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According to Mukherjee, however, breakthroughs finally came when scientists stopped trying to tackle this large scale problem and made the problem smaller. Related: How You Can Stop Making Bad ... "Probably about the same time non-Python programmers finally admit this isn't really as huge a problem as everyone likes to pretend." Your assertion that it's not a big problem would be more convincing if the summary hadn't banged its head on it. I Have a Big Problem with “No Problem” Posted on September 27, 2017 by Aline Kaplan In today’s Wall Street Journal , op-ed writer Gregg Opelka admitted that “ I’ve Got a Problem: ‘No Problem .’” One of the questions was "Tell me about a problem you encountered at work, and how you resolved it." That's a lot of information to convey in two minutes or less! I was rattled by that one. Finally able to admit I've got a big problem I’m a recovering porn addict. An addiction that started over 30 years ago (I shake my head in shame and cry when I wrote that) and ended just over a week ago. Because of the time spent with my addiction, I find it almost impossible to maintain an erection and orgasm without porn. “If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it's not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.” ― The Dalai Lama How to Solve Big Problems. The main lesson mentioned above is simple: When you're facing a complex problem or trying to do something bold, start with a smaller version of the larger problem. Focus exclusively on that small problem and solve it. Use the answers to this small issue to expand your knowledge of the larger issue. Repeat. For any problem, no matter how big or complex it may be, there is a solution. Earl Nightingale, Business Life Short Graduation Quotes; One of the greatest problems of life, if not, in fact, the greatest, is that of learning the art of harmonious negotiation with others. WORLD'S BEST TREE FELLING TUTORIAL! Way more information than you ever wanted on how to fell a tree! - Duration: 45:25. Guilty of Treeson 1,543,363 views I would love to make more use of this but there are a few issues: First, this is targeting finger and pen, so the buttons icons and other items should be a big bigger or more spaced out. Second, the items listed should only require a single tap to enter.

2020.08.24 15:53 Bluebird-Ordinary Finally able to admit I've got a big problem

I’m a recovering porn addict. An addiction that started over 30 years ago (I shake my head in shame and cry when I wrote that) and ended just over a week ago. Because of the time spent with my addiction, I find it almost impossible to maintain an erection and orgasm without porn.
My addiction has cost me relationships, experiences and my mental and physical well being.
I’ve known that I’ve had a problem for decades but I wasn’t able to snap out of it or even admit that I needed to do something about it.
I’m a 44 year old separated father of two. I started very young, around aged 8, when I found porn magazines under my dad’s bed. I was an unhappy kid, struggling to cope with my parents divorce and the dopamine hit that came from seeing those images was a much welcomed hit of pleasure. Now when I think back, this was my way of escaping from reality, something that has followed me into adult life.
I’m a child of the technological revolution that has brought with it a revolution in the availability of porn. I went from magazines and VHS as a child / teenager to unlimited free porn with the rise of high speed internet and websites like pornhub available on any screen I had at my disposal.
My brain craved porn more than sex. I would consume porn at work on my phone while sitting on the toilet. I would watch porn after having sex because I still needed that hit. I’ve been on 8hr cocaine and viagra fuelled masturbation binges where I watch porn and edge for as long as possible or until my dick is too sore to touch. I’d like to say this has only happened once or twice but it happens pretty much every time I’m left alone with cocaine. I’m not me when that happens, it’s like I’m possessed, gorging myself on the dopamine that comes with watching all the videos, and after I get that huge orgasm i’ve been chasing I feel absolutely ashamed and spiral into a pit of guilt. But that hasn’t stopped me from doing it again and again.
The last time this happened was last Saturday, 15th August. I had taken some viagra but was unable to maintain an erection. Not even porn was doing it for me anymore. This, thankfully, was the turning point and, while it’s only been a week or so since it happened, I feel like something has changed in me. I don’t crave porn because I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be sexually active and have the touch of a woman or a sexy thought (from the real world) pop into my head and arouse me. It’s only been a week and I feel like I’ve got a bit more energy and my brain is firing on more cylinders than before. It’s encouraging and giving me an incentive to continue.
I’ve found really useful support online like your brain on porn. Understanding how the brain has wired itself to release high levels of dopamine when consuming porn, in the same way as any other addiction, has made me feel like it’s not my fault that I’m like this and so the guilt has been replaced with knowledge.
The other horrible thing about this addiction is the impact it has on other aspects to of my life. The desensitising of normal everyday experiences that should bring joy and the brain fog that has been a permanent haze in my mind for as long as I can remember led me to believe that this is my part of my personality, that this is just who I am. I know now that is isn’t permanent, that it can be removed, that there’s more to life. It feels like I’m slowly waking up. Reading stories from recovered addicts and those still on the path to recovery has been a huge part of me seeing the light and getting to this point. Thank you to everybody who has shared, it really does make a huge difference.
The way I see it, I’ve wasted well over 30 years of my life on this shit. I’ve hidden it from everybody even when I’ve had the opportunity to open up about it in a safe space. I’ve had enough! I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be able to have sex without the anxiety of worrying if i’ll be able to keep it up or will I be able to have an orgasm. I want to be in the moment instead of looking in from the outside. I don’t want to lie to myself or anyone else about this anymore.
So cutting out porn completely is the first step. I’ve cut out smoking weed too, another addiction that’s been clouding my brain and something i’ve used as a way to escape. No more porn stops things from getting worse but now I need to fix the damage that’s been done.
I need to let my brain rewire itself (thank fuck for brain elasticity) so that it associates real-world desire, touch and sex with that dopamine hit instead of pixels on a screen. My recovery needs time. The advice is no PMO for at least 90 days, possibly longer as I’ve had this addiction for so long, to give my brain time to unlearn the old habits and rewire itself. That sounds like a huge mountain to climb right now but I’m determined to do it.
The catalyst to me finally deciding to do something about this is a girl I really like. We started chatting on Tinder about a week ago and have been messaging each other everyday. She’s a really nice person, beautiful inside and out, really hot and we get along so well. We’ve been sending each other sexy texts and we started to cam a few days ago. Our cam sessions are super hot, she’s so sexy and I really like watching her but at the same time I know I shouldn’t be doing this as I know it’s not helping with my recovery but, like my addiction to porn, I didn’t want to admit that to myself or to her. We’ve had a few cam sessions now and last night she asked me why I don’t orgasm when we cam together. I could tell I was causing some insecurities and I really didn’t want to do that to her. I blamed it on not being used to doing things on camera, which is true, but despite being super turned on clearly the PIED/DE is the root cause here. I think because it’s on a screen that I’m able to get hard (plus the fact she’s super hot and ridiculously sexy) but i’m not 100% in the moment with her and I find that so frustrating, it’s such a difficult situation to overcome.
We agreed to see each other in a few days as we are so horny for each other but I could feel myself getting anxious about my PIED/DE. In the past, I would’ve reached for a viagra or something if we had sex but I don’t want to live that life, plus I can’t depend on a pill to do the job and I really don’t want to make her feel insecure if it didn’t work. I also don’t want to lie to her. I’ve done enough of that to last two lifetimes.
Today her I told her about my addiction, how it developed, how it’s affected me over the years...everything. She’s the only person I’ve told. I also told her what I need to do to recover and this is where I made a really bad decision.
I assumed she wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Why would someone want to inherit the trials and tribulations of a recovering porn addict, especially with someone they’ve only know for one week?! I explained that I have to work on myself and that sex or even messing around on cam is not going to help my recovery. I didn’t say that I don’t want to see her again but it wouldn’t exactly be jumping to conclusions to take that away from what I had written.
She was really upset, firstly that I’d waited until after we had cam sex to tell her this and secondly that I’d assumed she was only interested in sex. I should’ve been totally open with her from the start about my addiction and my recovery but I didn’t want to deny myself and in doing so I used her. I’m not proud of myself for that and even less so for hurting her in the process. I’ve hurt too many people because of my addiction and I hated myself for doing it again, especially after I’d managed to get myself into place where I want to change. I hate that my addiction was still affecting my decisions and my ability to develop a connection with someone despite cutting out porn. I assumed sexy texts, photos, videos and cam sessions would be different as it was with a real person who I had a real connection with but that’s not the case.
After we chatted it through and I apologised for being such an idiot she said all I had to say was can we ease up on the sex and just talk instead. She asked me if I still wanted to talk to her and of course I said yes. I mean how kind, right! I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t even stop to think that someone else would care. The moral of this bit of the story is be honest, don’t assume people don’t want to help you with your recovery and don’t be so hard on yourself. There are genuinely nice people out there who want to help you.
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2020.08.05 08:52 5Augenergetic Hidden teenage cam sex

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2020.07.23 20:14 Bertie54 Teenage hidden cam sex

I (66M) am rather new on Reddit but i already read some very interesting topics and commented on a few, so now i want to share my story to show and put many of you on guard for the poision mistrust is. This post risks to be long so be patient and also please understand that English is not my mothertongue.
My story starts many, many years ago when i was still a teenager and met this girl at the local church where her parents were the tennants of a gathering house (bar) where the churchmembers could come and talk, have a drink and eventually play the French game "petanque" which was populair where we lived.She was 14 at that time and i 16. Long soty short we started to be good friends and after one year and a helf we strated dating and after a period of 5 years i officially asked her father the permission to marry her. We started very well and had two kids in this marriage who are now 43(F) and 41(M) and have their own families.
At a certain point in life when my kids were teens and in what we call them "the difficult years" i noticed some strange behaviour from my wife, contsting everything, not into physical things anymore ans often distant when we were together. I worked as a civil srvant at that time and was also still studying to get a degree in Criminology.
I was always home, helped her cooking diner, helped with the kids, homework, my entire salary was for the household so in other words i was at my place as a father and a husband.
The only personal thing i had was with a friend of mine going to shows and exhibitions for models trains. We were quit close to that couple who had 4 kids of their own but all younger than ours.
I could also always count on that friend to help us out with transport if for some reason i could not make it on time to pick my kids or wife from school or work.I was therefor not alarmed when he started to propose more often to pick her(my wife) up so i could go for the kids and be home faster.
It was only till the day, a Sunday morning, i remember it as it was yesterday, that i caught them in the act at my place. My wife and i had very nice Sundaymorning sex and i left completely pumped up with adrenaline to pick my daugther i was babysitting at friends of ours.
I came home at 09:30h with her and although my friend and i were supposed to go the a model train ghatering that morning and agreed that he would pick me up at 10:00 AM that morning, his car was already standing in front of my door when i came home.
At that moment i had this so cllaed "elbowfeeling" and asked my daugther to be very quiet and i openeder the front door with my key as silent as possible. Once the door open i could see them standing in the kitschen, she only wearin her thong, her hand on his crotch, he touching her tits and his tongue exploring her mouth. We entered at the precise moment that she unzipped him so i could imagine what the plan was, she was probably going to sing a song in that pink microphone of his.
Of course they immediately saw us and they freaked out. Certainly because of the look my teenage daugther had on her face and with what kind of desbelief and disgust she looked at her mother.I told them "I am sorry for you guys but i saw it" they could of course not deny it because they were caught in the act, so speaking.I went close to them and asked her "why" i was mad as heel but even more at him because he was my closest friend and i lost that too. I gave hiom my trust and heart as i gave my wife and they both betrayed my big time. I didn't get physical but asked him to leave mu house and never come back again and i warned him that i would call his wife to tell her and warn her what kind of husband he was.
Afterwards i heard he called her immediately to tell her that when she received a call from me that it was all unthrue what i was going to tell and he and i had an argument and that was my pâyback.
I tried to talk to my wife and asked her how she could that with even my semen of the morning sex still in her belly. She could not really answer me but there was some vague explanation of having nothing else in her life because of the two of us being together already at a very young age and that she felt to be trapped in a familysituation that was going to be the same till the day we died.
She promised that it would not happen again. I was devastated and although i saw some guys in my workenvironment who cheatd on their wifes and still had their family as nothing happended, i who was a faithfull husband and (i hope) good father was cheated on and lost my trust and belief in the values of marriage and the life as spouses. My world was falling apart and i didn't know how to handle this.
I became very silent and the physical interaction between the two of us stopped completely. That was because of me because i felt so disgusted that i was close to ask her to take ten showers a day to get his scent and touch of her body. I honestly could not tell if that hurted her or not because she never spoke about it and didn't ask for it either, she understood i resent her for it.
Concerning the friend, his wife didn't believe him because she had some suspition too and not only regarding my wife but also in the past because everytime they lost friends with whom theyr were close and now she understood why. All communication with them was cut off.
We moved on for a couple of years like that and me, being the forgiving kind of person contacted this friend one day because i missed him and we had a talk. He explained me the bad situation in his marriage and he was not able to ventilate his feelings at that time and my wife for some reason being vulnerable at that time answered his desires.Although we never went back to his house to meet hif family he sometimes came by but only when i was home. One day, i was studying for my degree and my wife was hoovering the house downstairs. My "friend" promised me to bring some papers and he arrived when i was upstairs and my wife cleaning downstairs? I heard her stopping the vacuumcleaner but i didn't really hear a con versation. So i assumed that he dropped of the papers and went away immediately. When i cam down from the stairs they were standing togteher having an apparently very silent conversation. When he saw me he said hello and excused himself that he could not stay and took of immediately.
My wife completley out of the blue and something she never did, told me she had to go urgently to her grnadmother in a nearby town and left her vacuumcleaner on the ground where she left it answering the door. Ina couple of minutes she was gone and drove of with her car.
I don't know why but i had again the elbowfeeling and i also drove of to drive to the granmothers appartment.
When i was almost at that appartment i saw my wife parking her car at the condo next to the one of her grandma and where her favortie aunt had an appartment. My alarmbells were ringing very loud because i knew that aunt was on holiday and my wife had the key of that appartment to give water to her flowers during her absence. One minute later i saw my friend leaving his car at e parkingspot like 15 yeards away from the condo and walked towards her.
I understood immediately what they were up too, she was going to have sex with him in her aunt's appartment hidden from everyone. I didn't wat to give them that opportunity and drove to my wife's car and parked immediately after her. She saw it was my in her mirror and i saw the pânic in her eyes. He also saw my car and fastly returned to his and drove off.
She didn't even try to deny it anymore and went immediately home with me. Needless to say how tensed things were but she kept taking care of the household and stay home. Untill one day i got this letter from court me being served because she filed for a divorce. The day she left, she left me behind with the two adolescent kids we have, most of the furniture for me taken out and without even greeting our son who was still in bed after a hard day work.
I rasied my kids by myself and i always took care that our house was clean that i was clean on myself and not beging the type fo guy going to basr to pity myself and to interact with other human beings.I stayed at home taking care that my children had everything they need but i could not replace their mother. They wer very mad at her and didn't want any contact.
I on the other hand encouraged them to contact her because they on ly have one mother in their lives and that they would regret later on if they didn't. It took over one year but they finally did and they are now very gratefull that the listened to my advise.
I was so disgusted again because after her first failure i was trying to lake things work out staying the same father and husband as before with exception of the physical contact because i could not bear to touch her again.
I stayed alone for 4 years tried from time to time to accept invitations of friends to go to a party where some of them tried to hook me up with one or other desperate woman but i was not interested. I didn't trust any woman anymore and i didn't want to have this casual sex with them just out of revenge on the women of the earth? that's just not me!
My Sunday routine was waking up, doing my morning excercise, taking a shower, going to the kitchen, prepare the coffee percolator and go to the bakery shop to buy some freshly baken buns, which i used to serve her on bed on Sundaymornings.Then i came back, had breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen and was just taking the day as it came.
Untill that particular Sunday that i came home from the bakery shop, opening an drawer and taking my cup for coffee. I stared at it and i threw it in thousand pieces against the wall.
That was the precise moment that i was tired of only taking "one" cup out of the drawer, i wanted to take, one for a SO and one for me. Nos i think hta was the moment i was done with my grief and ready to move one, i was again open to a relationship and wanted to restart my life. In the mean time, my kids were old enough and left the house so i was ther all by myself, becasue, and i omitted to teel you this, during court for the divorce tha judge was a woman, my wife's lawyer was a woman and my lawyer was late, so i thought "i am scr... here" but not at all, my wife "lost" the sessions and had to give me stuuf back and pay me some money. I refused both because i was the moral winner although in these kind of stories there are no winners.
So me being open for a realtionship started to date but that was not that obvious. I lost my touch a little and some of these women had a list of question and often the second and third question was if i had a good job whit a nice income and if i owned the house i was living in. Some of them even called me thet day after because i said no tot the traditional question to come up and have a "coffee". These women called me to ask if they were not attractive and why i didn't want to come up because in fact they wanted to get laid. But i, you can call me old fashion, was not into that untill i had real feeling for someone.
After i while i met my current wife with whom i am married now for 18 years (by the way, first marriage was five years of courtship and 23 years of marriage). My current wife is a very extrovert person and mathematics schoolteacher anbd doesn't sometime detect the signals and red flags i am seeying when a male co-worker becomes too flirty. For her being in her late fifthies, it shows that she is still noticed and not an average matrone. Me with the backpack of my previous experience i am very picky on these things and i understand that it can sometimes be sufficating for her. She is from another country and often is on the phone with her former colleagues in her country and posting all kind of stuff on facebook and their own kind of facebook. And often she tells me that men are writing to her hoping to get acquainted. When she shows me i see that most of these men are way much younger than me and way more good looking.
But with that backpackage i have and that feeling of mistrust in my head i sometimes got overcontroling and (i know it is bad) snooping at her phone. Certainly now because her son, she has from a former marriage before she became a widow, is cheating on his wife and jeopardizing his family life with his wife and daugther of 4. My wife says she is devastated by this situation and feels the need to talk about this via facebook or whatsapp with two of her male co-workers who are younger and single. When she is liking the picture these guys are posting she uses the heart symbol and for everyone else, me included it is alwasy the thumbs up symbol.
Again although this can be meaningless it raises red flags at my side. Recently she had to work from home on line because of the Civid-19 confinement and after class they had a meeting with the colleagues and the head of the school (on line) to discuss the progress and evaluate the kids whom the have in their classroom. They are having these meeting thru a special for the school on line system with the possibility of using a webcam which they can use privately for one on one discussions. So she was communicating with one of these two male co-workers who is really the kind of guy women fall for and their conversation was held via whatsapp together with what they did or not do via the camera. This to avoid that othser were going to see what was written is the special school system was used for texting. So because she was a little sloppy after the meeting she left her phone open and i coluld their conversation via whatsapp and he was really flirty and although she didn't respond in the beginning she strated to change a little the tone of her answers when he asked her if she hadn't a female friend that he could start to date. She sent the guy a picture on which she was with that female friend and asked hiom if that was ok, that lady being single. The guy responded that he preferred her above that female friend because she was prettier (which is true by the way) than apparently she asked him to shut his camera what made him respind i was just about to strip for her and that she would have to come to his house to see it in real. Ajthough she declined that immediately the reason she gave was not because she found it in appropriate but because he lives that far and because of his comments on the pictures of her female friend, she wrote to him that it was difficult for a woman to meet up his standards, that it was a pity that both of them didn't meet them because of their age (he apparently prefers them younger) which made him reply that for her he would make an exception.She called him completely crazy. That's where the conversation stopped and apparently the online meeting strated. Since that day (the 25th of June) there was no further communication between them, not by phone, whatsapp or any other social media channel i know she has. If something is hidden i will not know of course.
Anyway i felt very annoyed and nervous about it, and when i am in that stae i shut down completely. After a while she noticed but thought first it had to do with the business being very slow due to Corona and creating some serious financial challenges, but afterwards she asked me what it was because she saw a change in my behaviour and that she saw i was unhappy.
I told her immediately, and she was stunned about the fact that i snooped in her phone but took it immediately, opened it and asked me what i wanted to see. I told her and she opened it and nothing was deleted, all the messages i saw before were still there. I asked her if she thought it was appropriate to have this kind of conversation with this male co-worker and that it would jeopardize my trust even more when there were these last minute meetings at school after normal class hours. I never had any problem with these, or maybe a little bit of concern but then her behaviour at home was still loving and as the one from a loving spouse. She evene showed me without me asking for iut, her facebook account and the request for friendship she dayly receives from men al over the world. And indeed i could see that none of these request were answered and she even deleted them in my presence. About the conversation with her co-worker she was not seeying the problem and said this was harmless flirting behaviour because this guy was known as a hunter for females. She had no interest what so ever in this guy and reassured me that she never cheated on my and will never do. I tried to explain her that cheating can have different forms and it doesn't alway require physical contact, it can be intellectual as i explained her that it hurt me that seh conversated with these guys about the situation her son is in, instead of with me, her husband.
But that syory is to show that the trust that was taken away from me by my first wife, still isn't restored completely and it affected my behaviour towards my current wife. I tried to tell her that and then she became angry and shouthed at me that she was not (first wifes name) !! she left going for a long walk with the dog saying she left her phone with me in cae i wanted to investigate something else and to avoid i would suspect her texting or calling one of these guys while having that walk.
I feel sorry for her but i can't help it and now i am hooked to all these stories i read on Reddit, i constantly am watching the TV shows from all, kind of different countries , kind of reality shows where they set up people to catch them as cheaters. It is like i am hooked or became an addict to that kind of shows everytime to convince myself that women cheat a lot on their husbands. I know it is irrational ans absloutely not the entire thruth but i can't help it. I sometime spend 7 to 8 hours a day watching all this and reading Reddits. Sometimes till i totally got fucked up and start to get mad and start to have a headache.
This to warn you all, i know i will have to work on this seriously but for the moment i can't stop it and i am afraid that if it continues it will harm my marriage and possibly end it.

Any reflection on this?
submitted by Bertie54 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.07.22 08:34 Lenda22Julgo Hor-ny Great Po-rn Fa-ke Ti-ts

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submitted by Lenda22Julgo to Home_Made_Fun [link] [comments]


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2020.07.18 15:52 Lenda18Julgo Teenage hidden cam sex

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submitted by Lenda18Julgo to Home_Made_Fun [link] [comments]


2020.06.27 14:58 thehorrorwriter2 Teenage hidden cam sex

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by thehorrorwriter2 to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 22:55 unknownhorrorwriter2 Teenage hidden cam sex

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to SignalHorrorFiction [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 18:38 unknownhorrorwriter2 Teenage hidden cam sex

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to DarkTales [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 18:00 unknownhorrorwriter2 Hidden sex cam teenage

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
submitted by unknownhorrorwriter2 to Horror_stories [link] [comments]


2020.06.08 16:05 unknownhorrorwriter2 Cam hidden teenage sex

Link To Part 1
Still filming, Bonnie staggered through the hallway. Her steps slow. Unlike Carty, her filmmaking skills were non-existent. The footage she was shooting would've been shaky-cam quality at best or nausea-inducing at worst. Bonnie's nervous excitement was getting the better of her.
The singing was now deafening, echoing through the farmhouse without the aid of a speaker.
Relying on the camera's light, Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, searching the ominous landscape for any sign of the singer.
The singer's voice was harsher. Now not so much a song as it was a mumbled compulsion.
Bonnie listened closely. She could discern the words and could finally understand the lyrics.
Eyes without a face. Eyes without a face, got no human grace...
The singer repeated this same chorus in slow, agonizing fashion.
Bonnie remembered the song. A 1983 pop song. Eyes Without A Face. But it wasn't being sung with the clear, brooding tone of Billy Idol. It sounded like a harrowing soliloquy from someone in an asylum cell. Not an eloquent ballad courtesy of Idol. This was someone's serenade to alienation. And they wouldn't stop. Hell, maybe they couldn't stop.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
The singer wasn't even bothering to hold a tune at this point. Their bitter tone just had to keep repeating those words. Those safe words. Pop music for their sanity.
Eyes without a face...
Holding on tight to the camera, Bonnie waved it around the room. But she didn't see anything. All the while, the voice continued, seemingly taunting her.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie turned and looked down the narrow hallway. The front door was now shut. No way the singer was outside. "What the Hell..." Bonnie said to herself.
Reaching out of the darkness, Carty's hand snatched Bonnie's arm.
For once, Bonnie jumped in fear. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she faced Carty.
"It's just me," Carty said in a hushed tone. The fact that Bonnie was this jumpy destroyed Carty's hope that the singing was "just the wind" or some other lame excuse.
"Damn, girl, you scared the shit outta me!"
Eyes without a face...
Hearing the singer's unnerving cover of Eyes Without A Face, Carty's frantic eyes searched the room. "Where is he?" she asked Bonnie.
Bonnie broke away from her. "Shit, I don't know!"
Carty saw the closed front door. Faint hope struck her. They had a straight shot to escape.
Your eyes without a face...
The mysterious voice was more violent and hectic on this time around. Idol's lyrics now spouted in a wild burst. A burst that came from the staircase.
Carty turned and saw Bonnie rush toward those stairs. "Bonnie, no!" Carty yelled.
Hellbent on securing the footage, Bonnie held her camera out in front of her as she made her way to the staircase. Too determined to notice how shitty her handheld filmmaking was.
"Let's get the fuck outta here!" Carty yelled after Bonnie.
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Terrified, Carty ran toward the stairs. Toward Bonnie. She couldn't let the love of her life confront the eerie voice alone. "Bonnie!" she yelled.
Your eyes without a face...
Bonnie laid one foot on the first wooden step. A grueling creak erupted.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, stopping her from going further. "Bonnie, please!" Carty pleaded.
Annoyed, Bonnie pulled her arm back. "Carty, just chill!"
Got no human grace. Your eyes without a face...
Both women listened in horror. The voice was louder than ever. And the couple now realized it was coming from beneath them.
Carty grabbed Bonnie's arm, ready to lead them off to the front door at around 100 miles per hour. "Let's go-"
The small door under the staircase burst open with great force.
Carty let out a horrified scream.
A masked person emerged from the closet beneath the staircase. A tall, slender figure. Their outfit couldn't mask what was undoubtedly evil intentions. They wore black leather gloves. A gray hooded bathrobe perfect for an occult ceremony. They made their way toward the uneasy couple.
A black paper-mâché mask with painted red streaks covered the mysterious person's face. But it couldn't hide their glowering eyes. The mask was homemade and looked faded with age. A paper-mâché recreation of a melancholy face. A face that wasn't overtly feminine or masculine. An androgynous Angel of death.
The figure's gloves tightened their grip on the handle of a double bit axe. Both ends of the vicious weapon were clean and pristine. Sharp as Hell as well.
The masked person didn't say a word or sing the Idol lyrics as they marched toward the scared Carty and Bonnie.
A horrifying realization became clear to both women: they were this singer's target all along.
Trying to play tough, Bonnie pulled Carty up on the stairs with her. "What the fuck is this!" she yelled at the figure.
Bonnie aimed the camera right at the figure.
The singer stopped a few feet away from them. They stood tall and strong, basking in the camera's glorious light.
Carty stared at the singer, petrified in fear.
"Leave us alone, asshole!" Bonnie yelled.
The singer just looked at them with those unflinching eyes.
Carty couldn't tell if the masked intruder was either studying them or challenging the couple to make the first move. Even hidden behind a robe and mask, the figure seemed too confident, Carty thought. They weren't scared like us.
"Well, what the fuck you gonna do, huh!" Bonnie hurled at the singer. "You little bitch!"
Carty looked between Bonnie and the figure, hesitant on what to do. Maybe Bonnie was being too antagonistic, but Carty had seen Bonnie's tough-butch routine work plenty of times. If there was one thing Carty was confident in, it was that Bonnie could back up that mouth.
"Yeah, you're just a pussy!" Bonnie continued to the singer. Taunting the figure, she stepped off the stairs and walked toward them. "I got your bitchass on camera now!"
To Carty's surprise, both the figure and Bonnie were the same height. Close to the same build. Minus the axe, this’d be a fair fight.
"We already called the cops," Bonnie shouted at the figure. She put the camera up toward the androgynous mask. "We got your ass too! Fucking stalker bitch!"
The masked figure's gloved hands gripped the handle tighter. Their muscles flexed through the robe. The singer belied their uneven voice with real brute strength. Any more pressure in their grip, and the wooden handle would've probably snapped in two.
Uncomfortable, Carty watched the confrontation unfold. The figure's rage seemed to accelerate with each one of Bonnie's insults.
Bonnie gave the figure a harsh shove. "Get outta the way, bitch!" Bonnie yelled.
But the singer didn't budge at all. They stood tall. Their broad shoulders were only the beginning of a sculpted frame.
Carty reached into her pocket. She felt her phone. All she needed was the perfect time pull that baby out and dial the cops. Even if she was hesitant to do so considering her and Bonnie's modest criminal record.
Ready to fight back, Bonnie raised the flashlight up toward that fucking mask. "You stupid bitch-"
In a quick and sudden movement, the singer's gloved hand snatched Bonnie's wrist.
"Bonnie!" Carty said in horror.
Bonnie tried to break free but didn't have a chance. The figure's grip was harsh and stronger than Bonnie expected. During the struggle, Bonnie dropped the camera.
It hit the ground and slid over by the first step, the camera's red record light still on. The lens pointed right at the stairway, putting the spotlight now on the frightened Carty.
Bonnie turned and looked toward Carty. "Carty, run!" she yelled.
Leaving her phone in her pocket, Carty rushed toward them. Saving her lover was more important than calling a bunch of bumpkin-fuck police officers.
Using her free hand, Bonnie tried to swing on the figure, but the blows didn't bother them in the slightest. Instead, their stoic mask just looked straight at Bonnie. No anger on the androgynous face. Just nothingness.
"Bonnie!" Carty yelled. She tried to pull Bonnie away from the clutches of the singer.
"No, go!" Bonnie screamed. She pushed Carty toward the front door. "Get out!"
"I ain't leaving you!" Carty proclaimed. Channeling her inner Bonnie, Carty raised the wireless mic like a weapon.
Acting quick, the singer threw Bonnie back against the staircase.
Bonnie tripped on the first step and busted her ass on the uncomfortable stairs. All the steps caved in slightly beneath her weight.
The singer turned and honed their gaze on Carty.
"Run, Carty!" Bonnie pleaded.
Advancing upon Carty, the figure raised the axe with the flourish of a knight unsheathing a long sword.
Overcome in fear, Carty held on to the mic and backed against a wall. The eerie mask quashed her newfound "bravery."
"Carty!" Bonnie yelled. Cringing in pain, she leaned up on the staircase. "Carty, run!"
The singer held their weapon out and traced both blades against Carty's fragile face.
"No!" Bonnie cried out. She staggered back to her feet.
Disturbed, Carty swung the mic toward the mask in a pathetic attempt at protecting herself. "Get back!" she said in a loud whimper.
With unnerving agility, the figure dodged the mic. They hoisted the axe back for the fatal blow.
"Oh God..." Carty said, helpless. She pressed her head against the wall, wishing she could dissolve into it before suffering at the hands of the double bit axe.
Bonnie rushed toward them. "Carty!" she cried.
The singer brought the axe down in a forceful swing.
Carty shut her eyes, bracing for the vicious hit.
A messy THWACK erupted in the farmhouse.
Thick drops sprayed across the floor.
Realizing she was still alive, Carty opened her eyes in confusion. Then she screamed in a bellow of distraught horror.
The axe protruded out the top of Bonnie's skull. Bonnie had gotten in front of the weapon just in time. Just in time to save Carty.
Bonnie stood still… The sheer force of the hit froze her in place. Blood flowed all down her face and body. Bonnie a fountain of flowing red water.
Weeping, Carty looked down at her hands. Another helpless scream escaped her lips. Gallons of Bonnie's blood had splattered across Carty's smooth skin.
The crimson spots resembled an incurable disease. Then again, it was. Bonnie was dead. And Carty was next.
The helplessness only further set in for Carty once the masked killer yanked the axe back out without so much as a grunt.
The effortless pull sent more of Bonnie's blood spraying across Carty's mortified face.
Bonnie's corpse tumbled to the ground. The vivid wound had split the top of her head open. Her blood and gray matter spewed out in a spilled bowl of fleshy fruit. Bonnie's face forever frozen in fear, her dead eyes looking straight at Carty.
Horrified, Carty stared at her deceased girlfriend. This wasn't the Bonnie she wanted to remember. This wasn't the sexy, confident Bonnie she'd fallen in love with. This was a slaughtered corpse.
A flurry of quick whacks from the figure's axe ravaged those final moments between Carty and Bonnie. Unstoppable, the singer swung the axe straight down onto Bonnie's face, smashing it into a hundred red pieces.
Tears falling down her face, Carty screamed. "Bonnie! No!"
The masked intruder heaved the axe back. The axe's cleanliness was now marred by thick, wet blood. Both sides of the weapon for that matter.
Quicker than a lion on the prowl, the killer turned and faced Carty. Blood and grue was all over their mask. At least now, the androgynous mask had some literal color.
But their cold eyes chilled Carty to the bone. And the killer didn't seem exhausted in the slightest. They were just getting started.
Carty knew there was nothing else she could do. She hauled ass for the front door.
The singer lunged right in front of her, blocking Carty's path.
Panicking, Carty took a few nervous steps back. "No!" she yelled at the singer. "Fuck you!"
The killer matched her every step, even matching Carty's speed. The gap never closed between them, but to Carty, the mask and axe only seemed to get closer.
"Fuck you!" Carty screamed. She swung the wireless mic at the androgynous mask.
Taunting Carty, the killer dodged her swing with lackadaisical ease.
"You crazy bitch!" Carty screamed at the singer.
In an eruption of madness, the murderer raised the axe and went charging after Carty.
"No!" Carty shouted. Lowering the mic, she turned and ran toward the staircase.
Her feet splashed through her lover's blood. Hearing the singer's heavy footsteps, Carty turned and saw them gaining ground. Goddamn, he was fast!
Carty reached the stairs. With the joy of a runner completing a marathon, she put her foot on that first step in triumph. A shrill creak greeted her ears.
Right behind Carty, the killer lunged forward and swung the axe with all their might.
A nasty slice to the Achilles tendon dashed both Carty's hope at escape. She screamed in a most horrific agony as she fell onto the flight of stairs.
Slipping from Carty's grasp, the mic went flying through the air and smashed into the wall in front of her.
Helpless, Carty looked at her wound. The cut on the Achilles was rough and brutal. The mark of the axe's blade wasn't clean in the slightest.
Blood shot out of Carty's Achilles in thick spurts. A grisly sprinkler. Carty couldn't bear to look at the wound... and looking back at the hallway only meant having to see Bonnie's mutilated body once more.
Carty grabbed the cut in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Instead, all she got was a firsthand feel of a dam bursting with her own blood.
She looked over and saw the murderer step right toward her. Their axe only looked to be clamoring for more of Carty. The other side of the double bit weapon felt left out of the Achilles slash…
Overwhelmed in fear, Carty turned and tried to stand up, but the attempt only stretched her heel's hack to even greater depths. The window of the wound spread even wider, exposing bloodied muscle within her skin.
"Ah, fuck!" Carty unleashed in an awful scream.
She watched the killer stand up over her. "No!" Carty yelled. She attempted to crawl away, the damaged Achilles making Carty resemble an animal struggling to escape with a trap enclosed around its leg. Straining, she laid an elbow on the next step.
The wooden step collapsed under Carty's weight. She yelled as her arm disappeared through the busted wood. "Fuck!" Carty cried out, weary helplessness in her tone.
Sitting further away, Bonnie's camcorder filmed Carty's agony in all its visceral glory.
Taunting Carty, the killer put the axe to Carty's face.
An exhausted Carty looked on at the blood-stained mask. Its indiscernible features never failed to terrify her. The mask was somewhere between the world's creepiest mannequin and the face of a stoic high school psychopath.
"Why?" Carty asked the singer in defeat. She struggled to fight back her tears. "Why are you doing this?"
At a deliberate pace, the killer lowered the axe and leaned in closer toward Carty.
With uncomfortable fear, Carty watched them get closer. "No..." she muttered.
The singer's gloved hand reached out and stroked Carty's golden hair.
To Carty's surprise, their touch wasn't rough but gentle. Even as the glove tinged Carty's hair with a redness that mirrored the red stains scattered across the singer's mask.
Determined, Carty reached out and pulled off the androgynous mask.
Carty's expression was hit by an unsettling wave of confusion. Somehow, the situation had gotten weirder. And scarier.
Underneath the mask was a human face. The face of a middle-aged black woman. A stern, masculine face with wide eyes and hollow cheekbones. Streaks of red dye in her short hair. Her rough features couldn't hide her natural beauty. Even given her athletic frame, she could've been an unorthodox model if she ever gave a damn about dolling herself up.
The killer looked just as surprised as Carty. Maybe other victims had wanted to see what she looked like before... but no one had ever lived long enough to actually unmask the singer.
"No," Carty said in a terrified whimper. Clutching the mask, she tried to pull her arm out of the busted step. But she was trapped. Trapped with a mysterious female killer.
The murderer leaned back and raised her axe. Her eyes stared down upon Carty. Eyes more expressionless than the mask.
All Carty could do was stare back at the killer. "Please," Carty said, frightened. "Don't do-"
With primal strength, the killer sunk the blade straight into the side of Carty's neck, slicing into her precious jugular. The force of the hit made Carty's head tilt to the side.
Upon impact, the back of Carty's head collapsed onto a step, busting through the ancient wood. Much like her entrapped arm, Carty's head dangled through the shattered opening.
Grisly threads of her flesh were exposed. Blood scurried all down her body. All the way down her arms and all the way down to the mask she still held in her dead grip.
The axe still stuck straight out of Carty's neck. The other side of the weapon had finally gotten its taste of Carty.
Recovering from the kills, the murderer leaned against the stairway's railing. She stole a brief admiring glance down at Carty's corpse. Carty was still pretty after all... even after death.
As she took off her gloves with routine indifference, the killer's soft voice drifted through the room. It was the pretty voice she had earlier. Before her singing went off the rails and morphed into a demented compulsion. "Eyes without a face, got no human grace," the murderer sang with the reserved shyness of an awkward teenager at a talent show.
Finishing the chorus, she wiped sweat off her brow. Her eyes gazed over at the camcorder's beaming light.
Intrigued, the killer approached the camera, stepping through the overflowing blood. She scooped up the camcorder in excitement and tinkered with it. Even a sly smile crossed her lips.
The murderer looked over at both dead bodies. The sexy lesbian couple. The killer almost regretted killing off the two hotties. Almost. Deep down, she knew she had to. She wanted those sweet kills.
Turning her attention back to the camera, the singer played back all the footage from earlier.
Her eyes were particularly drawn to one specific scene: Carty and Bonnie's steamy farmhouse sex. The killer traced her finger along the camera's screen, right over the couple's nubile bodies. Excitement shattered through the singer's shield of coldness.
Link To eBook
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