angle. Whoever had put it up was only interested in seeing the fronts of the beer coolers, not down near the floor where I was hiding. Crouching where I was, I couldn’t be seen from the front of the store, but I had a perfect view of both the counter and the doorway to the back.


In the mirror, I watched the Asian woman pop out from the hallway, clutching a light black sweater around her shoulders. Close up she was older than I’d imagined, but slim and graceful. Her face was not-quite beautiful; elegant, maybe - almost aloof; with full lips, big, almond shaped brown eyes, and a sharp, angular bone structure. She walked right to the front of the store, peering down the tightly packed aisles. Giving the place a cursory once-over while blabbing into the phone pressed against her ear. She stopped by the front doors, looked around a final time and shrugged, maybe perplexed that the bell rang but no one was there. I heard her sigh.


She hooked the phone between chin and shoulder, took a heavy key ring from a sweater pocket and locked the Push Hard door. Then she turned off the television, talking non-stop the entire time. She put the key ring on the counter and walked down the window aisle, turning off the neon beer signs. She spat out a series of rapid-fire bursts in whatever shit language she talked.

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   She sure wasn’t speaking English. Korean maybe.


She was heading right for me.


Shit-fire. If she saw me squatted down here while she was on the phone. . .


I broke a light sweat under my heavy denim coveralls. Shifted my grip on the knife, braced myself, and squatted even lower, ready to jump. I tried to breathe through my mouth, concentrating on keeping it even and quiet. Condensation beaded the inside of my rubber clown mask, slowly dripped down my face into my eyes. I blinked away the drops of salty, stinging moisture. My heart was pounding, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through my blood.


The Asian bitch stopped a couple feet away with her back turned to me and clicked off the open sign.


From where I was squatting I could see the outline of her hip, the lacy white slip under the slit running up the back of her knee length skirt.

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   I was close enough that I could’ve reached out and touched her smooth, muscular calves, her flesh-colored nylon stockings. She had strong, athletic legs, like a runner, or a tennis player, maybe. I vaguely remembered all the gooks in high school playing tennis. Or golf, sometimes. Not real sports.


She crossed her arms and stared out at the street, gabbing away. Eventually she got quiet and listened. I heard a man’s voice on the other end of the line, muffled, but yelling more gook shit back at her.


She took it, but I could tell she was pissed by the way she was standing: stiff and ramrod straight, breathing hard, with her thin arms crossed under her breasts, impatiently tapping the heel of her shoes on the edge of the magazine rack, splintering the cheap plywood down at the base.


The conversation came to an abrupt stop. She screamed something into the phone. Clenched her fists and made a frustrated little ‘Ooooh!’ sound.


The guy kept shouting on the other end of the line. She stood still for a second, her thin shoulders scrunched up around her neck, the phone hanging loose in her hand. Finally, she muttered something into the receiver, sounding resigned.

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   I heard the phone beep as she hung up. She just stood there quietly for a minute, shaking with frustration. Then she covered her face with her hand. Her shoulders shook, and I heard her sniffle.


Ooh. Poor, skinny Asian bitch.

. Poor, skinny Asian bitch.


Behind my mask, I grinned. Looked like I stumbled into a little family squabble. And from the looks of things, I was pretty sure now that my sweet little bitch was going to be closing the store all by herself.


I scraped the blade of my knife across my thigh and uncoiled. I was on her in a second. She grunted when I hit her. I wrapped my free arm tight around her waist, pinning her arms down at her sides.

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   I brought my knife blade up and let the sharp steel bite into her slim neck. She gasped in surprise and pain. The phone fell from her limp fingers and crashed to the floor. The cheap black plastic cracked and exploded. Ragged shards flew everywhere.


Our bodies were reflected in the dark glass of the window. I dwarfed her. I was a good foot taller than she was and more than twice her size. In the pale light, the reflection of my white rubber mask looked pale and ghostlike.


Her eyes opened wide with horror and she screamed, loud and clear in the sudden silence. Music to my ears. I pulled her close and just for fun, rubbed my crotch up into her ass, nice and hard. Suddenly, it felt like all the blood rushed out of my head and down to my cock. Feeling a little dizzy, I nuzzled her cheek with my stubbly chin, making her whimper and try to jerk away. I peered down over her shoulder, checked out her rack.

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   Her tits were perky little fuckers, packaged specially for me in a lacy bra under a sheer, white, button down blouse. A little bit on the small side, maybe, but probably a nice firm handful once you got them out into the air.


I licked my lips. She was biting hard on her lower lip, her eyes squeezed shut, frantically shaking her pretty little head from side-to-side. Her whole body was trembling.


"No no no. . . " she begged. "Prease. . . S-s-stop. . .


   D-d-don’t h-h-hut me. . . !"


My dick was already throbbing, trying to rip through my coveralls. I took a deep breath. I had to wait, had to keep focused. Keep that shit on ice for later. I didn’t know how long I had to pull the job. We were alone now, but anybody could drive by and fuck things up. I was way too smart for that shit. I wasn’t going to get busted because I took the time to screw this bitch. The golden rule: the job always comes first.


The fun can come later.


I put my lips to her ear and grunted, the mask muffling my voice. "The money, bitch! Now!"



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  . . " She moaned again. "P-pr-reeasse!"


"Prease?" I mocked.


She sounded so much like somebody from an old Charlie Chan flick that I almost laughed. Instead, I jerked her around and marched her toward the counter. She started crying. Big, fat, wet tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and slowly dripped down her cheeks. She tripped and stumbled. I picked her up with one arm and half-carried her behind the counter, pushed her hips up against the edge and held her in place with my bodyweight.


"Now, open the till and get me the cash, or I’ll gut you like a pig. "


Hot tears continued to leak from the corners of her eyes, but she punched a key and opened the register. She didn’t even try to fight me. I knotted my fingers in her short, curled hair, bent her over the counter and held her with her ass up in the air and her face smashed into the cheap Formica. I reached into the till and dug out a fist-full of bills, one’s, five’s, twenties.

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   I didn’t bother with the checks or credit slips and change, but lifted the cash drawer and found a couple hundreds and fifties tucked away. I probably scored several hundred bucks altogether, but after sitting and watching the flood of customers come and go all afternoon, I knew the lump of money in my hand was way too light to be all the cash on hand.


"Where’s the safe?" I growled.


"I-In b-back w-w-woom. "


"Back room!" I never did have any patience for foreigners who couldn’t be bothered to take the time to learn the language. I shook her head, grinding her face into the counter. "Jesus! Say it right, bitch!" I shook her. "DO it!"


"Backwoom!" She shrieked.


"NO! Say it again!"


"Backwoom! Back-woom! Back--WOOM!"


"Good! Better, anyway!" Laughing, I smacked her ass with the flat of my knife and eased my weight off her back. "Now, show me!"


I yanked her up by the hair and pushed her, sobbing, down the hall with my knife point pressed into the small of her back. We passed a heavy steel door marked as an emergency exit, then took a quick right turn that opened up into a small storage room and a cramped office. Through the office was a cruddy bathroom with a sink and toilet, a bare bulb swinging on a cord from the high ceiling. A small microwave oven and a hot plate sat on a battered file cabinet next to a desk and a bar-size refrigerator.


She’d been eating: there were a few bites of white rice soaked in cold, coagulating chicken grease left on a paper plate on the desk. The nasty smell of her dinner almost overwhelmed the musky dry-rot smell of the store.

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   It made my guts twist.


"Where is it?" I gave her a shake, ripping hair from her scalp. She squealed and pointed to a corner of the room, jabbering incoherently. In the corner behind a file cabinet, the heavy steel top of a floor safe was propped open. I pushed her down on her knees in front of the safe, peeked in for a look, and smiled. There were several thick wads of clipped and stacked bills mixed with rolls of coins: singles, fives, tens, twenties, fifties and hundreds, all nice and bundled. Several grand, easy. Add that to the few hundred from the register, not a bad haul for a night’s work.


"Shit. " I laughed again, pleasantly surprised. "Don’t you ever do bank runs?"


The bitch just stared at me and cried harder.


"Pull out the bills," I grunted, giving her another shake. "Put everything next to you on the floor. Leave the coins. "


More whimpers, but did as she was told.

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   She knelt down, reached into the safe and pulled out the packets. Stacked them in nice, neat bundles. Good little bitch. I heard somewhere Asian women were submissive. So far, it looked like the rumor was right on. I liked that. Still, she was moving way too slow, wasting time…


"Come on, bitch! Hurry!"


"Th-there. " She stopped, put up her hands. "All m-money. "


She wiped the tears away, tried to stand up. I shoved her flat on the floor, planted my foot on her back. "No way bitch. You stay right there. "


I slipped my knife back in its sheath and reached into the front pocket of my coveralls. Pulled out a pair of long, plastic zip ties, same ones that I’d bought earlier.

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   Grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her. She screamed and went nuts, thinking I was going to kill her or some shit, I guess, and she finally began to fight, bucking around hard enough that I had to sit on her to get her wrists together. I cinched the zip ties tight. Getting her legs was harder. I almost had to lay flat on the backs of her thighs to keep her still enough to be able to loop the zip tie around her ankles. More ties around her elbows and knees, then I stuffed the crotch of a pair of nylons into her mouth, wrapped the stocking legs around her head, and tied the leftover ends of the makeshift gag at the back of her neck. Finished, I stepped back and shook out a heavy-duty black garbage bag. Pulled it over her head and past her shoulders, tied it around her waist.


Once I had her all trussed up like a Christmas turkey, I took a quick break and went to see what kind of deli sandwiches they had in the cooler, and grab some more beer and smokes for the road.




It took me another five, maybe ten minutes to do my shopping.

I bagged all the stuff and propped the emergency exit open with a chipped two-by-four I found leaning next to the back door. I carried everything around the back of the store and past the dumpster bin to the van. I popped open the van’s loading doors, shoved each bag inside and tucked them way up against the wall separating the cab of the van from the back; than quickly arranged them so they wouldn’t slide around once I was moving. The bag of cash went in front with me, hidden under the passenger seat, followed by the gun and the knife and mask.


Then I went back in for the Asian bitch.

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She was lying on the floor, twitching and crying, her numb fingers desperately clawing at the sturdy plastic binds. She’d managed to flip halfway over onto her back. With the gag and the bag over her head, her sobs were almost completely muffled.


I watched her struggle for a minute, enjoying the show. Her skirt had rucked up almost to her hips, showing a lot of long, brown, muscular thigh. She really did have great legs.


For a second, I thought about fucking her right there on the floor. Instead, I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. I carried her out to the van and tossed her in the back with the other spoils. She kicked, her dainty little feet sinking into thick rubber padding I’d completely covered the floor, walls, and ceiling with for that very reason, to dampen the noise. I slammed the loading doors closed and locked her in. Brushed the dust off my hands.


Whistling, I lit a cigarette and slid into the cab. I took a long, deep drag and let the smoke drift lazily out my nose. Then I started the van and pulled carefully out of the parking lot.

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Earlier that morning, I’d cruised over the mountain during a freak snowstorm, a complete whiteout. I stopped to get some chains and paid too much for gas at a ratty little gas station. I used the bathroom and swiped a map from the little quickie-mart inside the service station. I’d never been to this part of the northwest and wasn’t familiar with the area. I used the map to point me in the direction of another small town where I thought the pickings might be a little better. But when I got here, it didn’t take much more than to look around to tell me that except for the little market, there wasn’t a whole lot worth my time.


And now that I’d stocked up and had a pocket full of spending cash, once again I wasn’t sure where I was going or what I was going to do. But I wasn’t real concerned about it, either. So I puttered along, until I came back to the bridge.


I can’t explain why, but I stopped at the barren intersection and sat in the van with the engine sputtering, looking at both the open roads. Maybe it was karma, or fate. Whatever. But I stopped and opened the map, smoking a cigarette while I studied it. I had three directions I could choose from, one of them blocked. For some reason I followed the line of the road with my finger.

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   Past the bridge the map showed a fair-sized lake not too far away, some miles off the main highway, further up in the hills. I figured that I could maybe find a little privacy up there. A shiver ran through me. Somehow I knew that’s where I wanted - needed - to go.


But the only way to get up there was to get past this fucking bridge.


I looked up.


An old, bullet-pocked sign on stilts blocked the road. On a whim, I eased the van past it and onto the bridge. The pavement was pitted with potholes, the old stone guardrails crumbling. I worked the van around the worst of the potholes, heard the structure cracking underneath the wheels.


Other than the noise and avoiding the holes, I didn’t have any problems. The bridge ran on for maybe a couple hundred yards and spanned a wide creek, its muddy, tree lined banks flooded with cold runoff coming down from the mountain. The bridge ended, and opened up onto a winding, poorly paved road, blocked by another wood barrier. I had to stop the van and move the barrier by hand. Dragged it far enough to squeeze by.

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   It was cold out and I was getting tired.


I yawned and shivered. Flicked my cigarette butt into the rushing water below and hopped back inside the warm cab. Heard soft, muffled noises from my little fish in the back.


"Just a little while longer baby," I grinned. "Hold on just a little longer. "




I followed the road until I came to a fork, then stopped and checked the map. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like that was the way I wanted to go. What the hell. I’d come this far, so why stop now? I shrugged, turned left, and the road got steep enough that I heard the stuff in the back of the van shift and bump around. I drove for another twenty minutes in complete darkness except for the dim glow of my headlights, until I came to another fork with a sign pole, showing me the way to Lake Chastain.


Half an hour later, I broke through the woods and caught my first glimpse of the lake through a fringe of pine trees. The moon was full, just creeping over the tops of the tall trees overhead, shining down on the still, inky-black water. It was so dark, even with the bit of moonlight I couldn’t see the far side of the lake. I meandered around the shoreline for another mile or so, and eventually came to a dirt road; a trail that was slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding forest.

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There, in tiny clearing, a huge tree stump was turned on its side, with an arrow pointing towards the roadway and the words Camp Chastain gouged into its sanded face.


"A camp, huh?" I muttered. "Well, I’ll be damned. "


I guided the van slowly down the rutted trail, bouncing over rocks and kicking up dust that swirled around the van’s headlights. Tree branches scraped along the side panels, sounding like nails on a chalkboard, making me wince. After about half a mile, the trail opened up again into another small clearing almost completely overgrown with blackberry bushes and scrubby trees. The headlights picked out the remains of a dilapidated fence, and I followed that for a while, until I almost drove right into the collapsed skeleton of the camp’s dining hall.


The van came to a bumping stop at the center of the camp, and I let it sit and idle. Hands on the steering wheel, I looked around at what I’d found. The roof of the large old building had mostly rotted away and collapsed. I backed the van up and turned in a sharp circle, letting the headlights illuminate the forest. The road I was on curved around what looked like an old field, now full of brush, with overgrown trails leading off in all directions. The road I was on eventually petered out at an a-frame type storage structure and another small out-building.


I whistled. "Well, will ya look at this.




I killed the engine. Grabbed a powerful flashlight from behind my seat and went exploring.




The camp was small, arranged in a circle on the southern tip of the lake. I poked around until I found a covered area with two or three stout picnic tables, and a bathhouse surrounded clump of old cabins. At a casual glance, the bathhouse was a lost cause, full of rubble and fallen tree branches. Some of the cabin’s moss-covered roofs had caved in; but there were several still standing that seemed sound enough, and a couple cabins even had working wood stoves. The trail I was following wound through the woods and led down to the lower shore of the lake. A rotting dock jutted out a few dozen yards over the black water.


I stood at the muddy bank and lit a smoke. I relaxed for a moment, smoking and breathing in the night air, playing the beam of the flashlight out over the water. When I broke through the tree cover I’d expected the sweet smell of open water. Instead, the air felt thick, almost greasy; it smelled of mold and spoiled, rotten things.


Suddenly, everything felt wrong.


The forest around me was hushed, quiet as a graveyard. The lake itself was preturnaturaly still, the water barely lapping the rocky shoreline.

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   A cold wind brushed my face, touched me like a caress. My forearms broke out in goosebumps, and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, tingling.


Around me everything was still. Far out, something plopped in the lake. A fish, maybe.


Suddenly, I was sure I felt eyes on me, burning into me. I spun in place, flashed the light over the tree line. Nothing moved. Not even a breeze. No sound at all. No buzz of insects, or the rustle of night creatures in the brush.


I shivered and ran a hand over my shaved skull. "Fuck this," I muttered. I flicked away my cigarette butt and picked my way back to the camp.


The feeling abated the farther away I got from the water.

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   The night was still quiet, but by the time I reached the van, I was breathing easy again, and my fatigue was completely gone. I stopped and lit another smoke. Noticed for the first time that my hands were shaking. "Fuck’n crazy shit," I muttered to myself. My fingers were still trembling as I shook out the match and dropped it. "Actin’ like a pussy, all scared of the dark. "


I smoked half the cigarette in one long drag. And then I smiled, remembering the treat I had locked in the back of the van.




The Asian bitch had rolled up against the van’s loading doors. She almost fell out when I opened them up. I caught her and rolled her back onto the padded floor. I used my knife and cut off the plastic bag. Her hair was a mess, sticking up all over the place. She stared at me with wide, glassy eyes.


"All right you fucking cunt.

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   Time to get out. "


I reached in and got a better grip on her, then hauled her out and threw her right over my shoulder like a big sack of potatoes. I slammed the doors shut and locked the van out of habit. It wasn’t like there was anyone else around to steal the damn thing. I carried her, hissing and squirming, down to the cabins; stepped onto the rickety porch of one with a solid roof and a working stove. I already had a small fire going, making sure the stove was really okay to use without burning the place down.


The small space was warming up already. Bright moonlight shone through the cracked, smudged windowpanes set in the tops of the walls, under the roofline.


I tossed the bitch in a heap on the floor. She fell with a grunt. Grimaced and tried to curl up into a ball, panting. Staring at me in fear.


"Now lets have some fun," I said, and unzipped my coveralls.


The bitch watched me undress in the moonlight, her eyes getting wider and wider. The fire glowed orange in the stove, throwing crazy, twisting shadows on the walls.

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   I kicked out of my boots and stepped out of my clothes. She shook her head, but the gag in her mouth stifled her pleading cries. I dragged her to one of the wood bunk beds and bent her forward, made her kneel on the floor with her chest on a rotting old mattress, her ass up in the air. I held her down with a hand around her neck. She kept whimpering like a scared cow.


I grabbed the hem of her skirt and yanked, ripping it at the slit by her knees, right up the back, all the way to the waistband. I let the flap of torn material fall to the floor and ran my hands over her warm, firm ass. My cock was already hard and raging, throbbing. I felt lightheaded again as my blood rushed to my groin. I dug my fingernails into the seam of her nylons and ripped them open, exposing her silky white panties. I pulled at them, felt the seam give and rip apart at the crotch.


"Ah, fuck. . . " I grunted, and squeezed her smooth, naked ass.

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   "Shit yeah. . . "


I stood behind the bitch and grabbed a handful of hair, bent her torso backwards towards my chest and ripped open her blouse, popping off tiny pearl buttons. My dick slipped into the crack of her ass and wedged there. Her fingertips wiggled weakly, her nails lightly scraping my belly. She was still frantically shaking her head, her eyes squeezed shut like this was just a bad dream; like she could wake up if she just tried hard enough.


I caught her neck in the crook of my arm and pulled the cups of her bra down over her nipples. I slowly nuzzled the hollow of her neck, again scraping the stubble of my beard on her warm, smooth skin. I bit and chewed, tasting her as I went. Started to jerk my hips, rubbing my cock up and down her ass crack. Got my first nice look at her tits: dark, pointed nipples capped small, up-thrust breasts. I gave them a good squeeze.


That started her struggling again, and her weak wiggling made me smile. I slapped her ass, leaving a nice red welt in the shape of my palm.

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   I slapped her again, harder. She groaned and squirmed, and her ass cheeks jiggled.


"Let’s see if you’re as tight as I hope you are, huh?"


Keeping her bent with my arm tight around her neck, I stopped groping her tits and spat on my free hand. Rubbed the dripping saliva on my dick. Pressed the wet tip between her legs until it found an entry and lodged. I shoved with my hips, felt the head of my cock poke and rip into her dry, tight little butthole.


She started screeching and bucking underneath me, gagging and retching, snot flying from her nose. I felt the muscles in her neck straining and bent her back even more. I was choking her, crushing her throat, not letting her get much air. I spit again and used it to lube my shaft, not wanting to give up the little headway I’d made.


The knot of muscle in her anus was clenched tight around me, and I had a long way to go. I shoved again, harder. Slipped in an inch, then two, then three. She’d stopped shaking her head; now her whole body was trembling violently as I entered her. I backed out a little, giving an inch to gain a yard.

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   Shoved. Felt her flesh tear, felt the first trickle of warm blood. The blood helped. Kept up the pressure this time until I broke all the way through into her rectum. Pushed until I had my full length of hard, swollen meat buried inside her. Sighed as her ass muscles spasmed around my dick.


A cold, wet gust of wind blew through the cabin. Stoking the fire. Chilling me, like an icy finger drawn down my spine.


The bitch under me screamed into her gag. Her body shook violently.


I eased the pressure around her neck and let her go. Let her fall, gasping and panting, back onto the mattress. Something. .

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  . a voice, low and insistent whispered in the back of my mind. I untied the bitch’s gag. Tossed the wet nylons across the room. Wrapped my hands around her tiny waist and adjusted her hips to a better angle. The voice, the chant in my head became louder, more insistent. Coaxing. . .


Pleading. . .


Demanding. . .

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I groped around blindly and found my knife, sheathed on the floor. Pulled the blade and held it up, my fingertips on the leather-wrapped hilt, turning it, watching the flickering light of the fire play on the steel.




Lost. . .


The light, dark and red and flowing. . .


Like fresh blood. . .


Another chill ran through me, and then a warm, burning sensation settled into my gut, bringing me back. . .

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I grabbed another handful of the bitch’s hair, jerked the panting, terrified woman up off the mattress. Felt her ass settle down to the base of my cock. I tickled her flesh with the cutting edge of my blade.


The bitch, snot dripping from her tear-stained face, her voice low and hoarse, whispering: "No no no no no. . . "


I closed my eyes.


I could almost hear the blood pounding in her soft, tender throat. The strange voice was roaring in my head, urging me on…


I licked my lips in anticipation. Opened my eyes.


The voice in my head went quiet.


"Now, bitch. " I grated through clenched teeth. "Let’s hear you really scream. "




Eventually, I got tired of just raping her ass, wanted to feel her sweet, pretty cunt for the first time.


   I cut the zip ties from her arms and legs, sliced apart the pair of stockings I’d used for her gag and tied the bitch face down on the lower bunk, spread-eagled on the mattress, her wrists and ankles secured to the thick pine bedposts. Raised her limbs a few inches above her body, to drain the blood and keep them numb, just in case she got any crazy thoughts about trying to pick apart the knots and get away. I dropped the knife to the floor and crawled back onto the bed, more excited than ever.


She grunted hoarsely when I eased between her spread legs and took her, cramming my raw penis into her sweaty gash. I wrapped my hands around her neck and choked her while I fucked her, savoring her pathetic cries for help, then the weak gasps for air.

Crushing her with my body. Pounding into her as hard as I could, smacking my belly against her buttocks, pulling slowly back, fucking her hard, over and over.


The room stank of fear and sweat and sex, mixed with the coppery tang of blood and the pungent odor of wood smoke.


The voice came back, stronger this time. Whispering…


My orgasm built in a rush, shooting from deep in my balls. I came in a flood and collapsed on top of her bloody, sweat-slick back. Satiated for now; half awake, enjoying the feel of the hot stickiness covering her slim form.


Lying there, I listened to the whispers running through my mind. The bitch groaned and finally passed out, exhausted.


Her ragged breathing gently lulled me to sleep.

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Outside, the quiet of the night was finally broken. Strange, misshapen shadows slipped through the trees towards the cabins. The shadows took form, crowded into the cover of the tall pine trees circling the clearing, dripping scummy water and oozing pussy slime from gnarled, leathery bodies. Vacant black pits in place of eyes gleamed in the silvery darkness.


A cold wind rustled the branches of the trees. The whispers became a singsong chant. . .


One of the creatures shuffled into the clearing, trailing wet muck. It crept to the cabin, quietly climbing the steps onto the low porch, and slowly and painfully reached out. It scraped long, sharp claws across the door, tearing jagged splinters from the rotting wood panels.




I wasn’t out long before the bitch woke me up. She was still crushed underneath me, but now she was squirming and moaning to beat the band. My dick had popped out of her cooze while we where asleep, but I was painfully hard again, my cock smashed into the crack of her her wiggling ass, and my first vague thought was to ream her asshole until I zonked out again. It took a moment to realize that something else was goading me awake.

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   The whispering in my head had slowly and surely become a loud chorus of unearthly, rasping voices, and I knew that was what had pulled me out of my stupor.


My cock twitched. I looked down at the bitch, who was staring at the cabin door. She ignored me completely, like I wasn’t even there. Her entire body was taut and trembling with fear, her dark eyes wide and terrified. I followed her gaze, and suddenly felt an overwhelming, alien presence outside. For a second, I wondered if the cops had found me; but then, why would the bitch be acting so freaked out? She should be screaming and shouting for joy, if that was the case.


Reluctantly, I pushed off her and stood, my dick sticking straight out, twitching. The fire had burned down to embers, and a soft red glow bathed the cabin, casting flickering shadows on the plywood walls. Trying to get my wits back, I took a tentative step towards the door, and the bitch about had a shit fit.


"No no no no no no. . . " She thrashed around even harder, wildly shaking her head back-and-forth, clenching and unclenching her tiny little hands.


"Will you shut the fuck up?" I hissed.

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   I picked up my knife, felt it’s familiar weight in the palm of my hand, and slid another step closer to the door, straining to hear a sound, or a voice; any noise that might give me a clue as to what might be outside. I wondered if it was some dumb animal that had us both so spooked. Maybe a bear, wandering around, looking for trash. I’d feel like an idiot if it was just a deer, or a raccoon. Or a damn mouse. . .


I touched the door with my fingertips, put my ear against it. Listened.




I shook my head and snorted in disgust. What a fucking pussy. Scared half out of my wits because this stupid bitch was freaking out?


"Fuck this," I whispered, and reached for the lock.


The bitch almost had a stroke. "Prease! Prease! D-d-d-don’t.

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  . . "


I glared at her, pissed. Then my mouth curled into a smile. "What? You scared?"


The bitch swallowed. Glanced at the door and nodded wildly. "Y-yes. . . S-s-something bad out there. . . "


"There’s nothing out there. "


"You wrong. S-something bad.

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   Very bad outside. . . "


"Fucking stuped cunt," I snarled, "I’ll show you there’s nothing out there. Is that what you want?"


She shrank away from me as I loomed over her. "NO! No! Prease. . . "


"There’s nothing fucking out there, you stupid cunt! What the fuck! Wake me up and fuck with me! Here! We’ll go out together, if you’re so scared!"


"No! no no no. . . " She was thrashing again, crying, tears streaming down her sweet, pretty cheeks. Vainly trying to get away from me. I couldn’t tell if she was more scared of me, or what she thought was outside. I cut her legs free, then her wrists.

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   Grabbed a handful of hair and dragged her along the floor to the door. She fought me, smacking at my legs and groin until I thumped the back of her skull with the butt of the knife. She went limp, just for a second. Long enough for me to shoot open the bolt and throw open the door.


She moaned loudly, and I felt her body shudder. I took a deep, unconscious breath, and dragged her out onto the porch.




The moon was full and had risen high, almost exactly over the cabin; casting a fine, pale white light, illuminating the clearing out to the edges of the forest. I licked my lips and took a better grip on the knife. I was completely pissed off, but something still held me back from rushing straight out. I took a look around, saw nothing but deep shadows past the dark barrier of pines. The bitch was clinging to my leg, her arms wrapped tight around my upper thigh, her body slick with sweat. She was panting hard, her chest heaving. eyes shooting from one edge of the forest to the other.


I ran my hand down my face, along the stubble on my jaw. Felt the tension slowly ease out of my muscles.

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   "See? You stupid cunt. There’s nothing out here. "


The bitch just shook her head and scooted even closer to me, staring straight ahead now.


"There. . . " she whispered. "They. . . out. . . there. .

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  . "


"Will you fucking stop that? There’s nothing here!"


I gripped her around her slim upper arm, and dragged her down the steps. She freaked again, started yelping like a puppy getting beaten, and fought me, scratching my belly with her long red fingernails, hard enough to draw blood.


"Son of a fucking bitch!" I roared, and shoved her away from me.


"No! No!" She screamed. She stared at the forest and scuttled quickly back to me, grabbing at my ankles.


I stepped away from her clawing hands and kicked the bitch once in the side, hard enough to send her flying. She fell in a heap, clutching her ribs and sobbing pathetically.


And then a woman, absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, stepped naked out of the woods into the clearing.


And around us, the world stopped dead.




Jong-Seon knew she was in bad trouble as soon as the man in the mask grabbed her at the store. She knew that even if she gave him all the money she had, the man was probably going to hurt her, perhaps even kill her. When he tied her up, for a second, she had a glimmer of hope that he might leave her there, lying on the cold concrete floor, until her husband realized she was much too late closing the store and came to look for her. She knew that after their argument over the phone, that rescue might’ve taken hours, and instead of relief when her husband found her alive and well, he would’ve been even angrier with her for being stupid enough to let herself get robbed - and yet even more upset with her for letting the man take the money.


Shameful as it would be, she could have lived with that knowlege.

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But the minute the man took her with him, when she found herself rolling around in the back of his van, she knew for a certainty that her life was likely over, that she would never see her children again.


Strangely enough, as bad as that thought was, Jong-Seon didn’t expect that things could get even worse.


She was so scared, so fixated on all the ways she thought he might kill her, she didn’t even bother to think about the fact that he might rape her. By then, she was resigned to the fact that he would kill her after he had driven far enough away from the store, but the actual rape was almost even worse. By the end, she was in so much pain and so exhausted and so humiliated, that all she wanted was for him to kill her. After a time she begged him to; but in the haze of pain, she babbled to him in Korean, not English. By the time he finished brutalizing her and finally passed out, she wondered if he might not kill her outright at all, but keep her tied naked to the bed, a prisoner to use when he wished.


She wept silently, snatching quick, panting breaths, while the man snored on top of her, his breath foul on her skin and his stinking sweat dribbling down her bruised flanks; she sobbed while he crushed her with his weight, his thick penis still lodged tight inside her.


And then she heard the chanting.


At first, she thought she imagined the voices, that her traumatized mind was playing tricks. But the voices grew louder, and she could hear a rustling outside the cabin; the soft sound of footsteps, bringing with them an overwhelming sense of dread.


And then the voices abruptly stopped.


Jong-Seon waited, holding her breath, tears borne of fear bubbling over and falling down her heated face. Even in the sudden silence, she knew something was outside. Some thing that wasn’t either human or animal.

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Some awful, horrible thing that was even worse than the man who had just kidnapped and raped her.


And then something scratched at the door.




The woman stepped close enough that I could’ve grabbed her, if I’d wanted, and smiled. She touched me lightly on the chest, sending a sharp pain through me, like she’d poured a tiny droplet of acid on my skin, and suddenly my body went numb. She began tracing a pattern on my chest and my belly, the burning sensation following the movement of her slender fingers, like she was dragging a white hot needle through my flesh. I could feel my heart pounding, feel the blood burning in my ears. I could vaguely hear the stupid bitch still babbling hysterically, but she sounded far, far away.


When the woman in front of me finally spoke, her lips never moved. Instead, her voice blossomed in my head.


"You are the one. "


I couldn’t move. I tried to lick my lips. "Wh-what?" I managed to mumble, as she circled behind me, clawing her fingernails into my skin.


"You will be our savior. "


She came full around, placed both her hands on my chest.


   She looked into my eyes, and hers glowed in the silver moonlight. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and suddenly she was pressed against me, kissing me, her tongue hot and insistent. There was another explosion of burning pain as she wrapped herself around me, and then we were falling backwards. When we hit the ground my breath exploded into her mouth. She straddled me easily, then she smiled down upon me and took my cock in her hand. She hovered over me like that for a long, agonizing moment, her lush breasts brushing my chest, her pointed little nipples sending searing bursts of agony through me as they grazed my torso. Then her hips gyrated slowly, and suddenly I was sinking into her.


It was like dipping my cock into an open flame. She braced her hands on my bleeding chest, smiled sweetly at my screams, and pushed herself erect until her pussy swallowed me whole.


And then she beckoned to the things waiting in the woods.


I never noticed as the wet, shambling things surrounded the stupid bitch. I never heard her screams as they tore her apart and devoured her while their queen took me there in the dirt and mud. I never noticed when the things moved back into the woods, dragging gory bits and pieces of what was left of the stupid bitch, leaving bloody trails as they returned to the lake.







"I think we’re screwed. " Rhonda said.

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   "No one’s been this way for years. "


Rhonda and Barb had decided to have an adventure. Both newly divorced, they decided to celebrate, and spent a long three-day weekend gambling at the new indian casino and resort. They’d had a grand time the last couple days, taking in a few shows, eating nice dinners, drinking too much and losing more money than either had planned on the slots. but on the way home, instead of hopping on the new freeway, they’d taken a back road to the main highway, and had promptly gotten lost. They were going to backtrack the miles and head back to the casino, when they saw a sheriff’s car, parked and idling next to a dilapidated old, closed mini-market. Relieved, Barb had asked for directions, and the sheriff said they were actually pretty close to where they wanted to be, and pointed them north, right up the mountain. His directions seemed a little wacky, and Rhonda had frowned at the time.


But Barb insisted she knew where she was going again, so Rhonda had kept her mouth shut.


That was more than three hours ago. A mostly empty gas tank, a freak snowstorm, and a blown-out tire ago.


Now, they were pulled off to the side of an old gravel road next to some long lost summer camp, shivering in Barbs car, with no sign of civilization in sight. Neither of them was dressed for the weather; the clothes they’d brought were for sitting at blackjack tables or dining with the other hotel guests, not spending time sitting in a freezing car in the snow. Rhonda wore a light sweater, and when they’d looked for the spare tire, Barb had found an old blanket in the trunk of the car that they now had wrapped tightly around themselves.


Rhonda was pissed, and was through silently cursing her friend.

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   "Why didn’t you check your spare before we left?"


"I did! I mean, it was there. I just didn’t think to check if it had air. "


"Dammit, Barb! We never should’ve come this way. "


"Fuck. I know. " Barb smacked the steering wheel. "You’re right. I can’t figure out why. . . Hey!"




"Lights!" Barb peered into her rearview mirror. "Headlights! We’re saved!"


"What? Where?" Rhonda twisted in the seat, and realized her seatbelt was still on. She unhooked it as Barb unlocked and opened the drivers side door. Even with the hazard lights blinking, with the luck they were having, Rhonda half-figured the car would drive right on by. "Hey, Barb, wait.

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  . . !"


Rhonda managed to fumble her seatbelt off and joined Barb out in the freezing cold, shouting and waving at the car to pull over. They were illuminated by its headlights as it drew close.


"They’re stopping!" Barb clapped happily as it veered off the road and parked behind them.


The headlights blinded them, but they squinted into the light, and jumped and hugged as the driver’s door opened.


"You ladies alright?" Came a deep voice.


Relief flooded through them. Barb held her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare as a tall figure strode forward. Rhonda heard her friend let out a tiny yelp of suprise at the tall figure who strode forward into the light.


The sheriff stepped close to the women, smiling, looking them up and down. He had his baton out, smaking it into the palm of his black leather glove. "Looks like you’re having some car trouble. "


Bothe women took an unconscious step backwards. "Um.

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  " Barb glanced nervously at Rhonda, who blinked. "We. . . we’ve got a flat tire. . . "


"Oh yeah?" He said. "I can help you with that. Let’s take a look. . . "


"Okay. . .

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  " Barb said.


The women stepped aside, and Rhonda felt the sheriff brush past her, and then there was a blur of movement, and a loud cra-ack as he lashed out with the baton, catching Barb full in the side of the head. She fell to the ground like a rock, without making a sound. Rhonda screamed and turned to run, but he was on her in an instant, grabbing a fistful of her hair, spinning her back around and driving her face into the trunk of Barb’s car. There was a sudden blast of pain and a burst of light behind Rhonda’s eyes as he smashed her face into the hood again and again, until she went limp.


Rhonda groaned, tasting blood, as the sheriff wrenched her arms around and handcuffed her wrists behind her.


"Stupid fucking bitch," he muttered, and let Rhonda fall loosely to the ground. She watched helplessly, her vision blurred, as he bent to attend to Barb, flipping her onto her back and binding her wrists with heavy plastic zip-ties. The sheriff picked Barb’s limp form up and shouldered her easily, then carried her to his cruiser. He tossed her into the back seat and slammed the door shut.


Rhonda heard his boots crunch in the snow as he came back for her. She tried to scoot away from the sound, mewing weakly, whimpering like an animal.


"Where do you think you’re going, bitch?"


Rough hands grabbed Rhonda by the upper arms and dragged her to her feet. The sheriff threw her face first over the hood of Barb’s car. She bounced of the cold metal and tried to wiggle away, but he smashed her face into the unforgiving metal again.

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   Stars burst behind her eyes, and Rhonda groaned, the fight going out of her in a rush.


He spread her legs, wedging his body between them, and kicked her feet out from under her. Rhonda started to slip off the car, but her ass bumped into his crotch, and he pinned her like that, bent over the trunk with her ass in the air. He took off his gloves and rubbed his hands over her butt, enjoying the feel of her .

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