Passion's Killing Floor

Chapter Six.

TW: strong sexual content.

Chrissy laid in her room, chewing on her pencil, sketchbook on her lap. She paid no mind to the paper though, staring blankly at the tv in front of her. Beetlejuice played at low volume.

She wore a small Evil Dead baseball tee, lace panties, and black leg warmers.

She jumped lightly when she heard footsteps outside.

The pencil held all the weight of her anxiety, the eraser starting to come loose from her white teeth gnawing mercilessly.

The electric suddenly went out. Chrissy gasped, tossing the pencil with a start.

A familiar masked figure snaked through her bedroom door. She could see blood splattered on his mask in the dim moonlight. A fresh kill.

"Please..." she pleaded, terror in her voice.

The man walked towards her at an agonizing pace. He set his blood soaked knife on the bedside table. He seemed to have a lot of trust in her, leaving his weapon within her reach.

He grabbed her legs, dragging her onto her back. She screamed, but her mom was out of town, nobody would hear her.

"Shut the fuck up." The man spat, his voice was different. It was distorted like the ghostface on Stab. He must've had a voice changer inside his mask.

Chrissy complied. Whimpering quietly, but no screams.

"Hands and knees." It was spoken as a command, but came out in a taunting coo.

Again, Chrissy did as she was told. She laid her face on her pillows, arching her back. She was on display. So vulnerable.

"Good girl."

There she goes again, shaking with fear, quivering with lust.

Two gloves hands found their way to her panty line. They slowly slid them down, carefully lifting each of her legs until he could pull them off her feet.

A gentle caress ran from the tips of her feet to the tops of her supple thighs. His thumbs gently grazed over her bare core, causing her to shiver with a light moan.

"If you open your eyes, I'll gut you like a fish."

Chrissy screwed her eyes shut and nodded her head indicating that she understood.

The man laid something next to her hand on the pillow. She felt around only to realize it was his mask. Her stomach churned.

His nose grazed her sensitive heat. She'd always loved his nose.

A flat tongue pulled a long, wet stripe from her aching clit up to her tailbone.

"Oh fuck." She had never felt such a sensation before. Sure she had gotten head, but it always stopped at the vagina.

She felt him smile within her before he proceeded to do it again. Her shaky hand gripped the mask beside her for stability.

He went again and again, speeding up his pace and swirling the extra sensitive areas.

He lapped at her clit with a pointed tongue until he had to push her hips up to keep her stable.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum!" She cried out, repeating herself in a babble mixed with near screaming moans.

He didn't stop.

Her release was wet and hot, spraying his face and making a mess of her bed.

He sat up, running a gloved hand through her slick, to her tailbone, letting it fall back down.

He spat the liquid with force back down at her.

It hit her directly in the face, making her jump with surprise.

He took the mask from her hand, presumably putting it back on.

The suspicion was confirmed when she heard the distorted voice speak.

"Such a fucking slut. Just gonna let a stranger touch you like that?" He rubbed her thigh, running it up to her cheek and giving a squeeze.

"Sweet dreams, Chrissy."