Page 176 of Phobia
Jesus,I can’t think properly.
My head’s spinning. My dick is hot.So hot. And hard.I’m hard, and the clown fromeveryone’snightmares knows it. He sees it, too. Feels it because he’s touching me.
He’s touching me…My head slams back against the metal with atingthat reverberates in my skull. His textured grip is insane. It burns. Stings, a little too, but the pressure…
My heart is banging against my sternum, knocking so loud I can hear it in my ears, rushing over the whistling of my breath in and out through my nostrils.
The pointed tip of his finger delves deeper, a long, drawn-out scratch from my glans, down my shaft. A path of searing hot that makes me buck.
Static cackles, and the sound shoots straight to my nape, where the hairs stand on end and a chill slithers down my spine… where it spins around and pools at my groin, making me that much hotter.
I slam my eyes closed as my face burns more than ever before. In shame. Embarrassment for how my body is betraying me. Howgoodit feels, even as my skin is crawling with the desire to just get the hellout.
But I can’t think. All I can do is feel. What he’s doing to me. How he’s touching me. That Ilikeit. The ache of fear mingling with the taste of pulsing pleasure.
It’s all part of the game.
I can do this.
I can hold on.
“Mmm,” Static rumbles, a deep vibration directly against my chest. That damn ax of his digs into me. A dull ache deep in my tissue. Each hair fiber pricks on my head, standing straight out, I’m sure I look like I got jolted with electricity.
Because I did.
Static is his name after all.
And he exudes the most potent, electrical charge I’ve ever felt in my life.
A line from his long fingers directly to my cock.
His hand works me over in fast, jerking motions, and my hips try to move of their own volition, trapped effectively by Static’s own devices.
His fingers are so long, I can feel them overlapping around me, his sharp fingertips scraping my bare flesh with every downward stroke. Hell, on the upstroke, too.
It burns and aches and stings and…oh… no.
Something hard bumps against my lips. My eyes snap open. The wooden handle of his ax is pressed against my mouth. The blade is pointed low, so the angle is weird. “Suck on my ax, darlin’.”
Gooseflesh takes over my entire body. Every inch of skin is alight with bumps. Sense of touch is heightened to the point of stinging bliss.
The pressure of the textured wood has my lips splitting for entry before I can think—because I can’t.
My brain left the room—hell, it left the state minutes ago. Hours ago? What time is it?
“Shit,” Static drawls, his accent thicker than ever as he draws the word out. I shudder as it presses deeper, making space inside the small cavity of my mouth. It slides over my teeth, my tongue. They make their own grooves in the wood.
Copper.
Potent metal lingers on my tongue.
I swallow it down, unable to hold back my whimper.
The red… the red was blood. I’m—I’ve—I’ve got someone’s blood in my mouth.
“That’s it, treat. That’s real nice.” His drawl confuses me while it’s muddled with his sinister tone. Sharp and wild.
I try to shake my head, to clear the fog that’s long since taken over, but I can’t move.
