Disclaimer: I only own Emily
Warning: Rated M, for abuse and adult content.
Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice. For my new readers, I hope you enjoy and for those of you who read the old version, I do hope you like this one better. Please let me know.
**This takes place before Red Canyon because otherwise things get far too confusing. So, Enjoy!
~Let me know if I am keeping it Very Mac~

There is not one woman who does not fantasize about a man like Mac. The thought of a sexually aggressive deviant taking you against your will and abusing every inch of your body is a complete turn on. It gets the heart beating the blood flowing and makes your lower body flutter with arousal. He speaks to you as if you are lower than dirt and yet you love it. The element of danger and the possibility of harm, only adds to your excitement. Although you know that your should not want him, your lust is beyond your control and so you give into him. This is only the fantasy. The reality is much less fun and much more painful. If you try to fight him, you will end up a corpse or worse. He may just beat you until you are a bloody, unrecognizable mess and the let you heal so he can continue to play with you. There is no stop button for this game and no safe word if he gets too rough. In the real world, you belong to him and you will learn to be a good sex slave. Otherwise your time with him will be unpleasant, to say the least.

When Devon finally came in to see her it was well past midnight (according to the ever ticking clock on the wall). By the way he moved around the room, she could tell that something was just not right. The way he looked at her was not the way he usually looked upon her (with sorrow and worry). He began to quickly gather random objects in the room before dashing back out of the house and leaving the bedroom door wide open. Everything in her instincts told her that she needed to get out of this room before he or someone else returned. Over half of her bandages were gone and her cast on her ankle was now nothing more than an ace wrap. Although it still hurt to put pressure on it, she knew that she had to get herself free before the chaos (that was soon to come) exploded around her. Emily pushed herself up with a grunt and began to pull at the cloth on her wrists, with her teeth. Her jaw protested against the sudden strain she was putting it through but she ignored the throbbing pain. Ever so slowly she felt the cloth began to unbind and she tugged against it as her teeth worked it lose.

The familiar sound of an engine roared up in front of the house and she yanked harder at the cloth until it finally came undone. That sudden acceleration of movement caused her to roll off of the bed and slam onto the wooden floor. Emily grabbed the side of the bed and tried to pull herself to her feet but her legs were so weakened from lack of movement that she collapsed back down as soon as she was up. Desperate to get herself free from her current prison, she began to crawl on her belly across the floor, toward the shelter of the bathroom. Her still fractured ankle drug across the ground, sending jolts of pain through her whole leg and making her eyes well up with tears. She could hear the door of the house slam shut and those ever familiar boots began to thud across the floor. As she reached the bathroom, she heard his voice pierce the air around her.

"Where tha hell ya going?!"

Emily pulled her legs to her chest before slamming the door behind her and leaning all her weight against it. She would not give into him that easily. Even if it meant more pain she had to fight herself and to fight him. Her womanhood (despite his abuse of it) began to flood with arousal at his mere presence. This was an unfair fight that she had no chance in hell of winning but she would damn sure try. The door rocked hard against her back, slowly pushing her away from it. On the other side of the room, she spotted a small window just big enough for her to shimmy through it. If she was going to attempt to get out of here and away from him, she needed to put something heavier against this door. Emily glanced around the room and found a heavy shelf that served as a towel holder. With one hand she grabbed the piece of furniture and pulled at it until it began to tip toward her. Then she slid slightly away from the door and gave the shelf one last tug. It crashed down in front of the door, blocking Mac's attempts to gain access to her safe haven. Now came the process of getting her legs to work, she had to stand if she wanted to reach that window and get out of here. She grabbed the sink with both hands and pulled with every ounce of strength in her arms. Emily did manage to pull herself to her feet the first time but her knees buckled and she slid from the sink, smacking her chin against the white porcelain. The sudden impact made her whole mouth hurt and she tasted copper pennies for a brief moment. It was nothing compared to the damage she had previously endured at the hands of Mac.

Again she grabbed the side of the sink and pulled with all her might. This time when she got to her feet, her knees did not buckle and her legs finally found their strength. On the other side of the door, she could hear Mac cursing and slamming all his weight into the wooden structure. The shelf she had used to barricade the door was beginning to slide across the floor. She had to make her body move faster than this if she wanted to be out of here before he got into the room. Emily forced her legs to move toward the window. They wobbled with every step and she could feel the bones in her ankle grinding against one another. Now was not the time to worry about the little things. As she stepped into the tub, she had to grab the shower wall in order to keep herself standing up right. Behind her she could now hear two sets of bodies ramming the door and the shelf was moving even more quickly. Emily unlocked the window and slid it all the way up. Its opening was much smaller than she had anticipated but she could still manage to shimmy her way through. She was half way out of the window when she heard the entire shelf slide across the floor and she pushed the rest of her body all the way out. There was a good four foot drop on the other side, so her landing was not a soft one.

As she slowly began to get up, she heard the sound of the outer door opening and slamming shut. When Mac came toward her, she hunched down into the fetal position and put her hands up in an effort to shield herself from his onslaught. She had tried to fight him, she had tried to get free from him and all of that failed. There was no one out here who would or could help her. It was three against one and that one did not have a weak point. But he seemed to know every single one of hers. Mac grabbed her by her wrists and yanked her to her feet. This time as he glared at her, she did not shoot of at the mouth with some smart ass retort. She swallowed hard as tears began to fill her eyes and slowly spill down her cheeks. When she begged him for mercy, she meant it this time.

"Please Mac...I...I just don't want anymore pain. I'll do what you want. Please..."

His jaw tightened and then he moved closer. Now his body was pressing hers up against the side of the house, his breath reeked of whiskey as he growled into her ear.

"I ain't playin with ya anymore. Try yer stupid shit with me now girly...I'll snap your pretty little neck."

"No...no...I'll be good."

Mac grabbed her face hard, digging his dirty nails into her soft flesh as he turned her to face him.

"Who's my dirty little whore?"

"I am." She squeaked.

"What?!"

"I am!"

"You're what Emily?!"

"I'm Mac's dirty little whore!"

"Atta girl. Now yer gonna apologize to me."

She heard him unzip his black jeans and watched him pull out his long hard shaft. He grabbed her face once again, harder this time.

"Ya better not bite me."

Emily shook her head no.

"At's my girl. Yer learnin."

Slowly, she sank to her knees in front of him. Then she gently grabbed him with her right hand before running her tongue slowly up the side of his cock. Mac moaned deep in his throat as she began to expertly work her hands around his steel member. Emily slid him all the way into her mouth and sucked him hard while her hand moved in sync. He tasted salty with the hint of the days heat and at the same time bitter. She fought to ignore the disgust she felt as she performed this most degrading of sexual acts. This was not something she was unfamiliar with and if it meant that she would keep him from exacting his painful revenge on her flesh, then she would do it with the best of her ability. Mac placed one hand on the side of the house to steady himself and the other gripped her hair forcefully. As much as she wanted to bite down on him and remove the thing he had used to tear her delicate folds, she resisted. Besides, she knew that there was no use in even trying to fight him because she would only end up in pain again. So she sucked him hard and stroked in ever quickening strokes. With every movement of her hand and mouth she felt him stiffen more and more, telling her that he was close to exploding into her mouth. In an attempt to speed up the process, she slid him all the way in the back of her throat and began to moan. That caused him to gasp in pleasure and moan again, his whole body began to shiver. She could tell that he was having trouble keeping his legs from giving out because he took his had from her hair and placed it on the house. Now he was leaning over slightly, his body quivering with every flick of her tongue and every moan she enacted. 'Come on already. Just cum so I can be free from your rotten cock.' Although the thought passed through her mind, there was still some part of her that enjoyed when he violated her and abused her. When he treated her as if she was nothing more than an object and when he refused to let go of her until she was beyond exhausted. Every sore aching muscle reminded her of their encounter and made her hot core ache for more.

Emily could hear Mac seem to choke on his own breath before he finally shuddered hard and she tasted his bitter seed in the back of her throat. It very much reminded her of the taste of coffee grounds and she knew that his consumption of whiskey the cause of this sensation. Much to her disgust, she managed to swallow every bit of his foulness and even suck him clean before pulling him from her mouth. She stayed on her knees in front of him, not wanting to incur the wrath of Mac because she moved without his permission. This position put entirely too much strain on her ankle and the rest of her still healing anatomy. Still, if she wanted to keep from gaining anymore wounds she knew that she would have to do whatever he told her to do. The evolution from ass kicking warrior woman to Mac's obedient bitch, had not occurred over night. It (like the poison of Caineville) had started slowly and spread through her body as she lay in that bed healing from his rage filled assault. She had over a week to think about the events of the past couple weeks and she had come to understand that her only choice was to submit to him. There was no hope for escape (unless someone killed them all) and there was absolutely no chance in hell she could fight him again. Emily had tried that once already and only ended up a beaten bloody mess. As long as he had the corrupt sheriff around and Walter, she would not be able to beat him. In fact they were really the only reason she could not take him down when she had the chance. She should have shot them both when she yanked the gun from Harley. That would have eliminated most of her problems and made her escape all that much easier. Even though she had become comfortable with the idea of killing them, when her opportunity came she did not take her chance and now she was nothing.

Mac slowly tucked himself back into his jeans and drew the zipper up. Then he looked up at Devon who might have been standing there the whole time, watching them. 'Pervert.' There was some unspoken understanding between the two of them because without saying one word to him, he knew what Mac wanted. She watched him walk over to the bed of the truck and she heard the sound of chains being slid across the wooden bed. Devon moved over toward them, the sound of the metal links clanking together made her body twitch uncontrollably. It remembered the feeling of the chain as it slammed into her flesh unforgivingly, slicing it and bruising it. Emily did not move from her place on the ground until Mac grabbed her by her hair and lifted her up. His cold blue eyes glared into hers and her own reflected nothing. There was nothing left inside of her, he was slowly removing the woman she had been and training her to be the woman he wanted, a whore.

"Ya not gonna pull yer shit anymore bitch."

"No Mac. I won't. I learned my lesson."

"We'll see. I got a treat in store for you."

Devon handed him the chains, these chains were different than the ones he had used before. Instead of just wrapping the links of metal around her wrists, he clasp shackles around both her wrists and ankles. To her surprise they fit perfectly over the ace bandage on her still fractured ankle. Now she understood why the cast had been removed a lot sooner than it should have been. How could she be so stupid to think that Devon really cared what happened to her? He was just as bad as the rest of them and probably just as sexually perverted. None of that mattered anymore. The realization of his true self should have enraged her beyond control but she understood now that her protests would only end up in more pain. Her mind swam with confusion at her reactions to the situation at hand. Although some part of her still felt her absolute hatred, another part of her refused to let it show and even made herself submit. At the same time, her mind knew that she could handle the pain and that she would eventually get over it. Still, she was beyond exhausted. Emily just wanted all of it to end and it was not going to anytime soon. So she would do what she had to in order to make life tolerable, at least until Mac decided her was done with her.

Death was a jerk, he told her to fight for her life when he knew full well what would end up happening to her. He had come and refused to take her. Then he had the audacity to suggest she fight for her life and if she tried to kill herself to end the suffering, he would leave her soul there. Maybe he was just as sadistic as Mac.

Mac held her by her hair as he lead her over to the bed of the truck and Devon held her by the chain around her ankles. At this point his involvement was unnecessary because she was not going to fight them anymore. There was no reason for her to even try. No one knows where she is and what she has been going through for the past week or so. She darn well knew that no one back home could content with the monsters she had been fighting. In the beginning of her hellish journey her mind attempted to tell her that this was Hell and that Mac himself was the devil. Unless there was a living version of Constantine, she would never see her home again. They heaved her into the bed of the truck and wrapped the chain around a newly installed bar just beneath the rear window. Then they pulled a blue tarp over the top of the bed and secured it with thick ropes. Both men climbed into the truck before it roared to life and pulled away from the house, heading out into the darkness of the desert.

The truck bounced and swerved along the dusty desert roadway, Emily had to keep her head up so she did not smack it on the wooden boards. Again she could smell the over powering scent of diesel and sand as it kicked up against the underside of the vehicle. She managed to pull herself up slightly so she could peer into the cab of the truck. What she noticed made her whole body flush with the cold chill of absolute terror. It was an emotion she had felt before but not to this degree, she wanted to cry she was so afraid of the sight before her. In the rearview mirror she caught the image of Mac's blue eyes glaring into the bed of the truck, they seemed to be the only thing she could see in the darkness. As he took a drag of his cigarette, the hot cherry reflected in his pupils and for a moment she could swear that she was imagining the reflection, that there were real flames in his eyes. There little disagreement in the cave had been nothing at all, what he was about to do to her would make that beating seem like a day at Disneyland. In face she probably would come to prefer being beaten with the same chain she had hit him with. Or even beg him to kick her in her already broken ribs until she could taste nothing but blood and breathing was excruciating. It was apparent that Mac had some dark adventures in store for her. Now the question remained, should she try to fight again or let him have his way with her? This was a hopeless journey with no happy ending. Even she would never write her character into a corner this bad. She knew that there was no way out of here, she was caged in.

If it was not bad enough that she was stuck in her current predicament, she was also stuck in her own mind. Her thoughts bounced between fighting and submission. There seemed to be two different people trapped inside of her head, each one of them fighting for space and trying to be the dominant party. If the fighter won, then she would be in for a world of pain and her days (and nights) would be filled with nothing but violence. Then again if the submissive won, her days would have less pain but she may never be able to live with herself again. Also, if she did get free, she could never be the same woman again. She could not function normally in society and might just end her own life. Too bad she did not believe in God because she might have suddenly started praying. Of course when you're in this level of Hell, he cannot hear your cries of desperation. She had walked (or drove rather) willingly through the front gates and did not get out in time, even after the devil had made his presence known. That was his greatest trick, convincing man he did not exist. When she met Mac, he had terrified and thrilled her. Yet somehow he had also managed to fill her with a false sense of security. It had been enough to make her stay in the depths long enough to allow the devil to get his rough hands on her. She should have never let him touch her. Although his hands caused so much pain and suffering, they also were intoxicating. Those digits of his were surprisingly talented, once you got the feel of them on your most tender flesh there was no chance of escape.

In the distance, just beyond the animalistic growl of the trucks engine, Emily could hear the choral howling of coyotes in the canyon. One at a time there high pitched yells pierced the darkness until they were a synchronized choir of blood chilling sounds. She felt goose bumps began to crawl down her spine as her body shivered in an effort to shake away the paralytic effect of their call. Again, she pulled herself up to peer into the rear window so she could watch Mac smoking his cigarette and glaring at her through the mirror. He must have seen the top of her head peeking over the bottom of the window because she noticed the muscles in his jaw tightened slightly. She swallowed hard before sliding back down and curling up in as much of a ball as she could. The wind whipped through the spaces between the boards of the truck, chilling her flesh as it cycled around the bed. She did not have on enough clothing to protect her from the harsh night air of the Utah desert. It was blistering hot during the daylight hours but when it came to the evening, the temperatures dropped. To make matters worse, she was still wearing Devon's, sister's clothes and she had not had a shower for most of the week. So as far as she was concerned, if Mac wanted to deal with her filthy body and the body oder she knew she was radiating, then have at it.

All of a sudden the truck slid to a stop and when she heard the engine finally shut off, she realized she could hear the sound of a dog snapping. It did not take her long to figure out that he had brought her back to his house. There had to be a good reason he did not want to drive her back out the cave and chain her up. Perhaps he felt the house would contain her better. If only he knew that she was not going to try an escape again and that he really did not need to chain her up anymore. She heard both of the doors to the truck slam against its cab and then through the gaps in the boards she saw two sets of hands began to untie the rope holding the tarp. They threw back the plastic sheeting before unwrapping the chains from around the metal pole in the bed of the truck. Emily felt someone grab the shackles around her ankles and then another set of hands grabbed the ones around her wrists before dragging her out of the truck. Without saying a word, both men carried to the house, through the front door and finally downstairs to the basement. The chains around her wrists were looped around a large hook hanging from the wooden beams that made up the upstairs floor. Now she dangled about a foot from the concrete floor, her body swaying slightly from the sudden movement.

She watched Devon slowly ascend the stairs, his once kind eyes now cold and unfeeling. It was as if he suddenly did not see her as a person anymore but an object. He saw her as Mac's sex toy and nothing more. This sudden shift in personality was strange to her but at the same time she seemed to accept it without resistance. There was no internal battle in her mind trying to understand what had happened and why he suddenly turned into an asshole. In this moment she realized that Devon always was an asshole, he was just really good at masquerading as a NICE guy. His rapid exit was a signal to her that things were about to go from really bad to much worse. So she braced herself for pain, she would always brace herself for pain. The pleasure (what little there was) she could handle all of that, unless Mac decided he was not going to stop until he was satisfied. Emily knew that he as never truly satisfied. A sexual deviant like him could never be sated, nothing would ever be enough for him.

Emily dangled there for a few moments staring at nothing in particular. Finally the demon moved around in front of her, swaying as he moved back and forth. His weight shifted frequently from one foot to another, his head was lowered as he stared up at her with a cigarette in one hand. The smoke from it encircled her, the smell of it drifted into her nostrils, mixing with the ever pungent smell of whiskey wafting off of him. Mac seemed to be trying to decide what to do with her at the moment. That could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing. He began to circle her slowly and she felt him briefly touch her hair, then the shirt and pants she was wearing. Then he moved back around in front of her and she watched him take a drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke from his nostrils. Just the way his eyes raked over her flesh as if they could see through her clothing, made warm wetness rush between her thighs. Her body begged him to rip her jeans off and fill her with his hardness. At the same time her mind filled with memories of his fingers probing her inner folds as his tongue flicked over her swollen pink bud. Her own mind was now teasing her and she realized that she was right back to where she had started. Mac once again had power over her and from this moment on, he always would. As he spoke to her, he curled his nose up at her.

"You need a shower. Yer ass stinks."

"Please Mac. I haven't gotten to take one in a week."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a black toothed smile. There was something wicked that danced across the darkness of his pupils. Emily knew that he may give her what she wanted but it would cost her greatly. Mac took another drag of his cigarette before finally tossing it to the basement floor and snuffing it under his boot. Then he lifted her effortlessly off the hook and (much to her surprise) helped her to make her way up the stairs. She limped down the hallway toward the bathroom and then hobbled inside. Before she had the chance to turn around and shut the door behind her, she heard it slam shut. She could feel him standing at her back, the muscles of his chest causing heat to spread down her whole body.

"Mac...please..."

"Ya still got some poligizing ta do."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Don't you worry bout that. Take your clothes off."

Emily swallowed hard and began to slowly peel her clothing (and bandages) from her body. She wasn't even aware that Mac showered at all but maybe today was different. Perhaps he was only showering because she was and it was a golden opportunity for him to get his hands on her flesh again...

[I'm such a tease I know.]