Apparently, they had some unfinished business, her and Mac. Emily washed quickly, pushing away the memories her bloody shower and her dream had awakened. Afraid as she was, there was no time for it. If her dream had any sense of reality, he was more dangerous. His violence was more controlled. The Mac she knew was explosive, he would have thrown her from her bed and she would have been bleeding from more than her back.
How did he find her? She threw on clothes and shoes, hissing as the bra dug into her gash. The ways he hurt her before were far worse. Mac had nearly killed her once. Emily remembered laying in the cave, begging for death, but it never came. Her body bore the scars beneath her clothes.
Now, she had to figure out what to do next. Mac was close. She knew he wouldn’t go far. This was a new game, a new version of him. One she didn’t know. Could he really have changed that much? Emily stared at her foggy reflection in the mirror. If he was here to get his revenge, he wouldn’t wait. That door would have been busted off its hinges.
With a sigh, she knew what she had to do. Get him to break his composure, shatter the image he had created. She couldn’t do it here and she could’t do it if she killed him. He took her gun but she had other means to get rid of him. It was harder to hide a body in the city.
All of this boiled down to one hellish conclusion, she had to go back. To return to the one place she never wanted to see again; Caineville. It was highly possible that was exactly what he wanted her to do. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all day. Emily exhaled between pursed lips.
Slowly, she began unlocking the door and peeking out into her apartment. There was no sigh of him. Emily slowly moved into the kitchen, pulling a large knife from the block on the counter. She glanced at the door, it now occurring to her, she should have heard it open, even in her deepest sleep. Emily stepped back, intending to turn for the closet and pack. Her foot just flattened against the floor when she heard it, the hammer being locked into place. She slowly exhaled and closed her eyes to brace herself. Mac had the gun aimed at her head.
“Drop it bitch!” He threatened.
There was a little of the Mac she remembered. The question now was if he would shoot her. Emily dropped the knife and it clattered on the tile floor.
“There’s a good girl.” He purred.
Emily closed her eyes, death would be a relief from this hell. She prayed he would pull the trigger and grant her an escape. But she heard him decoct the gun before the magazine, upper receiver, and spring dropped to the floor.
“I would hold still if I were you,” He warned before she felt a familiar blade slice up through the back of her pants, leaving her in nothing but a shirt, panties, and socks.
“Oh Emily, do you remember this knife?” He asked, holding it in front of her, “oh the places it has been.” He said smirking.
There was a new controlled predator within him. A radiating darkness, power in one look that she knew would silence and subdue her. Why? Because she didn’t know this predator.
Emily had a feeling that even from across a large room with yards between them she would feel the same anxious tension she felt this very moment. One thing was certain, she needed to get away. She had enough money in the bank and enough knowledge of the city to escape. It couldn’t go down here, there were too many cops. Then again, Caineville gave him the upper hand. Stay or go was the question.
The cave would serve as his tomb. If she got there, laid low, maybe she could take the upper hand. How would she stay undetected? Emily could figure all that out later. Right now, she needed to get away from him. Her thoughts of escape were interrupted by a powerful hand sliding across her stomach and pulling her back into him. his voice came deep in her ear.
“We’re going to play a new game,” He said, the tips of his fingers making their way just under the band of her panties.
‘Shit,’ she thought, feeling the power of his body and the soft way he was teasing her. What was this new game? Emily stopped breathing to keep the shivers from her voice. Then she heard his voice low in her ear.
“Breathe…” He commanded.
Emily’s exhale came in short ragged breaths as her body trembled under his touch.
“Oh, what’s wrong Emily? You’re shaking…I do love when you shiver.” He growled.
She was paralyzed, she had to get her body to move. As the thought crossed her mind, she felt his hand slide up to her throat, applying enough pressure to make her understand he could and would hurt her. His hard boots slowly pushed her feet a little further apart before she felt his hand slowly sliding up her inner thigh.
“Let’s see if you still get wet for me…” He whispered.
“Mac-” She tried to beg, despite it being pointless, but he squeezed her throat in warning.
His rough fingers pressed against the crotch of her panties and began to slowly rub. Emily couldn’t stop her body from shaking.
“That’s my good girl,” He purred.
Emily’s eyes fluttered closed, slowly rolling back in her head. Her legs were beginning to weaken and her mind had completely stopped working. He said nothing before pulling her panties aside and she felt his index finger graze across her swollen bud. She gasped, almost a squeak but he squeezed her throat.
“Sssh…I didn’t say you could make noise. Do that again and there will be consequences.” He warned.
Her legs were shaking so bad she nearly couldn’t stand. Mac slid that finger back and slowly slid it between her folds. Try as she might she couldn’t stop the wiper that escaped her lips.
Mac yanked his finger from her and she heard his belt slide from the loops of his jeans.
“I told you not to do that.” He growled.
Then she felt the black leather nip at her bare thighs. Emily trembled more, she could feel more wetness rush between her legs. She was frozen, afraid to move, she didn’t know anything about this Mac. The moisture between her thighs was soaking through her cotton panties and her core was throbbing.
Mac brought that belt across her thighs once more and her whole body trembled. She was panting. How much longer would this torment go on? His belt fell to the floor and then she felt him yank her panties down to her knees. He slid that hand back up her thighs, his digits finding her aching core and he slowly slid two fingers in her.
“Be a good girl this time,” He growled, a smirk in his voice.
He began to wiggle his fingers making her whole body shake. Her legs threatened to give way as she panted and fought back moans. She shuddered hard, her eyes rolling back in her head as she felt a wave of climax wash over her. Mac pulled his fingers from her and spun her by her throat, pressing her up against the wall.
“Mmm…” He moaned, sucking his fingers clean. “I miss that.”
Emily couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He had her right where he wanted her.
“My turn…” He said before tossing her to the floor.
The jolt was sobering and he must have seen it. Mac’s weight pressed on top of her as his fist held her hair. There was the Mac she remembered or so she thought. He pulled her panties from her body and pushed her legs apart. Emily braced herself as she heard his pants unzip. She knew the pain that was about to come.
He ran the tip of his cock slowly between her folds, running it against her clit making her body shiver.
“There’s a good girl, shiver for Mac. You’re going to beg me to cum. You will belong to me when I am done with you.” He whispered in her ear.
Mac just barely put the head at her aching core, pumping ever so slowly. The ache in her core returning and increasing with every stroke. She twitched, panting with desperation, fighting the urge to beg for relief.
“Beg me,” He growled in her ear.
“Please,” She squeaked before she could stop herself.
“Please,” He pushed just a bit more before pulling out, “what Emily?” He asked.
“Mac, fuck me, please.” She whispered, hating herself for it.
“That’s my girl.” He replied.
Then he pushed slowly inside of her, making her eyes roll back in her head. He wrapped his powerful arms around her and began thrusting his hips. This was not the assaults of before, there was no pain. Emily’s legs shook, as her body was wracked with orgasms. He kept hitting the same spot, making her pant, and shake uncontrollably. In this moment, she knew she was in trouble, there was no way for her to fight him.
“Oh god,” She moaned.
“Don’t you climax, don’t you dare.” He growled, tightening his grip on her hair.
His free hand moved down between her legs and began rubbing her clit, pushing her buttons ever harder. She was just on the edge.
“M-mac please,” She begged.
“Please what?” I want to hear you say it!” He growled deep in his chest.
“Please, can I cum?” She begged.
“You wanna cum? Mmm.” He replied, smirking.
“Mac, please,” She squeaked.
“Cum for me Emily.” He purred.
Her climax washed over her in waves and she shivered hard. She continued to shake and tremble. Mac wasn’t done with her yet.
“Hmm…did you think we were done?” He whispered.
Mac pushed her onto her stomach and began to speed up. Her body shivered harder as he rubbed the head of his manhood against her g-spot with every thrust. Emily panted, shivering even harder as she felt more orgasms wash over her. She would be too weak to walk if he continued this way and he knew it. Another climax washed over her and he growled in her ear, thrusting deep inside of her as he shuddered into his own orgasm.
“Mmm…I missed your pussy.” He purred in her ear.
Emily was exhausted, her nerves were on fire and her legs refused to work. Mac slowly pulled out of her, wiping himself off on a discarded towel. He stood over her, looking down at her, the hunger in his eyes ever present. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she knew she had to get up, will her body to move. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he picked up his belt.
“What’s wrong Emily? Can’t move?” He mocked.
She tried to get up but he had her by her throat before she could even move, he crouched over her, his face mere inches from hers.
“No no…no running. You’re staying with me.” He said.
Emily had no idea who or what she was dealing with at this moment. All she knew is that all her old tricks she used on Mac before were not going to work.
My new Mac for my story. Mac has had some upgrades.
Run: Mac's Revenge
Disclaimer: I only own Emily.
Warning: Rated Mature, for Abuse and Adult Content
Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice.
Setting: Before Red Canyon and the Death of Mac
Emily had hoped it had ended with his death. That the nightmares would stop, the monster would leave her alone, and Caineville would have some peace now. Of the women Mac had hurt, to her knowledge, Emily was the only one who had escaped. Though she was far from that desert hell, somehow the rumors of its current status made their way to New York.
The recent rumor was that since the day Emily had set fire to their meth lab and Mac's truck, no one had entered the cave. Anyone who dared, venture beyond its dark, jagged entrance, left gravely injured. Emily wondered why anyone would want to go in that place. How could they not know?
The women he enjoyed most of all. Though for the life of her, Emily could not fathom why a woman would be curious about that cave. What would convince her to wander that far out? Rumor had it, that the most recent victim had been found covered in blood. She was lacerated and bruised from head to toe. Her face was beaten beyond recognition, chain indentation on her wrists, and clear evidence of sexual assault. The local police, incompetent as ever, and probably covering it up, claimed they never found the perpetrator. As far as Emily knew, Mac was dead, he had to be dead. She had set his truck on fire and it exploded when it finally hit the gas tank.
Emily wracked her memory, trying to recall if she had seen Mac in the truck when it exploded. The flashbacks came with a series of emotions. She remembered the dirt, blood, and semen smell wafting off of her in waves as she boldly trapped through the desert, his desert. A swallow of whiskey and a drag of one of his cigarettes suddenly, falsely made her believe she was a badass. That somehow, she was no longer afraid of Mac, what he had done to her, or what he would do to her if he got his hands on her again. At that moment, she forgot one major thing, Mac wasn't physically present when she had orchestrated her escape. Her courage would have shattered if he had walked into his house and found her smoking his cigarettes, free of the bindings he had put on her.
Emily remembered seeing the truck slam into the Caineville Police Station and the unconscious Mac in the driver's seat. When she set fire to the trail of whiskey, leading to the truck, she had turned her back. She never saw his body, she never put a bullet in his head, so she could not be certain that he was dead.
It would be effortless for Walter to spread the rumor that Mac was dead and the cave was haunted. He certainly wasn't popular with the locals, at least the non-meth users. Emily having been outside the situation for long enough, could remember how the few locals turned a blind eye to his actions. There was only one discernible reason for that type of behavior, fear. They knew his reputation and were too afraid to intervene. Cowards, She thought. With that realization came another more horrifying thought, if she went back, she would be alone. They would be more likely to help him than they would her, regardless of what he did to her.
The realization made her stomach cramp and her flesh goosebump. He cannot find you Emily, She thought to herself. She was trying to convince herself it was a fact, to pacify her growing paranoia. A paranoia that had remained dormant or so she thought. Had she not chopped her hair into a pixie cut to reduce the chances of being a kidnap victim? Was she not the woman who thought looking more boyish would protect her, even if he was still alive? Mac loved to grab her by her hair, in protest, paranoia, or just plain anger, she suddenly had hacked it down to a short pixie cut.
She was also the girl who illegally carried a boot knife in her purse and a hairpin or barrette in her chopped-off locks. The only person she was trying to convince, was herself. If she was so certain of the things she was telling herself, why had she mapped, imagined, and planned dozens of escape scenarios?
Every time she walked anywhere or went somewhere new, she looked for every exit and routed an escape plan. You destroyed his truck, he cannot afford another one, or a plane ticket. And even if it was running, it would never make the trip. She thought to herself. Emily nodded to herself. How would he find you? The last question had no answer. Emily, couldn't shake the paranoia rising up her back. That unmistakable feeling of someone in pursuit, just at her heels, right behind her. She had no answer for how he would find her, here in a large city and him with no resources.
Franklin Street subway was a ghost town at this time of night. Though thankfully well-lit, free of graffiti, and trash, it was unmistakably eerie. Advertisements lined the mosaic tile wall behind her. Emily leaned back looking first left and then right, though she saw no one, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't alone. So she walked over to the emergency exit next to the turnstiles and stared out at the main entrance. There was no one else even entering the subway.
Emily pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over the chain scars on her flesh, a constant reminder of the hell she had endured. Was she subconsciously preparing for a fight? A fight that may never happen. Who would she fight? Mac? He was dead, if not dead, in Utah. Though no one believed her story, believing there could never be a man that cruel, her scars, they could never explain.
It was months before she could shower without barricading the bathroom door. Emily found the thought of a man's touch unbearable. She remained single, seeing Mac in all of their faces. Mac had marked-no branded her with his violence, poisoned her with whiskey, and forever marked her with his sex. The cruel, twisted ways he had touched and toyed with her were burned into flesh memory.
For the longest time, she could smell his foul odor on her, every time she had to get naked. The aroma of him mixed with her own was only one repulsive reminder of the perverted things he had down to her. There she was again, curled up naked on the floor, the shower running unoccupied and her, crying alone.
The memories made her cringe, and graze her ear across her shoulder as if she could rub the gooseflesh off her neck. She licked her lips and sighed slowly, spinning around again. That time she swore she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She shoved her hand in her pocket, grabbing her pepper spray.
"Hello?!" She called out.
Silence answered her back. Emily glanced around the orange I-beams. There was nothing, no Mac, no monsters, not even another passenger descending the stairs. Emily looked around for a quick escape. There were only the stairs at either end of the subway. She would have to move fast, injure him, or outsmart him. Would pepper spray even work? Stop it! She thought. He's gone! She told herself. Emily exhaled slowly, shutting her eyes for a moment.
"Emily…" A male voice whispered.
"He's dead!" She said aloud, screaming at herself to get a grip.
Emily was having a hard time believing what she was telling herself. Her paranoia had woken up and no amount of facts would convince her the demon Mac wasn't coming to get her.
"Emily…" Sing-song this time.
This could not be happening, she was creating her own nightmare. Her body, however, believed Mac was in the subway. That he had found her and was here to get his revenge. One fact she could never deny, if Mac came for his payback, she would beg for death. Mac delighted in her suffering, her screams, and her repulsion of him. Therefore, he would only play with his food, until it no longer had the strength to live.
Emily's breathing came in rapid short breaths as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Without realizing it, she was shaking her head no. As if she could will away whatever was happening to her.
Her breathing came in rapid, short inhales as her heart hammered in her ribs. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"No…no…no…" She whispered to herself, her voice squeaking.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl and her body began to tremble. Then she heard it, work boots on concrete, echoing through the empty station. Emily swallowed hard, attempting to rid herself of the lump in her throat as a second tear rolled down her cheek. There was no denying the truth in this moment, as much as she pretended, she was terrified of Mac and no amount of anger would kill that fear. Then she heard it a second time, those boots, slowly making their way in her direction. Emily stopped breathing, all she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears and feel it hammering against her ribcage.
There, for a brief moment, she saw him descending the stairs, moving toward the turn styles and the platform where she was standing. Emily froze, there was nowhere for her to go, and he was blocking her exit. She backed away from the turn style to the platform and moved down the stretch of concrete away from him. Mac heaved himself over the turnstile moving steadily closer to her.
It was obvious he was on the hunt, he was wearing his dark hunting camouflage button-down shirt, dark blue jeans, and brown work boots. If she was creating this nightmare, her Mac was more muscular than she remembered and his meth rotten teeth were gone. The last thing she needed was a healthier, faster, and stronger Mac.
"Hello bitch. Bet you thought I would never find you." He said.
He couldn't be real, he could not be here in New York. There was no plausible way this could be happening. Emily was so enthralled in this nightmarish hallucination that she could not hear the subway approaching, squealing down the tracks as it began to slow. Only the rush of wind from the train shook her from her trance. The gust even ruffled Mac's hair and clothes but it too could be part of her hallucination.
If she was going to maintain her sanity, her freedom, or hell, simply escape, she had to move fast. Emily's head snapped in the direction of the doors and she bolted into the train just as the doors were closing. She assumed he had lunged for her because his balm hit the doors when he failed to grab her. Had she imagined that too?
Emily stared at those tiny oblong windows but his image was gone. She could swear he was just there glaring at her. He was nowhere on the platform, not anywhere she could see from her seat on the subway. Emily sighed, he head dropping in relief but she continued to glance up at the windows as the train left. Then she saw it, one brief image of him staring at her through the window. Her breath hitched in her throat, she shook her head violently as she began to cry.
"No…no…no…" She said, louder this time.
As the train picked up speed, his form vanished from sight. Emily jumped from her seat, staring out the window, but everything was a blur so she could not be certain.
Again she remembered she never saw Mac's body. Emily wondered if he was in fact, dead. Was there any possible way for him to find her? Had he somehow managed to find her? Every ounce of her protested the idea of returning to that place, that hell, Caineville. Unless, she wanted, no, needed to be certain that Mac was dead. That there was no plausible way for him to ever come after her. Of course, if he was intelligent or she was a moron, that could be exactly what he wanted. For her to willingly walk into his trap and never again escape.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a powerful hand sliding across her stomach and pulling her back into him. His voice came deep in her ear.
“We’re going to play a new game,” He said, the tips of his fingers making their way just under the band of her panties.
She stopped breathing.
“Breathe…” He commanded.
Her exhale came in short ragged breaths as her body trembled under his touch.
“What’s wrong? You’re shaking…I do love when you shake.” He growled.
She felt his hand slide up to her throat applying enough pressure to make her understand he could hurt her. His boots pushed her feet further apart as he hand began to slide up her inner thigh.
“Let’s see if you still get wet for me.” He whispered.
His rough fingers pressed against the crotch of her panties and began to slowly rub. She couldn’t stop from shaking.
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
gummygunk
areudirty
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton