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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

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Knife’s Edge || Abby Anderson

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: when reader gets lost inside a haunted house, ghostface!Abby takes her to the backroom

Notes: part one in my week of horror series! minors dni; brief dubcon, knife play, throat holding, fingering, dom!Abby wearing a strap under her costume, sex against a wall, afab reader

Scary stories and sleazy horror films had never been something you enjoyed, so you’re not sure why you’d agreed to tag along when your friends invited you to a haunted house hosted in a bleak, abandoned building sitting at the edge of town.

As soon as you walked through the doors, you knew you’d made a mistake. Gory backdrops, clown-faced actors, fake bodies hanging out of coffins – you found a reason to shield your face lurking around every corner. Your friends had shrieked with laughter and pulled you along with them, but you couldn’t keep up with their excited pace, dragging your feet and lagging far behind the group.

Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time with your hands covering your eyes, you would’ve known you were headed down the wrong hallway, straying further away from your friends with each blind step. When you look up to find yourself stranded in the empty darkness, you chastise yourself for coming to a haunted house in the first place.

Tonight would’ve been better if you’d just stayed home.

When you realize that the noise and the commotion of the tour have all but faded into the distance, your heart leaps into your throat. There’s something about the silence that doesn’t seem right.

A rising panic overwhelms your senses as you look around for anything that might tell you where you are. Your friends are all gone, and so are the actors and the gruesome scenes that had been guiding you through the halls. Is it worse to be scared or to be hanging in suspense?

The sudden shuffle of footsteps floods your lungs with relief. You speed up to follow after the sound, only briefly stopping to consider how humiliating it is to be this frightened by a rundown building full of cheap decor.

“Excuse me! Hey-”

You grab the person’s shoulder with a trembling hand, no longer concerned with keeping your dignity intact. They can laugh at you all they want as long as they can lead you to the exit.

When the stranger turns around, you let out a small noise of surprise. She’s tall and brawny under her costume, and the tips of her boots peak out from the bottom of the black sheet of fabric she’s cloaked in.

The mask covering her face is shaped into a ghoulish, twisted scream, just like the one from those cheesy slasher movies you’d never managed to sit through. Even the prop knife she wields at her side is unnervingly sinister.

You pull your hand back and turn your attention to the mesh covering her eyes, hoping for a glimpse of the person underneath.

“Do you work here?”

She cocks her head to the side, silent.

“Look,” you sputter. “I just got separated from my friends, can you help me or not?”

A group of muffled voices erupt from somewhere in the house, a mess of laughter and gasps and thrilled shrieks of artificial terror. You feel her eyes raking over you before she bobs her head and motions for you to follow.

“Come with me.”

The walk through the hallway is quiet beyond the eerie music playing on a loop and the sound of her steps over the creaking floorboards. Cardboard cutouts and tarped sheets of plastic block out the light from the windows and you’d struggle to follow her trail if it weren’t for the occasional flash of her white mask looking at you over her shoulder.

She leads you through a maze of intersecting hallways before finally stopping in front of a door marked with gaudy caution tape and a formal ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign tacked in the middle. She guides you inside with a hand flattened against your lower back and a warmth licks up your spine from her easy touch.

She follows in behind you and shuts the door, and you’re suddenly aware that she’d taken you beyond the part of the house marked off for guests.

Overloaded boxes and bins of leftover decorations are scattered around the room, a collection of undead odds and ends stuffed into every corner. It’s too crowded and too uncanny for your liking.

You turn to look at the quiet stranger with wide eyes, heart hammering in your chest.

“Why are we here?”

She’s silent for a moment before she grabs you by the waist and wraps her arms around you, pressing her face into the crook of your neck.

“Are you scared?”

You shudder as her cold plastic mask connects with your skin. Standing this close, you can hear her heavy breath contorted by her disguise, feel the rise and fall of her chest pressed against your back.

The kitchen knife gleams against your hip where her hand gropes for purchase. In the darkened hallway, it’d seemed like a cheap, flimsy prop to match her crude costume, but in here, there’s just enough light to catch the metallic luster of the blade’s sharp edge.

She seems to follow the trail of your downcast gaze because she runs the flat side of her knife up the length of your torso with an amused hum.

“Don’t worry,” she taunts in an overly cloying voice. “You won’t feel a thing.”

Her grip is loose enough that you could break free if you wanted, but you’re too flustered by the heat pooling in your belly to try. You wriggle in her grasp and unintentionally move your hips into hers, gasping when the tip of the blade digs into your side.

“Ah- careful with that thing.”

She laughs dryly and drags the steel up to rest in the valley of your breasts. “I think you like a little pain.”

Without a warning, she spins you around so that you’re sandwiched between her form and the wall, cheek pressed roughly against the cracked, yellowing paint.

“You feel that?” She grinds against the curve of your backside, revealing the hard plastic bulge underneath her costume. “S’my cock, baby. You gonna take it like a good girl?”

You whimper at the harsh treatment and the thought of what’s to come. When you take too long to work up a reply, she wraps a hand around your throat, delicate but forceful enough that you’re aware of her underlying strength.

“I asked you a question.”

Honeyed slick coats the apex of your thighs as you squirm in place, practically thrumming with adrenaline and a feeling you can’t name. You’ve always hated scary movies, but living through one is turning out to be much more of a thrill.

“Yes,” you pant with a shaky nod. “Please, yes. Just fuck me.”

Her knife clatters to the floor beside your feet and you flinch at the shrill noise. The hand around your throat is gone, disappearing somewhere behind you as she bunches the fabric of her costume around her waist.

You chance a look over your shoulder in hopes of catching a glimpse of her form without the curtain of fabric blocking the view, and you’re met with the sight of her harness digging into her hips, leading below the waistband of her black cotton boxers.

A sliver of bare skin is visible between the dregs of her cloak and the hem of her underwear, accentuating the smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval. The muscles of her thighs flex as she pulls the length of her strap from its confines.

She reaches around to unbutton your jeans and tug the material down your legs, careless of the way your hips jerk from the force of her strength. When her fingers prod at your entrance and she slides her fake cock between your thighs, your palms flatten against the wall to keep yourself from crumpling over in bliss.

“S’that feel good?” Her thumb swipes at your clit in fast, messy circles while two thick digits part your velvety walls.

Little sighs and puffs of air are all you can manage as a response. Her fingers curl at the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, and you think you could manage to come like this if she kept at it for even a minute longer.

To your disappointment, she frees her fingers before you can reach your peak, and you push back against her with a whine of protest.

She doesn’t seem to appreciate your breathy complaint, because she shoves your hips back against the wall with a bitter force that makes you gasp at the impact.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Her masked face peaks over your shoulder, creeping into your peripheral with an unblinking, static gaze.

You feel the tip of her cock nudge against your weeping entrance, sleek plastic rubbing against your skin just like the pale visage resting against your cheek. She drives her cock into you in one fluid motion, grunting as her hips slam into yours.

“Fuck-” you choke out a breathless, eager sound as she gives an experimental thrust against your backside.

Her broad figure envelops you completely as she grinds her cock into your slick cunt, agonizingly slow until she decides you’re ready for more. She’s everywhere all at once – a blur of heavy-handed touches over your hips and your chest. You can’t decide whether you’d like to push your breasts into the cradle of her palms or to contort yourself into the hollow of her frame in search of more pleasure.

“mmh- please, faster,” you beg, brows pinched together with the effort of keeping still like she’d asked.

“Yeah?” She picks up a bit of speed and returns her fingers to your clit. “Too cock drunk to be scared anymore?”

You nod along with what she’s saying, too focused on the tension twisting in your gut to pay attention to her words. You’d agree to anything as long as she kept moving.

A minute passes and you’re teetering at the edge of your release. She seems to notice, adding pressure to your clit and grinding her cock into you as far as it’ll go.

“That’s it,” she pants. “Come for me.”

The tension inside of you snaps and you shudder through your release with a choked sob and a silent thanks to the stranger holding you up. Your walls cling to her slick length as you come around her cock, heaving a shaky breath into the quiet, cramped room.

After a few more greedy thrusts and swipes over your sensitive clit, she stills inside of you and presses her mouth to your shoulder, almost like she’s kissing you through the plastic mold covering her face.

With a content flush crawling up your cheeks, you turn to look at her in the dim lighting. “You could’ve taken the mask off, y’know.”

She laughs wryly and shakes her head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

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