Page 107 of Lost to the Woods

“That’s it,” he grits out. “Squeeze harder. Milk that cock, baby.” His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he guides my movements, owning me.

But I’m the one in control now.

I ride him faster, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me, pleasure builds again, hot and tight in my belly. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my tears fall on his chest.

He doesn’t notice. His eyes are glazed, lost in pleasure as I grind down on his throbbing length, and he’s close. I can feel it in the way his thrusts grow erratic, in the way his fingers dig into my skin like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“Bunny—” His voice is wrecked. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

I lean down, my lips brushing his lips for the last time, my fingers curling around the knife.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper.

Then, I don’t hesitate. I plunge the knife into his chest.

His body jerks beneath me, his eyes flying wide open—shock, betrayal, pain—but I don’t stop.

I stab again.

And again.

Blood spills between us, hot and slick, but I keep riding his still-rigid cock, my hips gyrating, pussy clamping, unable to let him go.

His hands scramble at my waist, weak now, but I don’t let go. I can’t. I drive the knife deeper, and deeper, until his breath gurgles in his throat and his hands give out.

The last thrust is the hardest. The knife sinks straight into his heart, and at the same moment, pleasure shatters through me, my walls contracting around him as I come with a broken sob.

His body goes still beneath me.

I stay there, panting, the knife still buried in his chest, his blood sticky on my skin.

Then, slowly, I twist—just making sure—and the cage goes silent.

I sob. Just for a second, I let myself feel it. The crashing pain, breaking my heart and wrecking my soul.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, stroking his perfect face with my bloodied fingers before closing his eyes.

Then, the survival instinct kicks in—I don’t have much time.

I pull out a knife from his heart and scramble to my feet, tossing his hoodie over my naked body before I leave. The cage door clinks shut behind me as I rush to the exit.

I don’t run. I’m still terrified of these woods. I don’t know how far the others are, and I don’t want to do anything hasty that could alarm them.

I have no idea where I‘m going, I just know I need to get as far from here as possible. The sun is still high, filtering through the thick crowns, and the cicadas are singing, which must mean the path is clear.

Everything seems to go smoothly. Just my legs tremble, feet hurting against the rocks and roots. I have no idea howlong I wander around, but my exhaustion is getting the best of me. I’m weak, even with all this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I start stumbling, my head getting dizzy, but I push forward. I have to.

My foot catches on something hard, harder than a root. Maybe a bone? I crash to the ground with a shriek, my hands sink into something wet and spongy. I don’t want to know what it is, but the smell of rotting flesh hits my nose, making me gag.

I try to get back up, but my body screams in protest.

Then I see it.

A camera. It’s lying a few feet away, half-buried in the dirt. The screen is cracked, but it’s still intact. I recognize the sticker on it withGhost Daddy’slogo.

I crawl toward it, my hands shaking as I pick it up. It’s cold, the metal casing rough against my skin. I press the power button, not expecting it to work, but the screen flickers to life. The battery icon is red, almost dead, but it’s enough.

A video starts playing, dated early May.What the hell?That’s a month before the gang and I arrived at the Airbnb.

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