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No Hope, No Escape  (Kim Hardwick)

No Hope, No Escape  by Kim Hardwick


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Tara and Milo are young, hip and going through a rough patch in their relationship. A relaxing drive through the country will smooth things out.

They were wrong. First their car breaks down, and then, the helpful farmer and his wife turn out to be not so helpful or friendly.

From the author who gave you, "BETRAYED' and "I SCREAM FOR MERCY", comes another horror filled story of repressed lust, and unspeakable barbarism. Tara soon discovers that some secrets were best left alone.

Unfortunately for her, it may already be TOO LATE!

Product type: EBook    Published by: author - self-published    Published: 11 / 2016

No. words: 49210

Style: Bondage/BDSM and Horror, Sado-Masochism (SM)

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


A quiet drive in the country; that’s all I wanted; frankly, that’s really all we could hope for. My boyfriend and I spending some time together, trying to patch things up between us.
That was the plan and for most of the day, things were going according to plan; however, when he pulled over to the shoulder of the road, massive amount of steam hissing out from under the front hood of the car, I knew that God had a fucked up sense of humor and was going to give it to us hard and unprotected
“This really blows, good thing you’ve got triple A; they’ll just come tow us back home.”
Milo sighed and shook his head sadly. As he did so, I knew that we were going to eat a big fat shit sandwich and that I was going to have to break up.
“I let my membership lapse two months back, Tara. There is no triple A coming. We are truly fucked.”
I was kind of in shock that Milo would be so irresponsible as to let his account lapse, knowing how old and unreliable his car was. Breaking down anywhere is bad. But to take a fifty mile trip to the middle of butt fuck nowhere with a piece of shit car and without some safeguard was the ultimate in irresponsibility. But then again, knowing Milo, this didn’t surprise me; it only confirmed that I had to find another man.
“Let me call triple A anyway; maybe I can renew membership on the phone.” Finally a good idea from Milo. Sometimes I wonder what I saw in him in the first place.
Just then, a horrible, squealing sound came from our left, just beyond the bend in the road behind us. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear it sounded like a cow getting fisted by King Kong.
“What the fuck is that?”
Before Milo could answer, the answer to the hellish din showed itself. It was an antique pickup truck (it was so beaten up and rusted it may as well have come from the dawn of time). From where I stood it seemed like it was a red or red-orange color; however, it could have been green for all the rust showing. Even from where I was, I could see that piece of shit pick must have been held together by duct tape.
“Hey, what do you know; a local! Maybe he can give us a hand.”
“God, look at how dirty it is!” I should have added how creepy it looked too. Who the fuck drives a piece of shit like that in this day and age?
“Tara, this is the country; farmland. Farmers are more worried about crops and their herds then how shiny their drives are.”
The truck slowed down and flashed us high beams which I thought was weird since it was still early afternoon on a beautifully sunny late summer day.
“Why the high beams?”
Milo smiled. “It’s a courtesy; letting us know that he’s going to pull over. I told you, country folks are friendly and helpful.”
“How do you know? They might be some inbred psycho killers hiding out from the police.”
“Tara, you’ve got to dial back your paranoia a bit. It’s cute and funny, but trust me, I’ve grown up around country folks and they’re as nice and genuine as they get.”
“Howdy! Having problems with your car?” The tall, gaunt farmer in denim overalls and baseball cap smiled as he got out of his pickup. His tanned face, grayish colored hair peeking under his cap made me think he was in his late sixties. There was something about the way he moved that reminded me of a predator; almost like one of the big cats of Africa. Quiet but deadly.
“Hi, my girlfriend and I were driving along when the power just went out. It’s not gas, the tank’s half full, and so I guess it’s probably electrical.” Milo always trying to be so helpful, even though he doesn’t know jack shit about cars.
“Well now, let me take a gander. Mind popping the hood?” The farmer eyed me before walking around to the front of the car.
“I guess it’s electrical; I mean, I was driving when the power just went out. What else could it be?”
While the farmer leaned over the engine, the other person with him stepped out of the pickup and walked over to us. It was a plump, middle-aged woman with flaming red hair tied up in a ponytail.
“Lordy, what a day your car picked to meet the Lord!” Standing at least a head shorter than the farmer, she was also considerably heavier; pleasingly plump some would say, I guess. Her burgundy sundress and oversized straw hat barely covered her shoulder length red hair.
“Let me wait a few minutes until the engine cools down a bit. That’s my wife, Dorothy and my name is Earl.”
“I’m Milo and this is my girlfriend, Tara. Glad to meet you and thanks for stopping.”
Dorothy walked past me and gave my arm an affectionate squeeze, “Don’t you worry none, sweetheart, Earl can fix anything.”
Looking up at Milo, she added, “You two must have gotten lost; this road only leads to Dingman’s quarry. Don’t go nowhere else.”
Milo gave her a surprised look. “Are you sure? The GPS shows this road connecting to the state highway.”
Earl laughed. “Son, I think you had best return that foolish contraption and either get a new one or stick to old fashioned maps. This road only leads to the quarry and like Dorothy said, it don’t go nowhere else which sort of makes it a dead end. Your GPS must has it confused with state road 653 three miles south of here. That road does connect to the highway and like I just told you, this miserable and flea bitten road only leads you to rocks. Unless that’s where you two were planning on going in which case you was on the right road.”
Earl and Dorothy laughed and Milo blushed. I guess I was right about his GPS after all. I told him back when he got it that it was a piece of shit; why else would it be on sale for such a cheap price?

Author Information


My stories deal with how all women love PAIN AND DOMINANCE. We embrace it; we welcome it. I personally want second helpings.

The more I sample life's simple pleasures, the more convinced I am that all us women are HARD WIRED to being DOMINATED. Some of the more sophisticated and adventurous add a touch of PAIN and then add EVEN MORE PAIN, but for the majority of us, the simple act of being HOG TIED, TRUSSED UP and then TOLD WHAT TO DO BY A DOMINEERING MAN, is the ultimate expression of what being a woman is.

Growing up as a plain Jane type, in Northern New Jersey, I lost my virginity at the ripe old age of 23 and have been making up for lost opportunities since.

One lover, multiple lovers, cross species partners, anal hooks, blow torches, nipple clamps, extreme nipple torture, I've tasted all that life has to offer. And now, writing about my experiences allows me to share with readers, my future friends, the joys of SCREAMING, CRYING OUT FOR MERCY, and the nuanced concept called MERCY.

If you enjoy reading about the depravity that exists in all of us, then I invite you to read my stories. Please note, I do not provide Kleenex, nor pain killers.

Post Script: To fully mire yourself in total and unmitigated smut, please visit my personal webpage where I frequently post musing concerning forbidden subjects too risque for Amazon. You have been warned dear.


Publisher Information

This story has been self-published by the author

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