5. Depraved

five

Depraved

Amanda

M y finger fumbles, typing the entry code in wrong the first time. I look back over my shoulder and swear I can see the neon glow of his mask down the street. My hands shake uncontrollably as my breathing quickens. It’s so hard to think clearly, but I will myself to take a shallow inhale, then release my breath slowly, focusing only on the numbers and keying them in correctly. 5-2-8-0. The lock clicks and I ease the door open, then slip inside slowly. I’m careful not to disturb the bells that hang on the door. Once the lock clicks closed, relief floods my senses, but only for a moment. I need to find somewhere to hide, but where? My eyes skim the gym, frantically searching for a solution. The first spot they land on is the bathrooms, and I shudder at the thought of hiding in a dirty public restroom. Maybe as a last resort, but I continue searching for a better option moving through the dark gym, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I hope to hell he doesn’t find a way in. The only option is to prepare for the worst. There’s an all too familiar nagging in my gut, and I know I will regret ignoring it if I do.

I scan the gym. There’s literally no good place to hide. Time is also not on my side. Judging from how far down the street he was, if he somehow managed to see me slip in here, then there’s a really good chance I only have a few minutes remaining before he comes bursting through the door. Fuck, why didn’t I just request a ride? I am seriously regretting being so stubborn. If I would have just let my smothering celibate boyfriend take care of me, none of this would be happening. Why am I like this? I think with a shiver.

Everything inside of the gym is dark and motionless, as if frozen in time. It’s rare I find myself here so late and at such odd hours of the day. The corners of the room are shrouded in shadows, tempting me to seek shelter in them, but even if I do, their inky tendrils are no match for electricity. If he turns on the lights, there are even fewer places to hide. I have to keep moving. I can’t just stand here out in the open. Hide, Amanda. Just fucking hide. I wander near the locker rooms considering whether or not I can climb inside of a locker and then quickly decide against it, remembering all the stupid ideas in the slasher movies. Maybe I can lay down at the end of the row of treadmills. That way I can at least try to run. Try to run. This is pathetic, Amanda. What are you doing? I sigh in frustration. The treadmills aren’t big enough to hide me, but the rowers might work if I need somewhere to hide in a pinch. I’m running out of time. My eyes dart around frantically looking for other options and then they land on the open-concept yoga and barre studio. There’s a supply closet. The key is hanging next to it. I dash across the gym in a hurry and debate slipping inside with the key, but decide it might look more suspicious. As I slip inside of the supply closet, I freeze.

The bells on the entrance door jingle and my body tenses. Someone else is in the gym. Who am I kidding? I know exactly who else is in the gym. I’m no longer alone, trapped in the same building as my masked stalker. The smart thing to do would have been to go out the back alley door and run home. Fuck. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? I ease the door closed softly and panic.

There are shelves full of yoga mats on the bottom row and it just might work to build a yoga mat fort to hide behind. I drop to my hands and knees to get to work. Hopefully their tight, rubbery rolls will conceal me. Once I’ve constructed the best hiding space possible, I lay down on the shelf, motionlessly. All I can do now is wait and hope more people arrive soon, but it’s the dead of night and the reality is no one else is going to come. The seconds tick by, slowly turning to agonizing minutes, until it feels as if an hour at least has passed. I want to breathe with relief, to silently celebrate my success in outsmarting the masked man from earlier. A shudder courses through my body. The way he just stabbed the man on the sidewalk behind me. It could have been me. It was so close to being me. I’m getting myself all worked up again. The tears burn in my eyes, threatening to spill out and down my cheeks like hot rivers of regret staining my skin.

Jesus, I promise I’ll stop reading slasher romances, stalker books, and I won’t stream any of my favorite Halloween movies this year. I’ll give it all up cold turkey, I think to myself, utterly distraught, and desperate to make it home alive.

The door jiggles and I’m once again frozen. Please, just don’t come in here. The door creaks open and my jaw drops. Fuck. He’s coming in here. I watch, horrified, as he takes one long stride into the supply room. There’s no way I can make it past him and slip out of the shelf unnoticed. I think, sizing up his figure, unable to see clearly in the dark.

He fills the entire doorway in a predator’s stance, his body language raw, dangerous, and alluring. It reminds me of the men from the pages of my books, masks and all. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but I can’t help it. His presence is intoxicating. It floods my senses with a wild mixture of fear and arousal. Despite being absolutely terrified of what’s going to happen next, I find myself fantasizing and unmistakingly turned on by the thought of him plunging his swollen cock deep inside of my aching pussy. My needy little cunt craves the sensation of being stuffed full of a throbbing, hard cock. It’s been weeks—maybe even a full month or more—since the last time my boyfriend touched me like that, and yet he’s just as protective and affectionate as always. I bite my bottom lip, squeezing my thighs together tightly, enjoying the momentary relief the pressure provides me.

Snap out of it! I scold myself, blinking several times to clear the glazed over dryness. Once my vision clears, I realize his shadow cloaked figure no longer fills the doorway. My eyes dart across the room, frantically searching for movement. Finally, I spot his neon threads glowing on the other side of the supply closet. He’s looking at the screen of his phone and there’s a blinking dot that can only be me. He takes a step to the right and checks the screen. Has he been following me? My lips open and close, not making a noise as I choke on my silent scream. He slips his phone in his pocket and starts pulling things off the shelves and racks. When he comes up empty-handed, he turns to face the shelf where I am hiding. Through the yoga mat turned telescope, I can see splatters of blood on his shoes. The sight of the blood makes me woozy and lightheaded, not because I’m not used to seeing it. That blood could have easily been mine. Shit, my blood could still end up on his shoes tonight and the thought of it has me breathing heavily as I succumb to a panic attack. I cover my mouth with my hand, focusing on small sips of air from my shallow breathing at first before switching to a slower, more meditative pattern. All I can think about is trying not to move and hoping I’ve made myself small enough to be overlooked. I should have locked myself in with the key. The regret rushes through my thoughts. This is bad, so bad. And what the actual fuck was wrong with me for fantasizing about him a few minutes ago? Even now, my pussy is humming with desire as I contemplate all the wrong decisions I made tonight. Intrusive thoughts flash through my head as I imagine him finding me. Above me, he’s clearing the shelves. I’m running out of luck, I realize as I gulp down a wave of terror. I want to slam my eyes shut and disappear: to somehow make a grand escape. At this point, I’m desperate enough to try anything. I close my eyes and count backwards from ten, but when I open them, I’m greeted by the fluorescent glow of his neon eyes staring right at me from his perfect view of everything on the bottom shelf. I gulp, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. Fuck!

***

“ T here you are, Amanda,” his voice is menacing. It’s a deep rumble. I’m captivated, but only for a minute, before my ears realize he’s using something to distort his voice, as if he’s afraid I might recognize it. “What a naughty girl you are hiding like a little moth, drawn to the darkness, and unable to escape me.”

The blood rushes through my ears, and I open then close my mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. I want to scream. What good would that do when there’s nobody around to hear it? I want to run, but his large form towers over me, filling all the space between us with his shadows. I don’t stand a chance against him. Maybe I can persuade him not to murder me by enticing him with something else. My pussy throbs, guiltily starved for the sensation of being stretched out and filled. Realizing I’m just staring at him and before anything else can happen, his hand wraps around my ankle. He gives one hard tug and I come flying off the shelf, right into his waiting arms. I should be fucking terrified. My nipples bud, hardening while he holds me pressed against his wide, muscular chest. It’s impossible to control my thoughts. I’m enjoying this all too much and it’s sickening, but I can’t stop. His body radiates heat in a way I didn’t realize it would. Every nerve inside me has erupted with pleasure. He feels dangerous: it’s fucking irresistible.

“So nice running into you here tonight, completely unplanned, and all alone,” he croons, tormenting me as the depraved depths of my cunt clench, trying to contain the juices leaking out inviting his cock to take me in exchange for my life. Even if he doesn’t let me live, fulfilling some of my fantasies might just be enough to help me come to terms with dying. I mean, on the plus side, I would die a satisfied woman.

I say nothing once more. It feels as if every inch of me is plastered to him: savoring and delighting in the calm, even way his chest rises and falls.

His fingertips dance their way down my jaw until he’s tipping my head up to stare at the glowing threads. “My, my, my, Amanda. What’s a stunning woman like you doing out all alone like this?” He tsks.

I get the feeling he’s not waiting for an answer as he continues reprimanding me.

“You’re lucky I’ve been watching you. That man was planning to hurt you, but I couldn’t let him do that to you, Amanda.” He rasps.

A small nervous squeak escapes my lips. He’s been watching me. How long? I wonder.

“Don’t be scared, Amanda. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to be rewarded. You see, I have these thoughts about you and I just can’t get them out of my head.” Every word that leaves his mouth is dripping with danger.

Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Excitement pulses through me, and I’m genuinely curious about what he has in mind. But only for a moment. Trying hard to be brave, I whisper, “What is it you want from me?”

Even though his body is warm and inviting, I tremble in his arms. Fear grips every nerve in my body. He gives a satisfied huff, gloating at having trapped me into asking.

“I’m so glad you inquired,” he says, snatching a strand of my hair from my ponytail and giving it a twirl around his index finger before smelling it.

When I yank my head away from him, he releases the hair, catching me instead by the base of my ponytail and pulling my neck into an exposed position. I hold my breath, unable to move if I wanted to. It’s harrowing as bone chilling second after second ticks by. Until finally, a finger brushes across the tender soft skin on my neck. His rough skin tickles enough to tempt me into closing my eyes and making this psycho happy. Then I can run home to safety.

It’s almost as if he can sense my brain buzzing back to life and plotting an escape. In an attempt to steal my thundering heart‘s attention back to him, he growls in a deep, rumbly throaty voice, “I want to fuck those pretty lips and then feel your wet little cunt wrapped around me.”

I become as rigid as the victim I am, trapped in my predator’s firm grasp. He controls my every move. He controls my fate; whether I live or meet the same fate as the man he killed for following me. I can tell he’s waiting for a response.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Mmmmm.” I can feel his chest vibrate against me with his satisfied moan. “I was hoping you’d put up more of a fight, but I suppose willing participation can be appreciated. Let’s just pretend, for now, that you need a little more motivation.”

Just like that, he shoves me back and pulls a knife from his pocket. He drags me after him from the supply closet and out onto the main floor.

“I love an audience, but I don’t want any interruptions.” He says, steering us to the posing room. He flips the sign on the door over to In Use, then pulls us inside.

“I can’t wait to watch you. Maybe you’ve noticed. It’s a hobby of mine.” The masked man rumbles before he closes the door and locks it.

The room is dark right now, but track lighting runs across the ceiling for maximum control. One wall of the room is covered in mirrors. My reflection stares back at me and I look away, ashamed of what I’m about to do.

“Undress.” He commands.

I grip the edges of my hoodie to pull it over my head, but his words make me pause.

“Stop,” he demands.

“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing together.

“What do you say?” He replies, holding his hand up to his ear.

I roll my eyes, annoyed but still too terrified to complain. I decide to cooperate since it gives me the best chance of survival.

”What do you want me to call you?” I ask, not wanting to spend any more time than I have to with my masked captor.

“Hmmm.” He sighs, thinking it over.

“Call me Mask Daddy,” he growls.

I giggle, unable to stop the laughter from springing forth and erupting to fill the room with its sound. He says nothing. Oh fuck. He’s serious. I think to myself and then clear my throat.

“Yes, Mask Daddy,” I say as seriously as I can before I rip off my hoodies and strip out of my clothes until I am standing in front of him, completely naked.