I'm so excited this story has been so well received! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and to all the silent stalkers out there. If you make it to the end, please take a moment to let me know what you think. I'm kind of excited and have a lot of plans in mind for this one, so fasten your seat belts!

This story contains content of a graphic nature including, but not limited to: adult language, drug and alcohol abuse, rape, illicit sex acts, BDSM, murder, and mutilation. Viewer discretion is advised.

"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged"
― Heinrich Heine

"Hello?" She muttered, still in a sleep-ridden haze. The glow of the iPhone illuminated her face just enough to sting her eyes, not yet adjusted to the light.

"Chey!" The familiar voice was a muffled whisper. "Chey, you have to help me!"

"Is this some kind of joke?" She groaned, rubbing her eyes and sitting up in the bed.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Cheyenne, I don't know what happened! I don't know where anyone is!"

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down! Where are you?"

"I don't know! It's so dark!"

She could hear her crying through the ear piece. Cheyenne didn't know what to do. She felt helpless. "What happened?"

"That's just it, I don't know! Shit! I think he's come back!"

"Who? Who is coming?" She never got an answer. She only listened in horror to what was happening in another world, on the other end of that receiver.

"Little bitch! Where ya been hidin' that phone, huh?" There was a loud, distinctly feminine scream. The kind of blood curdling one that you would hear in a B-rated horror movie, the kind that could shatter glass. There was a thud, then a few loud snapping noises and then nothing but static.

Cheyenne woke up in a cold sweat, springing forth into an upright sitting position with a loud gasp. She had been having this dream for weeks now. If only it had been just a dream. It was more like a nightmare.

It took her a few minutes to realize there was a loud banging at her door. It took about that long for her to remember where she was and why it was that she was here.

"Hold on." She yelled, clearing her throat. She threw the sheets from herself and ran a hand through the rat's nest that was her hair before clearing the room and looking through the peephole on the dusty pink motel door. It was only Walter. She unlocked the door, undid the chain, and opened the door enough to peek her face through. "Yes?"

"I have a proposition for you. May I come in?"

"Uh…" She looked around to make sure she had her belongings put up. She ensured her sleep shirt was covering her well enough. She didn't see the man as a threat. "Sure. Come in." She pulled the door open the rest of the way. "Sorry, you kind of just woke me up." She laughed, fixing the bed spread before she sat down on the edge. Walter took a seat at the modest table in front of her.

"It's s'alright. This will only take a moment. I couldn't help but hear about your… predicament last night. I'll need help tonight at the bar. Weekends are busy. You can work off the room with the wages and whatever tips you make can go towards paying Mac."

"Oh, wow. That's more than generous." She admitted, a little taken aback by the gesture of good faith. "I've honestly never worked in a bar before."

"Well, you can obviously hear. Ye look smart enough to be able to read and write. S'not hard, dear. Be charming, take down orders, relay them to me."

"Sounds easy enough." She nodded.

"Get ready, meet me there at noon." He said, standing back up.

She walked him out and locked the door behind him, using it for stability as she weighed her options. She had no car, no way out. She had to have it fixed before she could do anything she had set here to do. Her quick trip was slowly turning into a drawn out mess. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

The window slipped open a little easier than he expected. He hadn't had to use the windows in a long time, but the front of the motel faced the Luna Mesa and he couldn't risk being caught, even if it was dark out.

The room was empty. He had kind of hoped she would be there, maybe in the shower or asleep, so he could surprise her. She'd fight back for sure, then. The thought gave him a distinct tingly feeling in his nether regions.

The room was clean and neat. If not for the luggage in the corner, he would think he had chosen the wrong room. First things first; the bag. He grabbed her luggage from the corner and unzipped the duffle bag, finding right at the top an assortment of lacey undergarments. He smiled to himself, taking pleasure in imagining them on her thin frame. His dick began to strain against his zipper as he chose a red thong and brought the crotch of the panties to his nose. Clean. Of course they were. There wasn't much else in the bag besides clothing.

He swept the rest of the room. Everything looked like it should. He instinctively looked in the bed side drawer under that hideous lamp. The Colt .45 revolver he had found in her car was sitting there, taunting him. "Stupid bitch." He muttered to himself. He had to give it to her, he almost didn't notice the compartment in the passenger's seat on his first run through of the car. He almost thought it was the drugs, playing with his mind. She got points for effort, a few more for creativity. He left it there in the drawer. He didn't want to make his presence too obvious. He took comfort in knowing where she kept the gun, though, it would definitely be useful later.

He went next to the bathroom. She had obviously used it, the mat on the floor was damp, there was a towel and discarded clothing on the floor in a pile, and the room smelled distinctly feminine. Mac first found her discarded underwear. They were a vibrant blue, cotton, and kind of square. He didn't approve of the choice in panties, but he did appreciate the slightly damp stain he found in the crotch. He smirked to himself, bringing the material to his nose. Musky, sweet, and distinctly feminine.

He couldn't help himself. He ran his tongue along the spot. He brought his other hand down, pressing on the bulge in his pants to relieve some of the pressure as he sucked on the dirty fabric. Sweet, salty, and absolutely perfect. He groaned deep in his throat. He knew this was for him. He got some type of sick self-gratification knowing that he had caused the moisture between her thighs that had undoubtedly coated the fabric in his mouth.

She wasn't really anything special, he told himself. She was skinny in a muscular type of way, not in a way that screamed she needed a hamburger. Her hair was wavy, a mousey brown color that wasn't too appealing. Her eyes were about the same. They were a pale blue, kind of dull and leaning towards gray. She had a pretty enough face. In fact, she looked almost familiar to him. He wasn't sure why.

Her tits were decent. Maybe a bit on the small side, but he imagined they would fill his hands nicely. He had also noticed that her small chest entitled her to not wearing a bra. He liked that. Less work for him. Her ass; that was the star of the show. It was round and full, yet still fit her shape. It didn't look out of place on her.

He shouldn't have to wait. He undid his zipper and his dick sprung forward with little time in between. He gripped his cock firmly in his hand right at the base and squeezed himself firmly before stroking his way to the tip and swirling his thumb around his weeping head, getting the salty, moist precum all over his thumb. That wasn't going to be enough lubrication. He looked around the counter and found all kind of tinted creams and tubes of gunk that Cheyenne must have used to get ready. He grabbed a white jar that said it was some type of moisturizer. He opened the lid and took a sniff of the cream. He snorted at the overwhelming floral smell, but decided it was better than nothing. He dug his grimy, thick fingers in the jar and pulled them out completely coated in white cream before he grabbed his cock again and began pumping at a more steady pace.

He ran his tongue over the panties and began biting down. His saliva was mixing in with the sweet fluid in the underwear and it was quickly taking over his senses. He pictured her with these panties in her mouth, bent over the counter, him jamming his thick cock into that tight little cunt as her face slammed into the mirror and she clawed at his arms, begging him to stop. He jerked harder at his raging erection until spurts of hot cum flew out and splattered on the mirror. He let out a few short, ragged breaths before he tucked his dick back into his zipper and pocketed the panties for later.

He didn't bother cleaning up the mirror, or fixing the room back to the way she had had it. At this point he knew she wanted it, wanted this, wanted him. He wanted to know he was there, he was watching, and that he knew.