Page 24 of Headless Hollow

I mistakenly believed he would pull out now that we were done, but I was wrong. He was just getting started. “Fuck, that first one is so fucking good. My balls were ready to explode, Pumpkin. But don’t worry I can come again, and again, and again. I’m not like other guys. And I intend to keep my promise of having you pregnant before I set you free.”

There was no more fear, although there should’ve been. I should’ve been grossed out or at least thinking about the repercussions of carrying this man’s child, but there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted him to stop.

Licking my lips, I looked up at Branson, who was breathing hard and slumped, his head hung down, but his cock was just as hard as the Horseman’s. Impossibly my pussy twinged and started to beg for more.

I didn’t know what the hell he’d done to me, but something in my brain was officially broken.

Thirteen

Izzy

“That’s it, Pumpkin, you’re so fucking sexy when you come,” the Horseman’s voice was penetrating my dream. I was floating on a cloud of sleep and quenched desire, making every part of me heavy. I could still feel his hands on my body, holding me tight as he filled me. He had to be taking something to keep himself up. If not, he deserved a trophy.

I’d passed out when he came for the fifth time. My eyes had fluttered open long enough to watch him unhook me from the pillory. I sighed as he licked the fresh blood off my hands and fingers before laying me down on something entirely too soft for a barn. If I hadn’t been so weak and all my limbs pins and needles, I might have tried to escape. The little voice in my head laughed at me. It knew as well as I did that I wouldn’t have done anything at this point.

The last thing I remembered was him putting leather cuffs on my wrists before clicking me to something over my head. I had been dreaming of him touching me erotically and fucking me nonstop since.

I moaned and wiggled. His body was insanely warm for a dream. My breath quickened as I was once more pushed toward a climax. It slammed into me, making my back arch. My throat was too sore to scream, but I found the word Horseman on my lips, which was wholly terrifying. I slumped, panting, every muscle screaming.

The bed shifted, and my eyes fluttered open. It took a moment to adjust to the dull light and the sight of the hard chest glistening above me as he moved. His arms were flexed tight, and even though I couldn’t see his face for the mask, his head was thrown back. He growled as he pushed into me hard, and my brain came online as he came. Jesus, it wasn’t a dream.

Breathing hard, he looked down at me, and I knew I was nearing the end of my sanity when the mask seemed normal and sexy.

“You make the sexiest fucking moaning sounds when you’re being fucked while you sleep,” he said, confirming my suspicion.

He pushed himself up and stood. His cock hung limp out the front of his black jeans. I couldn’t help staring at it as he tucked himself away out of sight but left his jeans undone.

“I don’t know if I can take anymore,” I whispered as I moved my legs and winced. He unclipped my hands, and I cried out as he pulled on them, dragging me off of the wide cot. Landing on the floor on my knees, I flinched as the lactic acid build-up screamed louder than I ever could.

“You’re done when I say we’re done and not a minute before,” he snarled as he pulled again, and I was dragged across the cold floor. Everyone seemed to be in the same positions, as if they were frozen in time. Not even my parents had moved, and I blinked as I stared at them across the large open space. Were they actually dead, and he had them propped up to keep me in line?

The Horseman grabbed a chain off the ground and clipped my cuffs to it. I sat there staring up at Branson, who looked as dazed as I felt. How long had we been here? It was still pitch black without a single glimmer of light filtering in, yet it felt like hours or days had passed. I glanced at my parents, situated just far enough away that I couldn’t see if they were breathing. He began pulling the other end of the chain, and even as I was being hoisted off the ground like a slab of meat, I couldn’t help staring at his arms, flexing with the strain of my weight. As soon as I was completely upright, my toes touching the ground like Branson, the Horseman wrapped the chain around one of the floor anchors, keeping me in place.

He walked over to a small table he had set up and picked up a takeout coffee cup and an old-fashioned milkman’s bottle with what looked like watery milk inside. He held them up as he approached me.

“Do you know what this is?”

“No.”

“Not even a guess?”

“I’m not in the mood for guessing games.” He cocked his head and pulled out that dreaded remote from his pocket. Branson screamed from beside me as his eyes snapped open and his body flexed in obvious pain. “Okay, I’ll guess. Stop,” I begged, but he stared at me a few more seconds as if to hammer home the point of who was in charge before he shut the device off. I didn’t know what it was doing to Branson, but he slumped and whimpered beside me. “I’m so sorry,” I said, and his eyes rolled up to meet mine. “I’ll do whatever he says. I love you.” His brows knit together, and I wished that I’d never taken this case. It had caused so much pain to so many people.

“What’s your guess, Pumpkin,” the Horseman asked, drawing my attention away from Branson.

“It looks like watery milk,” I said, and he laughed.

“In a way, I guess it is.” He walked closer and slowly swung the bottle back and forth. “I sat and watched you sleep every night, saving every drop of come when I jerked off.” I swallowed hard as I realized just how long he’d been watching me and the entire time I was hunting him while he laughed in my face. “I stood by your bedside and stroked myself while your fingers played with your sweet little pussy. But I wasn’t letting it go to waste.” He held out the half-filled coffee cup. “Your favorite, pumpkin spice latte,” he said, smirking as he poured his collected come into the cup like it was homemade cream. My lips pressed together as my stomach rolled, watching the liquid fill the cup, lumps and all.

Please don’t make me drink that. Please don’t make me drink that.

I repeated my mantra over and over, but I knew it was going to happen. I could feel it in the way he was nonchalantly taunting me. He set the bottle down and swirled the cup before sniffing it. “It’s perfectly made with three creams just the way you like it.” He didn’t give me the option to drink it on my own. Reaching out, he snatched my jaw and squeezed it hard enough that it forced my mouth open. Tipping my head back, he poured the cold, lumpy coffee into my mouth. I was ruined for life from the first touch and taste of it on my tongue. I would never be able to drink a pumpkin latte again without thinking of this or feeling the slimy sensation of it going down my throat as I quickly swallowed so I didn’t choke.

He emptied the rest of the cup, and I gulped it all down, trying hard to ignore what it was. I almost cried as he held out the bottle with the remaining three inches of come in the bottom. Branson stared at the side of my face as I slowly opened my mouth and held out my tongue.

“Naughty girl indeed.” Just before he would’ve poured it in my mouth, he said, “Tell me who made you come harder. Me or Branson?”

It hurt my heart to say the words, but I knew what he wanted to hear, and it wasn’t a lie. “You,” I said quietly.