Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

He ties something over my eyes, and I can’t see. I protest, but Groomer shushes me, his fingers soothing across my skin, and I give in to the flurry of sparks.

When was the last time someone touched me like this?

And I know it’s sexual. The thing is, I don’t exactly mind sex, just the way it always happens for me. Mechanical, impersonal, like I am a toy to be used. Guess it’s my fault, but come on. I tried. There was a time when I told them what I needed. They still wouldn’t give it to me.

Groomer does, and it’s my undoing. I hope he doesn’t know it, but at this point, I’d do anything. Anything so he doesn’t stop.

“Why do you like this so much?” he murmurs in my ear, fingers skirting the neckline of my dress before pulling up to run across my collarbones.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

And of course, I’ll answer him. I’ll do anything.

“I don’t know,” I say, lost and confused, and feeling the best I have in years. “I guess… Every person needs touch. And after Noah…”

I stop and clear my throat. I didn’t mean to say his name, it just slipped out. One of my personal taboos.

“Nobody touched me after my brother was gone,” I clarify. “Janet was never an affectionate person. And the girls I hung out with all pulled away. It was like I was contagious. And with the arm… People are wary, you know.”

He makes an encouraging sound, stroking up my neck and down my shoulder, and I hear sounds, the other two shuffling in the room, but they all fade away. Another type of spark explodes, this one in my mind.

He listens to me. I tell him things I never dared to say to anyone, and he listens.

“I’m starved,” I say, the words rushing out. My deepest, saddest truth. “For touch. And for attention. Not the kind that only sees my disability. Not for curiosity and pity, but actual human connection.”

He laughs quietly and brushes the shell of my ear with his mouth. I shiver, a small whimper bursting in my throat, and he nuzzles the side of my neck under my ear, his fingers resting on my stomach.

“You’ll get everything you need, princess. We’ll feed you tonight until you’re nice and plump for slaughter,” he says, his voice light like he’s joking.

I shiver, though. It’s not the first time he’s said something comforting or pleasant and followed it up with a menacing twist.

Don’t cry yet. Meaning, I should cry later. I shiver, and the thrill is not entirely unpleasant.

The thing is… I like that, too. I can’t get just the sweet without the dark. Because sweet means pity. And dark means… He doesn’t see me as too incapable, too weak to handle it.

“Why are you so perfect?” I blurt out when the air moves in front of me, and suddenly, I feel more heat pressing to my front.

But he only laughs, and then, another pair of hands is on me.

I squeal in surprise, but then I remember. The blowjob I saw, the men exchanging hushed words at the end, and Groomer telling me to open my legs. Does it mean…?

The hands move up my bare shins, stroking my skin. They are not like Groomer’s, whose touch is precise, fingers long, as if made for caressing me. This new touch is callused, the fingers rough, and yet…

I slump against Groomer, and it doesn’t even cross my mind to protest. I’m all out of fucks to give. After all, I tried to kill myself tonight.

I told him the truth. I’m starved, and they feed me, and why the hell shouldn’t I like it?

Plump for slaughter, he said. Well, so be it. I learned long ago to take what I could and not worry about the consequences. Because being good and following the rules never protects me.

I tried to be a good daughter, and ended up without an arm. I tried to be a good sister, and lost my brother. And I tried to be a good girlfriend, and…

I tense, my body locking up, and the hands touching me still. Whoever is in front of me—my guess is Strangler, because the other one doesn’t strike me like the type who kneels—makes an inquiring noise.

“What’s wrong?” Groomer asks.

And just this simple kindness makes me almost tear up. I tensed up plenty of times over the years. When a guy pulled on my hair, thrust too hard, or said the wrong thing. It doesn’t take much to trigger me.

But he’s the first who notices and gives a shit. God, I’m pathetic.

“Bad memory,” I say, when he nuzzles into my neck, soft lips trailing over my skin.

I release a breath and relax, and it’s easy. This entire scenario, with me tied up and blindfolded, with two strangers touching me, should be triggering as fuck. And yet, it’s not.

More sparks explode under my skin as Groomer slowly kisses the side of my neck, his lips lingering, hot touch branding me. I gasp, jerking from the impact, my belly fluttering with butterflies. Whatever tension left inside me is gone, replaced by a river of sparks flowing through my body.

I’m filled with light.

“You like it, then?” he asks, lips brushing over me before he kisses me again, lower this time. “My little princess likes being kissed?”

I moan in confirmation, the stream of sparks getting to my head and filling me with lightness. He chuckles, pulls back for a moment, and then comes back, kissing up my neck, his lips slow and firm over my skin.

And then, another mouth is on me, kissing the inner part of my knee.

I gasp, shaking my head and wishing I could see, but the blindfold stays on, firmly tied. Pleasure rushes through me, and I can’t even form words to protest, nor do I want to. This is heaven.

Strangler doesn’t stray higher, kissing the sides of my knees and just above them. He has stubble, and his chin is rough against my skin, making me jerk and gasp. Groomer leans closer, placing kisses on my jaw, and suddenly, I tingle all over and wonder if he’ll kiss my mouth, too.

Oh, God. I’m so far gone.

But he pulls back and peppers kisses down my right shoulder. I think I feel his mouth smiling.

“If you could just see yourself,” he whispers in my ear, gently brushing my hair back. “Such a beautiful princess. So flushed. So needy. Tell her, Strangler.”

And then another voice, deeper, maybe older, speaks up.

“Such a beautiful fucking girl,” he says, his voice harsh with emotion. “You’re good enough to eat, little bird.”

And then, he hikes my dress up, and his mouth is between my legs, kissing me through my panties.