Page 29 of Fed By Fear

Any traces of fear sweep to the back of my mind when Madness increases his pressure, pressing down harder as he tightens his circles.

“Oh my hel—” I can barely get the words out. Something in my back pops. My spine is being compressed.

Madness pushes his hips against me. A growing hardness digs into my back.

His other hand travels to my neck. He collars it, subtly threatening to steal what little air I have left.

“I hope you finish before you get crushed. Wouldn’t want your pelvis to break first.” Madness glides his fingers a fraction lower, stimulating a spot on my clit that ignites something deep. I break for him.

My exterior muscles are bruised from compression, but my interior walls still have the space to contract, hard. An orgasm that rivals what my vibrator has been able to give me these past few years radiates through my entire body. The pleasure saps the pain from my nerves, sending me floatinginto euphoria. The momentary loss of my eyesight hints I’ve entered the afterlife itself.

Heaven. It’s actually heaven.

Fluffy, cloudlike bliss gives way to bone-crushing pressure. This is insane. This whole situation. Who climaxes from crazy clown fingering, while being almost-crushed in a mirror maze? I’ve lost my mind.

Or maybe, I’ve exchanged my sanity for Madness.

The euphoria fades until it’s gone. Reality sobers me.I am trapped in a glass fucking box.

Madness sets both of his hands on my hips. “Can you still breathe?”

“Barely.”

It’s a fight to turn my cheek. Pain spikes up my neck. It’s worth it when I catch our reflection in the mirror to my right. Madness’s polka-dot pants are gone. No underwear. Just a massive, fully hard cock. Even if I wanted to spread my legs wider for him, I couldn’t. I’m still being squeezed hard enough that fuzzy dots dance around my vision.

Then there’s the press of a smooth, full head between my thighs, and I hold in the last bit of breath I have left.

“Want us to fill you up?”

A small squeak is all the consent I can manage.

Madness rubs the head through my wetness, then pauses. “Githany?”

“Yes?” I pant, unsure if my voice is even audible.

I feel his smile against my hair. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

Chapter 8

Madness

Darkness is a living, breathing thing. It’s life-giving, offering a home to those things too terrible to be brought into the light.

We are always in the dark, because we are the dark.

We are the thing that’s watching from beneath the bed. Quick to grab your ankles should you choose to run. We are the eyes peering into your darkened window when you lie awake at night. Ready to crawl atop your ceiling should you try to scream. We are the face in the mirror when you look away and back again. The reason you rush to turn on the lights.

The greatest skill of the darkness is to play tricks on the mind. There is no greater trick than staring straight into the eyes of someone trying to convince themselves that there’s nothing to be afraid of. They mutter it again and again. Even as we move toward them. Even as we drop down onto their bed. Even as we dig our claws inside their minds andtwist, twist, twist.

Everyone is afraid of the dark.

So why does no one believe you when you say there’s something in it? Such a paradox.

The constant doubt is a boon for us. We flash our teeth from beneath the bed, someone screams, the lights come on: “It was just this crumpled-up sweater.” “You must have been dreaming.” “It was a reflection from the headlights outside your window.”

Never in our entire existence has someone immediately believed and taken the side of the person we are scaring. It gives us more freedom and power than any demon should have. Power that could easily turn to corruption.

Good thing we enjoy preying on those who already have dark souls. Some might say we’re doing the world a favor when we scramble their thoughts to the edge of insanity.