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My mouth betrays me, confessing what I’m trying to hide. “No, don’t stop,” I whimper.
He releases my hair and attaches his punishing grip to my bare hips. I can feel each of his digits dig into my flesh…I love it and hate myself for it. But fuck, this guy somehow knows exactly what I want and need.
His dick is still fully seated inside my ass, but I need just a little bit more. The euphoric pleasure I had been on the precipice of experiencing is in danger of lessening to a dreadful throb. Since the threat of the knife is gone for the moment, I'm half tempted to start rocking back on his dick to relieve the ache, but that would make this situation even more fucked up than it is. I have a long list of regrets for tonight and don’t want to add bouncing on a psychopaths dick to it.
Thankfully, I don’t have to move an inch. The masked man pulls his cock almost all the way out, so the tip is barely breaking the ring of tight muscles. There’s a warm sensation on my puckered hole, then the man says, “My blood looks so perfect on your tight ass, I’m half tempted to tattoo it on you.”
Blood? I knew the blade must be cutting him, but to use his blood as lube is insane. I’ll probably have to get tested if I ever make it out of this. The air is ripped from my lungs like I was hit in the stomach with a baseball bat when he plunges all the way in. He’s rutting into me now like a wild animal, desperate for release as much as I am. Each thrust becomes rougher, and the slaps of his pelvis hitting my bare ass is echoing off the vehicle's interior.
“Please,” I cry. Not sure if I’m pleading for it to stop or for him to finally let me come. But I know I’m no longer pleading for him to let me go.
seven
“With a bruising grip around my hips, Ghost Face power drives into my ass a few more times before his orgasm erupts inside me. I know he’s coming because his growl of satisfaction vibrates against my bonded arms. He’s as close to me as physically possible in our position, and breathing heavily, allowing his climax to roll through him. The hold he has on me is sure to leave marks, but oddly enough, I don’t want him to let go.
I remain frozen in place. An anticipatory high is all my mind is focusing on, nothingness engulfs the rest of me. Behind the obsidian of my lids, I’m picturing myself about to jump off a cliff but the closer I get to the edge, he pulls out, slowing his motions.
Then I’m being pulled out of my fantasy world into reality. But I keep my eyes closed. I do this for good reason. It’s because I know when they open, the fear of the unknown will consume me all over again. I’m unsure of what I’m supposed to do after giving into my perverse desires with a complete stranger.
A completely dangerous stranger.
When his dick begins to soften, he shifts back a bit then slowly pulls out of me. Apparently his cock was acting as a plug because his cum gushes from me like my pussy is a broken Hoover Dam. I can’t see it but I can feel it has to be a substantial amount. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was coating the old worn carpet.
Oh. My. God. Is he edging me?
What the fuck is happening? He can’t be done dicking me down.
I shut my eyes and revel in the quiet before the storm. He’s gotten what he’s wanted. What will he do with me now? Because there’s no way he drove me all the way out here for a quick fuck in the back of his car, right?
The silence is short-lived though when Ghost Face smacks my ass in the same raw spot from earlier, making my back bow in response. “I’m going to undo your bindings and let you out of the SUV."
A whoosh of air escapes my lungs at the thought of being set free. What conspired here tonight was straight from a horror film with a side of erotica. I do love a good movie and smutty book, but I'm relieved to know it's over. When I'm safely behind the confines of my house, I can take a scalding shower and wash away any evidence of this nightmare and try to process my muddled thoughts.
“You’re letting me go?” I whimper with unintended anticipation.
He chuckles and that sweet relief that was just within my grasp quickly dies. "We're only getting started. I wouldn't get too excited, yet," his answer sobers me immediately.
My heart sinks to my stomach. I swallow hard but the disappointment feels like a cotton ball is lodged in my throat. Then a swell of animosity surges through me. Most of it I can prescribe to my captor for the situation he has put me in. However a small percentage of that anger is geared toward myself because I enjoyed this. Hell, dare I say I want more? Did I want him to flip me over and continue fucking me on the dingy carpet? It was a horrific experience, but I have never come so hard in my life.
This makes me think of Wolf. I wonder if I escape this alive, would he still be open to correspondence? Or did he take my change of mind as a revelation that I wouldn’t be ready for his kind of kink any time soon? The scenarios we had discussed didn’t involve half the things I had just experienced. I’m not sure if Wolf’skind of kinkcomes anywhere close to my abductor’s.
With the knife that had been inside me, Ghost Face cuts the rope from my wrists and straightens my form so my head brushes the upholstered roof. He removes the cloth from my head, sweat, rain, and sex-scented air fills my lungs. I blink a few times to ease the sudden change of light entering my eyes, however that doesn’t take long. There’s only light from a small flashlight laying in the corner.
I don’t turn my head to look at him. I keep them focused on the floor. I'm not ready to look back into the daunting black abyss of his mesh-covered eyes. I don’t even know if he isallowingme to look at him.
Hesitantly, I sit my naked ass on the rough flooring and pull my knees to my chest. I hug my legs as close to me as possible. The chill which was once forgotten is now at the forefront, and I rub the exposed flesh revealed by my tattered leggings barely hanging on. Rain pelts the roof in an irregular rhythm which would’ve been soothing if this was any other situation. All it does now is remind me how cold I am.
I steer my gaze to the faint birthmark on the inside of my wrist near my thumb. It’s in the shape of a four-leaf clover. When I was younger, I thought it brought me good luck, but today I’ve been proven wrong. I now believe it’s more like a bad omen.
“We’re going to play a game,” he says so smoothly you’d think he was trying to win me over.
“A game?” I stutter.
“Yes, a game. I like to play with my pets before…” he pauses as if what he’s going to say next is a hilarious punchline to a joke I’m not privy to, “...ruining them.”
At his threat, my eyes dart to his face as he crouches, getting on my level. His back rests against the SUV's beige trunk door, and of course, he’s still donning that creepy, fucking, mask. If I didn't think he was a psychopath, him referring to me as his pet has sealed the deal.
“When I open this door, you can run.” I tilt my head, knowing he’s not done talking, but aIso dreading that he might be.
