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The red digital numbers on the oven’s clock reads 11:46 pm. Standing in front of the oven, looking up at the microwave is Stu Macher. He watches the puffed up bag of popcorn spin around absentmindedly as his left hand plays with the necklace around his neck. He’s dressed in a white tank top and plain baggy pajama bottoms. Glancing briefly outside of the only window in the kitchen offers only the glare of the overhead light and Stu’s reflection. He returns his gaze back to the numbers counting down on the microwave, stretching his shoulders and yawning. He lets his eyes close for a couple seconds but snaps them open when a shrill beep reaches his ears.
He yanks the door open, filling the air with the savory smell of buttery popcorn. He pushes the door and it slams loud enough to make him jump - louder than what the microwave should be capable of making even if being used with excessive force. Stu looks closely at the door, then his head swivels around to what he can see of the house in the kitchen. He’s currently home alone but after a few more seconds of nothing new and the bag of popcorn only getting colder in his hands, he shakes his head. Stu’s mouth waters even more as he tears the bag open and pours the contents into a large bowl.
“Hey, Stu,” a husky and unrecognizable voice calls out from behind. Stu freezes when cold metal is pressed flat against his throat. A warm body presses up against his back. “Did you make some for me?”
Stu turns his head sharply to look back and is greeted with a pale Ghostface Halloween mask. He mirrors the mask with his wide eyes and his mouth falling open in shock. The masked person, the Ghostface, takes a step away but still keeps the pointy part of the knife aimed at Stu. The kitchen light gleams off the blade and Stu notices how incredibly sharp it must be. A gloved hand reaches up and grabs the back of his head, facing him forward again. “Scream and I’ll gut you like a pig.”
The hand in Stu’s hair retreats but finds a new target instead. His left wrist is snatched and retches behind his back with enough force to make him gasp and stumble. Stu’s other hand is pulled back, no less gentle, and Ghostface keeps his wrists trapped with a single hand. A coarse rope replaces the hold, grinding his bones against each other uncomfortably and pinching his skin. He subconsciously twists and squirms to relieve the pain.
“You surprised me. I thought a big strong guy like you would put up more of a fight,” Ghostface says, his gloved fingers running up and down the knots around Stu’s arms. His voice, Stu realizes, is masculine but artificial but no less intimidating. “Not that it would have helped. I would have liked it more but, oh well, I’ll take you willing.”
A hand wraps up tightly on Stu’s shirt and has him whirling around to closely face his assailant. The two are maybe a breath’s length apart. Stu looks down into the dark pits of the mask’s eyes but a layer of black mesh prevents him from seeing a glimpse of the person underneath. A cold realization washes over him as he has no clue who could be right in front of him. He can’t even properly recall if he locked the doors or windows earlier.
“Let’s take this somewhere more interesting.” The hand in Stu’s shirt pulls him forward, forcing Stu to walk in the direction of his bedroom while Ghostface follows behind with a guiding hand on his arm.
When they reach the destination, Stu is harshly pushed onto his bed. He lands uncomfortably on his arms, pinning them more underneath himself and tugging painfully on the already irritated skin. But, at least now, Stu can get a good look at the Ghostface. The hood on his head is connected to a black gown with long sleeves and a long skirt tattered at the edges. A belt is added on top with a holder for the hunting knife.
“What do you want?” Stu asks, trying to keep his breath steady and ignoring the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of his face.
Ghostface tilts his head. “What do I want? Come on! Look where you’re at. Are you stupid?”
It takes two long steps for Ghostface to cross the room and be on the bed with Stu. He pulls the knife from the holder and Stu shrinks in on himself. He allows for Ghostface to hover on top of him, staring up at the knife the entire time. The knife comes close to Stu’s face, tapping his cheek lightly and tracing his jawline with the dull edge. Ghostface then takes the sharp end to the tank top. The shirt is cut all the way down the middle and thrown open to expose the skin underneath. Stu winces, only briefly, as the knife knicks his skin in a couple spots but not enough to make him bleed substantially. The teeth of the blade don't stop there and Stu’s pants are next to be cut away. This time around though, Stu’s skin is spared from being sliced. At least, for now it is. Stu bites his bottom lip, turning away as his face burns bright red. He’s mostly naked, wearing only socks and his boxers. There’s nothing Stu can do to hide and the deep laugh above him confirms the mortifying reality.
“What a sick freak. This turns you on, doesn’t it? You wanted this to happen. Bet you were dreaming about it for days, keeping your windows cracked open just for me. Or, maybe someone worse,” Ghostface says as he laughs again.
Stu takes a deep breath in, his face still hot, as he glares up at the mask. “Yeah? Look who's talking.”
The laughing dies down and the energy from Ghostface seems different than just a moment ago, he’s rigid and his voice is cold. “I’m not ashamed of my sexual desires.”
“But you’re hiding behind a mask,” Stu answers before he can even think of biting his tongue. He gets a slap to the cheek and he’s lucky it wasn’t the knife. Stu’s head falls back against the pillow and his face stings. His body is momentarily stunned and realizes too late that Ghostface had left and returned with more rope in hand.
Rope is first wrapped around Stu’s left ankle and then looped around to his left thigh, pulling them tightly together. This position forces Stu’s knee to be bent in an awkward ‘kneeling’ position with the inability to move his leg except for left and right. The same knots are applied to Stu’s right leg. Stu swallows as he sees Ghostface still has rope in his hands. More rope is wrapped under each of Stu’s knees and tied off to the bed’s headrest. Now, Stu’s knees are almost touching his shoulders and can no longer move in any direction. The last excess is used on Stu’s chest, tied up around his neck and crisscrossing around his midsection in a diamond shape. Those knots are not as tight as the ones around his feet - they are tight enough to remind Stu of their presence.
“You can’t escape now, even if you wanted to,” Ghostface remarks, testing the knots.
All Stu can do is close his eyes and breath. He can feel every single rope and the friction burns they’re causing as he shifts ever so slightly. His arms have already gone numb and his legs utterly useless. Stu is totally and completely at the man’s mercy. Opening his eyes, Stu can see that Ghostface’s attention is now on the tent in his boxers.
“Are you going to kill me?” Stu asks with a slight quiver in his voice.
“No,” Ghostface answers, “I am going to fuck you. Then I’ll kill you. And then maybe fuck you some more after that. Depends on how pretty your corpse is.”
Ghostface finally touches the straining bulge. He starts with a light touch that sends shocks of pleasure up Stu’s spine. Stu can’t help the stuttering moan falling from his lips, he leans his head back into the pillows and tries to lift his hips upward without much success. Finally, the boxers are cut away from Stu’s body and his erection begs for more attention. Ghostface provides it with his gloved hands offering the perfect texture of soft friction that brings Stu close to spilling.
“You’re not coming before me,” Ghostface says huskily, leaving Stu’s cock neglected again.
“Please-” Stu starts. The cry tumbling out of his mouth is loud and whiny and stopped very quickly by the tattered remains of his boxer.
“That will keep you occupied, huh? The taste of cock? Well, suck it all up because that’s the closest your mouth will have tonight.”
Stu digs his teeth into the fabric and groans. Ghostface repositions himself to be in between Stu’s legs, tenderly running his fingers along the inner thighs. Stu imagines that his assailant is smiling or maybe even licking his lips. Those thoughts are swallowed by concern as Ghostface takes the sharp edge of his weapon to Stu’s skin. It starts on Stu’s left thigh with a shallow cut. A thin red line is the only evidence it occurred. The blade kisses the inside of Stu’s pale flesh again, making another red line next to the first. Ghostfaces tosses the knife from one hand to the other and sets his eyes on Stu’s other leg. This time, the cut is deeper and the flow of red is much stronger. Stu hisses, sucking against his gag, and his eyes water slightly.
“Did that hurt? Want me to kiss it better?” Ghostface asks in a voice dripping with condescension, tilting his head from side to side. A gloved thumb holds the inside of Stu’s thigh, pressing close to the wound, threatening to slip inside. Stu can’t stop his widening eyes from staring at the potential danger and frantically nods his head.
The offending hand slides away from the cut and Stu releases the breath he was holding. Stu pulls his eyes away from his injury to catch Ghostface slipping the mask off to the side, far enough to expose the lower half of his face. Stu is mesmerized and tries to absorb every detail as it is shown. The person’s face is clean shaven and he is smiling; the view Stu has stops just below the nose. Ghostface leans down to Stu’s thigh, his tongue peaking out over his bottom lip. When it connects with the cut, it’s warm and oddly comforting. He laps up most of the blood that freely pours down and swallows it. Ghostface smiles again, showing how Stu’s blood stains his perfect teeth and covers his lips and chin. The cut still flows and he laps up more with his persistent tongue. Stu watches with his head resting against a pillow, his face flushed red, and his breath becoming harder to control. Ghostface finally pulls away after a couple of more indulgences with the same contented smile, sliding the mask back in place.
Ghostface enters Stu’s space again, crowding his vision so all Stu can see is the mask. He slots himself perfectly between the bent legs, pressing up against his body beneath him. The soft polyester fabric tickles the damp flesh. Ghostface brings a hand to Stu’s face, rubbing his cheek with a thumb. Stu leans into it and looks up with his big, watery eyes. He gets nothing in return but the unchanging mask.
“You look tired. Think you can hold out any longer?”
There’s no way for him to answer since Ghostface still hasn’t taken the gag. He doesn’t even have a chance to nod again when a searing pain explodes up his lower body. Stu gasps, nearly inhaling the tattered fabric in his mouth, and he lets out a long, low groan when air does return to his lungs. The knife he nearly forgot about slashed a deep line against the sensitive flesh that connects Stu’s ass to his thigh. The cut is much deeper than the others, it hurts more and it spills more blood. The sheets on the bed are already becoming very damp and the skin below is covered in the warm liquid that cools into something more tacky. Ghostface coats his fingers in the pooling blood; his hands pressing against his skin and teasing the cut open even more.
Stu slams his head back into the pillow, arching his neck and shoulders while moaning in agony. He tries once more to move his weakening legs but it's useless. He just ends up agitating the smaller cuts and rope burns even more. More concerningly, he can’t feel much below his knees and his limbs feel heavier than before. His arms are doubly more useless; Stu swears he can’t even move his fingers.
Ghostface, in the meantime, finds Stu’s hole with his blood soaked fingers and pushes inside. Stu is making it as difficult as he can: clenching down on the gloved fingers and rocking his hips away - the only thing he can move even slightly. However, the movement stops almost immediately. Ghostface easily keeps Stu’s waist still by splaying a gloved hand over Stu’s stomach and pushing down. While Stu may have been taller than his assailant, he’s not exactly in the best position to buck him off and almost all fight leaves his body as he just takes everything Ghostface has to give.
His brain feels buried, almost like it's filled with cotton or sand. Stu thinks he maybe hears Ghostface talk to him but it's hard to listen over the sounds he finds himself making: muffled high pitch whines, moans, and begging. Stu isn’t even sure what he’s begging for - for Ghostface to stop or to keep going. His brain is even more addled when the fingers find his prostate and for a moment, all he feels is mind altering bliss.
Stu isn’t even really sure how many fingers were used for prep but he does know when Ghostface is done with it. Because he’s wearing the full gown, Ghostface has to pull it up and above his hips, tucking it into the belt on top, before he undoes his jeans. Stu can’t even admire how tight the jeans are before the rigid cock springs free. It’s not bigger than Stu’s cock but it is thicker and just looking makes Stu swallow thickly, his mouth suddenly dry.
Ghostface dips under Stu’s leg once last time and collects a palm full of bright red blood and smears it over his cock. The only thing Stu can do is bite down on the damp fabric still in his mouth, clench his fist tightly, and lay his head back watching with half lidded eyes as Ghostface uses one hand to guide his cock. In one strong thrust, he’s half buried inside Stu. Another strong thrust and he’s flush against Stu.
Overcome with the sensations washing over his body, Stu cries out weakly and turns his head from the side to side. Ghostface doesn’t give Stu much time to adjust before pulling out and slamming back in. He shakes Stu’s entire body while he moves, making the bed creak and tap against the wall. The sounds he made before were nothing to the obscene noise he was making now. Ghostface was pulling harsh pants and moans with each thrust and angle - noises Stu didn’t know he could make before.
But the loss of blood is starting to catch up with Stu. He closes his eyes only for a second but has a much harder time opening them. He can’t tell himself but he sure he’s getting pale. The pain, at least, is wholly replaced by the pleasures of a good fuck. Ghostface knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it very well. The girth stretches Stu and presses against all the spots that make him feel good, the spots he searches for when he masturbates.
Despite all the aching to be had in his joints, the burns, the cuts, being entirely bound by someone he doesn’t know, and the fact he’s struggling to stay conscious, Stu’s arousal hasn’t died down once. He’s actually harder than ever. Stu feels himself getting close but it’s not enough to push him over the edge. His fingers curl in on themselves. If only Ghostface’s hand would drift to his weeping member. It wouldn’t take much, Stu assumes in his half-working brain. Just a look from that intimidating mask, maybe a cruel work or threat, and just the slightest brush of leather and Stu would fall apart perfectly.
Ghostface hammers away at Stu’s ass and only achieves his own personal pleasure of completion. He pulls out just so he can taint Stu even further; white and pinkish streaks stain his hole, the inside of his thighs, and his lower stomach. Stu is left a whiny and tear eyed mess, staring at the black and white that is Ghostface and trying to say something. Ghostface relents this one time and pulls the soaking cloth from Stu’s mouth, letting him speak.
“Please, please,” Stu says softly, his voice hoarse and breathless but still very much on the edge of his own climax. His brain fog is getting worse and if he wasn’t already laying down, he’d have passed out by now. “I want to come. Please just touch me.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Ghostface says, the voice setting Stu’s nerves on fire.
The gloved hand finally touches Stu’s cock again and, like he thought, it didn’t take much. Just a quick once over, the fingers loosely holding the tip and sliding down to the base, and Stu’s cock practically exploded with the amount of come that he released. Stu moans loudly, almost like he was stabbed, as his mind truly blanks. His back arches and everything feels like it’s simultaneously too much and too far away.
Unfortunately, Stu doesn’t remember what happened next. When he comes to, blinking slowly with an incredible headache and shaky limbs, he’s laying in his bed with the blankets on top of him and the ropes missing. The cuts on his thighs are covered with bandages and gauze. Next to him, laying on top of the covers, is Billy. He’s fallen asleep curled next to him with one arm still around Stu’s waist. On the floor, next to the bed, is the abandoned mask with traces of blood and voice changer. Billy is also still wearing the cloak but the gloves are gone. On the bedside table, next to the alarm clock, is a bottle of water, juice, and a granola bar. Stu ruffles the hair on top of Billy’s head, stirring the other awake.
“Oh, I am so gonna be the one topping next time,” he tells the half awake Billy while he cracks into the bottle of water.