Depraved by Trent Evans

Chapter 2

She was far prettier in person than her file suggested, a purity, an almost innocence to her that no rundown of statistics could ever hope to convey.

It only made him yearn to plunder that purity even more.

His cock had hardened the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

The personal motion/IFR tracker he used on foot only had a range of about fifty meters or so, and he’d been shocked when he’d seen motion consistent with a human-sized return picked up in the accursed dense hell of the Emerald Fen.

While it could have been a large deer, or perhaps even a smaller bear, he’d ruled it out immediately, the movement too deliberate—purposefully following one of the numerous footpaths that crisscrossed the area, but not actually on the path.

Animals didn’t move in such ways.

What was more, he knew there was a rebel base nearby… and yet he had no memory of when he’d learned that.

Or how.

And he had no real idea of where the base was, precisely.

It was truly strange, as if the memory was… shallow. Not fully realized. Like a vivid dream that seemed almost real, and yet threatened to fade if one didn’t replay it over and over in their mind.

As a result, he’d started there, in the general area of where he thought the base might be, utilizing a surveillance spoofer that would mask his heat and movement signatures from both TSS aerial units, and any possible rebel patrols.

He’d caught up to her doing exactly what he’d suspected: haunting the edges of a trail, rather than walking it.

Her clothing clung to her, hinting at generous but firm curves, the weight of her breasts plain in the jut of her bosom. The garment she was wearing was little more than sacking, something wholly inadequate for being outdoors even in the best of conditions—which those most definitely were not.

At least not for her.

Staying back enough to avoid spooking her—there would be plenty of time still to examine her fear much more closely—he observed her.

She was barefoot, which made even less sense than her inadequate clothing—and yet the fact that she was, that it made her that much more vulnerable, only stoked his desire further.

He had to have her.

Now.

Every second he delayed, every moment his target wasn’t in his clutches, the need gnawed at him more.

The sensation of it was familiar, but it didn’t make it easier to bear.

It was the Fire, the raw desire that he only managed to keep leashed some of the time. In the presence of such a specimen of feminine beauty, his urge to chase her down and pounce on her was almost overwhelming.

He remembered the times in the past, when he’d finally found his quarry, the pleasures he took in slaking his lust in their bound bodies.

Their lost cries of passion. Of pain.

The images of what he’d done in the past once he’d allowed himself to indulge in those urges played through his mind, but like the memory of the rebel base, something… wasn’t quite right. They were stronger memories, yes, but they were still… indistinct.

Had he used his captives right then and there? Stripping them and taking them? Or had it been more of a… dance? A prelude or tease before the main event?

Why didn’t he have that answer though? It was there, somewhere in his mind, and yet he couldn’t access it.

It unsettled him, the surge of dark lust within, his cock aching with it, as he remembered it. Had he really done that, or was this an impression, a synthesis of multiple events in his past—or even a melding of fact and fancy?

Perhaps his memory was simply playing tricks on him.

He moved closer, stepping carefully, watching her the whole time.

The pitiful cover of her dirty sacking barely reached halfway down her pale thighs, the flesh there mouthwatering. It wasn’t helping him leash his need.

“Who… who are you?”

“Stay right there,” he said, keeping his voice light, almost lilting as if calming a frightened animal.

Which wasn’t far from what this girl really was.

“You’re not… you’re no TSS scum.”

“No… not TSS.”

He took another step. His cock practically screamed now. He was so very close.

Her eyes narrowed—a lovely pale shade of azure he’d never seen before.

She turned and bolted down the trail, surprisingly quick, despite her bare feet, dust rising, a twig spinning up in the air in the wake of her footfalls.

It was like his instincts had been suddenly unchained, the adrenaline flooding his veins.

He caught up to her in less than thirty meters. For a moment, he drank in her form from right behind her, feeling the air pressure difference from her body so close, the strong, coltish pump of her legs, the way her buttocks bounded and flexed under the fabric of her clothing, the scent of her streaming behind her.

His senses heightened, and time slowed.

Rather than bring her down though, he reached out, clawing at the fabric at her waist, tearing it with ridiculous ease.

She reacted instinctively, jerking away from him, and in the process her feet tangling. She tumbled to the dirt, her breath bursting from her lungs in a loud unnnnfff as she rolled to a stop on her side.

But he passed right by her, pouring on all of his speed, and angled left, bounding into the thick brush, ignoring the sting of a branch grazing along his ribcage, plunging deep into the understory until he knew she couldn’t see him.

Though she appeared stunned for a moment, she scrambled back to her feet in swirl of dust, grabbing at the huge gaping opening torn in her clothing. The pale curve of her upper hip was revealed clearly.

No underwear.

Good.

As if coming to her senses and realizing she was still in very deep trouble, she dashed away again, in the same general direction, west along the trail, the thump thump of her feet strangely muted in the quiet forest.

He stayed out of sight until she passed out of view. He exited the underbrush, but rather than get back on the trail, he followed along the tree line, just as he’d observed her doing earlier via the motion detector.

It wasn’t long before he regained sight of her, and again, his need for her took over, urging him onward as he ran her down once more. She seemed to hear him coming, looking back over her shoulder just as he reached her, those striking eyes going wide, her lips a surprised O. She tried to pull away at the last second, but he was far too swift, too sure.

Hooking his fingers inside the front of the bodice of the sacking, a great tearing sound rung out as he ripped at it, sailing by her at a such a speed that it made it look as if she were standing still rather than at a full run herself.

“Fuck you!” she cried out behind him.

He stopped immediately, sliding to a standstill, turning back toward her.

She was trying to cover up her now bared breasts, her arm over them as she futilely clutched at the torn fabric.

“You’ll pay for that, you know.”

Her eyes shot up when she heard his words, and she stumbled backward. “Who are you, asshole?”

He advanced on her then. The chase was over.

“What… you’re not human. No man runs that fast,” she sputtered, backing away from him, a defiant jut to her chin.

He very much looked forward to seeing that same chin quiver as her tears cascaded down her cheeks.

“I assure you, I’m very much a man,” he murmured, so softly he wasn’t sure she’d even heard it.

She took off again, only this time, she made a break directly for the cover of the brush.

Smart girl.

He followed only fast enough to keep her in sight.

Her yelp as she blundered into the bushes clustered around the soaring trees made him smile.

She was realizing she was in much too far over her head now.

The girl’s form disappearing, he rushed in, catching sight of her once more. Sprinting now, he caught hold of her as she tried to slip between two closely spaced tree trunks, the dappled gray light painting a crazed pattern over her bare upper back.

Her momentum carried her until he pulled back hard, and her feet came off the dirt, her breath leaving her in a long unnnnfff.

Spinning her about, he gazed upon her, his hands locked around her upper arms. The girl was far more beautiful than she’d appeared at a distance, her eyes bright, clear, her complexion flawless pale, her hair spun gold, made even more alluring by the way her flight had flung it about in a wild mess that only amplified her animal magnetism, the deep sensuality of her form. She had a patrician nose, perhaps a trifle too long for her to be outright gorgeous. The female was young. Maybe twenty. Very attractive indeed.

“Stop running, girl. You can’t win. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

The tension in her shoulders eased, if only a fraction, her hand wrapped about one of his forearms, her other clutching the torn bodice to her breasts. “I… okay… okay. Just… don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t do that until you ask me to.”

His cock pulsed at the way her long, dark lashes fluttered at the twisted promise in his words.

And it was a promise. He knew at that moment, that he’d take a different approach with this one. It would be far more satisfying to break her that way, until she begged him for it.

“A-ask? No… that’s… never.” Her lips were swollen, ruby red and lovely, color blooming at her cheeks. Her build, while slight, was lush exactly where it needed to be, her breasts far heavier than one typically saw for a slender girl like her.

It was one of the more luscious, nubile bodies he’d ever had the pleasure of conquering.

Hot, aching pain suddenly shot through his lower belly and testicles as her knee collided with his genitals.

Groaning, he dropped to his knees clutching his groin.

She wasted no time, darting away to the left.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she went, the girl looking back over her shoulder at him as she retreated.

Rexall needed her to think he was more disabled than he was.

Navigating around a thicket of brambles, angles and shafts of filtered, grayness illuminating its expanse almost like the stripes of a zebra, the girl disappeared into the shadows again, the only sign of her the snap of twigs under her feet.

Jumping to his feet once more, ignoring the pain—and his cock still hard, despite the shock from her knee—he dashed around the opposite side of the thicket, quickly gaining on her but staying out of her sight, the girl looking wildly around her as she crashed headlong through branches, and bushes, her clothing tearing still more as she went, a bright swatch of it swinging languidly upon a sharp branch.

Guessing where she’d emerge along the remnants of a rudimentary game trail, he stayed concealed behind a thick stand of ferns, keeping his eyes on her.

He’d guessed perfectly and as she stumbled closer, he burst out upon her, the girl screaming and stumbling again, falling against a felled log. He caught her around the hips just before she toppled over the other side.

She struggled, twisting and snarling, her nails leaving runnels of fire down the back of his hand as she clawed at him. Her face was red now, her eyes mere narrow slits, her reflexive, adrenaline-fueled rage giving her strength out of all proportion to her frame.

He gave that flushed face a quick slap, and she froze a moment, holding her hand to her cheek, eyes flying open in shock.

“You motherfu—”

He slapped her again, harder, her head rocking toward her left, a gasp slipping from her lips.

“That’s enough from you, girl. You’re just making this worse for yourself.”

Giving her a sharp shake to make her understand instinctively that she couldn’t hope to overpower him, it appeared to get the message across, the lovely female going almost limp in his grasp.

Her surrender only amplified his lust.

Soon, oh yes.

He lifted her off the ground, her feet kicking ineffectually, and he brought her nose to nose with him.

Her left cheek was reddened in one small spot, a larger clear partial handprint visible on the right where he’d struck her the second time.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for that knee too, bad girl.”