Page 11 of Haunt

“That’s okay.” Without pulling his fingers from my neck, he hops up onto the table, moving to straddle my hips. My hands come up to push against him, fear filling my lungs in the place of oxygen as I cry out in protest. “I didn’t want to do it the easy way, either. I get it, princess.” Still holding me down with just one hand, he lifts the knife to gaze at it. “I’m not even sure who this belongs to,” he admits conversationally as my nails dig into his forearm. His fingers shift against my throat, finding that place again, and I whimper in fear and terrified anticipation.

“Shhh,shh. I’m just holding you here. You’re fine.” But he lowers the knife, returning his attention to me, and gently taps the tip of the blade against my nose. “I can’t believe you actually cut me, truthfully. I didn’t think you had it in you. You’re such a feral little thing when you’re cornered, aren’t you?” His voice is soft, silky, and filled with sickly sweet kindness.

“Let me go,” I gasp, heels pressed against the table as I try to get the leverage to push him off. “You said I wasn’t invited—I’m not supposed to be here. So just let me leave,please.” I’m not above begging, apparently. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t—” The press of the knife’s tip to my lower lip cuts me off and I whine in protest.

He doesn’t speak for a few moments. He just drags the tip of the blade over my lips, pressing the point in against the bow of my upper lip until it stings. “What’s my name?” he asks at last. “Not my real name, obviously. But the name I go by here. Do you know it?”

“Ravage.” There’s no hesitation when I say it. His is one of the few names I actually remember, and if I live through the night, I certainly won’t forget.

“Good girl.” Something unwanted curls up my spine at the purred praise, but I definitely don’t need that tonight. “Do you remember anyone else’s name?”

I think about it, going through the masks in my head before remembering another one. And the way the animal skull mask and the tactical gear were so similar to Ravage’s. “Harrow.”

“Oh,verygood girl.” He pauses, watching as I shift under him. “Do you like that, hmm? You like it when I call you my good girl?”

“Not at all.” My fingers tighten again, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it.

“Are you sure?” He leans down, his mask looming in my sight. “Are you—” I don’t know why I do it. But when I get enough leverage with my feet pressed to the table and my fingers around his wrist, I lunge upward, cracking my forehead against the nose of his mask and making him reel back.

“Fuck!” he snarls, dropping the knife to the floor and lifting his hand to his face. “You little—” he snarls and his grip tightens, cutting off my air even as he laughs. “You’re going to be fun, aren’t you?”

“Let go!” I shriek, scratching at his wrist. “Let go, I can’t?—!”

“Breathe?!”he snarls near my face. “Of course you can’t. Do you want to?” I nod fervently at his stupid question. “You think you deserve to breathe? Hmm?Answer me.” His snarl makes me flinch, and I nod again, desperate for some kind of relief from him choking me.

“Good girl.” He releases my throat just enough for me to take a breath, his other hand coming up to grip my hoodie, tugging it up until my stomach is vulnerable to the cool air of the warehouse.

“Don’t,” I whisper, gripping his other wrist with one hand. “Don’t!”

He just hums a reply, but doesn’t stop until the fabric of my hoodie is bunched up under my bra. “Aren’t you just so pretty?” His gloved hand strokes over my stomach, causing my muscles to tense up in desperate anticipation of the worst. “Especially all scared and breathless like this. Such a pretty Halloween present for me.”

When I scoff a protest, his eyes flick back up to my face. “You’re so lucky I enjoy it when you fight me. Some of the others wouldn’t. I even like it when you cut me, and if I didn’t think you’d kill me…” His fingers drift up my skin until he can trace the line of my bra. “I’d give you the knife back.”

“I’ll only stab you a little.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and my pulse races with anxiety. “Promise.”

His rough chuckle meets my ears. “I love that fight of yours, princess. I wonder how long you can keep it. I wonder what it’ll take to have you begging for me, hmm?” He moves, shifting up on his knees, and his hand presses against my hip, dragging a whine of protest from me. But he ignores it as he drags my leggings over my hips, tugging them down my thighs even as I press my knees together in an attempt to stop him.

“No!” I fight Ravage again in earnest, one hand on the wrist at my throat and the other grasping for his other hand. “N-no! Don’t! I don’t want—” His fingers close lightly over the point in my neck that makes me see stars, and it clearly has the effect he’s going for. My eyes close hard and with my focus on breathing around the pressure, Ravage is able to tug my leggings and underwear down to my knees amidst my choked off sob.

“I know, babe. You don’t want any of this, do you?” I hate his mockingly sweet tone enough that I’d love to be the one choking him for a change. “You just came here looking for a fun haunt topush your boundaries, didn’t you?” My heels hit the table again as I struggle, unable to look away from his mask as his gloved fingers trail over my hips before dipping between my thighs. “I’ll push your boundaries for you.” He says it like a promise, like a secret between us.

Before I can protest, or scream, or do anything, his fingers slide against me, his glove smooth against my folds. I yelp around his hand, both of mine flying up to claw at his wrist. But it only makes him shudder, and he tips his head back like he’s getting off on the pain from my nails.

Maybe he is.

My whine echoes between us as he strokes his fingers against me, sliding against my entrance before pausing to give my clit extra attention. I hate it, or rather, I hate how my stomach curls in response to it and heat pools between my thighs at his urging. “Stop,” I murmur, my nails digging in hard enough that I feel the slide of blood on his skin.

“Nah, princess. I’m having too much fun. Aren’t you having fun?” he squeezes my throat again, cutting off my air, and his fingers pick up their movement against me, teasing my entrance between stroking over my clit every few seconds.

My head shakes in answer. I am most certainly not having fun. Especially not when he continues to not let me breathe until spots swim in my fuzzy vision. Only then does he let go, allowing me to gasp in a lungful of air just as he shoves two fingers into me.

“Feels good, right?” Ravage laughs. “With your head spinning and my fingers in your pretty pussy? You take two so easy. Bet you could take three.” Again I shake my head in protest, writhing on the table to do anything to get away from him. “Deep breath, princess. On the count of three for me.”

“N-no—please, I can’t?—”

“One,” he growls, cutting me off as his fingers continue to thrust in and out of me languidly.

“I can’t?—”

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