A Brutal Slasher Story - Please Add On To This
You lose track of both time and place as you're carried over the brutes shoulder, your mind unable to keep track of your surroundings as you mind fearfully wonders if you'll live through this or what horrible things this man might have planned for you.
It's not until your lifted off his shoulder and laid back down that you have a chance to get a grip on your surroundings. You find yourself on a cold wooden table. If you weren't completely creeped out already, you'd get there at feeling a certain measure of dampness attached to it. You're pretty sure you've got serious goosebumps right now, but that's about the least of your problems. You don't get much an opportunity to examine the rest of the room, if that's even what it is - you're too terrified to worry about your surroundings beyond the immediate.
You wince as a bright light shines on you from above, but the only noise you let out is a sad whimper. You try to pull your legs in as you find yourself trying to move to the fetal position, but the lumberjack pushes them back down. You're pretty sure it was at that point you started hyperventilating just a little.
A couple of metal straps are laid over your body, one over your waist and the other over your legs. They're loose, but they don't seem to be meant to provide major security, just keep you laid out. Which makes it much easier as the lumberjack cuts away at your pants, taking a blade to them that allows him to pull them off you without untying your ankles. About the only thing that keeps you from squirming is the fear he might cut into your legs as well. Or go one further and cut off your panties next.
You try to plead for mercy from the lumberjack as tears begin to emerge from your eyes, but it's like he doesn't even hear you. All he's concerned about is tying a rope around your knees to bind them together like your ankles are.
You really hope your friends come to find you, because you're pretty sure that if they don't, you're doomed.
The Lumberjack then cuts your shirt off, too, peeling it off you to reveal your shapely breasts, their form accentuated to look a full letter larger than they actually are by your tight-fitting bra. You squeal with terror as you lay there in nothing but your undergarments, then blush bright red as the lumberjack gives your bosom an intimate examination.
If you weren't so horrified and turned off by your present predicament, you might actually get some kind of perverse pleasure from the way he touches you.
He reaches under you to tie your elbows together, then moves to examining your mid-rift and stomach area. He doesn't give it nearly as close an examination, mostly just a cursory look over. Your hips and thighs are next. It's impossible for you to imagine what he might be looking for as you let out a moan of terror at each poke and prod.
Frankly, your not sure if it would be good or bad if he found whatever it is he's looking for.
You let out a brief sigh of relief as the Lumberjack finally - finally - stops touching you, turning away and lumbering off to where you don't really care right now. All you care about is that you're tied up in your undergarments, you're thoroughly bound and gagged, and your lying on a table with a couple of metal straps keeping you from just rolling off or sitting up and hopping away.
It's not until your lifted off his shoulder and laid back down that you have a chance to get a grip on your surroundings. You find yourself on a cold wooden table. If you weren't completely creeped out already, you'd get there at feeling a certain measure of dampness attached to it. You're pretty sure you've got serious goosebumps right now, but that's about the least of your problems. You don't get much an opportunity to examine the rest of the room, if that's even what it is - you're too terrified to worry about your surroundings beyond the immediate.
You wince as a bright light shines on you from above, but the only noise you let out is a sad whimper. You try to pull your legs in as you find yourself trying to move to the fetal position, but the lumberjack pushes them back down. You're pretty sure it was at that point you started hyperventilating just a little.
A couple of metal straps are laid over your body, one over your waist and the other over your legs. They're loose, but they don't seem to be meant to provide major security, just keep you laid out. Which makes it much easier as the lumberjack cuts away at your pants, taking a blade to them that allows him to pull them off you without untying your ankles. About the only thing that keeps you from squirming is the fear he might cut into your legs as well. Or go one further and cut off your panties next.
You try to plead for mercy from the lumberjack as tears begin to emerge from your eyes, but it's like he doesn't even hear you. All he's concerned about is tying a rope around your knees to bind them together like your ankles are.
You really hope your friends come to find you, because you're pretty sure that if they don't, you're doomed.
The Lumberjack then cuts your shirt off, too, peeling it off you to reveal your shapely breasts, their form accentuated to look a full letter larger than they actually are by your tight-fitting bra. You squeal with terror as you lay there in nothing but your undergarments, then blush bright red as the lumberjack gives your bosom an intimate examination.
If you weren't so horrified and turned off by your present predicament, you might actually get some kind of perverse pleasure from the way he touches you.
He reaches under you to tie your elbows together, then moves to examining your mid-rift and stomach area. He doesn't give it nearly as close an examination, mostly just a cursory look over. Your hips and thighs are next. It's impossible for you to imagine what he might be looking for as you let out a moan of terror at each poke and prod.
Frankly, your not sure if it would be good or bad if he found whatever it is he's looking for.
You let out a brief sigh of relief as the Lumberjack finally - finally - stops touching you, turning away and lumbering off to where you don't really care right now. All you care about is that you're tied up in your undergarments, you're thoroughly bound and gagged, and your lying on a table with a couple of metal straps keeping you from just rolling off or sitting up and hopping away.