Hitching

Destiny, I would say.
They would say ‘She was a ray of sunshine in the world’ ‘A lovely friend, such a tragedy’
They would be thinking ‘She’s always been a crime waiting to happen’ ‘She was never going to live to old age’ ‘She wanted it...’
Were they right? Was I always going to spend the last journey of my life in a car boot? I had about an hour to think of such things, a life time to become a philosopher in a sack as I bounced around the small space that my bound body shared with some tools and a picnic blanket. I had calmed down after half an hour of serious struggle, during which time I had caused a great deal of discomfort to myself and hadn’t loosened any of the wires that held me in their loving embrace. Vaguely the idea that I may be sick and choke on my own vomit on the journey to my own demise, slightly rankled and I willed my stomach to at least let me experience my last painful hours or minutes without a premature death from travel sickness.
They were right of course, I had dreamed of this moment since I had been a small child. In fact the only child I could imagine who used to hang around after school, hoping that a stranger would offer me a lift or a sweetie, while my juvenile juices soaked my regulation school underwear. I spent my adolescence ignoring advice about secluded paths and travelling on my own and I was hitching lifts into my early twenties.
When it happened it came right out of the blue and I surprised myself by how hard I fought; as if I didn’t really want it at all... and I didn’t, although there was something strangely comforting and familiar about the language of abduction. The liberal use of the words bitch and cunt, were from a thousand daydreams, a thousand fantasies, but I wasn’t prepared for the agony of the thin wire that was used to bind my arms and legs; the cruel wire that sank into the flesh of my ankles through my tights and now exposed my very bones to their spiteful grip.
He must have been surprised when I let him push the dirty stinking panties of his last victim into my mouth. I could taste her blood and the idea thrilled me to my very womb. He had pulled them from a plastic sandwich bag and i had a vision of my own knickers keeping fresh in the fridge, ready for another girl like me. Thank God i had rejected the idea of wearing cotton pants this morning; i mean on looking under my dress and finding a dull old pair of pants... well he might have let me go! They were baby pink, with an inch of white lace round the top and round each leg
and on the front they had a hot pink satin ribbon bow, with a tiny pearl at its centre. Now they were half way down my thighs tangled up in my tights, he had taken the opportunity to feel me up a little before shoving me in the boot and slamming the lid. I could still feel his touch.
I was covered from head to waist in a plastic sack, it smelled of something vaguely garden like although i couldn’t place exactly what had been in it before me. He had put it over me and then wrapped tape around my waist, my neck and my head, breathing was difficult and I had to work hard to stop the panic rising and overwhelming me.
The car slowed and stopped, then I heard the sound of hard soles on concrete and felt a rush of fresher air on my hot exposed sex as the boot was opened. Strong hands swung me into a sitting position with my legs dangling over the tail gate and then tightened around my neck and lifted me up and clear of the car.
I sensed the closeness of the knife rather than felt it, as the sack was cut away from me and I sniffed in huge lungs full of air. My captor stood in front of me, his eyes, beautiful brown eyes, took in my appearance through the slits in the ski mask. What a sight I must have been, my face slick and my hair plastered to my skin, my dress crumpled and soaked in sweat unable to fall back down over my thighs and cover the neat triangle of soft red hair above my oozing slit. I stood on shaking legs and raised my head slightly to look into those lovely eyes and saw the hammer in his fist only for a second as it began its arc towards my face…
I came to on what appeared to be filthy mattress, my face was stuck to its surface by the dried blood around where my left eye used to be. It must have had a pattern on it once; it would have been something that was part of someone’s bedroom, someone’s life. It would have been warmed by the early morning sun and the sleepy bodies on top of it, it may have been gently stained by the passions of its occupants, or even seen procreation at work, the beginnings of life…
I felt a weight behind me and I knew he was naked. Slowly and softly a rough hand trembled above the tiny downy hairs of my neck and moved down over my shoulder, sliding my dress and bra straps down to where my elbows were bloodily wired together. I moaned softly as the hand cupped my breast and gently rolled the nipple between strong fingers and thumb and then moved slowly down over my dress, the rough skin catching on the silky material and then the flesh of my thigh. A finger tracing the line of my buttock to my exposed and hungry gash, opening me, sliding in and out of me, loving me…
I felt the head of his cock at my labia and willed them to part for him and I felt his mouth on my neck and turned as best I could to kiss his sweet lips, as he gently penetrated my hymen and drew the open razor across my throat. My breath caught in my chest as the membrane tore and he filled me, my throat gaped and my life blood sprayed in an arc on the wall and from somewhere a ridiculous gurgling sound played in my head as he thrust into me and my love bled out over the garage floor.
I felt his orgasm build inexorably and as darkness came I heard his scream and I thanked God that he had given me the strength to wait for the right guy…