Leslie, twenty,  woke up slowly, with her head pounding and her limbs weak. She’d been at the club, but her memories grew hazy. Where was she? She looked around and saw that she was outside. Way outside. She gazed into the distance and saw only hills, mountain peaks, and fields like the one she was in. And she was naked. Her clothes were gone, and she’d been lying on the ground. She was cold.

“Good, you’re up,” the man’s voice said from behind her. She screamed and turned around, her hands flying to cover her naked breasts and pussy. The man was seated on a log, fully dressed, with a small pack on his back. He also carried several rifles. He was glaring at her with a cold stare.

“What? What happened? Who are you?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” he said.

“Please, give me back my clothes!” she cried.

“Your clothes are in a trash bin three hundred miles from here. Now listen up, girl. See this?” He held up a rifle of some kind. Leslie gulped and nodded. “You’re allowed one hit with this. It’ll knock you out and allow me to enjoy you. But for the second, I use this one.” He held up another rifle. “These are ordinary bullets. If you haven’t escaped after the trank, too bad for you, huh.”

He pointed up in the sky. Leslie followed his gaze. “Look at the hawk on the far right.” Leslie gazed. They were low flying birds, but still hundreds of feet up. She screamed when the gun went off, and the bird came tumbling from the air.

“Stop thinking of yourself as an office worker, Leslie!” the man said sharply. “Now you’re prey. Be an animal, and you might live. Maybe. But no one has yet.”

“No!” she sobbed, shaking badly in terror in front of this psycho. He turned the gun towards her.

“You get ten minutes, then I come after you, Leslie.”

“Nooo!”

“Move it!” he shouted. Leslie jumped and began fleeing. She didn’t know where she was going, just trying to get out of sight. Her mind and body were overcome with sensations, mindless terror, naked flight from danger. She’d been naked in public, outdoors. Once. In college. But this helplessness was a hundred times more savage to her frightened mind. How could it be real? How could a man shoot her dead? The tears in her eyes blinded her, making her flight awkward and stumbling, but she reached some trees.

Her panic grew as she ran and ran until her lungs were burning and her heart was nearly fluttering. She was a good runner, and routinely did laps at the indoor track at the university. But what the killer probably didn’t know was that Leslie was badly agoraphobic. Cities were fine, but the countryside was not. She was not just fleeing from a sadist, but from the outdoors itself. Yet all the running got her nowhere, and the open sky and grand spaces of the mountain west burdened down on her like a weight on her chest.

When her body finally gave out and she crashed to the ground, she could only curl up in the tiniest ball possible, hysterically sobbing with her eyes clenched shut. “Help me!” she shrieked when she had breath enough for it. “Help me somebody!” She threw up, partly from terror and partly from exhaustion. Slowly, though, she gained enough control to run again, but not nearly as fast as before. Her legs were already sore from the extended flight. If she needed to, she couldn’t sprint away from the killer.

She came to a shallow river. She stumbled in, hoping he couldn’t track her over the rocks. She staggered along, slipping and sometimes falling. Her nude body was taking a beating from the rocks but she kept going, unmindful of the slippery terrain. Something in her mind told her to follow the river downstream.

And then she felt the twinge. She stopped cold, looking down to see a dart sticking out from her right breast. The hole around it was turning red and swollen. She felt light and collapsed into the cold water.

Her face was submerged only for ten or fifteen seconds, but she wasn’t moving. She was barely conscious, enough to feel the water sucked into her lungs. Then an arm was around her waist, pulling her out and dropping her naked form onto the dry dirt. The killer stood over her. She only slightly comprehended the danger. “Forty five minutes. Not bad actually. I’ve had girls last a day without my catching them, but usually its more like ten minutes.”

She couldn’t even turn over. The drug that entered through her tit left her body immobile, but also left her mind in a haze. She was staring to one side, at the vast scene below the open field and the mountains below. Rather than raw terror she felt only the dull, persistent mental ache of a repeating scene in a bad dream that lingers near the time of waking. The killer was out of her sight for a time. When she felt her faculties returning to her, she was dragged and tied up, dangling by her arms and legs from four trees. She momentarily felt better. The foliage hid the sky and the sublime landscape from her eyes.

But only for a moment was she relieved. The killer was there, holding blades. She was hanging face up, spread wide, utterly helpless. She screamed when she saw the knives, but her struggles were no good. She only added bloody ligature marks to her otherwise already bruised up body.

“Trendy whore,” he said with a bit of a snarl, running the knife over her belly. “I told you to be an animal. But you had to be a girl. A whining, frightened, useless little girl.” The knife was pressing down hard on her skin. Leslie cried out as she felt it break the skin on her left breast. “Help me somebody,” he said in a high, mocking tone. “I couldn’t lose you with you screaming out your position to me.”

“Help, no,” she whispered. He suddenly slashed the knife hard across her chest, cutting a long gash over her right and especially her left breast.

“Yes!” he hissed at her. She cried out in pain from her cut tits. Then he began running the knife over her cheek. Leslie just whimpered pathetically in terror. Her brain kept saying that if she showed enough submission he would stop hurting her. It wasn’t working, but it had to work. Even when he cut her cheek and moved the knife down to her pussy it somehow had to work.

“Worthless whore!” he hissed at her, running the blade along her clit. With a flick of his wrist, the edge sliced into her most tender and sensitive flesh. She shrieked in shock and agony. Then the killer began to get undressed. She was hanging at his waist level. Moments later, she let out another anguished cry of pain and horror when he shoved his cock into her, rubbing along her cut clit and bringing forth a second, even more pitiful shriek of agony. His thrusts were harsh and rapid. Leslie’s pain was unbelievable as she bled over his cock. He only slowed when he took his hands off her hips and grabbed at her titties. His strong, thick fingers clutched and squeezed them before twisting at them, as if he could pull them from her body.

It lasted over forty minutes, and his control was excellent. Leslie thrashed her head about as he alternated between mauling and cutting her, but rarely taking his cock from her mangled pussy. He did finally unload his seed into her belly. If Leslie hoped it would sate his rage, she was mistaken. But it did lead her to her second chance at escape.

The sadist cleaned himself up first. Then he got dressed and approached Leslie’s dangling form again. Without warning, he punched her hard across her jaw. She spit out blood and two of her teeth, screaming in agony from the blow. He approached her crotch again. She flinched and wept hysterically, wondering what he would do down there. He picked up a rock, rough and irregularly shaped, but two or three inches wide. He opened her cunt lips with his fingers and then began to stuff the jagged stone into her cunt. She shrieked and thrashed about again, but to no avail as he used the butt end of a hunting knife to jam the stone all the way inside her, more than ten inches deep.

He released the ropes lifting her, letting her abused, naked form fall to the ground. He grabbed her, flipped her onto her belly, and then locked a pair of handcuffs around her wrists, behind her back. Then he grabbed the other rifle, the one that fired real bullets. “I won’t rape you again, Leslie. That’s a promise. I’ll give you ten minutes, and next time I see you I do my level best to kill you dead. Best run along now!”

Leslie sobbed and gasped, but managed to struggle to her feet without her hands free. Her flight into the trees was awkward and stumbling, but frantically fast. Her dizzy mind just told her to avoid obviously landmarks. Avoid rivers. Avoid any place he might think she would go. She set a moderate jogging pace, swerving and dodging, trying to be erratic. But when she burst out into a field again, her old phobic terror hit her like a hammer once again.

She was totally alone, totally lost, totally naked, and trapped in a vast, mountainous trap. She would have given anything just to wear something again, just to be less helpless, less exposed and vulnerable. Given a choice between clothing and getting the sharp rock from her cunt, she would have taken the clothes. She was so very, very exposed.

She sobbed openly as she fled, keeping her eyes to the ground, with no idea where she was going. But each minute that passed without a gunshot was a great relief.

Was he tracking her. She’d seen no sign of him for an hour. Or two. She didn’t really know. Was it still morning. She collapsed into the grass of the open field as a wave of agoraphobic panic over took her. She threw her head back, screaming in terror and shame. Then she collapsed to the ground, hoping the tall weeds kept her out of sight, and cried as quietly as she could for a while. “I don’t want this,” she kept sobbing, almost in a whisper. “I really don’t want this!”

In time she got to her feet again. She was able to look at the endless landscape without getting dizzy, but she headed a new direction, into higher, rougher land. It was her only chance of getting away. To survive the killer she had to avoid the killer. For the next hours she stayed low, even waddling on her knees to stay low and avoid noise. Her knees were banged up, scraped, and bruised with each step, but her rape and torture had made it more than clear to her just how much deadly danger she was in. She wept, but continued onward.

She hadn’t had a bite to eat since the day before, and no water since the river. As the sun grew low on the horizon her stomach was in pain and she was weak. The lower the sun, the cooler the air became, and Leslie found herself shivering and unable to go on. She was unfathomably miserable, shamed, terrified, and exposed. All she could do was lie down, make herself as comfortable in a small ball as she could with her chained hands, and try to wait out the night. It was an endless night, cold, barren, hard, and horrifying. The land made noises at night that made Leslie scream aloud, practically out of her own skin. And it was so very cold out.

She didn’t even know if she’d slept when she saw traces of light. When she could, she got up and stumbled onward. It was a never ending nightmare, and Leslie’s terror of being stranded outdoors had returned after being relieved by the veil of night.

She’d still not seen the sadist since her brutal rape. She hoped he was far away. She kept heading up to higher country, and when she crossed over the top of a minor ridge she saw a meadow ahead. She stifled a scream when she saw the campsite and the man seated facing away from her. But a moment later she cried out in relief. It wasn’t him. Clearly it wasn’t not him. She ran forward.

“Help me!” she sobbed as she stumbled forward. “Please, help me!”

The man turned to look at her. She had to be a sight, and she was certainly reminded by his presence that she was a naked, lost, handcuffed girl. His eyes seemed to penetrate her. She continued forward though, until she saw around him the sight that had kept his attention. Another girl, also nude, was staked down the ground, bleeding from a hundred wounds. Her jaw dropped and she tried to stop cold, falling to her knees to scream.

“I didn’t know Travis was up here hunting poon this weekend,” he said as he looked her up and down.

“No!” she shrieked. “No, it can’t!”

The man took out a large revolver and fired three shots into the ground in rapid order. “There you go, baby doll. That’ll get him here for you.”

“No!!” she cried one more time before turning to flee. It was inconceivable that her rescue should end up doubling her terror and danger. But it did. She ran in a blind panic, back exactly the way she came. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. And finally she saw him, her sadist. He was no more than a hundred feet away from her. She turned to flee, but went no more than two steps before the felt the hot pain of the bullet hit her right thigh. She fell forward, unable to move herself further. She managed to roll onto her back to see her killer walking towards her.

“Please!” she shrieked, trying to push herself back with her left leg. “Please! Don’t kill me! Please. I don’t want to die!”

“That’s too bad, Leslie. You had the thrill of erotic chase and injury. At least now you get to die in a way that few girls will get to. Try to focus on the sensual nature of your passing.”

“No!” she shrieked one more time before he shot her in her belly. The pain was unbearable. He peered at her. “I guess you get an hour or two to think things over,” he said. Then he reached down and removed her handcuffs. “Since your second chase was so surprisingly good, it looks like you’ve got one more chance,” he told her. “Get to a hospital in the next hour or two, and you can be saved. So long, Leslie.”

She screamed incoherently as he walked away. Her hands were free now, but she was bleeding too badly to move. And now, immobile, without the chase, she could only lie in the grass and ponder the vast, terrifying expanse of the Rockies spread out around her. That would be her final companion in life, because she was too weak to crawl for shelter in the trees a quarter mile distant.

She lay crying in agony for well over an hour, in fact. As her vision grew blurred, she saw a helicopter fly low over her. It turned back. Through her tears she may have seen the pilot wave once before leaving her alone. “Why me?” she gasped with her last words. Her last screams were silent ones, of a terror beyond human as the empty space around her naked, battered female body swallowed her up and coldness took her away.