Voracious

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.

***

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 realise 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.

***

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 shrivelled 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 recognise as a mix of curiosity and disproval, 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 apologising 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.

***

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 pretence 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 realising. 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 arsehole. She really did make the most out of masturbation.

I warm and harden between my thighs.

I look at her picture, her eyes. Oceanic colours 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 headshot, 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.

***

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.