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A few weeks after the original encounter, you’d finally decided to call the number he left on that yellow post-it note. The blinding yellow calling to you whenever you’d looked to your mirror or drawer or fridge or whatever you put it to forget about it, though no matter how long it stayed in the dark and out of your mind you’d always wander back to it. The idea of getting payback for what he did lingered on the outskirts of your mind at any given moment, the thought of him under you sent electric shocks up your spine.
A dizzying feeling that left you scrambling to find the yellow square of paper with hastily scribbled numbers every time, you could never quite bring yourself to call it until tonight.
Stoned off your ass you’d picked up the note from your coffee table and looked at it, the little “Call me ;)” scrawled on the bottom right corner haphazardly, before you could decide against it you picked up your phone and dialed the number.
Your skin buzzed and your fingertips felt fuzzy as you held the device to your ear.
You had no idea what you wanted to say or how to go about it. Call it confidence or just stupidity, or maybe it was the weed in your system giving you horny brain, but by god were you gonna fuck this man.
The phone rang for a moment without answer, you thought he wouldn’t pick up, the idea didn’t seem so far fetched considering he was well.. him.
Just as you were about to pull the phone from your ear you heard the sound In-graved in your mind since the last time, the rough tone of his voice changed breathing through the cheap speaker of whatever phone he had.
The sound made your head swim and you were almost content to just sit and listen. But you were on a mission, your voice almost shocked you when you spoke, cottonmouth In full effect, your voice was gravely and rough around the smoke still floating through your lungs.
You spoke with mixed words and slurred speech, but you made it work and got your point across.
You made your intentions clear as day in the moment, hardly legible to anyone but you, but just enough that he understood what you wanted.
He’d given you a set of coordinates and a general time to meet him, you scrambled to jot down the numbers on the back of the same post-it note he left you the last time.
The coordinates he’d given you traced back to an abandoned trailer park just outside of the city, deep in the forest overgrown with foliage and wildlife, it was a small hike and a decent drive to get to where you needed to be, but it was most likely worth it to be able to get your revenge on the man who busted your window lock, punctured a massive gash in your thigh, and fucked up your sheets.
It’s been almost two days since you received the location and you were more than ready, before you left you grabbed an easy camera and a small, pine handled jack-knife.
The drive only took about 30 minutes and the hike only 15, by the time you’d made it to the ruins of the trailer park it was around 11:00PM.
The stars shown through the slight overcast, deep blacks and blues mixed across the sky, without the light pollution the sky was vibrant and bright. The moon cast a glow across the tin roof of the only intact trailer, you assumed that was the one he stayed in.
As you walked forward you listened for any sound of life aside from your own, but there was non. Maybe it was because you were an hour early.
You took careful steps to the door, the cracked and stained glass of the windows was yellowed and dusty with age, the handle of the door was covered in a fungus or moss, it was impossible to tell.
As you stepped inside the smell hit you, death and sweat, a foul rot came from the vast majority of the small space, especially the… mattress? In the corner of the room.
The whole place reeked of decay and mold, a long strip of plants sprouted across the middle of the floor, peeking through the cracks in the walls and floors, you didn’t see or hear anyone in the useable part of the trailer, so you decided to look around.
Directly across from the bed you suppose, was a dingy sofa, mold riddled cushions indented with years of harsh use, rough fabric stained with all sorts of fluids you didn’t even want to think about.
Next to the couch, on the left side between the wall and the arm rest was a cardboard box, clean compared to the rest of the room, the box seemed more promising than anything else in the room.
You walked to the box and crouched to grab it, the grimy floor left a sticky brown residue on the knees of your pants.
When you opened the box your jaw dropped, eyes bulged from your skull and you stared in disbelief, neatly folded piles of lace and satin, silk and velvet, all different colors from pink to black. You didn’t know if they were trophies or just something he enjoyed, but either way you were getting ideas.
After a moment of debate you decided you’d find use for one of the sets, grabbing one off the top of the pile you felt the material, a soft lace that rubbed in all the right ways against your fingertips.
The soft material rested in your palm for a moment before you shoved it in your pocket for later.
Before you knew it he’d walked through the door, thick gloves held the door in place as he stared at you, watching with curiosity.
You watched him, nerves getting the better of you.
Before you could completely bail you tossed the lace set towards him, cementing the deal.
He stared at it in disbelief, no doubt a look of shock behind the mask.
He picked up the delicate lace and looked at you, holding the fabric in his hand he walked towards you.
Once he stood only a foot away he trusted the piece towards you and you grabbed his arm. He wasn’t expecting the sudden grip to his wrist, so it was easy to dislocate his elbow and have him flat on his ass in just a few seconds. The sudden jolt of pain up his arm left him grasping at your wrist with his non-dominant hand.
You got down and straddled his thighs, pinning his hands above him; the jostling of his contorted arm sent another wave of pain up through his arm, a rather out of place cackle from him sent you spiraling.
Deep ashen vocals resounding through the near empty space, he bucked into you a little whenever his manic laughter got too much for him and he had to take a breather.
The sudden jolt of pain seemed to have sent him into hysterics as he rolled on the ground in the limited space between your thighs.
You watched him in mild shock while he came down from his hysterical laughing fit.
Before he could fight you, you shifted so you were straddling his left leg while your left rested between his thighs, pressed up against his crotch with only the slightest pressure.
That sure shut him up though, what sound came from his mouth ceased as soon as he felt your knee against him.
He spread his thighs just a smidge more, giving you more access.
You leaned down to flick the mask up, just enough to uncover his lips but nothing more.
Cracked lips framed with rough ginger stubble, a few thick strands of curly orange hair peaked from the lifted cloth edges of the mask.
A few tiny scars littered his chin, cheeks, and lips. Small enough that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking.
He stared with his mouth half agape at your boldness, not even a shadow of the person you were during your first encounter.
Fear was a huge factor your first night with the man, thick gloves hands had you by the throat with a knife embedded in your upper thigh. The muscle had mostly healed, the flesh around the wound was purple with greenish yellow coloring, slight reds bloomed around the gash. The flesh was still tender, a permanent reminder of the night you let a killer ruin your sheets.
You looked back down to his face, then his chest, then his thighs, then his face again. He was pudgy, thick flesh that filled out his leather accessories just right.
You oogled him for a moment, able to take in all his fine details that you couldn’t see before.
He didn’t have his ghostface getup on completely, just a few choice pieces of it, such as the mask and the cloak.
You looked back up for a moment and stared where you thought his eyes were, your hand rested just over the zipper to his jeans, asking for permission.
He tossed his head back and bucked into your hand, you took that and his breathy chuckle and his gap tooth smile as a go ahead.
You unzipped him in a matter of seconds, he lifted his hips to make it easier to maneuver him. He let you move him how you wanted, let you pull his jeans off and unbutton his cloak.
Thick fabric rough against your skin, you rubbed it between your fingers for a second before tossing the clothing somewhere in the room, he didn’t seem to care. Or at the very least he didn’t react.
Once you’d got him situated where you wanted him on the floor you grabbed the soft pastel pink lingerie from where he’d discarded it when you popped his arm out of place, the soft lace piece still had the tags on.
It wasn’t so neatly folded now, the cloth was creased in some areas.
You took your time carefully dressing him in it, he didn’t fight you too much so you assumed it was something he enjoyed even just a little, though you could tell he was actively avoiding looking you in the eye.
A simple one piece set, black and gray lace that covered most of his chest and some of his hips. Black silk string connected lace frills around his hips in a partial skirt style,
He’s already half straining against the thin fabric covering his crotch.
The straps and gems dug into his skin the slightest bit, divoting the flesh underneath.
You pressed your knee Into him again and he bucked into you, soft whines and gasps flowed from his mouth like water with each jerk and rub of your knee.
You released your death grip on his wrist and moved your hand down to his hip, the other resting on his upper thigh.
You rubbed your thumbs gently over the flesh, he whimpered whenever your thumbs brushed a particularly sensitive spot.
Before long you got bored of just touching.
You grabbed him by the hips and propped him up with his shoulders to the floor and his tailbone on your lap. You hunched over him to nip at his neck and jawline, a potent smell of dirt, sweat, and blood enveloped you.
He whined when you sunk your teeth Into his skin, leaving deep red marks across the blank flesh.
You moved one hand back down to his thigh, teasing him through the fabric and he nearly sobbed, rocking into your hand with each harsh bite to his neck or chest.
Before you could fully get started you reached into your back pocket to pull out the small action camera, you took a few quick pictures while he stared at you behind the mask, mouth hanging open in disbelief, you gently shut his mouth with two fingers and went back to taking pictures before stopping to record and setting the camera aside, the little red light glaring at the both of you, he looked to the side to stare at the camera before you pulled him out, he yelped when you started to jerk him off, whipping his head to face you, momentarily forgetting about the camera.
He arched his back off the ground and tossed his head back, letting ecstasy wash over him.
You gradually sped up your strokes, thick globs of pre leaked from his tip, you used your thumb to wipe it away with each upward stroke; using it to slick him up.
He bucked into your hand and whined, you could tell he was getting close.
He bit his teeth into his bottom lip, stifling moans and whines.
Every so often his head would lean towards the camera and he’d stare it, then clench his jaw and look away. Doing his best to ignore your attempt at an amateur porno. He'd Whine when he looked over, then he’d hump Into your hand and forget about it.
When you noticed him start to get jerky with his movement you sped up your hand again, focusing on the head more so than the rest of his dick.
His mouth fell open when he came, tossing his head back while thick ropes of cum shot across his stomach and v-line, ruining the lace. Ever the quick shot he was, he quickly slacked back against the floor, coming down from his rather quick orgasm.
But you don't stop your assault, rapid jerking suddenly shocks him out of his post orgasm bliss.
He bucks away from your hand but you pull him back by the hips and he sobs, his thighs quiver under you and you continue to jerk him off, cooing sweet nothings into his ear.
He whines and pleads for you to go easy on him, to give him a breather.
And eventually you do, letting up and letting him go limp against you.
But you don’t give him more than a handful of minutes to come down, instead you sink down so your face level with his half hard cock.
He looks over his chest at you before tossing it back again and whimpering, a soft thud sounds off the hard ground.
His thighs quiver around your face as you plant soft kisses and bites to the hairy flesh, leaving dark red and purple marks in your wake.
You flatten your tongue against his base and make your way up, resting the tip on your lips before taking him to the hilt, his head hits the back of your throat and you swear he almost sobs, tears welling in the corners of his eyes with the overstimulation.
The sting of tears threatening to spill added to the overstimulation. His rough skin pressed Into your face, soothed by the soft lace that dug into his flesh.
He humped into your face with every opening he could get, at some point you had to hold his hips down so you didn’t bite his dick off if he gagged you.
He twitched and writhed under you, desperately trying to buck into your mouth, but you just dug your nails into his skin and held him down.
You figured he wasn’t trying that hard to get out of your grip, knowing his strength from experience.
He was letting you control him, it definitely took away from your power trip but it definitely didn’t deter you from making him plead.
He was getting close again, you could tell from the way he twitched in your mouth.
You gripped him slightly harder and took him to the hilt, that was enough for him. He hit the ground running, spasming in your grip with his head tossed back, he came down your throat with a shout.
You pulled off of him to sit on your knees and jerk him off again, soft slow strokes to work him off his second orgasm.
He sobbed and writhed in your hands, trying to squirm away from your assult.
Eventually you let up, letting him twitch and squirm on the floor, you grabbed your camera and took a few more pictures while he stared at you with misty, tear filled eyes you couldn’t see.
Soft whines left him when you got up and left him alone on the filthy floor, leaving him to clean up his his mess.
… and relocate his arm.