The Familiar Ch. 06byblackfire13©
Chapter 6 -- Power
"Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble."
-- John Barrymore
"-We're still short o' all the wood we'll need to get this fuck fixed." Danny beckoned Catherine over to look at the floor in the kitchen -- what of it that was left, after most of it had been ripped up, leaving gaping holes in the floor.
Since she had entered the Bed and Breakfast, the only good news that she had gotten was that the basement of the place only had some minor structural damage that would require that they just be set back an extra month, instead of the three months that they thought it would take. Everything else was just bad.
"How long will it take to get all of the wood?" Catherine asked, rubbing at her temples with her fingers. Was it possible that she felt worse than she did last night, even with the threat of rape over her head?
Danny scratched at his head and looked around at the kitchen thoughtfully. "Weather's bad." Well, duh. "About a week. Don't worry, though, we got other stuff we can focus on while we wait for the materials for the kitchen. 'Cause you managed to give us some idea of what ya'll are wantin' in the foyer, we can get started on that. Before we do, though, we want you to look around and point out what ya'll want done, specifically." Danny gestured vaguely out of the kitchen. "Go find George and show him what's gonna get done, an' he'll tell you if it'll work."
Catherine did just that, yelling in the echoing foyer for George. When he finally did, she was not surprised to find that he was a crotchety old man wearing paint stained work clothes.
Catherine walked from one point to the other in the the foyer, telling the man what she hoped sounded like good ideas and not complete crap. What bothered her was that no matter what she said, the man only quietly nodded, or, on occasion, grunted at what she said. Eventually, when she ran out of things to point out, she awkwardly told the old man good bye, and he walked back towards the hallway on the opposite side of the first floor, where the first floor rooms were.
Once again Catherine got the feeling that she had fulfilled what little role she played, and had been left to her own devices. To go back to the hotel room.
Although she had not wanted to, her eyes instinctively went to the staircase as she stood in the center of the foyer. The more she thought of the ring and all that it meant, the more certain that she grew that this place definitely had something to do with it all. And now...
Looking around for any of the workers, Catherine began to climb the staircase up to the second floor. As she ascended to the floor, she began to feel the gently throbbing headache behind her eyes begin to feel as though it were compressing, before it shot out where she was intently focusing -- the wall to the right of the window.
Something felt as though it had come out of her with a force that left her feeling sick. She thought that she heard something knock, softly, against the wall that she had focused on, but other than that, there was nothing else left of all of the pressure that Catherine had been gathering since she had left the hotel room.
She sighed and reflected on the way that she had been able to focus and had been able to make that penny slide off of the mini fridge earlier. Baby steps, whatever it meant.
As much as it made her stomach twist, she reflected that this recent change could only be attributed to last night. As much as that fact bothered her, she had decided, upon coming straight with herself with the fact that she now possessed some sort of mental powers, that she could try to find out how to make them stronger.
For the first time, she glanced around the corner to look up the staircase that lead up to the third floor and she walked up the stairs. A quick glance up and down the hallway showed Catherine that the only difference on the third floor from the second was that there were some rather creepy looking bed frames that were piled up on the right side of the hallway. With a glance to each new floor that she ascended, Catherine made her way up to the top floor.
As she rounded on the last flight of stairs, she found that at the top of the stairs was a closed door. A creeping feeling started somewhere at her shoulders and spread up to the skin of her scalp as she walked up the door and, hesitating for one moment, threw it open.
The inside of the loft that made up the last floor was a complete, albeit utterly abandoned and almost completely destroyed, apartment. Although she did not know it for a certainty, she felt that this place had been the home of her apparent ancestor.
No furniture was left in the room, which gave Catherine a foreboding feeling, not helped in the least by the effect of the yellowed newspaper that had been stuck to the two windows in the large living area. The place made Catherine feel as though she shouldn't have gone into it. She, somehow, did not belong here.
As she walked up to the windows due a curious part of herself, wanting to see what the view from the top floor must look like, she felt a cold chill cross her body. As she shivered and drew her coat closer to her body, she remembered the analogy about the feeling you get whenever someone or something walks across your grave.
She was pulling those newspapers loose from the windows -- the bizarre act of that fat realtor thirty years ago. He had managed to make that idiot trip on his way down the stairs, and after that, he had not returned to the Bed and Breakfast. Well, until very recently, that man had been the last person with any legitimate reason to go into the building.
Seeing her in that room -- pale and shaking from the cold and, more than likely, her body's unconscious reaction to recognizing his presence -- brought him back to older times. For a moment, he could have believed that the girl under the thick coat (she could not classify as a woman, as naïve and how full she was of false bravado) was the one who gave him life.
Then took away everything that made him feel alive.
The comparison made Him angrier than he already felt. He was well aware, as he watched her gingerly peeling those papers loose from the window glass, that he had fucked up.
The cardinal thing in the traditional sense was the process of giving semen, which their bodies turned into something new and powerful. To him, what he had done was tantamount to dangling the keys to her cell just an arm's length out of reach. Although she may not be able to do it -- and this was likely, if she was unaware of its existence -- it would be only a few more steps, if she were to have the upper hand in this.
She had gotten the best of him -- it was no real surprise to him, really, that a woman -- any woman -- could get the upper hand on him in the midst of sex. Nothing could be done, save to prepare for the next time.
Leaning back against the door frame, He gave her body a cold sweep with his eyes, and came once again to the conclusion that the last thing he wanted was to give over power -- to her.
One good thing to come of what happened last night was that he had gained a tether into the physical world, as she had gained a taste of Power -- and, as luck would have it, it was in this room that his ability to interact with the human realm was at its strongest.
As luck would have it.
Something dark swept across His features, as he leaned over so that he could push the opened door shut.
As she glanced down at the front of the building through what ruined paper that she could peel off of the glass of the window, Catherine felt her blood freeze as she heard the sound of the room's door slamming shut.
Even as she began to turn around, an excuse was already in her mind. It was probably just the wind-
As she turned around to look at the door, she saw it -- him -- out of the corner of her eye, leaning lazily to the right of the door's frame. When she turned to look at him full-on, the image of him disappeared.
Memories of the night before snapped her body immediately into fight or flight mode, and she began to dart her eyes all over the dilapidated apartment, hoping that there was any other way out of the apartment that was not the door she had come in. Quickly realizing the obvious -- that there was no other way out of this large room, besides through that door -- she straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, and, in the most commanding voice that she could manage, said, "You need to leave me alone. You're just a -- a -- ghost or something, and I could go and get you exorcized so fast that it'd make your ugly head spin!"
Instead of any sort of a voice, it was silence that answered her. Somehow, the pure silence of the empty apartment frightened Catherine more than the sound of his self-congratulatory voice ever could. The cat and mouse part was over, she could sense, and unless she got out of the room, she could sense that something was building in that room...
She bolted for the door, praying that he was indeed only trying to frighten her. Her hand almost connected to the door knob before some unseen, massive arm reached under her, and, in one clean movement, dropped her two good feet from where she had stood before.
"Let me go-"
Unless they think to look outside to see your car, Scratch said in her head in a voice that was worryingly stronger than it had been yesterday. They'll likely think that you've left.
She felt herself being picked up by two large, unseen hands. "Oh God, let me -"
No letting. No; not for you. Scratch sighed, and she felt his breath on her cheek, each breath spreading out so that it warmed the right side of her face. You are a foolish little -- little -- sheep. And now you don't need to fall asleep for me to do what I do to you. Catherine felt a hand go to the zipper on her coat, and she choked out a, "No!" as she felt the hand pulling the coat loose from her body. Stop me now if you can; stop me from taking off your coat, then the rest of your clothing... And the rest of the movements stopped, but Catherine could feel his presence, his body, pressing up against hers. Already feeling herself cry a little, Catherine tried to tug loose of the unseen body, only to find that something unspeakably stronger than herself were holding her without any difficulty, as she flailed.
What chance did you think you had against me? I could fuck you right here, if I wanted to. He pressed himself, hard, against her, and pulled her coat loose of her body. Yell, and even if those men could hear you seven stories up, I could be gone the second they come through that door - he leaned in and nuzzled his lips against her ear, causing Catherine to nearly jump in surprise. - and you'd be left, naked, in this room. Or would you like it? Hands on her shirt, and he pulled away for a moment as he pulled it off of her body before he began to work at her bra. Would you like it, like how you loved showing your breasts -- as quickly as he had the bra off, Scratch was holding the flesh of her small breasts in his oversized hands. Pleasured quickened in her abdomen as her nipples, hardened by the cold, pressed into his palms. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from letting out a breathy little moan at the touch. His smell, too, was starting to affect her reasoning. - to all of those men?
Forcing herself to think straight, Catherine choked out, "No, please, don't do that..."
Scratch tightened his forefingers and thumbs on the tips of her nipples, then, gently, pinched them. Catherine had to try to control her own squirming.
If you're comforted by the thought that I couldn't do anything more to you than what has already been done, know this; a hand escaped one of her breasts to go down, where Scratch pulled the button and the zipper loose on her jeans, before he pulled them down her legs in one quick, hard flick. The hand immediately went for the spot between her legs, one large finger protruding through soft flesh. Nothing, and I mean nothing that we did as you dreamed was done to your physical body.
To her shock, as she listened to him, Catherine felt herself let out a horny moan before she could stop herself. As she froze, horrified to betray what she was getting out of his attention, she felt Scratch go completely still. After one long moment, she heard him say, in a voice that seemed to have, somehow, dropped its earlier velvet-over-steel nature, What was that? Before Catherine could think of any way to respond, his voice returned to its earlier intimidating nature, as he said, You did enjoy me, every time we were together. Why, you came just by me -- And the finger, pressed, hard, inside of her, thrust up in one clean motion, and she felt him slide inside of her. - touching you.
Another moan, and her fear began to become very seriously drowned in her own horniness. No, no more like this, she thought to herself, trying, desperately, to remember why she could not do this.
She felt herself fall back against him as her eyes shut and she felt her legs spread themselves further apart.
He had not considered before that her desire for him, asleep, would fully carry over into her body, fully awake, accepting him like this. Unlike the previous encounters that he had with her, he forced himself to disregard the wonderfully, horrible novel reaction that her body had to his attention. To his shame, a shadow of his old self reacted to her squirming against him. Pleasuring her, he tried to remind himself, was not the point here.
And although he tried his best to disregard it, his penis reacted to her as though it recognized her body as its rightful plaything, and turned his thoughts towards hot sex. Hot sex, he reminded himself, he could not fulfill right now, even while in the place where his physical form was strongest.
Trying to focus, He shook his head, trying to displace that drunken, needing feeling from his mind as he tried to recall what he wanted to say. Oh, but the way she allowed him to touch her drove everything in his instincts into a boil.
She wants and so I provide. That disgusting adage that had made him an undignified, crawling shadow of himself brought him back to sanity and made him regard the way her ass practically clung to his stiffened erection with cold disregard.
"Remember -- I make all of this as pleasurable to you as I wish."
She moaned, and he wondered, faintly and with hidden surprise, if she had heard him. After a pause, she shook her head and moaned, "Noooo."
"I could, right now, if I wanted to." He lied smoothly. Without meaning to, his eyes traveled down to look at her little breasts, which heaved and moved with each of the ragged breaths that she dragged in and out of her lungs.
"Please what?" He had nearly forgotten his entire reason for doing this. Surely he had already made his point. If so, why was he continuing to do this?
"Oh please, just fuck me or let me go." Catherine gasped out.
Before he let go of her, as though she were on fire, His hands had froze on the parts of her warm body as though they were permanently stuck there. He opened his mouth, wanting -- needing -- to say something, but had no idea what to say.
How could this have happened? He had learned, from the culture in the area, what people were apt to be most frightened of -- horned, massive men were supposedly the most loathsome of forms to the people of the local culture. He must look absolutely frightening to this virginal girl, and although he was aware of the fact that her body would naturally react to his smell, he did nothing but try to use his body as a tool of intimidation.
After a moment, in which he had stopped touching her, Catherine seemed to suddenly realize what she was doing. After a beat, she shot down to the ground as she tried to gather her clothing up, trying to put everything on in one rush as He watched her in a state of frozen surprise.
As he opened his mouth, thinking to say, "What do you think you're doing," he heard a voice coming up from behind the door to the apartment.
"Hey! Are you up there, Miz Mollinson?"
As she hurried to snap her bra back on, Catherine recognized the voice coming from the stairs as Danny's, and she felt a rush of horror and relief shoot through her, for the moment blotting out the desire that still lingered, heavy, in her body.
"Yeah -- yes, I'm in here, Danny," Catherine yelled, struggling to pull the shirt over her and thrusting her arms through the sleeves.
"We saw yer car parked out back, we didn't want something to fall on your, or you to get trapped somewhere," He laughed. He was at the door now, and she could sense his hand at the door knob, turning it. "last thing we need is someone to get injured in here."
As she turned to grab her coat, she saw, once more, out of the corner of her eye, what appeared for a moment to be Scratch, standing in an intimidating pose, his legs spread and his arms crossed over his large chest. Even in that brief flash, her eyes went down and lingered on the sight of the large limb that bobbed in one upwards movement. Her mind flooded with images of tongue-kissing it, and she knew that she did not need to see the look on Scratch's face to know that he was either smirking or grinning at her.
As she pulled the coat on and zipped it up, Danny came into the room. As he saw he zipping the thing all the way up, he gave her an odd look and told her that she shouldn't wander too far, with nobody with her.
Catherine nodded a bit too hard and wondered if that look on his face had something to do with a distinct scent of sex that was coming from her body, as she followed him down the stairs.
She could practically feel his eyes burning holes in the back of her head as she left.