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Don’t worry, Leatherface. No one will ever take your spot.
It had gotten late and Ricky still wasn’t home from dinner, which gave me enough time to clean up around the kitchen and tidy our bedroom. Not that I needed to. I had done all that already this morning. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough for Ricky.
After eating and then brushing my teeth, I changed into my pajamas and turned off the TV to head to bed. I grabbed my iPad and opened Netflix to continue a series I started earlier this week, and once I was cuddled up under the blanket, my body finally relaxed. I had been up on my feet all day like most days and lying in bed at last always felt nice.
It didn’t take long before I fell asleep, and I hoped Ricky wouldn’t wake me the way he so often did only to blame me for something I hadn’t done.
***
I felt the mattress sink in on either side of me, and I turned onto my back as I reached up my arms to cover my eyes. The light in the bedroom was on. Why couldn’t Ricky respect me as I slept? Couldn’t he just come in here without making noise or turning on the lights, and without waking me?
“It’s late,” I muttered, hoping he didn’t want to have sex right now. That often happened. Him waking me up when he came home late at night, then telling me to take off my clothes before he fucked me for exactly eight minutes. Sex had been different at the start of our relationship. I had loved it. We were creative and we tried new things every once in a while. But when he started to become aggressive and violent toward me, the sex wasn’t the same. I hated it now, but I let it happen because otherwise, he’d force me. And that would be worse.
He didn’t reply to my words. Instead, he placed his hands on my hips and moved them up until they cupped my tits. I sighed, giving in that very second. I couldn’t stop him so I didn’t.
“Could you at least turn off the lights?” I asked, rubbing my eyes before pulling them away and staring right into the big dark circles of The Beaks’ mask.
I screamed, but his hand covered my mouth, pressing down on me with his full body weight. My eyes were wide with panic and the tears started rolling. This time, I wasn’t sure crying would help.
I was breathing fast, unable to look away from him. The mask was scarier than I had imagined. Hell, I never even imagined him here in my bed. It was scary as hell, but maybe he wasn’t here to kill me.Shit…but everything else would be worse.
I swallowed hard and lifted my hands above my head to show him that I wasn’t going to fight back. I needed him to let me go. “Please.” My voice was muffled by his glove-covered hand.
He tilted his head to the side, then lifted his other hand and put a finger in front of his beak where his mouth should’ve been beneath the mask. He was telling me to stay quiet, and I nodded quickly, silently promising him that I wouldn’t scream.
He slowly pulled away his hand and I took a deep breath before holding it to not let a cry escape. He still wasn’t speaking, and I started to think that he wouldn’t anyway. I moved my head to look around the room. There was no sign of Ricky, and when I looked outside, I saw the moon still high in the sky. I moved my eyes back to him, swallowing once more as I took in that long beak. It looked like it was made out of leather, with thick thread sewed along each side. The rest of the mask was the same dark brown color, with two big black spots making out the eyes. I couldn’t see through them, but I was certain that he was seeing me clearly.
“Are you going to kill me?” My voice was a delicate whisper as I asked the only logical question anyone would have asked a serial killer.
The Beak shook his head as he placed his hands back on my body. I looked down to watch them closely, and when he pushed my shirt up, I sucked in a breath as my heart pounded in my chest. While I was scared shitless, I couldn’t help but think about all the times I imagined something like this to happen. I was a horror movie fan and I certainly wasn’t the only person ever imagining a serial killer in my bed. I had a TikTok and I often saw videos of people saying how turned on they were by certain killers in movies. But, God…having an actual masked killer in my bedroom definitely wasn’t on my bingo card.
So what was I supposed to do? Embrace it? Scream and risk for him to kill me even if he said he wouldn’t?
One thing was for sure…I would need serious help if this led to something I’d actually enjoy.
“Are you here for me?” I asked, sounding way too damn confident for someone who was lying beneath a serial killer.
He nodded at first, then he shook his head and pointed his finger at Ricky’s side of the bed.
“He’s not here,” I explained. “He’s…he’s out with friends from work.”
But it didn’t matter where he was. The Beak wasn’t leaving. At least that’s what I thought his plan was. Why else would he have come into our apartment if only I was here? Didn’t he check the whole apartment before coming into the bedroom? I was trying to normalize this situation. But how else would I get through this otherwise?
“I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
The Beak didn’t care about that though. He used both hands to pull up my shirt, and I held my breath as he uncovered my tits. His head was lowered. He was looking at my body. I didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he was staring at my breasts. And to his pleasure, they were getting hard. I could’ve lied to myself saying that they were getting hard because of the cool air in the room, but I damn well knew that it was because of this whole situation turning me on.
You’re sick.
I was disgusted with myself. Well, only partly.
I watched his hands as he cupped my tits and pinched my nipples with his fingers and thumbs, and while I finally started breathing again, I could hear his own beneath the mask. It was slow but heavy. I could only imagine how hard it was to breathe under there, but I wasn’t going to tell him to take his mask off. It would ruin everything.
5
HADLEY
He continued to knead my tits, and while he played with my nipples, I felt his dick harden in his pants. He was wearing some sort of cape with a big hood over his head. His pants were baggy. Almost like sweatpants but the material was different. He had boots on. Black ones. Not that it all mattered anyway. I was caring way too much about who this man was, and added to that, I was letting him touch my body with his glove-covered hands as if we were a couple enjoying a kinky night together.
