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I’m trying so hard not to have a flashback to Halloween night.I thought I was over that—not what happened in the pumpkin patch, but the running, thinking I was about to be the next thing he cut up with that chainsaw.
I’m not really sure what it is with Brian and scary costumes, but I’m not sure he can handle them.It’s like the power to hide behind a mask is just too much for him to switch off.Even though he has no conscience with most people, masks seem to take it to another level as he fully commits to the role of psycho killer or demon.
“Brian…” I say.I don’t know if it’s a warning or pleading.
He doesn’t answer me.Instead he moves closer into my space, his hands on the door, framing either side of my body.He leans in close and sniffs me, even though I know he probably can’t smell my perfume through his mask.
Except for sleep, we haven’t been this physically close since Halloween.
“Run,” he snarls next to my ear.
I know what he’s doing.He’s recreating the night we met and my foolish trip downstairs to the dungeons.But why?
When I hesitate, unsure if I should say no or play along, he drops one hand from the door and uses it to stroke the side of my face.It takes everything inside me not to start crying at the relief of his hand on me again.It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy the benefit of his full focused intensity.
He is so gentle right now, and I let out a shuddering sigh at the feather light touch.His caress drifts down my throat, his fingers pausing to feel my fluttering pulse as though he needs to catalog the evidence of what he’s doing to my heart right now.
Then he strokes my breast, moving with aching slowness down my body as I arch into his touch begging for just a little more contact.I let out a strangled moan when he frees the button of my leather pants and slips his hand inside my panties, finding the damning evidence of my arousal coating his fingers.
“Run,” he says again, his voice going even lower.
I swallow hard and take a deep breath.I’d be running up to the safety of the well-lit cafeteria.And I have to remind myself he isn’t high from a fresh kill or in some heightened crazy state after finding me kissing someone else, however innocently.
He steps aside and even though I can’t see his eyes behind the glowing red lights, I feel him watching me...and waiting.My hands shake as I button up my pants, and then I run down the hallway and up the stairs.
Adrenaline and arousal war within me.The first time we danced this dance he didn’t chase me, but I know he will this time.It’s the entire point of his demand.
I hear the cowbells jingling as he pursues me.When I reach the cafeteria, I keep running until I get to the buffet line.The girls look up from their meals, surprised to see me running, and then the bells announce Brian’s arrival, and they understand why.
He’s got his whip out—the safe one, not the murder one.And an electric thrill goes through me as I wonder if he’s going to whip me right here in front of everyone.I feel my wetness increasing at that thought.I am a sick sick puppy.But it has been far too long since I enjoyed the decadent pleasures of his barely restrained darkness.
“Finally, someone’s in trouble,” I hear one of the girl’s say, not bothering to hide her contempt for me.And I know Brian heard it too.His head jerks sharply in the direction of the woman who spoke.She’s smart enough to get up from her chair but dumb enough to run from him.
It only excites him.
He chases her out of the cafeteria, the flogger snapping at her legs.I’m pretty certain this was not how anyone thought Christmas Eve dinner would go down at the house.And I know he’s hitting her hard—much harder than a normal Krampus interaction.But then, he’s Brian.And even though this is the “safe whip” is any implement truly safe in his hands?
She’s shrieking and crying as she runs.I hear her echoing screams down the hallway, but I can’t see what’s going on or if Brian has pursued her and locked her in one of the main level rooms.Judging from the direction they went, I’d bet he’d choose the game room.He’s tied me down to that pool table more than once in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep.My thighs clench at the memory of how he’d take one of the balls from the table and massage my drenched pussy with it until I begged him to fuck me.
But if Brian ties this girl down, it won’t be to tease orgasms from her.
Before I can wonder if I should go after him to try to calm him down and refocus him back on our larger mission, he returns.By this point all Christmas Eve ham has been abandoned, and everyone is standing, in case they need to flee the scene.
Good instincts.Or maybe just garden variety common sense.They scatter like bowling pins as Brian barrels toward them, snapping the flogger at anyone he can get close enough to.
He chases them all out until it’s just me and him remaining in the cafeteria.He picks up a piece of ham off one of the abandoned plates and it disappears under the mask.And then his attention turns sharply back to me, the glowing red eyes seeming to burn into me like embers straight from hell.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, but I don’t run.A flogger isn’t a chainsaw, after all.And unlike Halloween night I have enough presence of mind to understand the foolishness of running from this man.Instead I remain where I am, my hands gripping the metal bars behind me on the counter that the girls slide their trays across while getting their meals.
It’s a really sturdy structure with an angled glass divider to shield the food.Obviously nobody official comes in to inspect this place for food safety standards, but everything is still industrial grade and up to code.
“Take your pants off.”
Brian’s voice is little more than a growl.He has fully committed to this role.I’m not sure my desire for him has ever been higher than in this moment.And I don’t care what he does to me as long as his hands are on me.
I take my boots off first—it’s the only way the pants can come off.Then I unbutton and slide out of the leather.
“Panties,” he growls as he stalks closer.
