hey readers, this is the sequel to "My Encounter with The Slender Man".

WARNING!

this story is rated NC-17, for language, frightening depictions, and graphic sexual content. this story is very weird, scary, twisted, etc. so if you don't like that sort of thng, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS INNOCENT, GOOD, AND HOLY, don't read any further. thank you..

Slender Man and Totheark are internet meme characters. i didn't create them myself.

PLEASE, do NOT read this if you are not a legal adult in your country.

you have been warned multiple times of this story's very very questionable content. it's out of my hands now, whether you actually read it or not...

thank you very much and i hope you enjoy the story~

I hadn't had my camera with me then, when I was walking from my house to Alex's old house. But I remember it… everything that happened that night. The Slender Man. Everything that happened to me.

I wrote it down the day after it happened. I still don't understand it.

It's been a week since then.

I feel so strange. I'm trying not to think about it, but with what's happened since… it's difficult to get my thoughts in order, difficult to think about it… difficult not to.

Of course I won't record anything like that it on the you tube channel. No one would take me seriously.

I have to make do with this personal journal. These new events are different, important somehow, but… I don't know. Damn it, I can't talk about it exactly. It's… cooled, since I wrote about him. Now I'll just relate these events as best I can.

Since I encountered him… or maybe he encountered me, while I was on my way to the old house for a second time, I went back three days ago like I originally intended.

On a whim, I took a knife with me.

I got inside the house like the first time, through the sliding door. I found a bottle of pills and a bullet casing, items that I have no leads on yet.

But something else happened during that visit that really disturbed me.

I saw… someone, something, in the house, and it attacked me. Apparently-- I don't remember the event actually occurring, I just have the tapes to show what happened. I woke up in my car the morning afterwards, in the woods near my neighborhood. When I got home I replayed the tape I had, and saw the figure that attacked me. I admit, after watching that, I was shaken.

I guess I stabbed him with the knife I took, but I'm not sure. I can't quite tell from the tape. Either way, I'm more frightened now, and I don't think I'll go back to the house for a while.

There's another thing I haven't mentioned yet.

Last night, I taped myself while I slept. I'm not sure why. It felt… safer somehow, that way.

But not anymore.

That figure, that thing, I guess its name is Totheark, from those other videos…

He was on the tape from last night. I had no idea…

I mean, I had locked the door to my room, and I locked my window. And I remember sleeping pretty soundly. But replaying the tape… he was there. In my bedroom! For hours, he was there, standing there, watching me.

And oh, God! He was right next to my bed, too… watching me sleeping. And he knew I was filming him, he obviously acknowledged the camera.

What was he doing? Is he planning to kill me? Or… I guess if he wanted to, he would've already.

Is it too much to hope that these frightening events will turn out like they did with Slender Man?

Oh God, what am I saying? Am I that sick? That's… I feel crazy… but…

I'm going to film myself again tonight. And this time, I have a plan... Oh, I hope I live to write it down afterwards.

I turned on the camera, placed it at the same angle as before, and started recording.

I sat on my bed and tied a strip of smooth fabric snugly around my neck.

I tied two others to my wrists, and then I lay down on my bed and tied my wrists to my headboard, using self-tightening knots. It was a bit tricky, but I figured it out eventually, and I knew how to untie them.

I was naked. I had covered myself with only a thin sheet so I wasn't completely exposed to the camera, in case anyone ever got a hold of these tapes… I'm not an exhibitionist. It was cold, but bearable.

I didn't let myself fall asleep.

I kept the bedside lamp on like before, and I waited, waited for what seemed like hours, waited for him. Fighting off sleep, constantly glancing at the door and at the window, becoming more and more frightened, occasionally wishing I hadn't done this, but making myself stay put.

Every nerve on my body jumped. Everything froze and focused, when I saw the door handle turning slowly, silently, saw my bedroom door opening slowly, silently.

He was there.

He stood in the open doorway, stiff, arms at his sides. I could see him better now-- he was wearing that mask, his dark hair slicked back, and he had on black jeans and a dark orange shirt, the same as in the tape from before. He moved… glided into the room, stepping almost like a normal person, but very slowly, even gracefully.

I was absolutely paralyzed with fear. Instantly, I regretted my decision, my eyes went wide with terror as I stared at him. He approached my bed, I tugged uselessly at my knots, and tried to move away from him. But I couldn't get away now.

And he walked closer. He walked, very slowly, until he was very close to me, standing tall and silent right next to my bed.

His right hand moved up slowly and touched his side. His fingers looked human… He kept his hand resting on his side, and stared down at me, though I couldn't see his eyes, only blackness.

Slowly, through the blinding haze of terror, I came back to my senses enough to realize that he was trying to say something with this gesture. I managed to tear my gaze away from his face to look at his hand, and as I did he applied pressure with it, and I saw dark wetness, blood there suddenly, seeping into the fabric around his fingers.

Why was he bleeding? He was wounded? Oh… the knife. I had stabbed him.

Oh God no… was he here to take his revenge, because I stabbed him?

Oh fuck, why did I do this? I'm helpless! My hands are tied, I'm totally vulnerable, I'm.. naked under this sheet..

I opened my mouth to speak, but my vocal cords were frozen. I closed my mouth again and swallowed, and looked back up at his masked face. He didn't move, just stared down at me.

I opened my mouth again.

"Hh…what..hh…?"

I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. I'm not sure what I was trying to ask.

I shuddered as his head tilted to the side slowly, and he kept staring at me. Then the hand at his side moved again, and carefully unfastened the lowest button of his shirt. I watched, still frozen, and started to worry when he unfastened the next button up.

Wait… Oh no… Was he going to show me the wound? The thought made me cringe, I definitely didn't want to see that.

And suddenly I felt so, so awful about stabbing him…

His fingers moved calmly, gracefully up his shirt, until every button was unfastened.

As I saw his chest even that little bit exposed, I was horrified to feel arousal wash over me, and I couldn't stop it. Being this close to him, the thought of him exposing his chest was fascinating… I felt my face heat with embarrassment, and heat start to gather at my groin.

I shut my eyes as he let the shirt fall to the ground, and I heard the fabric rustle as it fell. That soft fabric sound… damn it… it aroused me even more.

I opened my eyes.

His chest was hairless and muscular and smooth, and his skin shone, soft and pale in the lamplight. Against everything, against my fear, my will, and my sanity, it aroused me. My breath hitched and I could feel that I was starting to tent the thin sheet that covered me.

I swallowed and shuddered in fear and shame as I glanced at his hand again, poised over the wound in his side. It wasn't a very big cut, about half an inch long, and it was thin. Blood was smeared around it, and some more leaked out at the edges, but it didn't look deep. It obviously hurt him, though, and I flinched as he ran two of his fingers along the bright red opening. I saw his abdominal muscles tense. Blood now covered his fingertips.

After a few moments, I tore my gaze away from the blood, and looked up again at his mask.

His eyes were like black pits, I stared and stared but could never discern eyeholes in his mask, or even what material it was made out of. He met my gaze; he'd been staring at my face the whole time.

I flinched and adrenaline spiked through me as he leaned down very suddenly, his face inches away from mine. His eyes were even scarier now; nonexistent. It seemed like the mask covered his eyes, and the black circles were painted on… and yet, I couldn't see the material; his face was obscured from the light just enough to make that impossible.

The more I stared, the more frightened I became. Too terrified to keep searching for his eyes, I was forced to shut mine. My senses screamed, but I couldn't open my eyes again, I was too scared.

A few moments passed. He was entirely silent, I couldn't even hear him breathing, just the sound of my heart pounding fast in my ears.

I froze as I felt something brush against my lips.

I stopped breathing, then inhaled just slightly through my nose, and smelled the fresh tang of blood. I didn't dare move, but my whole body seemed to tense, as I felt his two fingers slide into my mouth. Right away I thought about biting him, but figured that if this was some sort of strange ritual torture, a precursor to killing me, I couldn't stop that anyway. I had stabbed him, now he was making me taste the result of my actions, then he'd do the same to me… he'd kill me. I shuddered.

His blood had a mild taste, almost sweet, not entirely the bitter tang of iron. As he pushed his fingers further into my mouth, I automatically flinched backwards, thinking he meant to choke me with them, or maybe break my jaw by forcing them down my throat. But he didn't… he paused a moment, then I felt a very strange sensation as his finger pads rubbed against my tongue, smearing his blood inside my mouth.

The sensation of his fingers, warm and slick and strange tasting in my mouth, moving back and forth… I whimpered, to my utter shame, and my arousal returned.

I felt his other hand now, fingers warm as they brushed against my collarbone. His hand ghosted over my neck, feeling the soft fabric around it, and he gently massaged my throat and jaw line, as the fingers in my mouth kept moving. I started to suck on them, timidly swallowing the mixture of his blood and my saliva. His other hand slowly wrapped it fingers around my neck, and I felt him squeeze slightly, then release, testing me. I shuddered, keeping my eyes closed, my thoughts racing, deep shame and arousal making my body hot. As his hand tightened around my throat again, it stayed that way, restricting my air slightly, but not hurting. Then gradually, he started to apply more pressure, and within moments I struggled, a choked moan escaping me.

Instantly, he released his hold. His fingers, too, left my mouth, and I opened my eyes to see him standing upright again, beside my bed.

Slowly, he moved backward, and away, towards my feet. Watching me always.

He stopped when he was at the foot of my bed, standing right at its middle, still staring at me.

I was scared.

I stared at him, for long moments… I don't know how much time passed, but with each second, I became more frightened.

My body twitched and I tugged again at the knots around my wrists, but they were tied fast. I gritted my teeth as I felt my throat tighten, and tears leaked out of my eyes as I closed them tightly. He was going to kill me now, for sure. He had messed with me, now he'd take his revenge. This was the end for me.

That thought actually made me relieved… I sobbed softly, and managed to open my eyes a little, my expression one of helplessness, guilt, and pleading. His head tilted to the side a little. I let out a loud sob, sure he was readying to kill me. I breathed in shakily, my limbs shivering.

He stood there.

His naked chest, the skin pale and smooth, looked so perfect in the lamplight. His arms were muscular, and his neck. The wound on his side had stopped bleeding, the drying blood darkening on his skin. His head stayed tilted slightly to the side, his stance beautiful in its power, but stiff, unnatural, frightening… he was going to kill me.

But I felt like I knew him, knew him better now… I almost trusted him. Even right then, when I thought he'd kill me, stab me in the gut and leave me to bleed… I was still aroused in front of him, and I couldn't stop it. My arousal had tented the thin sheet covering me, and I knew he could see it. I choked back another sob and opened my mouth, figuring that this was the last time I'd be able to speak before he'd kill me.

"Hhh… ah… I.. …I'm sorry," I said, looking into the black voids of his eyes. "I'm.. sorry… please don't… please, don't hurt.. me…" I breathed the last words, my voice choked with tears, and I was truly sorry, very ashamed and regretful; I meant it, he had to see that.

Slowly, his head tilted back upright. He stood still… and then his body leaned forward, while his face stayed level, and he kept watching me as he moved.

I whimpered loudly and babbled desperate nonsense through my tears, as he started to crawl over me, straddling my body, moving closer and closer, and I was so helpless. My body tensed and squirmed, and I tugged at my wrists, and I sobbed.

He stopped with his face inches away from mine. I couldn't hold my breath, I gasped in air, shuddering, terror lancing through me.

The masked face slid past mine, and he… unmistakably, he nuzzled my ear. On his hands and knees he was poised over me, and his face was bent down, and the mask rubbed against the side of my face, and against my ear.

I would've thought the gesture caring, warm even, if it hadn't been so fucking weird, and I hadn't been convinced that he was going to kill me at any moment.

Then he started touching me. I gasped softly and shuddered as one of his hands came up and ran along my shoulder, the palm warm and soft, a gentle touch. He looked straight at me, as his hand came up to my face, and his fingertips slowly brushed the tears off of my cheeks.

I wanted to turn away, to struggle, to scream… and at the same time I wanted to lean into this touch, I wanted to trust him, I wanted to be comforted, I didn't want to be scared anymore.

After a minute of this, I finally gave in… I stopped crying, and I calmed down.

Seemingly satisfied with that result, he sat up again, and then moved forward, moving to a position where he was sitting over me on his knees, straddling my stomach, putting enough of his weight on me to keep me aware of his position, but not crush my midsection. He bent forwards over me, his back arching in a C shape. I watched the muscles in his biceps and neck ripple beneath his skin as he reached both his arms out, and cradled my face.

His hands were warm.

His thumbs gently rubbed my jaw line, and he leaned in more. He tilted his head, and brought it closer to mine, and when he was only an inch away and my eyes stopped being able to focus, I shut them… and I felt a smooth, cold texture like polished plaster against my lips.

He kissed me.

It was so strange… He couldn't really kiss me, as his mouth was covered by the mask… but he did. It was almost sweet how he did it. Softly, timidly.

I almost welcomed it. I'm not ashamed to admit that I kissed him, tilting my face, moving my lips against the mask and sucking gently on the smooth, tasteless material.

It lasted only a few seconds, but as he pulled back I felt him shiver.

Oh… he shivered, and my body responded. My cheeks flushed, and for the first time, when I looked into the black eyes of his mask, I felt safe.

"Are you going to kill me, Totheark?" I asked in a whisper, my voice clearer than I thought it would be, his name sounding more natural on my lips than I thought it would.

He didn't answer me, of course. I'm beginning to suspect that he doesn't even have the ability to speak.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

I tensed, not knowing what to expect. Did he have a knife on him after all?

He held something in his hand…. A strip of black fabric.

Before I realized what was happening, he held it over my eyes, and though I struggled, he wrapped it around my head and tied it snugly behind one of my ears.

Then I felt his weight lift off of me.

Then nothing.

I couldn't see anything.

And he was totally silent… I couldn't hear him breathing or moving.

"…Pl…please don't hurt me," I whispered, and then I froze as I felt the sheet covering me being pulled down.

"Hh…annh…no," I whispered/gasped, a bit louder this time, squirming, but he kept pulling it down, and I cursed my body as it jumped at the feeling of the smooth fabric sliding over my now obvious erection.

I felt the sheet slide down my legs, felt it lifted away, then heard it drop to the floor.

There was no hiding now.

Behind the blindfold, my aroused imagination ran wild, making everything even worse. I knew he was staring at me… I could feel it, that hollow/sharp stare, that I used to associate with fear and death, but now…

I shivered. I felt my erection twitch and grow, to my horror, as I imagined Totheark's stare on me at this moment. I was so open, so helpless, so vulnerable to him. To my greatest shame, it turned me on. This was insane, and I could feel every nerve on my skin, all my senses, raging and focusing from the lack of sight. I was so tense…

When I felt hot, wet suction on my cock, I almost screamed.

A mouth… his mouth, on me, his lips wrapped around me, his tongue rubbing against me, sucking me. My hips bucked, I couldn't stop them, and oh God, he went down even further.

I moaned out loud, I couldn't stop it. I gasped and writhed, not even caring about keeping my dignity anymore. I let go.

He moved up and down on me, somehow keeping perfectly silent, which both disturbed and aroused me. Why was he doing this?

I felt his tongue swirl around me, felt him take me even deeper, until I felt his nose against my groin.

He swallowed around me.

I screamed that time.

Then his mouth was suddenly gone, and I groaned in protest as the cold air hit my wet skin. But in a few seconds I was stunned speechless.

He lifted off my blindfold, and I opened my eyes to see his face close to mine again, the mask over it, looking calm and composed and scary as before.

I felt something touch me… and his hand, his soft, warm, powerful hand, I saw it curl around me and it started to move, and… oh fuck, he started jacking me off while staring at me.

I whimpered loudly and stared into his huge black eyes, helpless to resist, and my hips started to move with his hand, and I was panting, and I squirmed and tugged at my tied wrists, wishing they were free so I could hold onto him.

He nuzzled at the side of my face again and I gasped in pleasure, my heart suddenly aching for him despite his incredible strangeness, his inhumanness. I didn't care though.

I trusted him.

"T…tothe…ark…" I gasped, hardly knowing what I was saying, "Oh…P…please…"

I wasn't sure what I was asking him for, but when I saw him shiver from my voice, and noticed the large bulge in his jeans, I wasn't scared.

He stopped touching me, and I held back a whimper. When his hand went to the zipper of his jeans, though, I practically moaned. He unzipped himself… and kept unzipping, the zipper curved completely around underneath, and he reached behind him to unfasten it at his lower back. His jeans had split into two legs.

Had he worn those tonight with this very intention? The thought made me shiver. I watched as he rolled the hem of each leg down to his mid-thigh.

Then he was as naked as me, except for the fabric covering his legs.

I stared at his endowments, which were far larger than mine… and he was even more erect. I saw thick fluid glistening on his skin there.

I looked back up at his face, my eyes wide.

He got to his knees over my feet, and his powerful, warm hands slowly gripped my ankles and lifted my legs up, bending my knees towards my chest. I whimpered and squirmed some, getting scared now that I was this exposed. I certainly knew what he intended to do, now.

I gasped softly as he draped my legs over his shoulders. He was so close… I felt the heat from his groin, barely inches away from mine.

…I realized that this was actually about to happen, and I started to panic.

"W-wait… I.. ah…" I stuttered, trying to collect myself, but I knew it was too late to get away now.

He would take me no matter what I said.

He took a hold of my thighs, and I squirmed, and he squeezed them roughly in his hands. I winced, and then I felt and saw him lurch forward, and…

I closed my eyes, I couldn't take it. But the second I did, he gripped my legs hard and shook me, so I opened my eyes and looked at his face again, putting all my fear and pain in my expression.

I knew know that he wanted me to watch as he did this. He wanted to see my face as he did this.

So I stared right into his masked eyes.

He pushed forward… and he was so hard, and it hurt me, but he pushed more, and I cried out as I was stretched. But he was slick with his own moisture, and slowly, agonizingly, he pushed into me, watching my expression the entire time. I whimpered when he was finally seated completely inside… but then he pulled out almost completely, and then thrust himself back in, faster and without warning.

I gasped in pain. I yelled for him to stop. I looked into his eyes and told him that it hurt, that I wasn't ready, that he would break me.

But he didn't. And he didn't stop.

And it hurt so much… but then, suddenly, he hit against something inside me, and I practically squealed in pleasured pain.

His hips rocked back… the forward again fast, hitting that spot a second time. And I moaned.

And he leaned down, pushing me hard against the bed beneath us, his shoulders digging into the backs of my knees, his chest almost rubbing against my erection.

And he fucked me.

He started fast, erratic, without any rhythm, his thrusts hard and deep and powerful, each one catching me by surprise, making me gasp and moan, and each one less painful, and more pleasurable, than the last.

Soon, I was sweating, panting, moaning at every movement he made. His abyssal eyes drilled into me like his cock, making me writhe, turning me on as I shook with fear, and with a desire unlike any I'd ever felt before.

And soon, I could tell he was close because he started to tremble, and his thrusts became more even, but even faster, each one very deep, but quicker as he didn't pull out as far each time. He hit that spot inside me with every single thrust now, and it felt like he was destroying my nerves, exhausting my body, making me on fire and so tense and so very close.

Then his hands left my thighs and were suddenly around my neck.

My eyes that had been half-lidded in pleasure moments ago, suddenly grew wide, but then shut tight as a different feeling washed over me.

My air supply almost completely cut off, my senses exploded with sensation, and I felt so acutely… everything. His heart beat throbbed, deep inside me, and we were so perfectly connected.

He gripped my neck tight, not in anger but with purpose, and I forced my eyes to open just slightly.

My lips formed his name.

My hips moved in sync with his, and then I was gone, pure pleasure burning through me, blackness stealing the edges of my vision, spiraling inwards until the darkness framed his masked face above me, and it was the last thing I saw before unconsciousness took me.

The next day, I woke up, and my wrists were untied.

I was still naked, and I could barely move. Every muscle ached, but it wasn't too painful. I was warm…

Sunlight shone through my window. He wasn't there…

But I know he'll be back again.