4. Chapter 4
The chainsaw roar cut off mid-scream, and I spun, heart slamming against my ribs.
He was right there—the chainsaw man, the one who'd been fucking the nurse on the skeletons—standing so close I could smell the gasoline and sweat on his coveralls.
The plastic chainsaw hung loose in one hand, and under the mask, I caught the glint of his eyes tracking down my naked body, still painted in red and sweat and the couple's come.
"New girl," he said, voice muffled by the mask. "You look like you need a break."
I opened my mouth to say something—I don't know what, maybe that I was fine, maybe that I should get back to my station—but he was already reaching for the zipper on his coveralls, and my breath caught in my throat as he pulled himself out.
His cock was thick, wider than the devil's, and a silver ring pierced through the head, glinting in the dim red light. I stared at it, my mouth going dry.
"Go on," he said, and his free hand found the back of my neck, not pushing, just resting there. "You signed the release. You know what that means."
I did. I knew exactly what it meant. And god help me, my knees were already bending, my hands finding his thighs, the rough denim scratchy under my palms. I leaned in and took the head of his cock into my mouth, the metal ring cold against my tongue before the heat of him flooded over it.
He tasted like salt and skin and something darker, and his hand tightened on my neck as I worked my way down, taking as much of him as I could. He was thick enough that my jaw ached, and when I tried to go deeper, I gagged, tears springing to my eyes and sliding down my cheeks.
"Easy," he said, but he didn't pull me off. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, and then his other hand came up and found my nipple, pinching it lightly through the painted gash across my breast. "You're doing good. Just breathe through your nose."
I tried. I really did. But his fingers were rolling my nipple now, harder, and the sting of it made my cunt clench around nothing, made me wet all over again.
I bobbed on his cock, taking him deeper each time, the pierce scraping the back of my throat until I was gagging in earnest, spit dripping down my chin.
"That's it," he grunted, and his hand left my nipple to grip my hair, guiding my rhythm. "Look at you. Taking it like you were made for it."
I looked up at him through my tears, and something in his eyes shifted. He pulled me off his cock with a wet sound, and I gasped, air rushing into my lungs.
"Turn around," he said, and his voice was rougher now. "Hands on that crate."
I didn't think about it. I just did it, my palms finding the dusty wood, my ass in the air, the come from the couple still slick between my thighs.
I heard the chainsaw click on—a low, mechanical hum, not the full roar—and then the body of it pressed against my back, and I felt the vibration through my whole spine.
"You know what this does?" he asked, and I shook my head, hair sticking to my wet cheeks. He brought the housing of the chainsaw around, pressing it against my clit, and the vibration hit me like a live wire. My hips bucked, a cry tearing out of me. "It's harmless," he said, "but it's not nothing."
He pressed harder, the plastic housing buzzing against my swollen clit, and I was already so close from the couple, from the devil, from everything—my thighs were shaking, my fingers gripping the crate.
He didn't let up. He held it there while I came apart, my cunt clenching around nothing; a sob ripped out of my throat as the orgasm crashed through me.
He let the vibration die and pulled the chainsaw away, and I sagged against the crate, barely holding myself up. His hand found my hip, and I felt his cock press against my slick folds, not entering, just resting there.
His fingers found my slick folds, and I gasped as he spread me open, the come from the couple and my own arousal coating his hand.
He let out a low sound, almost a growl, and I felt him drag two fingers through my wetness, pressing them against my clit just long enough to make my hips jerk before he pulled them away.
"Soaked," he said, almost to himself. "The devil fucked you, and that couple used you, and you're still this wet for more."
I couldn't answer. My throat was raw from gagging on his cock, and my thighs were trembling, and I could feel how empty I was, how badly I wanted him inside me.
He pulled me up off the crate and spun me around to face him. His hands found my ass, gripping hard, and before I could brace myself, he hoisted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. The chainsaw clattered to the floor somewhere behind him, forgotten.
I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, the metal ring cold against my swollen flesh, and then he dropped me onto it.
He sank into me in one brutal motion, and I cried out, my head falling back, my fingers digging into the shoulders of his coveralls. He was thicker than the devil, and the stretch burned in the best way, my cunt clenching around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush against mine.
"There we go," he grunted, and he didn't give me a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, and the sound of it echoed off the plywood walls, wet and obscene.
I was just a weight in his arms, a sleeve around his cock. He fucked me like I was a toy, his grip on my ass keeping me in place while he drove into me, each thrust knocking the breath out of me.
"That's it," he said, his voice rough. "Just take it. You don't have to do anything."
And I didn't. I couldn't. My body was his to use, and I let him, my head lolling, my mouth open, the sounds I was making raw and involuntary.
He was so deep. Every thrust hit a place inside me that made my vision blur, my cunt clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper. He felt it, and he laughed, a short, harsh sound.
"Yeah, you like that. Your pussy's gripping me like it's begging."
"Please," I gasped, not even knowing what I was asking for.
"Please what?" He didn't slow down. "Please keep fucking you? Please make you cum again?"
"Yes," I sobbed. "Both. Please."
He shifted his grip, one hand leaving my ass to find my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, and the weight of it made my eyes roll back. He fucked me harder, faster, the slap of his hips against my thighs filling the room, and I could feel the pressure building again, hot and urgent.
"Cum on my cock," he ordered. "I want to feel you squeeze me."
I came with a broken cry, my cunt clamping down around him so hard I felt him shudder. He kept fucking me through it, riding out my orgasm, and then he drove in deep and held himself there, his cock twitching inside me as he came with a low groan, flooding me with heat.
He held me there for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, his forehead pressed against my shoulder. Then he pulled out and let me slide down his body, my legs barely holding me up, his cum dripping down my thighs.
"Welcome to the floor," he said, and he bent to pick up his chainsaw before walking away, leaving me alone in the dark, empty and marked and aching for whatever came next.