Hitching a ride

Your fists tighten as your temper flares. You quickly close the distance, your limbs a blur as you wrench aside the door between you and him, smashing it's window as it hits the car, leaving it hanging limp on its lower hinge.

The screech of tearing metal has the two spin to look up at you in aghast horror, the cursing driver releasing the girl in his shock, who stumbles back on her ass, flashing a pair of red lace knickers as she stares, dumb-founded.

Your too furious to properly enjoy the sight, instead reaching into the car, taking hold of the man's expensive looking suit jacket and wrenching him out with violent ****, tearing it's fragile fabric and bouncing his bald head on the door frame before tossing him to road.

The blood dribbling down the little man's face has you salivating, the hungry beast stirring once more. Terrified, he tries to clumsily climb to his feet, only to fold once more after a swift jab to his gut. You leave the pathetic, wheezing creature for a moment to look back at the girl, wide-eyed as she watches your ****, noticeably startling as your gaze shifts to her.

Your crouching above her before she can even consider fleeing, putting a cold digit to her lips as you say in a soft, but firm tone "get back into the car. The back seats". She nods, seeming calmer as she does as you bid without a word.

Returning to your victim, He's back on his feet, clutching a pistol in quivering little hands. "G-get the fuck away from me! I'll shoot! I'll shoot!" He threatens, unconvincing with his cracking voice. Angered by his defiance nonetheless, you disarm him with a quick backhand, gripping him by his wrist and twisting, enjoying his squeals of pains with a cruel grin.

You intend to break bones, but a thought occurs: this is likely a rich man. Rich men have nice things, particularly nice homes and clothes. From what you could tell from the girl, you may have some influence on a person's obedience. Even if you haven't, intimidation will suffice to keep him in line for a while. He'll make a decent chauffuer to his home at the very least.

But to drive, he'll unfortunately need both arms intact. You release his wrist to grab his shirt collar and pulling him close, lifting him in the air and bathing his sweating, bleeding face in the crimson glow of your eyes, your breasts against his chest as you snarl "you'll do as you're told from this point on. Displease me or her in any way, you'll die slow".

"You'll get in the car and drive us to your home, and not speak another word to anyone without my express permission. Nod if you understand".

His expression, twisted in fear and pain, slackens as you speak, into a listless stupour, his mouth hanging open dumbly as he nods. You let him go, dropping him back to his feet so he can hurry back into the drivers seat, struggling to shut the smashed door closed. You slip into the back with the girl as he does, relaxing against it's soft leather interior with a satisfied sigh, while the man finally starts the car.