The Familiar Ch. 05byblackfire13©
Chapter 5: Control
"Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power."
--- Oscar Wilde
Catherine was standing in front of a creature who introduced himself to her as Scratch -- who, incidentally, looked as though he could be the most handsome man that she had ever seen. His face was inhumanly beautiful, and just the thought of what he intended to do sent her mind into a panic.
She wanted to speak, as she looked up at his grin, and realized, then, that she had never noticed before that his canines seemed longer, sharper, than a normal human's. His smile seemed to seethe with corrupt, raw sexuality, and looking at it, Catherine found that she could not think of a single word that she could say to this man, his smile or his body. She had the feeling, after everything that he had done to her, that reasoning and pity were beyond his comprehension.
He continued to stare, mercilessly, into her eyes, as he engulfed her small hand in his own and carried it down until he had her hand wrapped around the beginning of his thick shaft, just beneath the mass of its head. She hadn't actually held the thing before then; she had felt the soft, hot skin on the back of her hands, but until now, she had never cupped it. God, weren't these supposed to be made of flesh?
In her wonderment over the weight and the hardness of what she held, her hand had begun to drift ever so slowly down it. She felt shocked, to her very core, when she heard Scratch let out a ragged groan. Unaware, at first, that she was doing it, she began to rub the central part of his cock up and down, then nearly jerked her hand off of it when she realized what she had been doing. Before she could fully rip her hand away, his came down, capturing not just the one hand that had been holding onto his erection, but also her other hand, as he met her wide eyed gaze with his. Something started to burn inside of Catherine, when her gaze drifted from those dark eyes to see the slow, steady panting that puffed out of his lips and made his chest rise and fall, rapidly.
Catherine, who always had a feeling of general powerlessness casting a dark shadow over every part of her life, felt something inside of her that she had never before, truly, felt. In one moment, she saw the very exact connection between her touch, and the struggle that Scratch had to control his own body.
Channeling both what she naively thought were tricks she learned from the porn she had watched, as well as deeply imbedded instinct, she continued to stare up at Scratch's handsome face as she gently trailed, gripped and suctioned her hands over his erection. As his face spread into a blush, and the hardness in his eyes began to, ever so subtly, waver, Catherine soon managed to avoid looking down at his massive penis and losing her will. Staring into Scratch's face and seeing his strength and pride ebbing away into acceptance emboldened Catherine.
When she began to feel as though her hands were beginning to chafe the shaft, a bit of her earlier fear returned to her, as she felt indecisive over what, if anything, she should do next. A flicker of his earlier smile returned to Scratch's lips, and Catherine realized, in an instant, that she could not afford to give back a piece of whatever she was gaining by doing what she was doing.
Catherine shot down to her knees and, softly, first pressed her lips against the unbelievably massive head of Scratch's penis and then snaked her tongue out. She heard him gasp.
It was the first time that she had tasted any part of his skin, and it sent a shudder through her body. No longer thinking consciously as she did it, she felt her hands reach up to encircle around base of his penis as her mouth opened around the head to suck it in.
She tried to swallow as much of the thick, straining flesh as much as she could in one go, but when she quickly tried to dislodge his cock from her throat, she felt a large hand press against the back of her head, pushing her further forward, nearly choking her. After five seconds, Scratch stopped pushing her head forward, and Catherine pulled her mouth loose of his cock, taking in long, ragged breaths.
"You're certainly eager." Scratch said, sounding as though he was having trouble getting enough air to breath, in between long shudders.
Staring at the tip of Scratch's penis, Catherine watched as a small dribble of pre cum came out and began a lazy trickle down the monstrously thick, bulbous mushroom head. Leaning slowly forward, she slipped her tongue over the drop and dragged her tongue over the plump flesh of his cock head, following the path that the drop had come from.
In a blink, Catherine felt herself being tossed back onto the bed, and, following the quick fall that took the breath from her lungs, she felt Scratch's large hands roughly pulling, and in some cases, ripping her clothing loose from her body. When he finished, all that she wore was her white bra.
And then it felt as though Catherine had been walking on a high wire and had suddenly looked down. Looking up into the still face of the creature who pinned her, she felt herself let out a scream. Scratch smiled, and it was both horrible and wonderful -- and Catherine knew that whatever she had afforded herself, she had just lost in a moment of panic.
She seemed to be watching from a distance outside of herself as Scratch spread her open without a single protest, and, with almost cruel slowness, began to push himself inside of her. As his head entered her fully, Catherine felt herself seem to reawaken, and she began to struggle, attempting to extricate him from her. As soon as he sensed her struggling, Scratch grabbed onto her thighs with bruising strength to keep her still as he pushed more inside of her.
The pain was fire, spreading her inside further than she previously believed that she wad capable of. As she opened her mouth in a choked cry, Scratch bent down so that his mouth was pressed to her ear, and, as more of him pressed inside of her, he began to chant something in a strange language that frightened Catherine deeply. As he pushed more inside of her, his voice seemed to take on a quality that suggested that he was struggling to keep up his chanting, panting some of the words out instead of whispering them clearly.
At some point, Catherine realized that her own voice had joined his, and her mouth moved and slid around the same language that he had spoke to her in. Without realizing it, in the fog of fear and pain, Scratch had managed to slide as much of himself inside of her as he could fit, and in one slow, fluid motion, he was sliding out of her.
Catherine's relief at having the hot, massive flesh outside of her body was momentary, as her and Scratch's chanting became louder, and she saw his body jerk towards her, and suddenly he was filling her past capacity anew. As he completely filled her, he broke off his chanting to suddenly shout, his body going stiff on top of hers, and with the chanting gone, Catherine suddenly and for no imaginable reasons became acutely aware of the nearly tearing pain that came with the massive penis buried deep inside of her.
As she began to cry at the pain, she suddenly heard Scratch yelling over her crying in the same chant that he had been speaking in before, and just like that, the pain dulled into vagueness. As be began to remove himself, again, from her suction, she realized that under the dulled pain that she began to feel a pretty intensely-growing pleasure radiating from the inner flesh that still clung to his cock. When he fully removed himself, and was poised to push himself back inside of her, Catherine had the sudden realization that she was beginning, whether she liked it or not, to experience the same pleasure that caused the large creature atop her to struggle with his chant.
He pushed back inside of her, and a ripple erupted from all of the pleasure centers inside of her, and she felt herself clench around Scratch, and the ripple of pleasure carried back to Scratch, as he tossed his head back and howled. As his chant ceased, Catherine had to catch her breath as she felt a wave of pain come up to meet the pleasure that shook the lower part of her body.
For a moment, her eyes focused on the straining muscles that knit and unknit themselves loose in his shoulders as he pulled himself loose of her body, and, in a voice that sounded as though it resonated from somewhere deep in his chest, Scratch resumed his earlier chant, his voice reminding her of the noise of great rocks sliding against another. As he pushed himself back inside of her, she felt as though her body was somehow being filled with the words that he chanted as well. Something akin to horror struck her when she felt as though something inside of her responded, in a soft and muffled voice, back to his chanting.
After Catherine had assured herself that he had not heard whatever she had inside of herself (how could he?), she felt Scratch grow suddenly still on top of her. After a moment, he rose his head, until he stared deep into her own eyes, looking as though he were searching for something in her face. His voice never fully stopped its chanting, but as he looked at her, his voice had shrunk to a soft murmur. After a pause, he fully extricated himself loose from her, laying his penis lazily against her stomach. Even after all that had just happened. Catherine was still shocked at the size and weight of it.
"Tell me true, and tell me, now," Scratch suddenly said. "do you know of the language I spoke to you in?"
Catherine's mind spun as she tried to decide the best way to answer him. As she fought for what she should say to him, she felt Scratch's thick cock spurt a large amount of hot liquid just below her rib cage. "I -- I don't know the language you were talking in, earlier."
Scratch sighed and pushed himself up and partially off of her, paused, then looked down at her stomach. In one fluid motion, he lowered two of his large fingers to brush the liquid that his cock had pumped onto her, and, as he stared at her with an implacable look in his eyes, he brought the fingers to Catherine's parted lips and pushed his fingers inside, rubbing them against her tongue. As he removed his fingers, wet with her saliva, from her mouth, Scratch said, "I thought you knew better than to lie to me. I am newly disappointed in you."
Catherine sensed that beyond the rape (oh, but was it rape when you still felt a residual longing, and when you forgot who that boy with kind eyes and long hair was?), there was something yet more dangerous being promised in Scratch's implacable voice. Frightened, all that Catherine could do was shake in fear of what was to come next, and murmur, "No.", softly under her breath.
"Oh no," Scratch said with a loud sigh, moving so that he was positioning himself to press his cock back inside of her, and, with one effortless push, he entered her anew. "you speak to me now, and recognized what I said, in the old tongue. Now," He winced, shuddered, and began to slowly thrust his way in and out of Catherine, and she felt herself high on an itching desire to meet his thrusts with a meet of her hips. Her hands reached down to grab onto his hips, and Scratch looked at her hands for a moment before raising his eyes to hers. "I believe that the preparation rite has settled in, and your body is able to -" His strong voice faltered, and he thrust, harder, into her, and somewhere, deep inside of her, Catherine felt something embrace something besides the enormous member inside of her that should have sent tearing pain wracking her body. She reached up, with no hesitation, to grab, hard, onto his shoulders.
Somewhere in between his thrusting and loud moaning, Catherine saw Scratch raise his eyes to look into hers, and she recognized the look of panic that flashed for just one moment in them. It was, after all, a feeling that she herself experienced, and experienced often. The understanding, that she had come so close to grasping earlier but had lost in a flush of fear, returned with hot inspiration.
Somehow that enabled her to look past her intense fear of him, and she raised her head so that she pressed her face into his neck. She more felt, in the thick, strained cords that lay on the left side of his neck, than heard him moan, "Noooo." Somewhere, pressed against his neck, she felt something threaten to throw apart every fabric of her sense of being and sanity, and only when she reached the summit of the feeling did she realize that she was cumming, and she was screaming wordlessly over Scratch chanting the word, "No," over and over.
And then she felt as he tried to pull himself loose of her, and, instinctively, she closed her thighs as tightly as she felt him weakly struggle. He cried out, "Noooo," louder this time, and then his voice turned into something else, as he convulsed and let out the most inhuman moan that Catherine had ever heard in her life. For a moment, hazy in a feeling that she wished never would end, she believed that she had, somehow, through the most unimaginable sex act that she could ever imagine taking part in, managed to turn luck in her favor over the monster above her. Then she felt the heat that built up inside of her steadily, and realized that he was ejaculating inside of her.
Trying to summon up all of her strength, Catherine tried to push him from off of her, and heard Scratch moan, "Noooo," again, and, for the first time since she had heard him say it, she agreed with his dismay. Instead of trying to struggle off of her, Scratch pressed down on her with immense strength that should have hurt Catherine, and choked out loud gasps.
And then Catherine believed that she was watching as Scratch, the hotel room and, indeed, all of Rock Garden, Idaho, fell away from her, and she floated up and towards the surface of some great body of water. Below her was the utterly dark place that she knew too well, where, circling in a frenzy, were the creatures who existed when the first oceans were awake with life. She could not look down at them, or she would lose her will, and oh, she wanted to reach the surface more than she wanted to live...
Her arm shot up to feel the wind of the surface, and she became aware, as she opened her eyes, that she was not floating on the surface of some ocean, but was, instead, lying partially naked on the bed in her hotel room.
As she tried to rise her mind from its rest, she jerked awake when she saw Scratch, who sat facing away from her on the far end of the bed, hunched over so that it looked as though he were resting his elbow on his knees. The thought -- to try to get to her feet so that she could escape -- came and went with the understanding that she could not escape him now. She felt as though her body was weak and will-less.
"Save your worries for another time, dearest," Scratch said in a voice that was smooth as smoke, the bitter sarcasm buried so deep in it that it was near-impossible to sense. Near-impossible, but still perceivable. "the boogeyman is busy thinking about how best to torment you when you least expect it."
A thousand thoughts fluttered past the outstretched hand that attempted to grasp them in turn, before finally grasping one. "Am I -- are we -- still dreaming?"
Tired, but with the same almost sinister edge to it that his voice seemed always to possess, Scratch said, "Near every moment is a waking one for me. Oh, but you do dream vividly." And then he muttered, so low that Catherine almost did not catch it, "I could not have imagined how brightly you dream."
"What are you?"
Scratch was so still and quiet for so long that Catherine almost thought that he was never going to speak. Then, finally, he said, in a hard voice, "Although I find myself wondering what to do, I am by no means done with you. I think you need to squirm for a while longer. Squirm, and wonder what I am and what I mean to you, until I am ready to reveal this knowledge to you."
Indignation, finally, then. "You -- tell me what you are; you did what you wanted to me!" Even in the state she was in, Catherine could remember every nuance of their earlier intimacy.
Scratch sighed, a heavy sound that came from deep in his chest. "You are in no position to order. Or to barter. I'll give you some advice, and if you are as smart as you put on, you'll follow it unless you relish the idea of them finding you dead in this bed one morning from a, uh, particularly intense nightmare." He paused. And the weight of the silence seemed to bear down in full on Catherine's chest. "You don't have nearly the amount of tenacity -- or time -- that I have to fight me. Give up, do what I want."
"And what do you want?"
A downright diabolic chuckle. "Taking this playing beyond the realm of harmless -- well, nearly harmless."
"Playing? Playing?!" Catherine shouted, forcing herself to try to move so that she could sit up on the bed. "You raped me!"
Scratch sighed once more and shook his head. "You make it sound as though this is some sort of a human relationship. No, this is more complicated than you could imagine -- ah, but that's hardly important. I'm sure that you are going to wake, any moment now.
"Bastard!" She spat out, angrily.
And then finally Scratch turned around, revealing his utterly -- infuriatingly - calm features. "Hush, now. Would you rather I give you none of that narcissistic hope that you humans always possess, even when they know what they truly face? Yes, I can see it in your eyes," His lips turned in an awful, frightening smile. "your anger. Funny, though, because when you get the chance to see me, your mouth waters at the sight. How does it feel enjoy a hate fuck as thoroughly as you obviously did?"
And then her eyes blurred with tears as a hopeless feeling settled in her throat, which made her voice come out in a strangled croak. "Why do you hate me?"
She sat there, wiping tears out of her eyes, waiting for an answer, before she realized that she was no longer sitting up on the bed, but was, instead, lying down on it. She quickly realized that she was not only waking up from sleeping on the bed, but she was also fully clothed and curled up against her laptop.
As she unfixed herself from the laptop, she quickly realized why she must have wound herself around the thing, as the cold in the room seemed to bite at her skin as she gained full consciousness.
The way she felt reminded her of the night she had gotten drunk, that one time, with her roommate -- pathetic, cold, aching and somehow, immeasurably lonely. As she struggled to her feet, she realized that she was still wearing the ring, and, beginning to cry, she wrenched the ring off and threw it across the room. Somehow satisfied, Catherine went into the bathroom and began to shower, wanting the water to burn away the block of ice in her chest and that hollow feeling that told her that as dark and frightening as his presence was, Scratch had at least been someone that she could speak to in personal terms. She had not been able to speak anyone outside of small talk or assurances that she would try her hardest to make school work for years now.
And then, as she reached down to turn the water coming out of the shower head off, she felt the water turn itself off and her blood froze hard in her veins.
For a moment, all she could do was stare at the hot and cold water taps, as she envisioned Scratch turning them off. No, some instinct told her suddenly. this is not him. As she waited for him to make himself known, she felt an insane urge over take her reasoning, and she stared down at the taps, and, with a timidly shaking hand, she motioned towards them, in her mind the intention to turn them back on a focused thought.