Broken by Choice

It started innocently enough, as it always does. A book, paperback, unassuming. She had picked it up years ago and the words on the page had stirred something in her she didn’t quite understand at the time. What she did know was that she had found a new genre. One that made reading worth it, and did she read.

After years of destroying pages, breaking spines and researching the terms, the methods. The idea of a predator vs prey dynamic became an all consuming thought. It’s what she read, what she watched. It created a sense of deep fear and importantly, deeper inside her still, a much greater arousal.

Finding him, that was the issue. She had tried. Gone searching and many times had come up short. Anyone can take, anyone can fuck. That is not what she wanted. She got threats, she got details, she got messages, she got ghosted and she did plenty of ghosting herself. What she never got was someone she could trust. She needed patience. Needed someone that understood that years of wanting and fantasizing did not give someone else a few minutes of time before taking. Did not give him the right to own her, only the opportunity to try. She needed someone that got that “No” was a gift, that “Stop” was part of the fantasy. She needed someone who could differentiate and understand that in the middle of intensity like this, the safeword was not optional. It was the difference between role-play and assault. It was what separated this from being a fantasy not federal.

No matter how many times she gave up, she always came back to the search. Studying people, reading posts, adds. She tried all the sites, apps, and forums. Each failure was depressing, but not daunting, not discouraging enough to give up. Somewhere she would find someone. She knew she would. She had to if she was ever going to get over this.

That’s when she found him. One of those funny moments in life where the universe sent him her way after she had logged on to delete this account after weeks of “pics?”, immediate unsolicited dick pics and the many different ways men seemed capable of describing how they would “Ruin”, “Break”, or “Destroy” her. Yet never once seemed to have the intention or the patience to follow through. Not until she saw it. A post, clear, concise. In it was a detailed lay out of exactly what she had been searching for. Direct. No fluff, no excess. Clear guidelines. A list of kinks, clearly defined hard limits. Expectations for how things would go and a definitive “I won't waste your time”. Adamant that if you are not willing to talk, discuss and plan accordingly, you are not welcome to respond. It seemed almost too good to be true.

Prepared for another dissatisfying let down and inevitable drifting, she found herself pleasantly and wonderfully surprised. The conversation was exactly as she dreamed of. Both confirming with each other, checking, discussing, checking some more. No rush. She didn’t need to rush. She had been waiting for this moment, for this person for a lifetime and knew that she would wait. A day, weeks, months if necessary to make her fantasy come true. Most importantly, he seemed the same, never pestering or bothering. Simply asking questions patiently waiting in response. They vetted each other and determined that they had found what they both had been seeking. Ready to move forward, they finally set the scene in stone and agreed on a suitable date.

She had made it. Standing in front of the trail. She was surprised, strangely she felt no nerves. There was none of the expected concern. She had read about the anticipation, the cliche’s - “Her bosom heaving with the weight of anticipation” “Heart beating so hard against her ribs”. Things that she had expected, maybe had built up so much in her head after years of exaggerated fantasy novels. Yet as she stood here, moments away from the start of a fantasy born from years of secretly reading, enjoying and lurking a form of enjoyment - a kind of kink that most people won't readily admit they have - She’s standing there and she feels nothing like that. No butterflies. No fear. No anticipation. Instead, she felt like she was dissociated. Like her body was moving on its own. Controlled by an external force had grabbed the reins and drove her to it. She was watching herself moving, not fully accepting that the moment she had dreamt about, the scene crafted in her head over years, was about to become a reality.

“I’m here. Black leggings and an oversized grey hoodie, walking now.”

She hit send and within seconds, saw it was read. Two little checkmarks confirming a predator she had invited into her life was waiting. There's no going back now and there was no desire to. No need to check for a reply. She trusted him and trusted he would be there, waiting. Hidden and stalking as they discussed.

It was the actual act of walking that brought the assault to her senses. Each step sounded like a gun shot, even on the soft damp ground she could swear that the world could hear her walking. That everyone in the world now knew the kind of woman she was. Like her shoes themselves had been screaming that this woman walking was a real degenerate. That she took a fantasy meant to be read, and enjoyed, to think on in moments of weakness, not to act out. It’s almost as if by going through with it she was betraying all those that have ever struggled.Those that experienced the worst that there is of humanity and still struggle with that experience every day. She was a traitor to her gender.

At least, that's what she used to believe. In those moments of shame, of clarity after the kind of daydream the scenes she envisioned daily. The inner voice that told her how disgusting and pathetic she was. Traitor. She always saw that word online. From women that couldn't understand the urge. That could not comprehend how any single person could find this enjoyable, and she had internalized it. It weighed on her every time, sitting heavy like a scarlet letter. Traitor. But now, she walked towards it. Proudly. Confidently. She is no traitor. She is just grabbing what those that attempt to tear her down don’t have. Joy. Traitor? No, she’s empowered.

As she continued forward, every rustle of the bushes, every snap of a twig under her feet was silencing that voice in her head. It was bringing her back into her own body. She was becoming more and more aware that this was happening by the moment. It was settling in now. The fear, that realization of what she had set in motion. The further she moved inwards, towards the darkness. Towards this man that she herself had asked to hunt her. Waiting somewhere amongst the trees so late at night. She found the fear she had read about. As the noise from her inner thoughts faded away, it opened her eyes to the reality of the true depth of the darkness around her. She couldn’t really see. Her only real sense of direction came from knowing that this path was a straight line. As long as she continued on it, he would find her. As she trembled down this path, feeling the packed ground and gravel beneath her feet. She would be walking into an attack of her own making.

Steadying, she walked forward. Now though fear, paranoia had joined her, clinging to her hard enough to make her acutely aware of the absurdity of this choice. Her mind screams to turn around, to run back to her car, to safety. To put this idea out of her mind. Singing of the dangers, the people she would leave behind if she truly met the kind of person that would agree to her twisted request. The problem, her libido, her excitement, and the adrenaline pumping through her now had also joined the conversation. Content with letting these competing emotions and thoughts work through a decision in her mind, she walked forward. Depending on who was winning at that moment, she moved forward slowly, scanning everything still visible in the night. In other moments, she gave into the desire staring straight into the sky and feeling herself, sticky against her own leg, fear momentarily replaced by the feeling of damp panties that told her she was indeed making the right choice. That logic was a hurdle in the way of satisfaction. No matter what side was winning an edge, she never stopped moving forward.

He didn't announce himself. He didn’t scream. There was no warning. It was exactly as she had requested.

Looking back she was amazed that he was so well hidden, that he had blended in so well. One moment she had been walking upright, and the next, falling. A sudden weight had crashed into her from the side, barreling through her with precision and unnecessary force. He blitzed her, intending to go right through her. Just as they agreed. The wind was knocked clear from her with nothing more than an “oomph” as she felt a shoulder smash into her abdomen. As arms, thick and muscular wrapped her waist on impact. She wasn’t dragged. She was launched. She could do nothing but accept she was flying towards wherever he was sending her. Tumbling into the ditch, she landed hard and could clearly tell she was going to be in pain.

She didn't go limp. She fought, even while struggling to suck back in even a little air back into her lungs. Knowing the pain that would be soon hitting her like the broadside of a truck. She fought. Trying with all her might to throw her weight into him and roll him over. To position a knee for a single strike that would give her the option to run, but he had fallen right on top of her. The ground was soft enough but the landing had bruised her and left her breathless. She did her best, nails digging into his forearms while her legs kicked out to find some way to push against uneven ground, to gain some leverage she could use to her advantage.

She had said she wanted to feel his strength, to really know the reality of being helplessly, overwhelmingly, overpowered. They fought right there in the ditch, deep in the dirt. She does not know how long they fought for, but to her it may as well have been for hours. That’s what the burning ache in her muscles believed anyways.

On his end, he didn't disappoint. He was a brick wall. It was terrifyingly embarrassing to realize that he was just happily absorbing her punches and kicks. Dragging her back where he wanted her every time she gained a miniscule amount of ground on him. As if completely unphased by the extreme effort she was putting in. She was giving her everything to this. Acting as if this was really a moment where her life was truly at stake and she was just now realizing it was nowhere close to the same for him. This was a performance, him setting a stage for her to act out her dreams and as hard as she tried, it was a joke to her.

It was shocking. A horrifying understanding that he was playing as she was fighting. It zapped her last bit of strength. She thought it would be close, at least for a moment. She never once thought that the overpowering she imagined would be so complete, overwhelmingly complete. Then as if he watched the last bit of that fight disappear from her eyes, he finally pinned her, crushing her into the ground beneath, now disturbed and muddy from this farce of a fight, locking her hips into place with his knees as easily as he would any other simple task. He had won.

If she had thought her footsteps to be a loud scream into the void. The sounds of her hoodie, ruined by dirt now, and being cut apart, little by little, slowly in front of her eyes, that sound was a bullhorn letting the world know she had lost and captured. The air hit her skin, followed immediately by the heat of his body as he pawed and grabbed at her.

"Please"

She sobbed, the words carrying a very real desperation he was so expertly stirring in her.

"Please, stop. Don't do this. Please don’t do this"

He didn't speak. He followed the script she had written and that he had so excitingly shared in creating with her. He took her then. Not like one of the loving, caring protagonists that finally gave way to his desires for the poor beautiful stable girl. Or the wounded soldier that had lost himself in a passionate moment driven by emotional pain only she could solve.

He took her like an animal. With such burning intensity that it made the world slow around her. You know that moment when something in your hand is falling and your reflexes give you enough time to react by suspending time for a brief moment. He was giving her the real, full experience she had wanted and even her mind was starting to believe that this was not play, but a visceral moment that needed attention. That needed to slow down to see an option to escape.

She was helpless. Only existing now as he claimed her. He had stalked, fought and won. Now he was taking his prize, as was his right. Claiming her completely without a second thought of concern for her pleading protests. She felt the last little bit of her left untouched break apart as he tore into her. Receiving very little resistance from a body that had been eagerly awaiting this moment for a lifetime.

This was it. The raw, insane picture that she had held in her mind for so long. She had no idea how long it had been since he started his attack. No idea if anyone could see her at this moment. Honestly, she had no idea if it mattered if anyone did. Right now, she was in a world completely separate from any she had experienced before. Continuing to struggle what little she could. Trying her best to prolong and suspend this moment, to have it last for a lifetime, to make sure she filed away every feeling into her mind to never forget.

Against everything that had happened thus far, that buildup, the end was coming. She could tell in the way that he seemed to almost double in size, how the muscles in him twitched deep inside of her. How his hands that had held her in place firmly, with the intention to keep her pinned and subdued - not that she could do a thing about it anyways. Those hands now lost control as he tightened his grip so hard she felt he may snap a bone.

Seeing, knowing that he was so lost in her and the pleasure he was stealing. She could not hold back, the first warm shot hit the back of her, flooding her with heat. Another twitch, another spurt, sending her over the edge. She screamed in pleasure before he smothered her mouth. The taste of the dirt hitting her mouth and the pressure he squeezed her with. She really felt the strength of them, the size and grip making it clear why she never really stood a chance. Another twitch, another sensation of feeling pumped full sent a second wave of pleasure. She was gone.

She was no longer sure if she was staring at the night sky or if she had been passing out momentarily from the combined back to back wave of pleasure. That. The fantasy was over. It was the most vulnerable she had ever been. Literally and figuratively, the most depraved part of her desire was happening. She felt him pull out, leaving a sad emptiness in her, quickly replaced by the warmth he had left behind, flooding from her and running down her cheeks. Pooling underneath and saturating the ground. Unsure if the volume was him alone or a combination of them both. Her head was swimming and nothing really made sense anymore..

He left her there, just as they had agreed. Getting off of her, and doing no more than pulling up his own pants while looking at her, helpless and still lying on the ground. The sudden exhaustion, the fatigue in her muscles finally taking over and causing her to slowly wrap around herself.

No lingering, no speaking, just the cold stare from him as he burned her current state in his mind. She could feel him leaking out of her, she could see the pleasure he had so forcefully taken from her on his face. Another rush of excitement came through. Starting from the top of her head, down through her aching body and exiting through her now ruined pussy. Sending another gush of their combined proof of the scenes' success flooding out as she realized he will always see her in his mind like this. As the woman, no, not a woman, the object he claimed and left. As she watched him walk away, losing sight of him in the dark of the night. She attempted to stand up. Her legs were weak. Her clothes were completely and utterly destroyed, hoodie cut in multiple places before being torn open with his hands, leggings left stained with mud and grass. Crotch now suddenly froze as he had torn the area from her completely leaving it exposed to the world, swollen and sore. Then she felt him, literally felt him. warm and slick, another slow drip down her leg as she began the walk back to the car. He really left as much of a reminder for her as he could.

A massive amount of complicated emotions hit halfway back. There was the sharp guilt, the voice of society that says she shouldn't have enjoyed this. That dreaded voice was back. But just as quickly it was drowned out by a sense of sexual freedom, of enjoyment. She had stared into the deepest, darkest cliff of a desire she had been standing on the edge of for a lifetime and she didn't flinch. She fought, she tried, she did exactly what she had set out to do..

She reached her car, looking in the side mirror at the ruined woman staring back. Realizing she had forgotten to bring spare clothes. Worried now about how she will get back into her apartment without a neighbor calling the cops in fear. That would be a real nightmare. Gripping the wheel with both hands, trying to catch a breath. Feeling the bruises she knew were coming start to form. She wondered how she would cover this up. Keep this secret now that the visible reality of what she had chosen to do was so obviously clear and would leave well defined reminders for the next few weeks.

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat where she had thrown it

“Just checking in. You back in the car?”

She looked at the screen, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Her thumbs flew in response before she even realized what she was doing.

“Yes Sir.”

She thought for a moment about all she had done as the smile continued to g

row even larger. As she added her last question

“When are you free next? <3”