My Soul to Take

14 Days After Ripper Day

Mikayla Dondero was running for her life, running through the woods so quickly that the trees were mere blurs in her vision. Her black streaked mascara was a startling contrast to her purely white face. Her warm brown eyes were wide with terror. Her bosom was heaving from the exertion she was putting forth to run as fast as she was.

Suddenly, she stopped running. She put on the brakes, sliding on the rubber heels of her combat boots. She managed not to fall, catching herself on the trunk of a strong tree, as she looked around the woody terrain. The moonlight was streaming through the trees and the river could be seen in the distance. If she wasn't petrified, it would've been a calming sight.

Then...there was a voice. His voice.

"Why do you even bother, Mikayla?"

The leafs behind the sixteen year old rustled. The air became unbearably cold.

"You know you can't win this."

Mikayla could feel his presence behind her. Her body automatically stiffened, her muscles coiled and ready to spring - like a cheetah.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" She whispered, her breath coming out in a white puff.

Oh god...she could feel his body hovering just inches behind her.

"Don't you know by now?" His breathy evil laugh sent shudders of fear up and down her delicate spine, "You're the only person that can truly bring me back." His voice turned persuasive, seductive, "Kill Adam Hellerman and I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of."

"And if I refuse?"

Mikayla immediately regretted saying that.

He was suddenly pinning her to the tree she had caught herself on. His slender - yet still large - fingers were laced around her thin neck, squeezing it harshly. But not quite harsh enough to render her unconscious. His face was inches from hers, his eyes boring into her quivering soul.

"Then..."

He drew the word out, toying with her.

"I will take your body-"

He forced his knee between her legs, rubbing roughly against her clothed womanhood.

Mikayla's eyes filled with fiery anger and she struggled and pulled against him, to no avail. She just found herself even more pinned.

"-and I will do it myself." Mikayla was horrified, both at his words and the involuntary reactions he was getting from her.

The way he was maneuvering his knee was causing her to practically be putty in his hands. The wetness between her legs was a natural reaction from her body to decrease the uncomfortable friction caused by her jeans...but, try as she might, she could barely keep her little mewls - of both pleasure and terror - trapped in her throat.

"Go...go back to hell, you motherFUCKER!"

He wasn't phased by that in the slightest. The smirk that spread across his lips was evidence of that.

Before Mikayla knew it, her jeans had been unzipped and his knee had been replaced by his fingers. They rubbed quick, hard circles against her sensitive nub as he continued to stare her down. He was commanding her to make a sound.

The hand around Mikayla's throat squeezed and the eyes staring into hers narrowed just as a finger was plunged inside her. Mikayla let out an involuntary yelp that turned into a low moan and she still tried to pry away the hand at her neck and wriggle from his grip. But the fingers on her clit and the one inside her quickened their already tortuously fast pace and she felt her stomach beginning to quiver, trying to bite her lip to keep the steadily growing volume of her cries at bay.

"Say my name."

She was panting now, strangled yelps of pleasure and anguish spewing from her mouth.

"Fuck you." She spat breathily.

"Say. My. Name." He growled, quickening the pace of his fingers even more. Mikayla had given up on fighting against him by then. The fingers and hands that had been pushing him away were now clutching onto his shoulders, clawing into him.

"Plankov, Abel Plankov." She rushed out, the last syllable drawing out in a long, low moan. She was on the precipice of coming right then and there.

"Good...good girl. And what do people call me?"

She felt herself beginning to tighten, the pleasure building up within her.

"The...the-"

She couldn't help it as she felt her orgasm hit her full force.

"-Riverton RIPPER!" She screamed as she came, her whole body tensing up as her walls clenched around his still rapidly pumping fingers as Abel worked her through her orgasm, drawing it out. It was torture in the best and worst form as she writhed against him, finally breaking eye contact as she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't control the animalistic screams and cries pouring from her.

As she finally floated down from her high, Abel ripped his hand away from her and stepped back, watching Mikayla with a look of dark curiosity. No longer able to support her weight, she slid down to the ground.

As Mikayla looked at Abel Plankov, her eyes were filled with tears again. Shame and disgust were written across her face, plain as day. The teen hastily zipped up her pants and brought her knees to her chest.

"You're fucking sick." She breathed, her voice hoarse. Abel was sauntering towards her now, slowly. Mikayla cringed away, hiding her face with her hair.

Abel snatched her up by her hair and she yelped and scratched and pulled against him, putting up the fight that she should have minutes before.

But, before she could get away or even really try to, he had put his free hand on her forehead. The pain was excruciating. It felt like he was inside her head.

She was screaming bloody murder and all she could do was double over in pain, tears pouring from her eyes.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME." She sobbed, looking up at the evil man above her. He was smirking, laughing deeply to himself. When he spoke, his voice was deep and dark - like Satan himself.

"Taking your body."

And then everything went black.

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep

If I should die before I wake

I pray Thee, Lord...my soul to take