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The new season of The Challenge is unlike any other.
Then they sat in deep, dark silence for a while.
She was lying across the bench, hands behind her back, completely in shock and awe as to this turn of events. She had no idea what he intended to do now; he never took her license, so he didn't even know who she was. He didn't know that she was borderline 3 strikes; and for a moment she had to wonder if maybe she would have been better off taking the ticket; he didn't even read her her rights.
It seemed like they had been parked forever and she was trying to work up the nerve to ask what was going to happen next when she felt the bump of the cruiser sliding into gear, then the car lurching onto the road. She forced the words out: "Where are we going?"
"Shut the fuck up."
Whatever was happening she wanted it to be over already, and she couldn't stop the hot tears that began to flow. A sob broke from her and she tried to hold back any more.
"You can cry, just don't talk."
At first it seemed like the first merciful thing he'd done, but when she realized he didn't mind because it turned him on she steeled herself against any more sobs. Her tears still ran but she didn't make a noise. She didn't try to look out the windows or anything because she knew he'd yell, or worse, so she just stayed curled in a ball in the back seat. The handcuffs were tight and hard and bit into her wrists, the seatbelt latches stabbed at her back. She stared at the cage separating the front from the back of the car and waited to see what would happen.
The cruiser slowed and took a tentative turn and she felt the tires bumping off the road, onto gravel or dirt. He didn't stop yet though, and for a few minutes they rode some very bumpy, unpaved surface, until at last he stopped. He got out of the car, engine still running, and she heard his shoes crunching leaves and gravel for a while before the door at her feet opened. He grabbed her ankles hard and yanked her out until her feet were on the ground, then grabbed her hair again and hauled her up until she stood. The car was parked on an unpaved trail, not even a road really, that ran through a thick stand of cedars. He turned her toward what looked like an upward slope, though it was hard to make out in the dark, and pushed her forward.
She couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her as she struggled up a sort of wash. There were no branches or growth, but the rocks were worn smooth from water, and in her bare feet, with her hands still cuffed behind her, it was all she could do not to fall. Once she slipped and was about to pitch forward onto her face, but the cop grabbed her arm to stop her from falling. At last she reached a sort of plateau of bare rock, ringed by cedars.
"On your knees."
"Where are we? What are you doing?"
He grabbed her throat from behind. "I said get on your fucking knees! The next time I have to tell you something twice you're going to seriously regret it! Now get down and stop asking fucking questions!" He bumped her with his shoulder and she staggered forward and half-fell onto one knee. Dutifully she lowered the other leg and knelt on the bare rock.
He slowly paced a circle around her, and she kept her head down, not bothering to look up. She didn't know what his plan was, but from the beginning he told her not to look at him, so maybe if she continued to keep his face hidden from her, she would survive this ordeal.
He stopped his slow, predatory circling in front of her, and just stood there. She was beginning to realize he used the buildup of anticipation to his benefit; sometimes your thoughts are worse than the reality.
Finally, she heard the sound of a zipper.