Part two is ready, so here we go!
WARNING - the chapters that comprise this ‘item’ in The List will contain CNC (consensual non-consent). It will mention rape. There will be humiliation. It will involve weapons - this particular part is mostly knife play. The sub will not always be treated / spoken to kindly. If you’re happy to read such things then feel free to continue.
As ever, please read the notes at the end.
The List - CNC - Part Two
You don’t know how long you’ve been in the back of the truck; it’s stopped and started a few times, probably at lights but you’ve absolutely no idea where you might be. You’ve closed your eyes - no point having them open with the material over your face - and you’re surprised at all the small sounds your ears are picking up. At one point, you think you hear Shawn’s voice but then some music comes on and drowns it out.
The covering over your head is really starting to irritate you and so you begin to rub the side of your head against the blanket, wondering if you can work it loose. After a minute or so however you give up, because it seems like it’s held in place around your neck by a drawstring, which would explain why Shawn had been able to tighten it so quickly. Your mind turns to your destination and you try to guess where they might be taking you. It seems doubtful that he’s merely taking you to his house - they’re too good at this and probably won’t want you anywhere that’s familiar. Certainly not to a hotel… not to any place with near neighbours, really. You pull against your bindings but they’re not shifting. You try working your ankles in small movements and it does seem to loosen off a little, but it’s not going to contribute to any escape attempt.
The truck slows, turns and then you’re bounced around a little as it drives over uneven ground at low speed. Your heart rate instantly picks up again because it’s clear that the next part of this scene is coming up. You wonder whether Mark is waiting because you’ve not had any evidence that he’s here with Shawn in the truck and he definitely wasn’t around in the house. The cab door opens and slams shut and then the darkness of the truck bed is removed as he rolls back the cover. You lay completely still and silent and for a few moments nothing at all happens and then you scream in shock as you’re grabbed and pulled along, the blankets easing the way and then Shawn is manhandling you up on to his shoulder again and you squeak some more.
“Knew I should have put a fucking gag on you,” he comments as he settles you on his shoulder - a more difficult task this time due to your tied position. “You move and I’ll let you fall and just drag you through the dirt.” He turns around and begins to walk as he adds, “Maybe I should do that anyway - it’s where whores like you belong.”
“Not a whore,” You’re breathing hard again and words are an effort.
“Yeah, well… we’ll see about that.” He turns abruptly, making you fear for the safety of your head, and you hear a door open - the sound of a basic latch and then his boots walking across a wooden floor. The smell of timber surrounds you and so you figure you must be in some kind of cabin. Your thoughts are interrupted as Shawn starts to lower you down before he lets go and you drop the last foot or so to the floor.
“Got a live one?”
It’s Mark.
“Oh, yeah… walked right in and back out, easy as anything.”
“She give you any trouble?” You hear his heavy footfall across the floor, getting louder as he approaches until the wooden boards beneath you shake slightly.
“Nothin’ that a couple threats didn’t quiet down. All the usual, y’know.. ‘I can give you money’, ‘you don’t have to do this’ stuff.” You’re prodded with a foot and you assume it’s Shawn as he goes on, “Hey, you’ll never guess what she said when I took her out of the truck…” He breaks out into a giggle. “She said… she said, ‘I’m not a whore!’”
Mark laughs and then he’s crouching down and working the knots that bind your legs to your wrists and you can’t help feeling some relief as the discomfort of the tie leaves you. He unwinds the rope from your ankles and then hauls you to your feet.
“She ain’t saying much now,” He comments, keeping a strong grip on the back of your neck. You try to imagine what expression he’s wearing and make a half-hearted attempt to shake free of his hold. To your surprise he lets go and then you’re just stood there between the two of them, still with the damn bag over your head and your hands tied behind your back. There’s a few seconds silence and then he speaks to you. “Well? Now what you gonna do?”
You’re at a complete loss because well - what can you do? Unsure of their exact positions, you turn your head slightly to the left and right in a bid to address them both.
“I… let me go? Please?”
“Ohh, I like the way she says ‘please’,” That’s Shawn again and it seems he’s on your right. “Let’s get her to say that some more.”
You squeak as Mark takes hold of your neck again and then the drawstring is loosened and he pulls the covering from your head. The cool air is welcome and of course it means that you finally get to see them. They’re both in jeans and t-shirts; the sleeves have been cut off Mark’s and he’s got his hair tied back with a black bandana covering the top of his head. Shawn’s hair hangs loose and he’s wearing a heavy silver chain around his neck. You don’t know how they’re doing it but they’re both exuding an air of being complete strangers to you.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Mark says. “We need some entertainment… and you’re it.” He looks across at Shawn and adds, “Shall we?”
“Wh… what do you mean?” You look from one to the other of them as you take a small step back. You don’t get an answer - Shawn just steps behind you and takes hold of your upper arms, causing you instinctively to struggle. You cry out as he laughs and then bites your neck yet again - higher up this time. “Stop, please!”
Shawn just huffs out a laugh and licks across your skin. “Stop? We’re just getting started.”
Mark has crossed to a table under the window and seems to be contemplating something. Your breath catches when he turns around with a hunting knife in his hand. Shawn tightens his grip when he feels you tense up and as Mark starts to slowly walk back over you plant your feet and try to shove back but you’re no match for Shawn’s strength, even as you wrench yourself left and right to try and escape. Mark’s left hand shoots out and he grabs your neck.
“Moving around all over the place when I’m holding this near you?” He says, lifting the knife up so that it’s right in front of your face. “Bad idea.” He holds it so that the tip is pointing directly at you and then grabs your hair to keep your head still. He draws the tip down your neck and you let out a high-pitched whine but don’t dare to speak. “You have any idea how sharp this is?” He continues, turning the blade so that it’s at perfect throat-slitting angle. Your eyes are fixed on his face, wide with fear as the cool metal presses into your skin. “It’d made a real clean cut… you probably wouldn’t even feel it open you up.” Another whimper escapes your lips and he looks at you as he takes it away from your neck. “So with that in mind, don’t you move a single fucking muscle, else you might get hurt.”
He goes to one knee and it would almost look gallant were he not holding a knife that would gut a deer. He grabs a bunch of material at the top of your sweats and then rips the knife through it, the material parting easily to show the pale skin of your thigh beneath. He sets the knife down on the floor and uses his hands to tear the fabric apart further before picking up the blade again and slicing through the waistband. He hacks cleanly through the material on your other leg and then with brute force removes them completely.
“Please…” Your voice is a whisper. “Please don’t do this. Just… if you let me go I, I won’t say anything to anyone - won’t call the police. Please -”
He stands up to tower over you, knife back in his hand and he grabs your hair again, pulling your head back.
“You think I give a fuck about police? They wouldn’t be able to find us anyway.” He puts the blade back at your throat and you close your eyes - this is harder than you thought. The words for your colours scroll through your brain and it helps to calm you; that invisible lifeline… you decide you don’t need it yet, even as he strokes the edge of the metal across your skin as he goes on. “You can scream and cry, you can beg, you can plead with us - go right ahead.” He turns the blade so that once again the very tip is pressing into your neck. “We like that,” He says, dragging the knife gently upwards and gliding it along your jaw before pressing it flat to your cheek, making you bite down on your lip in an unsuccessful bid to suppress a whimper.
“Why me?” You dare to open your eyes and he moves the knife away from your face as in perfect tag team fashion Shawn takes over and gives you a small shake.
“Because you were there, bitch.” He releases one of your arms and puts the hand around your neck, closing it tighter than he has thus far. “There you were out for a run - really caught my eye, so I followed you home. We’ve been looking for a new toy for a few days and there you were - call it fate, huh?”
You go to take a breath and have the frightening realisation that you can’t really get much air in because of his hold on you and you begin to struggle - a futile cause between Mark’s hand in your hair and Shawn’s grip on your throat. The blonde takes hold of your arm again and you gasp in some air, the breath out releasing as a sob as Mark takes a handful of your shirt and sends it the same way as your sweats until you’re stood there in the just the underwear you picked out earlier - it’s a sweet matching set, white with a purple marbling pattern that you only bought a week ago.
“Nice…” Mark takes a step back to appraise you as he twirls the knife in his big hand before slipping it into the back of his jeans. “Did you wear that especially for us?”
“Fuck you,” You snarl at him, figuring that a change of tack is required.
He just smirks. “Later.” He glances above your head and says to Shawn, “Hey, you want a go? Throw her across here.”
In response, Shawn lets go and pushes you forward at the same time as spinning you round. With your wrists still tied behind your back you stagger a bit to regain your footing and then Mark catches you and adopts the same grip on your upper arms, holding you back against him. Shawn steps forward and takes the knife from Mark’s jeans. He stands and contemplates the blade for a few moments and then raises his eyes to look at you coldly. Normally his eyes are bright and they twinkle with fun and amusement but now… there’s nothing. It’s sinister.
He traces the tip of the knife down your sternum and then back up, the metal leaving pink lines in its wake. You’re trying not to breathe too hard and watching his face, but he’s concentrating solely on the blade. He glances up and sees you looking at him.
“He’s a lot nicer than me, y’know.” He presses the blade flat against your throat, forcing your head up. “And I’m still a little pissed about you kicking me when I put you in the truck.” He slides the knife down to your shoulder and works it under the strap of your bra before he turns it to strain against the material. The strap digs into the back of your shoulder until it finally caves to the pressure and the blade slices it clean through. He repeats the action on the other side and looks annoyed when the moulded cups don’t just fall down. With a growl he wrenches them away, revealing your breasts to his gaze and then with determined movements, cuts through the band before pulling the whole torn mess from you and dropping it to the floor.
You turn your head and look off to the side, trying to make out that you couldn’t care less about the fact your clothing has been cut off. Shawn tucks the knife away behind him and grabs your breasts roughly, squeezing them to just the wrong side of uncomfortable. That said, you’re used to a rough ride now and again and privately you know that when your panties come off as they surely must, there won’t be any doubt as to how you’ve felt about things so far. Nevertheless, you do your best to try and get away, twisting left and right.
“Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
In response he takes a strong grip on your nipples and you scream - for effect rather than real objection - only to be ignored as he leans in close. “Keep telling you, bitch… I haven’t even started.”
You’re not quite sure where your next idea comes from and you certainly don’t take the time to think it through - just draw your head back slightly and then spit into his face…
TO BE CONTINUED
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NOTES
Goes without saying that knife play can be hella dangerous. Again, I have taken certain liberties within the above and so don’t whatever you do use it as a how to guide. I’m not going to pontificate about the do and do nots of knife play here, because there are plentiful resources on the net if you want to find out more about it. If it’s something you’re curious about then there are ways to keep it safer (note - SAFER - not safe) and that’s to only ever place the non business-side of the knife against skin. Alternatively, another way around it is to let the sub see the knife but then blindfold them and use something else entirely to produce the sensation, such as the side of a credit card. If, as in the fic above, you’re cutting someone’s clothes off with a knife then always makes sure that you are cutting AWAY from them.