All Hallow's Fiend

I felt him throbbing and twitching inside of my mouth, the veins pulsing against the inside of my cheeks. the more I gave in, the more of himself he drove into me. with every twitch, I found my legs quivering even more madly. Like they knew what was going to happen if this monster-man didn't bust down my throat. He would take it out on my cunt. wounding me even more than he already had. I worked my lips faster around him, unaware of the faint scent of cologne and death. His scent. And it was, for some reason, making my pussy ache for him. Crying out for his abuse on it. To ache for the bruises and scars he might and would leave me with. I carefully wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other toying with the thin material of my already torn panties. Placing my middle finger inside, I flicked at the tiny button of flesh that was my clit. Surprisingly, a sigh of unusual pleasure rang in my ears. Not his, but my own. I was sliding my trembling lips over the hardness of an evil man's ghost. And for some strange reason, I was loving every single second of it. I heard him over top of me, uttering curses and deep throated groans. His unnaturally frigid body twitched, sending an equally cold chill down my lapping tongue. I could taste him. The odd flavor of dead flesh washing down my throat. I coughed heavily, a tiny speck of blood landing on the dirt below.

"Bitch," he laughed. before I could speak, he slammed me face first into the ground, scratching and clawing at my ass. he'd tossed me down wtih such force, that I had felt my jaw crack and shift. A hot and painful feeling crept into my left side. The excruciating pain of it hit me, and I screamed out for Clown. For anyone. Again, a heavy blow was landed. This time, a foot came up between my ribs. The basement suddenly got colder as he picked me up to my hands and knees, heavy fingers planted on either side of my hips. The blistering cold of his exposed cock was nestled just at my smaller opening. It almost seemed to penetrate me on it's own. Pushing past and bringing new and truly horrified screams rushing out of my mouth. Paul began to tear into my shoulder, managing to take a small chunk of my skin and blood away in his teeth. I could feel my own blood running down my chest between my tits and bra. His voice remained steady in my ear, whispering to me the things he'd put the others through while they were alive. All the ways he'd hurt them. Bled them.

"Fucked them, he said, working his hips in circles against the globes of my ass. I whined every time he would plunge deeper. even when the light slapping of his balls landed on my pussy. And as he pressed two fingers against my already swollen backside, I panicked. Realizing that he meant to force those in as well. I began to shake my head, trying to prevent him from going on. I clawed at the dirt floor in front of me, trying to pull away from him. Whenever I thought I'd gotten a foot, he'd hold me back, never missing a single tormented grind into me. I screamed out, I cried. Begged for this man to stop. He was going in and out so violently, I could literally feel my bones cracking.I was being stretched out beyond my worst limits by him. The more I tried to get away, the harder he drove into me, forcing me to kiss those cold lips. His tongue lashing out against my own. And for a moment, I'd given in,writhing into him as he slowed his pace and slid two fingers underneath, teasing the edges of my cunt. tracing the folds, drawing invisible lines in my sticky, wetness.

"You want it in here?" he asked, his words broken up by grunts and obscenities. Two fingers, then three worked themselves inside, easing the agony he was otherwise causing.

"Oh. Yes. P-please. Anything but my ass."

I whimpered, flinched at sharpened teeth that bit deeply into my bottom lip. Paul, the monster, chuckled. His rock hard erection literally tearing me open and apart. It was hurting me worse than anything I'd ever experienced before. His touch was that of a psycho, touching a female for he first time. Not a human being. A quick slam into my backside and he dropped me onto the floor. I gasped for the stale, musty air, hearing my chest rattle with every gulp. I didn't move. I couldn't, even if I had wanted to.

"How bad, do you want that sweet thing abused, baby? Huh?"

I heard him moving somewhere behind me, going through what sounded like metal scraping. The knives! I thought. Oh, fuck, not the fucking knives. My body locked up then, a shiny scalpel pressed deep into my wounded cheek.

"If I took it easy on you, would you let me make you my girl? make you all pretty and shit?"

Remembering the hatred he'd put into his work so far, I felt I had no other choice. I'd rather bleed to death than have him continue with his violent threats. It was then, then my mind went on vacation. And my fear turned to the baddest case of lust I could ever imagine. I now officially, and truly wanted him to shove his whole dick into my undoubtedly soaking wet pussy.

"Yes," I sniffled. " I-I will."

I felt the warm tears breaking now, coming to terms that I had given him my full permission to carve me up like a damned pumpkin. His heavy hands grabbed for my shoulders, pinning me on my back atop another steel table that was in the basement room. He wasted no time in positioning my bruised thighs in the rusted stirrups of the exam table. Lashing them tight. I wondered as he wrapped those tire chains around my wrists, had he given this chance to them? Had he shown any mercy at all? I felt the sting of his hand as he slapped me across the face. He pulled my face up to his, our noses touching, my arms and legs wrenched in aching pain. Paul traced the remaining buttons of my nurse's uniform with the razor sharpened blade in his hand. He ripped my panties off with one hand, throwing them off into the shadows behind him. I held in a blood curdling scream as he began to carve his way across my upper thighs and stomach. I watched him smear my blood around, drawing crude designs in the puddles. It was like a long match had been struck and shoved into my skin every time he made a new marking. He grabbed a breast in each hand, roughly handling them.

"I knew it," he gushed, a hint of ecstasy in his menacing voice. He almost sounded happy, his tongue lapping at the wounds on my legs. I shuddered and trembled at the new and more evil look upon his face while he rubbed the slick head of his cock over my throbbing clit. He threw his head back in a low and hungry growl as he eased himself halfway inside. He was rock hard, twitching, and unusually warm. I could feel the width and length stretching my walls as he continued forward. My pussy reacted by pulsing quickly around him, my hips tilting upward to meet his own. It hurt so much. Like tiny strands of barbed wire were wrapped around it. The more the blood flowed from between my legs, the more amused he became. The more vicious his strokes and scratching became. He was now pushing all the way to the base. His speed and harshness were unyielding to me. every time that his hard on went in or out of me, He'd drag the scalpel across a new piece of flesh. Sometimes deeper, sometimes not. Paul leaned forward, arching his back upward. He braced one arm against my shoulder for his leverage, the other stretched the skin of my collarbone as he began to use it for live chew toy. I screamed and cried out then, feeling the sharpness of his teeth digging into my skin and muscle. He was soon fucking me with such a rage, I could've sworn he was going to break every bone in my body. His breathing was becoming more and more erratic. His lean muscles twitched against my own. Where once were threats and comments, now were only deep growls and moans. Getting closer together and louder, the deeper against my orgasm he pushed. He kissed the side of my neck gently, so odd a gesture considering what he was otherwise doing to me. The thickness of his hard-on pulsated with each severe bucking of his hips. I felt tiny droplets of sweat falling down on my forehead and face whenever he would lean back and force it so much deeper. And just then, I felt a lightheadedness attack my senses. I 'd never wanted him more that night. Not the wounds, not the threats. But the way he knew exactly how in control he truly was. That he knew I wanted it from the very start.

he grunted against me, seeming to carve his name in huge letters on my side. I ignored it, and looked into his dead white eyes. The knife in his name jerked and moved with every slam of his body. Driving it deeper. I echoed his moans with my own, begging for him, my body growing colder and tightening all over. My stomach was churning, my heart and thoughts racing so fast I thought I was dying. for All I knew, I was. And I loved it. A ghost, was literally inside of me, fucking me like a live man would. he leaned down, kissing my lips, licking at my tongue. Like a boyfriend or sex partner may have. Carefully and sweetly.

"You're so much sexier now," he moaned, moving a hand to grab at my bleeding thigh. Massaging the areas that tingled so fucking much. As the cuts grew deeper, my skin grew colder. Like I was being placed in a large freezer box. But more aware that he was painting me with my own blood. My face. My tits that he had mauled. Everywhere there wasn't a deep cut.

"Tell them, who you belong to, baby." he hissed, twisting my nipples in his rough fingers. I pulled against the restraints for the first time, amazed at the amount of blood building up between our naked bodies.

"Paul...I belong to.."

"Louder, baby, they can't hear you!"

He said this with a powerful blow to my ribcage. I screamed out in pain and tried again.

"PAUL!! I BELONG TO PAUL!!"

I couldn't take much more as he eased two fingers into my pussy along side his dick. It fucking hurt so much.

"That's my girl," he whispered, hunkering down over me. "You ARE my bitch."

I heard the scalpel drop to the floor, and felt the entire weight of his toned body pressing down on me. He was staring at me, holding my eyes with his own. For awhile, I felt like we were melting together, in one huge mess of bodies. The muscles in his stomach quivered, his obscenities growing in number. And more frequently. The quicker they came, The more he pumped into me.

"Open your mouth," he wheezed, shoving his juice soaked fingers into my open mouth. I could taste the metallic tinge of my blood mixed with him. His sweat. I winced, wanting to taste more of him.

"In my mouth," I gasped. "Come in my mouth, Paul."

He tore savagely into my shoulder with his hand, howling out in an eerie shade of voice. Shivers traveled all throughout me. Before long, he had pulled his massive erection out of me and was jerking it over my tongue and lips. he nudged his other hand against my clit, drawing out from me sounds that I'd never heard before. A half scream, half moan of extreme pleasure. My whole self felt like he had lit it aflame. Wet, sticky drops of his pre-cum splashed down to my lips. I wriggled my own hips in circles, my orgasm rushing out before I even knew it was happening. I screamed for my life as stream after stream of his hot, salty cum shot down my throat. Paul forced a bloody finger inside my mouth, making sure that I would swallow it all. It seemed as though I'd never stop shaking. Never stop coming. Rattling the chains and restraints he'd placed on me.

When my body finally relaxed, I felt his rough hands tracing the insides of the gaping cuts that riddled my nude form. He never spoke another word, only lingered above my head for a short time. I didn't remember when or how he left, only that my last image of him was that cold, and cruel face. And the knowledge that somehow I'd never feel that alive ever again.

I let my eyes open, a burning sensation behind them. Everything i front of me was cloudy at first. Hazy. My body was in more pain than I ever imagined that I could take. My arms and legs felt like stone. Then I gasped all at once, things from the night before all coming back to me at once. My body sprang into a sitting position, and I finally looked around me. I was bloody, naked and crouched atop of an old operating table. I was still in the basement. It took me a minute to will myself to stand, a few more to reach for a dirty shirt and jeans that had been left behind. By who, I didn't know. I hobbled over to the wooden steps and began pulling them onto me. I cursed silently, feeling the rough material scratch and pull at the cuts that were all over me I scraped my bare feet along the grimy floor, noticing that there was a huge tear in one side of the shirt. Underneath, I could see wounds, and gashes sprawled all up and down my side. Barely able to stand, I limped up the few steps, and flinched as I shoved the heavy doors outward. The sun was hitting me right in the eyes. A heavy sobbing had been pushing against my chest, and I let it all go. Sniffing, afraid of what I had done. Or have done to me. It wasn't the pain that I had wanted from him. But answers. Why did he enjoy it so much? What made him do it? Then I realized, some people are just born to make others suffer.

I could see the office door open a crack, music and talking coming from the inside. I staggered along the outside of the buildings, holding myself up on the siding and chain-link fences. Closer I stumbled, cringing every time I had to bend an arm or a leg. I could hardly breathe in or out at that point. In the distance, I heard a voice. Familiar. Hurried footsteps came running at me, arms holding me away from the ground.

"Jesus Christ. What happened to you?"

For a second, I couldn't speak. Was too afraid I'd collapse right there. But, I did.

"I...want my money, Remi," I croaked, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying to be set free. Warm tears drizzled down my cheeks, plopping down onto my borrowed shirt. Remi helped me into the office, sitting me down on the worn leather couch.

"Morgan? What happened? Are you okay?"

My head down and my mind a fog, I rolled only my eyes up to his voice.

"The money," I growled, holding out my bruised hand. Remi stepped back, the look of pure shock and terror all over his face. He reached into the desk drawer, shakily handing me an envelope. I pushed myself away and headed back outside as best as I could. I hear him talking behind me, I couldn't understand a single word.

What seemed like forever later, I leaned back against the outside of Holly's borrowed car. I tossed the money into the front seat, and noticed a torn, black bag that was in the back. I didn't recall having it there last night, nor the black towel that had been draped over my driver's seat. I climbed in and reached back for the bag. The contents conveniently spilled out onto the floorboard. I picked up a ragged notebook, thick and well used. Inside the cover, A picture had been laid face down.

"Lucky number seven," I mumbled. Flipping it over, I felt the trembling in my hands begin to consume me. It was a photo of Holly and I, walking by a Ferris wheel at the summer carnival his year. I had been circled in permanent marker. And in the distance, a man stood watching. blue hair, those dead, white eyes.

In that instant, I saw the handwriting. The same as on the back of the photo. It was Paul's journal. The one no one could find. And the girl. The seventh, had been me. Tires in the distance caught my attention. Looking up, I barely caught the tail end of Clown's truck, speeding from the parking lot. I went back to the photo for a closer look. The man in the photo, had been the same one that...

"No," I whispered. "It couldn't."

The two of them had been watching me. All this time. Like drug addicted fiends. And I was their drug of choice. My tiny hands rumbled with fear as I moved to start the engine. I cried softly as lips brushed the jagged tears in my neck.

"Happy Halloween, sugar," Paul whispered I closed my eyes and smiled bravely. He was a part of me now. Whether I wanted him or not. And truth be told, I liked it that way.