Death Embraces Her

In a dark corner with his trusty shotgun in his hands, he watched her, busy in a vain attempt to find him. She had lagged behind during the chase, and when she finally managed to climb her way inside of the dimly lit at best building, he was already hiding. What a joke this was, she found him by sheer luck, and she thought she had the ability to keep up with a man who made it his mission to be as fast, as stealthy as he possibly could?

"Stupid little bitch. I could kill you so easily right now... but then, what's the fun in that...?"

He smirked at that thought, looking her over. She looked like a real whore, with those incredibly tight black jeans that clung to her body. They must have been a few sizes too small for her, and to top it off, they were one of those fucking low rider pieces of shit that had come into fashion. Butm the biggest give away was her half shirt... it barely covered her tits, and good Lord, they were huge; must be a solid D cup, if not more so. He could see them moving, swaying... if she's wearing a bra, it must not be working very well.

The worst was the hair. Oh, he enjoyed long hair... but it was dyed an ugly shade of blue, the kind of shade that stupid little bitches dyed their hair because it's in fashion or they think it makes them different.The choice of leather for a makeshift hair band only made him hate her more... he had a powerful desire to just strangle her to death with it.

But he wouldn't. Oh no, he wants to have some fun before he kills her... and he wants to make her death a little more memorable for her when she rises from the dead. Such was the glorious side effect of the zombie outbreak and the miracle cure that brought the walking dead back to "proper" Human existence, to be forced to recall your own death and the time you spent trying to eat your former fellows as the hunger for their bodies drove you to a near madness.

Slowly, he crouched down and grabbed a lose bit of a wall, broken off from a gunfight that had erupted some time prior to his using the place as an ambush spot. Then, slowly getting back up, he made sure that her back was turned to him... and threw it. The very instant it hit the floor to his left, sure turned and ran over, gun at the ready.

"The fool."

He smirked, she was running right into his trap. As she looked about in the general area of its landing, which was within mere feet of him and her back, he tightened his grip on his shotgun. Spinning it around quickly, he made sure that it butt of the weapons was aimed right at her, so that he could strike with swift, brutal ease. Then, without making a sound, he came charging from his corner, weapon raised and pointed right at her head!

He struck her, the blunt end striking home with brutal, near skull crushing power. Crying out for a moment, her eyes rolled back into her head as she falls forward... but, before she could even hit the ground, he slammed it into her again. And then once again. Each strike was as brutal as the last, almost enough to fracture her skull.

Panting as he stands over her body, he looks down at her, looking for any signs of life, any signs that she wasn't out cold. She laid there, completely motionless, he could see the blood already oozing from her head, staining her hair. He thought, for a moment, that it would be incredibly funny if it turned purple.

Once convinced that she wasn't laying a trap of her own, he crouched down once more and checked for a pulse on her neck. He could feel it... it was still rather strong, telling him that he merely knocked her out. He smirked, bitch'll have a Hell of a headache when she comes around.

But, before that, he must prepare her for the fun that is to come. Laying down his beloved shotgun, he grabs her leather hair band and pulls it away from her hair, pulling it so it's no longer looped. Then, he grabs one of her arms and puts it behind her back, then wraps one end of the leather around the wrist. He does the same to the other arm and wrist, then binds ti together, leaving her arms effectively tied behind her back. But now, he needs something for her legs...

Looking her over, he takes notice of her belt. His smirk grows ever wider as he roughly flips her over, her tits bouncing a bit. For a moment, he wanted so badly to check and see if there was anything holding them... but he managed to hold that urge at bay, for now. That can wait until she's come around, until she can see and know what's happening.

He grabs that belt of her, carefully, avoiding the spikes. Undoing the buckle, he pulls it from her body, then, once more, he flips her body. Moving down, he lifts an ankle up and wraps the belt around it, then the other... and tightens it, then buckles it up. Now, she can't grab at him, she can't walk... she can't get away.

But, one more thing is needed... to gag her. He doesn't normally keep anything on his person to gag his victims, he normally just kills them before they can really make a noise. Looking around the dimly lit room, he can see nothing to use, not even a shred of cloth to...

"Ah...!"

His eyes light up as he looks at her, or rather, her legs. Pulling out his beloved knife, which has been sharped and honed to be almost like a dagger, he slips it under one of her pant legs then, with a few tugs, he manages to cut it open, going higher and higher, cutting more of it open. When he believes he has enough, he cuts around the leg, then pulls away at the fabric, leaving a large chunk of her leg bare. Then, once again, he flips her over, then pulls her mouth open. Once opened, though, it's stuffed full... or rather, more than full with the cut fabric, making it all but impossible for her to scream, any noises will be muffled; perhaps to the point where none but him can hear her.

He looks her over one more time, to make sure that his bindings are secure. With that check down, he lifts her up, noticing how heavy she actually feels and tossed her over his shoulder. He then picks up his shotgun and places it in the make shift sheath he constructed for it, then began the long, slow process of taking her somewhere that her "friends" wouldn't think to look.

...

It had taken him a good, long while alright... carrying around a body is hard worn, he was sweating by the time he arrived at his primary safe house. It was so very funny, knowing that his enemies were most likely running past this particular building every single day, but they never stopped to check. It was old and run down, but lots of windows, entry points for zombies. The windows just looked like they were boarded up carelessly, like an abandoned building; it wasn't a good place to hide from zombies. But that's just what he wanted them to think... it had taken some time, but he had managed to make it safe.

You'd be amazed at what a man that hides all day can accomplish with sheets of metal and brute strength. A zombie or even hoard of zombies couldn't hope to penetrate the reinforcements that he'd made, even if they were smart enough to use their strength wisely. This, combined with the precieved notion that it wasn't safe to spend a few hours in, much less a night made it the best hiding spot.

He tossed her down, onto a small pile of clothes and various rags that he'd collected, much of which was stained with blood. It was a little make shift "bed", something to sleep on that wasn't as cold and hard as the floor. Then, he went about removing his weapons; his beloved shotgun, a few pistols that were quick and easy to access and then his knife. Even if she were bound, there's no need to let her have an easy time of getting his weapons, especially considering what he's going to do to and with her...

He was sure that by now, she'd be awake, if not just groggy and groaning in pain, but the bitch appearently liked to keep him waiting. He considered throwing some water on her face, but that would be a waste of good water; that stuff was hard to find in this city, especially when people are out to take your head in all the obvious places to look for it. He didn't have any use for something like smelling salts, and if his makeshift bed wasn't stroke enough, then nothing else he had would be. He needed something to shock her awake, something painful...

He corcuhes over her and, with all the force he can muster; slaps her across the face. Then, he backhands her with equal force, only to slap her again, then backhands her, over and over, leaving her face red and sore. He can hear her groaning and he ceases his assault, smirking once more.

Her eyes snap open moments later as she realizes that the last thing she recalled was chasing him, and she's greeted with him looking down at her, that evil grin growing wider. She struggles against her bindings, breasts jiggling as she groans and whines, arms and legs getting tired from her trying to get loose.