Donovan

It’s late evening. I’m sitting on the sofa absent-mindlessly watching TV. I’m donning my sleek, black prosthetic leg and wearing a black graphic tee and pair of joggers. I’m watching some kind of horror movie to pass the time and keep me distracted from any nervousness. I’ve been speaking to Katiya for about three months online, after meeting her on a dating app, and this will be the first time meeting her in person. We could have met much earlier than this, but she’s been cautious, seemingly assessing me in some way. I liked that, and her, enough to go along with it.

From the very first exchange of messages, we just clicked. At twenty-two, she was younger than me, but only by about four years, and her profile had stood out to me more than any of the other ones I’d seen on there. I hadn’t expected to have someone so interesting contact me first, but I hadn’t been about to throw away that opportunity. And, damn, despite spending hours talking to her through messages and voice calls, and having been on dates before, right now I feel a nervousness that I haven’t felt for a long time, it brings me back to my days as a secondary school kid.

I’m just about registering what’s going on in the movie. A woman seemingly in her late twenties, or older, playing an eighteen-year-old woman, with a crazed murderer chasing after her. Generic slasher bullshit. And this is supposed to be a horror channel? What is so horrifying about that? It’s the same crap all over again, unrealistically stupid characters, and a stereotypical inbred freak with a power tool. As a horror fan myself, I’ve always seen true horror as more creative than that. To me, true horror is when something you’d hardly even imagined could possibly happen to you is inflicted upon you.

The woman, now running through a forest, trips over a branch, her tits fly up, breaking from gravity as she flails and lets herself fall.

I laugh at her horrendous overacting.

Then, out of nowhere, I notice a change in the air that makes my stomach drop in a way I can’t quite describe. It’s unsettling, but also strangely enticing. It’s then that I realize I can feel her, Katiya. Somehow, I just know she’s outside.

I wonder at what point of proximity she is.

The door knocker sounds. I leap up before I can even register what my brain has commanded me to do.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, slightly embarrassed already and hoping I won’t behave in any ridiculous manner.

I awkwardly give my thighs a brush down, despite them being completely crumb-free, and make my way to the door. I linger there for a second, savoring that intoxicating mix of excitement and disquiet for a moment longer, before opening.

She stands in front of me, in flesh, looking even better than in her pictures. She’s wearing a strappy black top and double denim in the form of a grey oversized jacket and mini shorts, each article doing its part in complimenting her petite and curvy frame. Her hair is glossy and dark like raven feathers, waves flowing down far past her shoulders. She is wearing no makeup.

She doesn’t look like a film star, yet she is utterly enticing.

Upon opening the door, a strange feeling hits me. I notice it has a strange sense of familiarity, but also, it’s a feeling I don’t associate with any person I’ve known. In fact, it feels great, like something awesome could happen at any moment. It reminds me of when I sit down at the dinner table at Christmas and admire the display of food on the table before the meal begins. Despite that, it still brings me a sense of unease.

My pulse speeds up in a strange and somewhat foreign way; it feels alien, even.

I’m overcome with a strange feeling of connectedness in a way that I’ve never had happen with anyone else. I have a sense that she wants to spend time with me today in a way that I’ve not spent time with someone before.

She smiles at me with a warm but mischievous smile, then brings me into a hug that I happily reciprocate.

“Hey,” she says, “how are you?”

“Hey, I’m good. And you?” I respond.

As we hug, I notice she has a very subtle, nice scent about her that, for some reason, brings toffee apples to mind.

“I’m good,” she smiles. She then pushes a paper dragonfly at me, “I made this for you.”

I take it and inspect it. It’s made of sturdy, black paper, folded neatly and intricately. I’m both flattered and impressed by this unusual, homemade gift.

“That’s very cute. Thanks.”

She smiles. I stand at the door still watching her, imagining how cute and focused she must’ve looked when she was folding her paper art.

“Are you gonna stop gawking at me and invite me inside?”

I snap out of my momentary stupor, and step aside.

“Oh. Yes, sorry. Come in.”

She steps through the door, and as she walks past me, she gently pushes my mouth closed with her hand, teasingly.

Fuck, I really was standing there with my jaw on the floor like an idiot. She seems amused, proud of herself even.

As I close the door, she kicks off her slip-ons beside my own neatly positioned shoes, and then she’s staring at me, still with that look on her face. It makes me want to just grab her and do god-knows what. In that moment, ideas of just what I could do flash through my head at speed. Looking at her, I recognize that in her eyes too. It’s as if she even knows or is doing the same. I feel like she’s just waiting for me, like somehow this is some kind of test. Is there a risk of failing? Or is there no truly right way to respond? Somehow, I feel like it’s the latter. Or maybe that’s what I’m hoping, instead.

Before I can go ahead with acting on any urges, Circe trots out to greet her, slinking around her legs.

“Oh, hi!” Katiya says, reaching down to pet her, to which Circe meows in response.

“I’m glad Circe likes you,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s always good news.” She diverts her gaze to the surrealist serpent design on the front of my shirt, “I like your top, it’s really cool.”

“Thanks.”

I did choose this t-shirt to wear because, from the conversations we’d had, I knew she’d like it. It’s a bit faded from being washed countless times since the day I bought it 3 years ago, but it’s still one of my favorite shirts.

“Have you got any plans of what you want us to do?”

She reaches up and places her hand on my chest, stroking her hand down me before letting it fall back down by her side. I feel a prickle of excitement shoot through me.

“Do you know what shibari is?”

I say it before even knowing what is coming out of my mouth, as if something compelled me to.

“What?”

“It’s Japanese rope art. I can show you a cool tie. I’m still pretty crap at it though.”

She looks amused.

“That’s quite a way to say ‘bondage’, isn’t it?”

I feel my cheeks begin to flush, unsure of what to say. She waits, allowing my cheeks to fully give me away, before speaking again.

“That sounds like it could be fun.”

“It is an art though,” I say sheepishly.

“I believe you,” she says sincerely. “Now show me.”

***

I lead Katiya to my bedroom just down the corridor, slowly, all the while relishing mental images of her restrained and suspended by knots. A part of me feels like she can feel my thoughts, and that part of me enjoys that too. The idea of having her body like that, restrained and contorted into an elaborate position with even more elaborately tied knots… I can make her body into my masterpiece. It would look just perfect, more perfect than I could even imagine. There’s no way I could actually do even a quarter of those ideas with her, unless she was willing to be my guinea pig, because I’ve only actually done a few of the more basic ties before on my arm, I’ve never even done any of this with partners. Still, if she’s no rope bunny then it won’t be hard to impress her. Unless, you know, she’s just really hard to impress.

“Are you gonna suspend me?” she asks, eyeing the ceiling as we enter my bedroom.

“Ha, I wish I were that good. No, just floor work.”

Does that mean she would have let me suspend her though, if I had the right equipment and skill?

I enjoy the curious look on her face as she stands beside me and takes in her new environment. She walks over to my desk where all my drawing paper, pencils, and other stationary is. She slides a piece of paper towards herself to inspect closer, a sketch of an unfinished humanoid mantis. I see her expression change and think I can register that she is impressed. She picks it up, and I stand and come up beside her so I can admire her better.

“I really like your mantis person.” She sounds genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling flattered.

She looks absorbed in the picture for a moment. I like how her delicate hands look holding my art. She lifts it closer with her right hand, nails painted a taupe-lilac colour, a thin, silver ring wrapped around the bottom knuckle.

“Cool…” she says under her breath, placing down the drawing.

I adore her care and fascination for my things. I’ve grown to love details. I’m more of a mind-dwelling person, so noticing details has been a skill I built up overtime with doing art. Once I got the hang of it, I realised how much depth can be found in them.

I want to be closer to those details. I don’t just want to see them.

I reach up and rest my palm on her arm. Jolted out of a mild daze, she turns to look up at me. I glance at the origami dragonfly she made me that I’d placed carefully on my desk.

“Do you ever use paper of different colors? Just white and black?”

“Sometimes grey. I like that.”

“Grey is not a color.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Debatable. Can you show me the ties now?”

I turn to my bed and lift the mattress and slats, revealing the large ottoman space in my bed. I only have 4 ropes, two black and two white, placed casually on top of my bedding. They’ve not been used on anything other than my own body.

I hear her beginning to take her jacket off as I unravel the ropes and place them onto the bed. Once I’ve finished, I turn and notice that apart from a tiny pair of underwear, Katiya is completely naked. I stand there, stunned for a moment at how she managed to undress in such a short space of time. I had only been a few moments, or so I thought.

Had I really been standing there for a few minutes, so deeply focused on the rope?

It would make sense for her to have undressed so quickly if she’d practically torn her clothes off and let them fly every which way, but I’m sure I’d have picked up on that commotion if that’s what had happened. They’re not neatly piled by any means, but they’re definitely still intact and clearly some consideration has been taken for them to be placed together in a pile beside my bed, every article of clothing, down to the socks.

Besides the underwear, of course.

My eyes run down her body, stopping on her breasts, round and pretty with aureola the same faded cherry as her lips. My gaze descends further, following the outline of her waist and hips, her plump, underwear-clad mound, her smooth shapely legs, all the way down to her cute feet. I’ve already had a semi from the moment she stepped through the front door, but now my joggers are growing even tighter and there’s no hiding the firm outline of my excited flesh. Sure, she’s been attractive to me since the first picture of her I saw, but I can’t remember feeling so uncontrollably turned on by someone like this. It feels almost primal.

There’s something very different about today, the air is being influenced by something and I don’t know what. I can’t explain it beyond that, I just know it. And another thing I’m certain of is that this impression is somehow emitting from her.

She’s teasing me by leaving her underwear on. My eyes wander back to her mound and I have to stop myself from staring as if I can shoot laser beams from my eyes to cut through the fabric and expose her.

I say nothing. I do nothing.

She steps closer.

I wait for Kat to get super close to me until I back away and seat myself onto the end of my bed. I register a hint of surprise in her face. Then, in one sudden movement, I reach over and pull her onto my lap. She gasps with a mix of surprise and delight, quick to straddle me, wrapping her thighs around me.

She’s sitting on top of me, her arms around my neck. I can feel the heat of her on top of my solid member, which is more than eager to break a hole through the fabrics of my clothes. We begin to kiss. As my lips brush against the softness of hers, my hands explore the smooth skin of her hips and buttocks, pulling her body closer to me by her waist. I start to stroke the silky long strands of hair falling down her bare back, still pulling her as close into the kiss as possible. I want her badly, and I can feel it in her too. She slips her tongue into my mouth while moving back and forth down onto me, sending warm, sharp tingles through my cock. Her moans are honeyed and soft in my ear as she uses my lap to enjoy herself.

The only barriers between us are layers of fabric, and I feel like if we carry on like this, we could burn a hole through them. As we kiss, I begin to fumble with her underwear, but I feel her wriggling her hips away slightly each time I do. She’s right, I’ve got to be patient, besides, I told her I would show her something, and I really do want to show her. I want to make this even better, more slow-paced and intense, rather than just going with my urges and behaving like some kind of wild animal.

I take her hips in my hands and lift her off me. Immediately taking the cue, she gets up.

“Don. I want to see your skills now.”

“Sure,” the corner of my mouth turns up and I tug at the waistband of her underwear, “but first, these have to go.

***

I step back and admire the display in front of me.

Katiya is lying on her back, completely naked. Her wrists are tied to the bedpost, knees drawn up and legs spread to reveal and allow me access to her pussy. I tied her thighs to her shins in a satisfying series of knots, not too bad for my first try on another person. Her eyes are gleaming with anticipation as she gazes up at me. She entertains us both by squirming and struggling slightly, a delightful reminder of how helpless she is. Watching her like that does nothing but intensify my wanting to take her.

“This feels good,” she says.

“You look good,” I respond.

Eyes still on her, I slip off my joggers and underwear, my cock springs up keenly as I slip the fabric down. I kick them off onto the floor beside my chest of drawers. I’m usually a fairly tidy person, but I have no intention to keep that up at the moment. I’m still wearing my prosthesis, I decided to keep it on for this as I want to be able to kneel and stand as I please.

I climb onto the bed and crawl towards her. As my head passes between her legs, I can smell her arousal, hot and sweet. I can’t help but feel like her sex smells very unique somehow, it’s like ambrosia or something. I come up so we are face-to-face and shudder as I feel my cock resting against her hot, slick cunt. Our fluids combine as precum trickles out of me. I could just slip into her now, but I can’t let myself. I want her to feel as good as possible, I want to dedicate myself to her pleasure. Of course, it’s not like it won’t feel fucking amazing for me too.

I know exactly how I’m going to start. There’s no way I can just let that nectar between her legs go to waste by simply using it to pummel away inside her, ignoring the other sensory pleasures it has to offer.

I look into her excited eyes and kiss her forehead softly, then her nose, her cheek, her jaw, then I start working on her neck. I kiss the delicate skin, then glide my tongue along it, allowing the wetness to pass over it slowly, then sucking gently. She starts moaning softly again and I feel her legs tense. Her restrained arms struggle abruptly against the bed frame for a second, then she lets them fall again. I smile to myself and can’t help but chuckle against her neck, realizing she had been going to reach up and grab me. She can’t—in her pleasure she almost forgot.

I work on the other side of her neck a little, then I work my way down her body, sucking, kissing, and licking her nipples tenderly, then her belly, and working my way down even lower. She is really squirming now, and her face is flush, she looks both frustrated and excited at the same time. I know what I’m doing to her, I know where she wants to feel my tongue, and that’s exactly why I’m dragging it out so much.

“Don,” she breathes, “please…”

I ignore her pleas, taking my time, enjoying every second of having her like this—every second of her yearning, every second of her frustration, every sensation her body gives mine as skin moves against skin.

I place a few kisses on her right inner thigh, all the way to her mound, slowly, relishing the feeling of the softness on my lips. Heart pounding in my chest, my head is finally level with the place between her thighs. God, I can smell her intoxicating aroma again, and I swear I can even feel the heat of her on my face, it’s radiating from her. I hover my mouth over her clit, allowing her to feel my warm breath there. She lets out a moan that sounds filled with longing. Then, I go for it.

I start by kissing between her thighs. I kiss her there passionately, as if it’s her mouth, causing her to sigh in delight. I feel her velvety softness on my lips, then my tongue, then I lick down to her slippery hole, getting her juices on my tongue. I taste them and it’s like pussy, but… better. Honestly, I can’t quite place what is different, only I know that now I’ve had that first taste there’s something in me aroused that I didn’t even know existed. If I felt dedicated to her pleasure before, now it’s even more powerful. I feel dedicated to it and beyond. I work my tongue on her like she’s a dessert I don’t want to ever finish. At the risk of sounding cliché, I imagine this is the sort of feeling I’d get if I were dining in heaven. I’ve given head before, but these are still all new feelings.

Still, they feel so good.

“Don, yes… your mouth is SO warm…”

Her moans are beautiful, encouraging me to keep going, and I feel as if I know exactly the right spots to work on, bringing her increasingly closer to orgasm. I wanted to take my time on her, but I just can’t. Her juices flow into my mouth and down my chin, and despite it being a bit of a challenge, I’m eager to lick up as much of it as I can.

“Don… you’re gonna make me come!”

I can feel the build of her climax so close now as I lick and suck. I slip two fingers inside her and they glide in effortlessly, her flesh welcomes me. I find that sweet spot in there and work on it, the responses of her body letting me know I’m hitting it just right. With my warm mouth enveloping her and fingers inside her, she starts coming. Her hips jolt against my mouth and her bound legs twitch as she comes, gasping and moaning with pleasure and clenching around my fingers. Reaching up with my free hand, I squeeze her breast, causing her back to immediately arch and her to cry out a final “yes!” in response.

I come up and lick off the nectar I’d smeared onto her nipples from my last move. They feel like flesh-bullets on my tongue. She looks as me as though she’s somehow looking through me and into another world.

“Let me taste myself,” she says.

I kiss her passionately, our tongues intertwine.

She squirms her hips, trying to get me inside her. My cock is dripping and ready.

I spread her labia, soft butterfly wings, and experimentally rub the tip of my cock over her entrance. I push in a little and can’t help but moan at the sensation of her wet, warm pussy, still tightening and pulsing from her orgasm. Feeling utterly compelled, I thrust in completely, and she gasps. I draw back and thrust again, continuing like this, hard, grunting as her hole clenches around me. Each time I drive into her it feels as if I’m being gently sucked into her body by this fluttering fleshy embrace; I could honestly cry from how good this feels.

She is utterly mine right now; she trusts me to make love to her like this. It’s incredible.

I can put my hands wherever I want, while she can only lie there, unable to do anything except take the pleasure and soak in it. As we connect, my fingers explore her thighs, her belly, her breasts, they have long been warmed by her hot flesh. I watch her face as I move rhythmically in and out of her. I consume every detail, from her slightly furrowed brows, to her glassy seafoam eyes. There are frustrated teeth marks at the bottom of her lip, I lean into her and add some of my own.

There’s something else. It feels like something is flowing out of me and into her, as though I’m giving her a part of me and this is something I really need to do. Addicted to this strange feeling of devotion, I don’t even want to come yet. I make it to maybe 4 minutes of edging myself with her pussy, what really pushes me past the point of no return is the sensation of her beginning to orgasm again. She milks me, causing my load to rise up from my balls and spurt deep inside of her.

My orgasm hits hard: sharp, hot tingles spread all around my dick and balls, snaking through my thighs and ass, and spreading up my back and stomach. I grab her face and position it so I can come to that image, her bliss-filled eyes holding mine. We stare into each other as we orgasm, she’s one wave ahead of me and gasping and moaning, while I curse at her and thrust deeper and harder to the rhythm of my contractions.

Sex has never done this to me before.

Still throbbing, I pull out and my seed flows out of her quivering hole, a downright delicious sight! Then, before I even know what I’m doing, I’m untying her. My ability to do the bare minimum of focusing is running out from me faster that I’m even able to keep up with. I don’t care about cleaning up, or even that she’s there, and then I’m rolling over onto my back.

In the next moment, everything goes black.

xxxxx

Katiya

My second climax begins, and I feel pleasure twisting through every inch of my body. At the same time as his warm, eager seed flows into me, I’m highly aware of his essence rushing through me, engorging me. It’s running to me as though it needs me, no resistance at all, he has thrown it to me, and his body screams at me to take it.

I could take more, but I won’t. He needs to recover.

He also needs to untie me, because although I’ve made sure that he’ll be OK I’m certain that he’ll be out for a while. I don’t want to be stuck here all that time; I don’t think my abilities extend to mystically manipulating restraints.

I need these ropes off me.

In response to my thoughts he fumbles with the ties on my wrists, freeing me swiftly, then immediately—dutifully—gets to work on my legs.

Utterly expended, he then rolls off me and falls to the bed.

My right leg is still tied up but it’s easy enough for me to take it from here. He only really needed to free my wrists, and I’d go as far as to say that I’m impressed he even had enough left in him to free one of my legs from their skilfully made bindings. I stretch my arms, then my legs, relishing the tingling, electrifying feeling of his essence swarming through my body. Holy hell, I feel like I could start vibrating until I shoot up through the roof and into space.

I turn to him, sacrificing a moment of my bliss to check him over. I’m fairly sure I didn’t do any permanent damage, but the last two guys ended up dead, both incidents causing unnecessary palavers, and I’ve felt this thing grow significantly stronger over the months too. I can never be 110%, so I check Don’s pulse. Just in case.

He’s breathing.

His pulse is slowing down with every throb, but he’ll be OK. I realize he’s still wearing his prosthesis. Should I take it off him or something? Will it hurt him to sleep with it on? I suppose this is something I should have asked him before deciding to do this with him tonight, but this kind of thing isn’t easy for me to remember.

I decide to leave him be. Naked and feeling rejuvenated, I get up and go to the bathroom to pee and clean up the come dripping down from between my thighs. I then make my way to the kitchen.

It’s really nice walking through someone else’s flat without any clothes on. I don’t truly know why… Something tells me it’s just a bit thrilling. But, then again, in this state, pretty much anything can be thrilling.

In Donovan’s kitchen a heap of dark fur with a luminous pair of golden eyes is sitting on the white lino by her food and water bowls, her tail dancing expectantly above her fuzzy head. She’s watching me as if she has been waiting for some time, or possibly knowing I was about to come out at any moment. I approach her for the second time in my life, though this time more cautiously—she seems perfectly fine with my presence. She doesn’t seem to care that a naked woman she’s not long known is parading around as though she lives here, and after taking her human into a room and not emerging with him. I guess she knows I didn’t kill him. Either that, or she simply assumes if he doesn’t come out then he is asleep.

She would not be wrong about either right now.

I peer into her bowls; the food bowl it’s empty and the water bowl may as well have been. I really should refill them before I leave, after all, I’m not sure when he will wake up. I just know it will be far more than a few hours before he does. I need to make sure she doesn’t go without sustenance for too long.

“Where is your food?”

She just stares back at me, clearly expecting me to do the work myself. I chuckle at the little queen she is.

“Let’s see, shall we?”

I start opening cupboards at random, the cat watching me, and probably judging me, the entire time. 3 cupboards later, 2 under the marble counters and 1 above to be precise, I finally find what I’m looking for. The cupboard above the microwave seems to be dedicated to cat food and treats. There’s kibble, wet food, and an assortment of poshly packaged meat-filled treats. I have the wild urge to take the nicest looking treats and start feeding them to her, but I don’t think Donovan will be too happy if I spoil the cat. Maybe she’ll start acting a bit more mischievously or expect more from him. I don’t want to give the dude too hard of a time, especially seeing as I’ve already been a bit cruel to him today. I do honestly feel a mild twinge of guilt for the way he’s going to feel once he wakes up.

Just a mild twinge.

On second thoughts, it might serve me well to keep the cat on my side, besides, I can control my urges, I don’t need to go all the way and give her the whole lot. So, I take out a packet and wave it in front of her. She immediately comes trotting towards me and jumps onto the counter. She headbutts my hand affectionately.

I smile and give her soft cheek a little scratch. She’s undeniably cute, and I can’t help but have a soft spot for the sassy little girl.

She headbutts the packet.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m your beloved food dispenser.”

I tear the packet open, take out a treat and hold it to her mouth. She goes to bite it, then I draw it back teasingly. She glares at me and meows in complaint. I chuckle and give her the treat. I give her a few more, then afterwards she rubs her cheeks onto as much of my hands and arms as she can, presumably marking me as her own.

I go back to the cupboard to retrieve some wet food for her, before emptying it into her bowl. I also refill her water dish, then put the plug in the sink and fill it up to make absolutely certain that she will have enough water. I have another look through the cupboards and find a food container to put the opened packet of treats in. I then shove the container into the cat food cupboard, give the contentedly eating cat one last little scratch, then go back to Don’s room.

Upon re-entering the room, I notice the slight tang of our sex lingering in the air. Damn, we really did go at it. Donovan is still passed out, though looking a bit pale. I feel his pulse one last time, it’s going at a steady pace. He is still OK.

I retrieve my clothes from the floor, get dressed, then leave his flat.

I made sure to leave my underwear under his pillow first.

xxxxx

Donovan

I feel sleep release its grip on me, finally. I am sprawled here, completely naked except for my prosthesis. My head feels as if a golf ball is knocking about inside my skull, pounding and throbbing as I lug my weighted body from the mattress. I bring my foot and prosthetic round onto the plush rug, now in a sitting position. I rub my eyes hazily, then open my eyelids fully.

I see nothing but blackness.

I fumble at my bedside table until I find the light switch, which I promptly flick on.

The light hits me like a camera flash at close range.

Usually I see the light as warm and dim, but for the first time ever it’s too much for me. I feel a wave of dizziness, and I hold my temples for a moment, resting my elbows on my legs. I sit there like that for a moment, very aware of all the horrible sensations. The sandpapery tongue in my mouth, the taste like stale bread, the hunger spasms in my shriveled stomach, the burning in my bladder, the socket of my prosthesis gripping my overheated stump uncomfortably. I would remove it, but I feel an unfamiliar sense of anxiety and vulnerability that I shouldn’t be feeling in my own home. I can’t shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong here. No matter whether I’m right or wrong, I need to be as mobile as possible; I’m not taking any chances.

I can’t even think clearly right now. I don’t know what time it is, what day it is, or what to do, nor do I even particularly care. Honestly, I just want to go back to sleep and hope that this is a dream—that, or that I don’t wake up.

I don’t want to die; I just feel like nothing right now. My body just feels progressively wrong, and with each passing moment that feeling is intensifying.

My expanding awareness then registers my dick, relaxed and firm from sleep. I ignore its buoyancy, it’s very unwelcome right now. And that’s when I remember—Katiya.

The last thing I remember was fucking Katiya in this bed.

The ropes.

I whip my head around, way too quickly for my body to handle, and just about make out the ropes beside me before having to clench my temples again. I groan. This time, I honestly feel like I could pass out at any moment so I position my head between my knees, suddenly finding myself grateful for my mother’s nagging advice that time as I child when I almost fainted at the fun fair.

After a while like this, I start to hear a meowing at my bedroom door.

Shit, Circe.

I start to stand up, cautiously. My legs feel wobbly in every sense of the word. I try to take a step, but my foot catches on something on the floor.

I hear a low glug as the water bottle is kicked over. In that moment I want to drop to my knees and praise the God that I don’t even believe exists, but instead I internally thank my own self for almost always keeping a water bottle in my bedroom. That sound indicated there was a significant amount in there, but I honestly feel like I need gallons right now.

I reach down and pick it up. Feeling dizzy again, I immediately allow myself to drop back down onto the bed, erasing the effort I had just made to stand. It doesn’t matter, though, because I have water, and water is all that matters to me right now, it’s the only thought my suddenly feeble brain can even hold.

I unscrew the cap, and gulp, not even checking how much was in there, I’m thinking more than half, though. The water tastes kind of stale but I drink until it’s all gone anyway, before attempting to stand again. This time, I have more success, I still feel like utter shit though. Despite that, this will do for me to make it out of the prison that I once knew as my bedroom.

I open the door; Circe looks up at me and meows immediately. She gives me a look that I recognize as a mix of curiosity and disapproval, it speaks of nothing but concerned annoyance, as does the swirling of her tail in the air. She then starts fussing all over me, pawing at my legs and feet, headbutting me, nudging me with her cheeks. I reach down and start petting her gratefully, running my hand over her back and all the way up her fluffy tail. I pick her up and fuss back at her, both apologizing and thanking her. She responds by grooming my beard, I amuse myself by taking it as a subtle hint that I need a shave.

Wait. Exactly how long have I been asleep for?

I manage to have a long piss, change the cat litter, and fill Circe’s food and water bowl, both of which she hurries to and appreciatively laps up as much as she can of each. I also notice that the sink has been left plugged and full of water. This tells me that Katiya had been uncannily meticulous about making sure the cat stayed hydrated, a detail that particularly unnerves me because I don’t know what else it could mean other than that there is no way she didn’t know I’d not be awake for a while.

After all that, I take my phone from the kitchen island—where I remember leaving it before. The battery is dead, so I plug it in to give it some juice. As I wait, I gulp down a glass of water and start on a packet of crisps. Once it’s started up again, and almost an entire large tube of BBQ crisps later, I see several messages from concerned family and friends. In disbelief, I look at the date and see that 2 days have passed since that evening with Katiya. It’s now just gone 8pm.

I’ve been asleep for two days?

Two fucking days?

What the hell is going on here?

I’m especially glad that freelance work allows for flexible hours. Though I’ll definitely be needing to put in more work for a while to make up for this.

xxxxx

It’s now 1:16am. After having a takeaway meal, a good shower and tooth-brushing, and drinking a few cups of coffee, of which I’m sitting with my third one, black and unsweetened, on my sofa in the dark. I feel warm and cosy, in a clean tee shirt, pair of joggers, and some basic socks. Soothing melodies flow into my ears from the earbuds connected to my phone. I’m relaxed, with my prosthesis off and crutches resting on the floor close to me. Circe is curled up resting happily beside me, she hasn’t really left my side since I woke. I still feel under the weather, but I’ve managed to recharge to the level of feeling comfortable enough. I’ve responded to every message, and no matter how much explaining I do, people are still confused as to how they haven’t heard from me in two days. To be fair, though, I think I am the most confused of them all. On that note, I’m not bothering to entertain their questions anymore, I’m too tired.

I’ve been trying to push them away all evening, but now I allow my thoughts to turn to Katiya.

I guess I didn’t want to think about her while I recovered at first, because despite it seeming totally nonsensical, I know she is somehow responsible. I just knew there was something not right about her from the moment she was outside my flat, before I even physically saw her. If that isn’t a blatant red flag, then what even are red flags?

Could it have been drugs? Did she drug me? The only way she would have been able to do that would be to have somehow sneakily stuck a needle into me without me noticing. How could she prepare, do, and hide all that without me noticing? I’ve never known myself as inattentive to that degree. She was in my sights the entire time, and from the moment she arrived I didn’t drink or eat, with that in mind it makes no sense that I could’ve had something she’d tampered with. Crudely put, I just wanted to fuck her. And I even feel like that was somehow her fault, too. I can’t ever remember a time in my life when I’ve felt so animalistic in my sexual urges.

She intended to get me like that from the very start.

I try to think about any moments during our intercourse that she could have done something to me in any way. The woman was bound and completely helpless, there was absolutely nothing she could’ve done with any drugs or needles. Hell, if anyone was in danger of that kind of thing, it was her. Lying there, bound, and naked, in the house of a man she’d never even met before. What even was she thinking? She had struck me as smart from the moment I’d seen her dating profile, so it’s a bit shady that a perfect woman falls into my lap willing to do whatever I want, including putting herself in danger, while also managing to maintain the pretense of being smart for a few months of lengthy conversation.

She couldn’t have possibly been somehow stalking me for a long time in person without me realizing. Could she?

No way.

Unsettled and eager for answers, I bring up her profile on the dating app. Everything is as it was on the last day I’d spoken to her. Within the second week of talking we’d moved to another messaging app, but not social media as she’d told me she didn’t have any. I couldn’t have searched her either as I didn’t even know her last name. Thankfully, I wasn’t stupid enough to not have video called her within the time we had been speaking; we’d both watched each other masturbate a few times.

Now, her bliss-filled face comes to mind, her small noises of delight as she played with herself, pushing toys into her slippery hole, and all around her clit and arse hole. She really did make the most out of masturbation.

I warm and harden between my thighs.

I look at her picture, her eyes. Oceanic colors stare back at me and she captures me once again.

No. She is disturbing. She is weird.

She is not nice either.

It’s weird how, out of all the messages I received, she hasn’t contacted me at all.

She hasn’t bothered with any tact whatsoever.

Fuck her then.

I exit her profile, turn off my music and lock my phone. I strip and go to my bed. As I rearrange my bedding, I notice her thong under my pillow. I pick it up and look at it in disbelief at the sheer audacity of her.

This is the final straw.

Frustrated and horny as hell, I decide to masturbate. I bring her underwear up to my nose, inhaling her aromatic scent like a damn horticulturist in a flower garden. Then, with the fragrant underwear in my hand, I masturbate to new ideas of her at my mercy. They seem to come out of nowhere, from the perverted depths of my mind, and I know that in normal, unaroused everyday thought I’d be shocked at myself. I’m restraining her in contorted and uncomfortable positions, I’m fucking all her holes, pulling her hair, forcing her to come, over and over. I’m teaching her a lesson for doing this to me. I reach a climax so intense and satisfying that I can’t help but curse and moan her name.

Grabbing a clump of tissues from my bedside, I briefly wipe up the huge load I’d been storing in there for those few days of being Sleeping Beauty, then toss the crumpled gloopy ball into the bin nearby and drop her semen-sodden underwear onto the floor. Bloody hell, I even managed a head shot, chuckling in ecstasy all the while, internally begging my balls to fucking drench me in that come. All that come, that if Katiya was here, she’d be taking in every hole and every pretty little place on her body.

Remembering those sordid thoughts, I chuckle to myself again, just riding those feel-good hormones.

Now, completely spent, I fall straight to sleep.

xxxxx

Katiya

It’s almost 1:30am. It’s been two days since I sated myself with Donovan.

He woke up several hours ago.

I’m sitting on my bedroom floor folding origami insects and I can’t get to sleep. I’m hyper focused on Donovan, his thoughts and his moods feel very strong to me since he woke up.

I’ve never fed from someone in this manner before, Donovan has been a bit of an experiment. It’s coming up to a year since I met the woman who changed my life forever, who passed this power on to me. I have a sense of how they feel, the people I choose to feed from, how they must see me, I’ve almost been in their position too. The only difference being that I was not prey, I was chosen.

I don’t know what this thing is, but I know it was given to me, and I also know what I have to do about it. Whatever it is, it works alongside me, and I function as some kind of host for it. I still have to eat and drink and sleep and do all the usual crap people do, but I also have to provide it with what it needs. If I don’t then I know it will just take from me instead, I suspect it probably works like something I read online one time, how a starving person’s body begins to eat the proteins in their muscle—none of that ever ends well.

I was chosen by its previous host so suddenly and unexpectedly and I wasn’t left with any guidance at all. I’ve ended up making fatal mistakes, and I’m still learning. I’ve picked Donovan as part of that learning process, but I had to show him my power first. As far as the fatal mistakes are concerned, I’ve killed two people. Nobody would ever figure out I’ve done that, because this thing doesn’t leave any evidence like that, it just wears them down until their bodies give up in some way.

I don’t think I could ever be called a murderer, even if I’d intended to kill, I’m just doing what I must do, like every other surviving thing on the planet.

I feel like I was chosen because I am the right person to be doing this, I don’t think it was an accident. Part of me feels special for that, and I can see how people could see that as a bad thing.

Now, I’ve chosen Donovan. Not to pass it on, I don’t even know how to do what was done to me, but instead I’ve chosen him for something else. I don’t want him to end up like the others, my plan is not to keep feeding from him, but to get him on my side. He could help me find people to feed from, Don is smart and I have a lot in common with him, I’m also interested to see how much control this thing can give me over someone else.

I’ve already successfully created a link between us both, a merging of our energies, and in turn our thoughts have merged too. I know he knows I did something to him that night, something weird that can’t be explained with science, something I wouldn’t have believed in either before I got thrown into the deep end. I also hadn’t particularly tried to hide it from him, and that was necessary.

He is angry with me. I can feel it.

I’m still not the most experienced person with this stuff, so, although not lethal I did make some gaffes with Don too. If I could go back and change things, I would have left him some snacks and water close to his bed for when he woke up. Instead, I managed to make myself look like a complete arse hole. I could have messaged him asking how he was, but I intentionally haven’t contacted him. I want to see how much control I’ve formed over him already. I also was the one to make the first move on the dating app, I don’t like the idea of always being the one making the first move, but that additional part is my pride and nothing else.

The bottom line is, he must contact me first.

He’s thinking about me, and he is definitely pissed off. I like it, I need to affect him for my plan to work. Also, I’m starting to feel something else coming from him in that moment.

Arousal.

I put down my mostly finished black origami beetle, stand, and make my way to my bed. I strip from my leggings and tee shirt so I’m only in my underwear, then I climb onto the bed. I’m not sure how successful I’ll be, but if this goes to plan, I can strengthen our connection so that we’ll be merged deeper and he’ll more or less be mine.

This isn’t about being a couple, it’s something much stronger.

I lay back on the bed and run my hands over my thighs, belly and up to my breasts, enjoying the softness of my skin and the firmness of my nipples under my palms. Focusing on Don’s arousal, I start to rub myself over my underwear. I start at my clit, feeling a warm tingle spread through my pussy. The lace is slightly coarse on my fingers while I feel fleshy and hot underneath, the contrast excites me more.

I can feel him touching himself, stroking his cock with my image in his mind. I move my fingers down and start to rub them where my hole is, the fabric is wet from my excitement.

Really wet.

I feel a warm aching sensation focused mostly between my legs and spreading up all through my body as I tease myself. Hooking my fingers around the waistband of my underwear, I peel them off and pull them down my thighs, feeling the fabric against my stirred, sensitive skin. The frustration involved in Don’s arousal is turning me on more, the mix is invigorating! The more emotion I make him feel towards me combined with his arousal, the more we merge.

Now, completely naked and incredibly turned on, I waste no time. I stroke my clit, enjoying the velvety feeling as I glide against the hood, before pressing harder and immediately feeling pleasure shoot through my body. I take some of the juices from my entrance, then return to my clit, rubbing in circles, and remember how his mouth felt, the warmth and wetness of his soft, skilled tongue.

He’s so hard for me now.

After rubbing myself for a while, I glide my fingers between my swollen labia and take a moment to circle my hole as juice trickles out of me. I roll over onto my knees, grab my pillow and straddle it, I then move my hand between my body and pillow and slide my fingers into my hot, slippery flesh. My pussy embraces my fingers as I explore in there, finding my G-spot, encircling it with my fingertips, and with the pillow pressing me deeper inside of myself.

I hit exactly where I need with ease, feeling a prickling burst of pleasure rushing through my flesh.

Without even summoning them, images flash in my mind. The images vary for a while, as if my mind is out of control, testing different ideas and trying to settle on one. Then, I see a clearer image of myself, arse up, head pressed down into the bed, arms twisted and bound behind my back, and my legs are spread, ankles tied to each bottom bed post. I’m unable to do anything but squirm my hips as Donovan slips into me from behind, pounding into me, the smooth, hard head of his cock hitting my G-Spot over and over and I’m compelled to do nothing but accept the pleasure he gives me.

It hits me that this must be what he’s imagining! I’ve never seen the images in a guy’s thoughts before now, it’s always just been the strength of their arousal and general ideas of what they want to do. Enjoyably surprised, I finger myself harder, my palm pushing closer against my clit as I fuck myself eagerly.

I moan as I ride my fingers, the fabric of the pillow stroking the skin of my inner thighs as I grind my hips. My hole is embracing my fingers, feeling them excite that sweet spot, I feel his pleasure building, a sense of sadism as he pulls my head back by my hair and uses me in his mind. I focus on sending my ripples of pleasure into him too, coaxing him pleadingly.

“Yes, Don,” I whisper, “dirtier, please.”

I see us drenched in lube, he pops out of my pussy and enters my arse hole instead, and at that I swear I can feel a tingle in my butt hole. I’ve never had someone there before. I’m enjoying myself thoroughly and finding the degenerate indulgence in his thoughts so damn fun. This guy is dirtier than I thought, it’s incredible! He has a creativity in his sexuality that I haven’t found in any guy I’ve grown close to before.

I wonder if this is how he would have fucked me if he could have? The simple restraints he had me in that day could have been nothing to him.

Somehow, I know that I’ve brought his innermost sexual urges to the center. Yes, this is good.

In his thoughts, he comes round to the front of me, making me take his cock in my mouth and fucking my face. It’s then that I feel his orgasm bursting through his thoughts, mine shooting through the surface too as I moan and squirm on my squeaking bed. His thoughts almost glitch statically as they become coated with his pleasure. I imagine how his warm member must feel in his hand as he comes, then imagine it in my mouth, crying out his name, throbbing and spasming in bliss with him.

I collapse down and slip my come-drenched fingers out of myself. Lying down, sweating slightly and still straddling the pillow, my abdomen rises and falls rapidly as I try to catch my breath. I lick my fingers clean, knowing I would sure as hell be making him do it if he was here. I lie here, basking in the afterglow as the comforting warmth of it caresses my body. Tonight, something has definitely changed, a good and favorable change.

Donovan is mine.

***

Donovan

I wake up the next morning to blue tit birdsong and Circe meowing and pawing at my face. Daylight behind my curtains illuminates the dark room with a warm glow. I can’t remember my dreams.

I’m under the duvet, warm and cosy, I feel much better—my body, my mood, everything. Katiya is the first thing that comes to mind, and the only thing I want to think about. I feel a warmth spreading through me at the thought of her, and I realise a newfound affection for her, somehow.

I reach out and ruffle Circe’s fur, then get out of bed. I’m eager to get some food in her bowl so I can have some time to myself to do some thinking.

After feeding the cat, using the toilet, and brushing my teeth, I crawl back into bed. I imagine Katiya lying beside me, and somehow this feels natural. Actually, she should be here.

Last night I felt confused, upset, angry, and rejected, today, I feel like I was wrong. There’s something more to this and I need to figure it out. Katiya contacted me for a reason that is still unknown to me, she spent time growing close to me, she took something from me that day that has changed things forever, and I feel compelled to speak to her, to have her in my life.

I take my phone from my bedside table and type out a message to her.

“Hey.”

I press send.

The message is shown as read almost immediately.

“Hey, how are you?” it reads.

I need to hear what she has to say, and I know there is a lot she must tell me.

THE END