Page 22 of Once A Villain

A faint noise behind me makes my blood run cold. I whip around, but it’s too late. A figure emerges from the shadows, dressed in all black and wearing a skull mask. Before I can react, he puts his gloved hand over my mouth and drags me further into the room. My heart pounds as I struggle to breathe.

I try to fight him off, but his grip is firm. The mask obscures his features, and I can only see his dark eyes. He roughly shoves me onto the bed, quickly straddling me.

I struggle against him, but he’s too strong. I thrash and kick, trying to free myself. His grip on my mouth tightens as he reaches into his pocket. Duct tape tears through the silence, and he quickly slaps it over my mouth.

No!

I’m helpless, pinned beneath his weight, unable to move. His body is hard, his muscles tense.

I shake my head violently, trying to scream, but the tape stifles everything. Securing my wrists with duct tape, the material digs into my skin. He lifts my arms above my head and uses his belt to secure me to the headboard. I’m fighting him, but the more I fight, the harder he grabs.

I kick out, catching him in the chest. He grunts, but it only seems to anger him. With a growl, he grabs my ankles, yanking me down. My legs are taped together in seconds, leaving me completely immobilized. My breaths are rapid; every inhale feels like it will be my last.

Retrieving a knife from the sheath on his hip, he holds it up, the blade glinting in the light. My heart leaps into my throat, and my blood turns to ice.

He brings the knife to my neck, the cold steel pressing against my skin.

He’s going to torture me.

He’s going to kill me.

This is the end.

She looks so fucking good,bound and terrified. I run the blade over her tits, and she flinches at each movement. Her skin is smooth and pale, and I can’t wait to mark it.

Her fear smells delicious, and her soft cries are like a song. A sick perfect fucking song.

I knew she’d take the bait. More than triple her rate? She couldn’t say no. And now, here she is, exactly where I want her.

I continue to drag the dull edge of the blade over her, teasing her with the promise of pain. I grin, her muffled cries and pleas spurring me on. Her tears stain her cheeks, and her body trembles with each breath. Every inch of my body is covered in black, including the skull mask. She has no idea who I am.

I slide her dress up to her waist, exposing her flat stomach. Her muscles are tense and flex as she tries to free herself. I bring the knife lower, tracing her navel. I can tell she’s holding her breath, bracing for the pain.

She’s so fucking responsive.

My cock strains, aching against my pants, desperate for release.

She looks so fucking perfect like this, terrified and exposed, and I’m going to make her feel things she never knew she could.

I’ll drag her through terror and pleasure until she’s lost, hating herself for every second she enjoys it. This masked nightmare will haunt her every thought, and when I’m done, she’ll come so hard she’ll never forget who did it to her.

I press the dull side of the blade against her inner thigh and slowly drag it upward. She tries to pull away, but she has nowhere to go.

The things I want to do to her body are sick and depraved.

She’ll either learn to enjoy the pain or hate herself for loving it.

I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge, and this girl will be no different. I’m going to break her down, strip her bare, and mold her into a perfect toy. My toy.

I run the blade over her panties, the thin material the only thing between me and her cunt. Swiping my finger along the delicate lace covering her pussy, the heat and wetness radiates against my hand.

Fear is doing wonders to her cunt—her panties are drenched. Her screams grow more frantic as I slide the blade under the thin string on her hip, and with a swift jerk, shred them.

Her bare pussy glistens with her juices, and the smell of her arousal mixes with the scent of her fear. She’s wet. Fuck, is she ever.

I trace the edge of the blade along her slick folds, and she whimpers, trying to pull away. Every jerk, every whimper, is a shot of pleasure straight to my cock. I torture and kill people for a living, but this is the sweetest kind of torment.

I take the handle and slide it against her wet folds, coating it in her juices. Her screams grow louder. I slowly slide the handle inside her, the slickness allowing it to enter her with ease. She screams, and her body jerks, the movement pushing the handle further inside.

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