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cupids-scream-queen · 5 months

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Can I please have a art x reader smut!! I will beg 🤭

Warning: EXTREME dubcon, blood, knives, physical assault, mentions of sexual assault, forced blowjob, bite marks, might just be the nastiest piece of shit I've written to date

Summary: she was just a little clowngirl, so innocent, so lost...until he showed up.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

She was beautiful. That's how all these start, right? Some beautiful girl kidnapped and sexually tortured by some fat, old man and his sexually incompetent wife.

Except, that's not how it started, at least not for her. No, it started at the local fair, on Halloween night, looking for $5 to purchase a candied apple from a kiosk.

She was dressed like a clown, her makeup a mix of Pennywise and some other twisted clowns, her face and neck covered in fake blood. She wore fishnets, with two different patterns of thigh-high socks on. She had her jet black hair tied in pigtails, false strands of red and white peaking through. She was hot as fuck, and she knew it.

Perhaps that was why she wasn't comfortable with asking the myriad of men who approached her for money, afraid of them asking for much, much more than just a thank-you as payment.

Perhaps that was why she trusted the silent, horror clown that was peering at her through the windows of an old building that was being used as that night's Haunted House.

She went to him confidently, her smile flashing her teeth, her red lips parting to ask him a so very, very simple question.

"May I borrow $5, sir? I don't have enough and I'd like to buy an apple," She pointed to the stand, which a fat, cheerful-looking man handed out three delicious, red-coated apples to a mother with a gaggle of kids. The Clown looked at her, smiling with a set of bewildering teeth. She wasn't nervous, though, not at first. It was Halloween--he simply had an elaborate costume, right?

Instead, she was surprised when he beckoned for her to follow him, through a valley of dark and otherwise intimidating trees. She raised her eyebrow, quizzically, questioning her options.

"Did you park your car there, sir?" The clown nodded, motioning for her to join him. She still trusted him--how could she not? He looked as if he worked here, with how elaborate his costume was. Perhaps she should trust him, then, perhaps he really did leave his wallet in his car, and perhaps he was going to give her the money.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Another nod, and the clown reached out to touch her hands. She wasn't scared, not yet, because she hadn't had any red flags from this strange man yet. He was maybe doing a bit, wasn't he? It would be rude of her not to play along, isn't it?

"I'll follow you if you promise me the five dollars, okay?" He nodded again, and she let out a sigh before she started walking with him to the treeline, his hand holding hers. He was quite a bit taller than her, and stronger--her hand was in a small amount of pain from how tightly he gripped her. For his part, the clown was trying his best to appear appealing--the girl was someone he didn't want to get away, at least not yet. Perhaps later, but his plan has to happen first.

She was shivering slightly and struggling to keep up as the clown walked faster, his back turned to her as he navigated his way through the dense Forrest of trees. She could barely hear the fair anymore, the sounds of children's laughter replaced by the occasional caws of a crow.

"Aren't we a little far, Mr. Clown?" She asked, her voice starting to lace with worry. This was the part he so desperately desired--when she was going to realize she was alone, truly, and she had trusted the wrong person.

He turned, and stopped suddenly, and she bumped into him. Without warning, the clown taped her wrists together, binding them with a sticky layer of tape. His hands on her shoulders, she tried kicking andscreaming, but it was no use. He was stronger--and apparently smarter--than she was.

He taped her mouth shut next, the tape ruining her whiteface clown makeup and her lipstick. She looked at him, begging, to be let go. Art had no sympathy for her, he was incapable of that feeling.

But sexual pleasure was one thing that Art could feel, and tonight, he was going to exploit her body for all it was worth. He started by unpacking the bag at his feet, and she couldn't help but wonder where it came from. But when Art pulled out a knife, screwdriver, and a broken piece of a doll's head, she knew she was in deep shit.

She tried to scream against the tape as he started to undress her, ripping the seams of her costume with his knife. He touched her soft breast, groping it. How beautifully it felt against his hands. How pretty it was, when her nipples got hard. Should he cut them off? No, he had a better idea.

Smiling sinisterly, he pulled nipple clamps out of his bag, and ripped the bra off of her. Exposing her bare breasts, her nipples hardened at once to being exposed to the cold air of October, and she felt the tears prick in her eyes as she felt the hard, tight clamps clip down on her nipples. She started to cry, the sight only arousing Art more.

He then began the business of her pesky legs. Not wanting to get rid of the beautiful limbs, he settled for taping them securely, eliminating any chance of her running away. She was naked now, bound and gagged for this sick clown's pleasure. And all she could do was helplessly feel everything he did to her.

He then got his screwdriver, and rammed it into her pussy, the cold metal stinging her insides. He was careful not to hurt her, instead deciding to use this as a sort of lesson. To show her that, if he wanted to, he could hurt her, and to show her to be careful of whatever she did. She had no power in this situation.

He began to take his own clothes off, and he smiled sinisterly as he took his throbbing, aching dick out. Instinctively she swallowed upon seeing the size, her pussy beginning to get wet around the screwdriver as she began to wonder if he'd fit. If he didn't? She guessed he would make it fit.

He began stroking it in front of her, before slapping her across the face with his member. He grinned at the sight, and she looked at him with glassy eyes. She was beautiful, and his to ruin, and he took that job to the next level.

He tugged on her pigtails, forcing his dick on her face a few more times before he got tired of it. He then rubbed it against her ass, her tits, and her back--threatening her. The screwdriver was still inside of her, the thin rod of metal doing nothing to help the empty feeling inside of her as Art continued to rub his dick on her body.

He paused his game, twisting the screwdriver hard inside of her, pressing it farther against the walls. She screamed against the tape again, and Art slapped her, tired of her not realizing or comprehending what kind of a situation she was in. How stupid could this woman be?

He then took his abandoned knife and brandished it against her throat, cutting it. Not enough to kill, enough to draw blood and warn her not to get out of hand. She nodded as if understanding the gesture, and Art decided it was time to have some other fun with his fucktoy tonight. He ripped the tape off of her face, pressing the knife against her cheek as he stood above her, pressing the tip of his dick against her lips.

She took him in, parting her lips. But it wasn't fast enough for Art, who pushed past and went completely into her mouth and hitting the back of her throat. He fucked her mouth, using one hand to use her pigtails as a rope and the other hand pressing a knife against her cheek, the blood spilling out of it mesmerizing as she sucked on his cock. Obediently, like a good clown slut.

Her gag reflexes were working overtime. She puked more than once, being forced to swallow it from the rate at which the clown was fucking her mouth. Her makeup was ruined with tears streaming down her face, her head tired and her mouth sore. Art kept the knife on her face, periodically slashing a new part of it, marking her as his.

He was finished with her mouth. Slapping her across the face, then patting her on the head, he put another piece of tape on her mouth, holding a finger to his smiling lips. She understood.

Now that her throat was bare, she felt the aching emptiness of her core, and realized she was wet. For him, the man who was currently rummaging around in his sick fucking bag, waiting to present her with yet another instrument of torture.

This time, it was a leash.

He grinned as he attached it to her, enjoying the way she looked up at him, pleading with him to let her go. Of course he wouldn't. Not when she was such a good girl for him.

He tugged on the leash, forcing her to sprawl out at his feet. He spit on her, allowing her to know her place as beneath him. He then rolled her tired body over, and took the screwdriver out of her pussy. Sticking two fingers in, he quickly added another two, stretching her to her limits. She cried out against the tape, earning her yet another slap across the face.

He then pulled out, and she whined, practically pleading to be fucked already. Art would oblige. And with no warning, he pushed in all the way, forcing her to take his massive cock. And she did, though it felt as if she was being stretched in a million positions. She was going to be a good whore for him--maybe she'd get out alive.

He fucked her rough and hard, continuing to make tiny cuts into her body and pinching down on the nipple clamps as hard as he could. He used her body, he was fucking her roughly. And she, for her part, was beginning to find pleasure in the pain.

He kept the collar and the leash on, tugging at it occasionally if he felt she was enjoying it too much. This was to be her worst nightmare; he couldn't have her fully in pleasure, now could he? He picked up the screwdriver and made the decision to shove it in her pussy alongside his cock, making her whine. It was cold, but the sharp point of it was hitting against her walls, likely drawing blood. Good. This was not to be enjoyable for anyone except for him.

He felt her cum against his dick, her pussy clenching on him as she tried to conceal her orgasm. No matter, he'd simply torture her. He'd certainly experience the same amount of pleasure.

Taking his dick out of her, he slapped her, jabbing the knife into her shoulder, causing her to wince and cry in pain. Good. To Art, it felt like music, and it was music--a song only he would hear, ever. And he continued to abuse her, cutting her and hurting her in ways she couldn't even dream of. And all the while, he was rubbing his cock, an ever-present reminder to her that he was enjoying every second of her pain.

When he finally came, it was not in her, it was on her face, ruining her hair with thick ropes of cum. Art looked at the woman in front of him, bruised, broken, and battered, and grinned. A joke only he could understand, a scene that would play only for him. He'd allow her to live--he couldn't fathom someone finding her before she died of the cold or her injuries. It wasn't something that was a priority to him.

And so he packed his bag, leaving her taped-up and cummed on, her makeup ruined and her clothes in shreads around her. As pretty as a picture. Getting dressed, Art moved back to the fair, his grin more dastardly than ever before. Leaving her to figure out how to survive alone.

pkay...so a little dark. Thank you to @miracleslifewithart for requesting this; hopefully I did a good job!

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