Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Making me feel things I wanted to feel.
I’d missed this so much.
I locked my ankles behind his back and held my head in
front of his, quiet and calm on the outside but every emotion
I’d ever had raging on the inside. I wasn’t sure if he could see
where he was walking, but it seemed like we both were on
auto-pilot.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked him quietly.
But he just kept silent.
His heart beat against my chest, and I matched my
breathing to his, fear and fantasy taking me over as the foggy
air soaked into my skin and the sounds of the haunted carnival
outside waged on without us. Heat pooled between my legs,
and I barely noticed when an actor jumped out at us, trying to
scare me.
They dug their fingers into my back, screeching, but I just
kept holding on to him, wanting to stay like this, because this
scared me more and I liked the fear.
What was he going to do to me?
We trailed down a long hall, another actor grabbing at us,
but I just clutched him tighter, my forehead against the
forehead of his mask as my fangs dug into my bottom lip and
my pussy throbbed.
“Will you say anything?” I whispered.
Where was he taking me? Where were my friends?
But really, I didn’t care. I just felt like I should.
He wasn’t my enemy in here. He was my secret shame.
Marilyn Manson’s “Cry Little Sister” played through the
speakers outside, and he hefted me up again, his stomach
pressed between my legs. I whimpered as his hands gripped
my ass.
Oh, God.