Upon the Gaze (Ghostface X Reader 18+)

CHAPTER FOUR - Roaming Hands

I listened, and slowly backed away from the door, trying to be aware of my surroundings and yet I found myself instead being only clumsy in my action. As I took a couple more steps back, I suddenly felt two hands grab my arms from behind. Startled, I yelped and in my reaction flung my cup out of my hands, in turn spilling my beverage down my front. The cup, luckily brass, hit the floor loudly, and swung slightly as it came to a stop.
"My, my. You've really made a mess of yourself." His voice whispered in my ear. I shivered slightly between the cold air let in by the door, now feeling more apparent on the soaked part of my body, and the killers voice ringing in my ear. "You really should be more careful." He said while squeezing my arms. For a moment I tried to pull away, only for his arms to wrap tightly around me and any energy I could have had in struggling faded. "Would you like help getting out of those wet clothes?" He teased me with his promising words, and I wanted nothing more than for him to undress me, but my pride kept me from saying it.
His knife was drawn once again, and I was startled once more, this time by the sound of my shirt being torn through the center from the bottom up. The blade stopped right at the remaining cloth around my neck. For this he used his hands, and in one motion, ripped the cloth in two down the front, fully exposing my chest with the only remaining coverage being my lace bra. I gasped at the action. Blush was returning to my cheeks, as his hands now roamed across my barren waist. They gradually made their way up just to stop directly under my bust. I became somewhat frustrated as he purposely avoided moving his hands directly over my chest. He was teasing me yet again. "Are they not what you hoped?" I asked, sounding somewhat out of breath.
"You mean these?" He responded as his hands suddenly firmly grabbed both of my breast. Unprepared I sharply inhaled.
"They're lovely," he said fondling them gently yet unyieldingly. I now felt weak on my knees. I couldn't remember the last time I was touched in such a way, let alone enjoyed the sensation. As his movements continued I couldn't help but lean into him a bit. One of his hands slid down, skillfully undoing the button of my pants. He slid his fingers just under the waistline of my underwear as his other hand continued it's work massaging my chest. Without thinking I went to reach for his hand on my waist, just wanting to coerce it to continue lower. I suppose he didn't like that because he instantly pulled his hand back and grabbed my wrist. He aggressively swiveling me around so I was now facing in front of him. Without saying a word, he began advancing on me, and all I could do was slowly make my way back. I clearly hadn't learned my lesson from before, and I stumbled running into the couch and fell back on it. Ghostface took his chance and jumped forward quickly, pinning me down yet again. He straddled me this time, and peered down at me in a dominating stance.
After waiting eagerly with him peering over me, I hesitantly asked, "...what are you going to do?" With his mask it was impossible to know his reaction to things as it obscured his expressions from me. Was he mad now, thinking I was trying to pull his hand away a second ago? Or did he want to remain entirely dominant? After a pause of silence with only my heavy breath, he responded, "you ought to learn some patience, Sweetie." Once again his blade was out, and he playfully slid the blade down my chest, tilted just enough so it didn't quite cut me. He followed the curve along my waist, and the edge of my bra, down to my cleavage. He let out a hoarse sigh that almost sounded like a moan, as if he was taking in the view and having to hold himself back. Hypocritical I thought, but it also felt exhilarating to think of him wanting me too.
     "You like knives?" He asked, now tracing the scar tissue on my side. Truthfully I wasn't a fan of inflicted pain, even necessarily in a sexual sense, but I was no stranger to it, and it was apparent. "I'm well acquainted with them," I said in a slightly more confident tone. "shall I leave my own marks then?" He cooed, "how about I cut you to the bone?" The last sentence was said in a dark, threatening manner, and yet somehow I wasn't all that fearful of it. For the passed two nights this man appeared, I was willing to accept them to be my last. The only reason fear arose in me for those moments was because it was an unfamiliar experience, and of course the natural human brain forces fight or flight reactions to known impeding danger.
I felt the stinging sensation of the sharpness of his blade ever so slightly sliding against my side, and the feeling of blood beginning to form. The familiar sensation came to me, the adrenaline coursing through me. It was strange to me. Though the sensation was familiar it had only ever been my own hands undoing me. The confusion of emotions dwelled again within me. Pain, arousel, anxiety, lust. I moaned with a hint of distress, but fully accepted the cut, not even flinching as he drew the blade through me. Ghostface pulled his knife back, shifting it to his other hand so he could guide a finger over the new wound. After doing so he ran is thumb along the side of the blade, removing th blood from it. Seeming satisfied, he put his knife away and chuckled as he leaned in close to me. His hand raised to my head, and he delicately moved his fingers through my hair. The tension died slightly and a wave of sudden exhaustion hit me. I felt unable to continue keeping my eyes open, even though I wanted to continue to revel in this feeling, to remain aware of his presence over me, and his hands playing with my hair as if I was something special. Though I knew I was no more than a new plaything to him, I could at least pretend. Maybe this is fine, I thought. Maybe this is how it should be. I can close my eyes and drift off, leaving him to serenade above me. He can finish me off, and I can die peacefully.