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Trevor Philips hunts you down across the rough desert terrain of Sandy Shores. There's not much to hide behind as you stumble on hidden gouges in the dirt and hop over the cacti in the growing dusk. You can hear him hot on your trail, boots crushing the soft earth at a sickeningly fast pace, the heavy panting of his breath enough to make your boxers wet already. You focus on moving your legs -- this game isn't fun unless you actually try to get away. That is until your right foot snags on something as you crest one of the many tan hillocks, sending you straight to the ground, palms now full of stone and gravel, and your ankle twisted awkwardly. When you sit up, tugging at your leg, you see that you're caught in a barb wire snare. It tears at the skin through your jeans, digging deeper the more you struggle. Whoever left this here meant to keep what they caught. Just as you open your mouth to tell Trevor to stop, to pause, to help you, you see him rise over the same hill to greet you. There's that wolfish grin on your boyfriend's face you know too well.

"Tsk. Tsk. Puppies shouldn't play around in the dark."

He's on you in an instant, biting at your neck, your ears, your jaw, your lower lip, until you gasp and his lips meet yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth immediately. He's everywhere at once, pawing at your torso as his hands slide under your shirt, thrusting his leg between your thighs and grinding against you.

Whenever you try to move, you find yourself moving your leg involuntarily, and the barb wire meets you with bared teeth. You whimper and Trevor chuckles in your ear, slowing his movements, but shoving a hand down the front of your pants nonetheless.

He cooes, mockingly, "Does it hurt?" He pushes a finger past your folds and curls it inside you, "I said, 'does it hurt?"

He punctuates his question by driving the knee between your legs up and out, spreading them wider, and making the snare tighten around your ankle.

"Yes! Hurts!" You grab onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him flush against you.

"Good. Spoiled fucking brat. Stupid dogs like you forget their place," He pushes another finger inside you, "you'll figure it out soon enough," His palm rubbing roughly against your swollen dick, making you gently buck your hips into his touch.

In an instant your pants and underwear are torn down your legs as far as they'll go, and Trevor is freeing his dick from his pants.

He rolls you onto your belly, one hand holding your head down in the dirt, the other guiding his dick into your sopping wet hole. Trevor shudders as he bottoms out. You groan, pushing your ass up against him to make it go a little deeper, feeling so full.

"That's it, baby. My little piece of ass. Such a good boy. You take me so well. Fuck I love you," he starts fucking into you fast. The pace is brutal and you can feel the rocks digging into your belly and your thighs.

You moan and pant your way through two orgasms before he pulls out and finishes on your ass. There's a moment when your heart sinks as you feel the heat of him pull away, but then you hear the snip of wire cutters, and you feel the snare loosen, and Trevor collapses on top of you.