EroticReverie

Angel Avery 

The Mad House is everyone’s favorite part of Halloween in this town. It’s a giant old mansion that was turned into a scare attraction by a couple in town that loved Halloween. Every year was different and better than the last. They had food trucks on site and there was a giant corn maze out back. You could spend an hour inside and not have been through every room there was. So people often went multiple times each year. There were several workers and paid scared actors that occupied the rooms and the cornfield. Every scary costume you can imagine from your well known Michael and Jason’s and Freddy’s. normal clowns to scary clowns. Zombies and reapers. Ghost faces galore. Along with several other random put together grotesque costumes. 

Tonight I’m dressed in a costume I wear every year. An Angel. A slutty one. Of course. Because what girl named Angel didn’t dress as one for Halloween? Cliche? Sure. But guys loved it. And I liked guys liking the things I did. 

I scream and laugh as I make my way through the mansion with friends. Creepy loud music playing. Cackling witches and deep male laughter. Creepy child voices. Maniac voices yelling And threatening your life through the speakers. 

I squeal as a zombie comes out of one of the rooms , popping out in front of me. My heart fucking pounding. I liked being scared , just like everyone else here. But I didn’t just like it. I loved it. The thrill created adrenaline that couldn’t be matched. And the adrenaline of fear made me horny. So. Fucking horny. 

Some of the rooms are small. Some of them are large. And the halls are filled with people , everyone dressed up. But you can tell the people apart from the ones paying to be here and the one paid to be here. 

The next hall is pitch black. Other than the occasional flicker of a strobe light that lights the hall for a brief second. 

Screams error all throughout the mansion. Followed usually by laugher. Or more screams.

“Oh sick” I laugh with my friends as we enter. Room with a fake operating table. A person laid on the table with their guts out. A maniac doctor standing over the person with a giant scalpel and a fist full of organs. I’ll give it to the couple that funds this place. They spare no expense with how realistic some of the sevens are. The amount of decorating and setup it must take to make such a fun and terrifying experience. 

I turn to leave with my friends. But they’re already done. So I run out of the room with a laugh and call after them. 

It’s pitch black. I can hear the familiar laughter of my friends and try to follow the sound. The strobe light isn’t flickering at all anymore. 

I scream as an arm grabs me around the wait and yanks me to the side. It has to be one of my guy friends. Because the actors aren’t allowed to touch people. 

I’m pulled to the side again and still in pitch black as I hear the person who has me slam the door shut and I hear the flick of a lock. 

“Brian?” I laugh. Even though fear really has ahold of me. There’s never been any incidents at the Mad House. But that still doesn’t stop my hairs on my arms from raising as a hand claps over my mouth. 

I scream into the hand.  The arm around my waist releases and then wraps around all of me. 

“Not Brian” the male voice fills my ear and I can feel the plastic of their face mask against the side of my face. The voice all too familiar. Yet a voice I barely know. 

My pussy pulses and my chest heaves with heavy pants as I realize who it is. The skull face. The guy i let finger me at a party and fuck my mouth in the woods. 

“Miss me ?” He asks. His hand leaving my mouth and grabbing my breast and I groan. My head going back. I gasp as his hand leaves me and a light flicks on. A red light illuminating the room. The walls dripping with “blood”. Chains dangling from the ceiling. Metal cuffs posted on the walls and when he turns me to show me the rest of the room I gasp. 

It’s not real. But there’s a female dummy. Dressed like an Angel with a knife in her stomach blood staining the center of her dress. And now. Now I’m a bit more terrified. 

Because I was starting to realize that my secret no name skeleton could be more than just a guy who knew how to make me cum and degraded me. Maybe he had fantasies of worse things. Like killing me. 

“Do you…w-work here?” My voice is breathy and my arousal lingers even as the threat placed before me makes my skin crawl and buzz. 

“Doesn’t she look so pretty?” He asks and I stand there. So still. And break into a run. Trying to turn and go for the door but I’m snatched and I scream loudly as he grabs tightly around me , holding me to him as he faces me towards the dummy with blonde hair just like mine. An Angel outfit. Like mine. 

“It’s not real..” he says. “But it could be if you wanted to take her place” he whispers as his breathing draws in and quicker. 

“Youre a fucking psycho” I hiss and he chuckles darkly. 

“Oh Angel , you have no idea” he says and then is pushing me forward as I fight against him. 

Within a minute of fighting he has my wrists locked into a pair of cuffs above my head while I’m kneeling on the floor.  He latches thick cuffs around my ankles. That don’t allow me to stand. The cuffs on my wrist are embedded to the wall. Not allowing me to pull them at all. On my knees. My back arches in an uncomfortable position and then he drops his pants and steps forward. 

“Suck me again Angel, prove me to you deserve to live if for nothing more than being an incredible little cum hungry fucking bitch” 

My throat seizes and I gag as he thrusts hard into my face. My arms and legs trying to move but I can fucking move. Cant push at his hips or thighs to stop the way he’s using my mouth. His fingers pinch my nose as I scream around his cock. My voice garbled as he fucks my mouth. I could bite him. But I don’t. Because I don’t think he’ll really kill me. Though I can’t be sure. And I’m not sure why it excites me. Why a psychopath raping my fucking mouth has my pussy soaking my panties as I choke on his cock. 

I can hear the door knob rattle. Hear people trying to get into the room. A voice explaining loudly “this one’s locked!” 

His hand grabs my head as he keeps fucking my mouth. Still pinching my nose. And I gasp with each brief reprieve he gives me before continuing to fuck my mouth. I can feel myself drooling. All over my chin. My breasts. It’s soaking the top of my costume and then he slows and releases my nose and I’m panting as he pulls out. 

I whimper as his hard cock slaps my face. Over and over. 

“Beg for your life” he groans. 

“Please” I pant. 

“Please don’t kill me” I whine and he groans. 

“Why? Why should such a fucking cunt deserve to live? When you’re only good for one thing?” He asks and smacks my cock with his mouth. 

“Because I want to keep tasting you” I whine. God. What is wrong with me. He could very well be an actual fucking psycho. And it was driving me insane. 

“That right? You like tasting my cock?” He groans and I nod. Panting and he shoves his cock back into my mouth and I suck him. Moving my head as best as I can. My limbs hurt from the way I’m positioned but I don’t stop sucking him. I moan. I fucking moan around his cock. 

“Youre such a sick little bitch” he grunts and pulls out and then his hand slaps my face. It’s not too hard. But it still stings. And surprises me. It makes my pussy ache even harder and I moan. 

“You enjoy that. Don’t you? Being treated like the fucking whore that you are?” He grows and slaps me again. I gasp and my cheek burns and I moan. 

“Harder” I breathe. “Slap me harder” 

He growls and does it. His hand cracks across my face and I let out a little cry. Because. Fuck. He didn’t hold back. My ear ring slightly and then I feel the cuffs being undone. Feel my wrists freed. Then my ankles and then I’m yanked off my feet. Stumbling as I’m pulled to the center of the room and my hands are forced up again. I stand there. Not even fighting it as he bounds my wrists in new cuffs that dangle from the ceiling. 

Then. I see him draw something from his back pocket and flick open a pocket knife and my breath catches. My feet moving. My wrists catching on the cuffs. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” He says. Stepping forward. 

“This could turn very bad for you if you aren’t, very, very still Angel”