FEARGIRL VS FREAKMAKER

By Aletessa

FearGirl stirred and blinked; she tried to look around her, but the effort sent a wave of dizziness through her.  Her fleeting sight had registered a corridor: wooden walls, heads or something hanging on them, a carpeted floor she was lying on; even that was almost much for her drugged brain to process without sinking her back into unconsciousness.  But there was something else… something… someone… someone else was here.

Behind his mask, the Freakmaker frowned in puzzlement at the delirious girl.  He hadn’t brought her here, so where had she come from? He knew this place was full of traps, even for him.  But such thoughts were easy to dismiss as he looked at her flowing red hair and black latex dress that stretched with her breaths.  He squatted down and picked her up; as he did, part of her registered it, but she was capable of little more than a moan in response.

The swaying motion was hypnotic, almost lulling FearGirl into a trance.  Was the man carrying her friend or enemy? She couldn’t remember. Anything.  She could tell she was drugged, though she didn’t know why or how she recognised the feeling.  Was he the one who’d drugged her? She didn’t want him to be. Danger was constant, something else she knew without knowing why; if he’d drugged her she was in danger now, but if he hadn’t then his arms might be a moment of safety.

The Freakmaker carried the girl into his sanctum, laying her down on a wooden table.  He knew he should probably restrain her quickly, but whatever was affecting her didn’t look like it would wear off soon, and he was eager for the chance to explore her.

It was easy to feel the contours of her body through the dress; she was well muscled, and her breasts were firm beneath his hands.  Her nipples were hard too, which was interesting. He turned his attention to the dress’s short hem, to find the red fishnets she wore beneath were crotchless.  Feeling between her thighs with his fingers, he realised she was aroused; a welcome development.

FearGirl roused slightly as the man put her onto a hard surface, and more when she felt his hands on her body.  Enemy then. Danger. She tried to recover her orientation, without letting him see… and push down the sensations he evokes as he handled her.  But she couldn’t help twitching as fingers brushed against her nipple… or letting out a slight moan as other fingers pressed onto her labia.

The man moved slightly, giving himself a better angle to examining her crotch.  Which in turn gave FearGirl the angle to kick him. Biting her tongue to give herself a jolt of adrenaline-dumping pain, she bent her leg back quickly and sent her foot into his jaw; she wasn’t wearing anything on them but her fishnets, but the blow was still hard enough to send him staggering away.

She rolled away from him off the far side of the table, but the movement made her head spin again, and she had to grab at it to keep her balance.

There was as much shock as pain in the girl’s kick, his mask protecting him from some of its force.  As he recovered, the Freakmaker saw that the girl had regained her feet, but was still unsteady. Rather than pursue her immediately, he kicked the table, slamming it into her midriff and knocking her over.  She got her hands under her faster than he would have thought possible, but it wasn’t fast enough to prevent him from reaching her.

He locked one arm around her body, pulling her back against him, and wrapped his free hand in her hair; she reached for his arm, twisting his wrist to make his grip easier to loosen… but while she managed to get partly free, he still had hold of his hair, and still outweighed her.  Keeping control of their momentum, he pushed her front first into the wall.

The hard wooden wall pushed against FearGirl’s breasts, and nipples, sending a disorienting jolt of arousal through her body.  Momentarily off balance, she couldn’t stop the man kicking her legs from under her and bearing her to her knees; he managed to get hold of one of her flailing arms, and pulled her back up by her hair and wrist, dragging her across the floor too quickly for her to get her other arm or legs under her.  She felt her fishnets tear.

The Freakmaker dragged the girl to the corner of the room where one of his sets of chains was set into the floor.  Forcing the girl prone, he sat on her, his weight keeping her pinned. Reaching for one of the manacles, he snapped it around her captive wrist; instinctively she tried to pull it loose, giving him the chance to grab her other wrist and imprison it as well.  He rolled her now helpless form onto her back.

FearGirl’s brief rebellion had ended with a sudden whirl of dizziness, the man’s hands now in complete control of her; as he rolled her onto her back, he sat astride one of her legs, giving the other no room to kick him again… not that kicking would help her now, chained down to the floor as she was.

The man planted his hands on her breasts and began to knead them through the latex.  Dizziness gave rise to more arousal as her adrenaline betrayed her; even the taste of blood in her mouth was beginning to build her now.  He circled her nipples with his thumbs…

The Freakmaker found a slight tear in the latex of the girl’s dress, above one of her breasts.  He managed to get a finger from both hands into it and pull it wider, exposing one of her nipples to his view.  He returned to that breast, ignoring the other… squeezing the flesh, tweaking and rolling her nipple. He slid his other hand below her hem, massaging her mound, feeling her growing wetness.

FearGirl’s mind was lost in the confusing arousal; her instincts cried out warnings, but her sensations took them for their own and pushed her body’s reactions further under the man’s control.  She wondered if it was the drug doing this, or own weakness, or a skill of his.

Two of his fingers slid between her labia at the same moment as two others rolled her nipple between them; unable to stop herself she moaned in the pleasure of nearing plateau…

The girl was now writhing beneath him, soft sounds emerging from her half-closed mouth.  The Freakmaker continued to play with her body, building her up to her threshold and easing off, until finally she slipped into unconsciousness.  He rolled her breast in his hand again as he wondered what to do. His other hand crept to her throat, but he decided not yet; it was too soon to lose a girl like her.  Still, he closed his grip on her windpipe a little, just to feel her life in his power.

FearGirl awoke to a pounding head, an ache in her wrists, and a less definable not-quite-ache between her legs; dim images flashed through her mind of a man touching her, using her.  She tried to get up only to be stopped short by the chains around her wrists. She twisted and wriggled her body to get a better look at them; they were set into the floor, and a little larger than she expected, as if they were made for ankles.

Gritting her teeth, FearGirl curled her thumb beneath her palm, making her hand as narrow as possible, and began to twist her hand through the steel ring; it hurt, but she had to get free… then her hand came loose, cutting a track into her flesh as it did.  She have herself a few seconds opening and closing her fist to get the feeling back, then started on her other hand; with better leverage, she was able to get it loose more quickly.

FearGirl looked around her.  The room was surprisingly comfortable:  a wooden floor, carpeted over most of its surface, panneled walls, cushioned chairs.  This wasn’t a place for experiments; the man who’d taken her lived here. Unless he was the experiment somehow.  Next, she felt around her body.  Besides the cut on her hand, she didn’t have any visible injuries, though she was still shaky from the aftereffects of the drug.  Her dress was torn open, exposing a breast, which felt tender to the touch.

Time to go.  Two doors, no indication of which was a way out.  FearGirl chose one at random and stepped though.

The Freakmaker awoke on his cot.  He’d dreamed of the girl in red; it felt like he’d had her once, in his power over and over, but the dream ended with his death at her hands, while he was still here… but still he always dreamed of her or the black-clad one in the cage.  Except this time, he didn’t have to dream; he had a real girl in black and red here in his lair. He rolled off of his cot and donned his mask.

The door led FearGirl to a short hallway and steps leading up.  They ended at a steel door, but it was locked when she tried it, and too heavy to get through.  That left the second door out of the room; she returned and opened it, to find herself in a kitchen.  Immediately she looked for a weapon, to find a rack of knives; she tested the balance of a few in her had, and selected the best.  There was a second door out of the kitchen, but it was locked too. Trapped… but this door was only wood; maybe she could find something to break it open.

The kitchen had its own table; Feargirl turned it over and braced herself on the underside of its top before gripping one of the legs and wrenching it back and forth to break it off.  The activity cleared her mind of the last of the drug’s effects, and by the time the leg came free she felt alert at last.

It was solid enough for FearGirl to use as a ram, splitting the wood around the door lock.

The Freakmaker’s ears registered the sound of smashing wood.  It could only be the girl; she had gotten loose from the chains somehow.  He had to intercept her before she found the way out of his lair; he paused to snatch up a knife before breaking into a run.  He wouldn’t kill her unless he had to; but if keeping her meant hurting her, that he was certainly willing to do.

FearGirl got the door open, finding herself in another short hallway lined with doors along one side and mounted animal heads along the other.  The doors were simple-looking, unlikely to lead outside, but any of the rooms they led to might contain a key to the steel door at the top of the stairs.  She tried the first; it opened into a bare wooden room with a bench along the far end.

Her hand was on the second door handle when she heard running footsteps approaching.  She dropped into a fighting stance as the man rounded the corner at the end of the hallway.

The Freakmaker saw the girl was armed with a knife in one hand and length of wood in the other; it looked like she knew how to use both.  But this was still his sanctum; she was the trapped one, and would be desperate to find an escape. Readying his own knife, he approached slowly, daring her to make the first attack.

She did, swinging the club at his knife hand; it was what he’d expected, and dodged the blow, rotating the knife to open a cut along her arm.  She made no sound of pain or rage, but backed up a step.

FearGirl’s blood was running onto her hand, making her grip on the table leg slippery.  But she’d never get out of her if she didn’t take him down. She lashed out, the same attack again; he dodged, but expecting a feint, didn’t try the same defence as before, just backing up.  But FearGirl didn’t stop, twisting to the side and bringing her own knife round; this time, it was her blade that struck home, deep into the man’s side.

He grunted and stumbled, but used their proximity to stab her in turn; this time she did cry out in pain. She brought her leg up and around him in a sweep, breaking them apart, each stumbling against opposite walls.

The girl’s move had overcome the Freakmaker’s leverage, and he’d lost his grip on his knife, which was still stuck in her; the wound was a serious one and she was shaking on her feet.  But so was his; he had to finish this quickly. Then the girl lunged, her apparent weakness vanishing; her knife going between two of his ribs. As he grabbed at her wrist to pull her hand away, she twisted the blade viciously, and swung her club against the side of his head.

Slippery with her blood, the table leg spun out of FearGirl’s hand as she struck; but between it and the knife blade, the man fell to his knees.  Letting go of the kitchen knife, she pulled his hunting blade out of her and brought it across his throat; he collapsed at her feet and lay still.  She checked his pulse; dead… but FearGirl was hurt badly too, she had to get out of here.

Searching the man’s pockets yielded a key of similar shape to the lock on the steel door.  FearGirl retraced her steps and started up the stairs to the door. The wounds in her side and arm were still bleeding; she was growing lightheaded and staggering as she walked.

She reached the door, and leaned on it, fumbling to get the key into the lock; but before she could turn it, her legs gave out.  She managed not to fall back down the stairs, reached up, and turned the key. The door swung open, and she fell through onto a metal grilled floor, crawling out of her erstwhile prison.

But that was as far as she could move.  FearGirl’s eyes slowly closed as blackness claimed her once more.