Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Drowning in Lust

The creature is more alive than ever.

She is screaming inside my head. Bellowing. Crying to be let out.

I rush to the bathroom and shut the door. I have to calm her. I have to calm myself.

I start the bath and pace back and forth until it fills. My body has an ache deeper, hungrier than I have ever experienced.

I don’t know what has created this, where this has come from, but I have to control it before I lose myself and drive half this world mad.

I clamber in the bath and submerge my head fully. I need this water to drown out whatever I am about to do. I am afraid of what noises I might make, that I might make the same one from my dream.

Because to do that would be my death.

My hands are moving fast, and my body is writhing. I bring myself up to climax and I scream as the oxygen bubbles escape my mouth and float to the surface.

But it’s not enough. It barely scratches the surface of what I need.

The creature is still writhing, screaming. She’s running wild inside of me, and I start again, slower, hoping that if I tease myself for long enough, then maybe the release will be big enough to sate my needs.

My fingers are thrusting inside slowly, deeply. I pull them out, millimeter by millimeter. My thumb is on my clit, flicking it over and over, and I groan, I shake, I thrash.

I need this.

I need this release.

I let the creature out, just a little, just a tiny bit, and she takes control.

She grabs my breast, squeezes my nipple, twirls it. She caresses my skin with one hand while the other pleasures me over and over.

I don’t know how long I lie here, in this water, masturbating myself, making myself cum again and again and again, but eventually, after days, I feel my body start to ease and soften.

I pull the plug and climb out.

My legs are shaking. My stomach is rumbling with hunger, and something about it tells me I haven’t eaten in a long while.

But I have done it. I have kept my sanity, my control, and though I can still hear the echo of that sound, it no longer haunts me. It’s losing its power.

I grab a robe and wrap it around myself, hoping that there’s food in the sitting room because I am starving.

But as I open the door, I see him. There in my rooms. His eyes meet mine, and that need, that hunger, that fire that is raging inside me is aflame again.

“Kera?” he says softly and I feel my arousal start to pool around me.

I slam the door shut, crying out.

My body is shaking once more and the creature is desperate to be free.

This man will satisfy her more than anything I can do, and we both know it. I slide down against the wood. I can hear him walking toward me.

I can feel him too, his power, his aura, his presence. I feel more of my arousal leaking out just from the effects of it alone.

My body is aching to get to him, touch him, rip his clothes off, and have him rip mine from me too.

“Kera,” he says again.

I whimper from behind the door. Can he smell my arousal? Can he sense what is happening to my body? It feels like he can.

“Let me in,” he says gently.

“I can’t.” I gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m sick,” I state, knowing I don’t sound it, knowing that every cell of my body has never been more alive, more well. Even I can hear the longing, the need in my voice.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“I need you to lock the door,” I say.

“Why?”

“Please. I need you to lock me in,” I cry.

I’m so afraid that my resilience will break. That the creature in me will take over. That I will open this door and devour him.

And, worst of all, that my body will sing.

“It’s okay,” he says. I hear a key turn in the lock. He’s now sitting on the floor. I know it. He’s right here, our bodies separated by just the wood.

I shake my head because it isn’t okay. It is ~anything~ but okay.

We sit for what feels like hours. My body is still racing, my arousal is leaking out, and I know that he can sense it. That he can smell it.

It hangs about us both, and a part of me is surprised that he is able to resist it. That he’s not intoxicated by it and hasn’t wrenched the door open and hasn’t ripped the very clothes from me.

It’s dark now. There’s light coming in under the door, and I think he must have lit some candles.

But I sit in the dark.

I am wallowing in it.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, bringing me out of wherever my head has drifted off to.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I’ll put some food by the door,” he says. I hear him get up and then come back. “I’ll wait outside so you can take the tray.”

He unlocks the door and I nod, gulping, because opening this door feels like a risk. He has been here, in this space.

His scent is lingering all around the air, and I’m worried if I breathe it in, without the door to block it, it will send me so far over the edge that I won’t come back.

I hear his footsteps retreat and I wait for a moment. I can’t risk him being there. I can’t risk seeing him.

And then I hold my breath and open the door. I’m still on my knees. I don’t think I can stand if I try.

The tray is there containing what looks like all my meals for the last few days piled up. I drag the tray to me and then shut the door. And I breathe again.

Most of it is cold, but I don’t care. Hot or cold, it tastes delicious. I eat the fresh dish first. It is some sort of curry I think, and the spices remind me of when Helos had taken me into the city.

I fight the fresh wave of arousal, but my body writhes regardless. How can even food do that to me?

I eat some of the veggies next. I pick each carrot up and chew on it. I do the same with the broccoli and then the asparagus.

When I am done, I shift the tray away. There is still enough food on it to keep me full for days. Though I hope that whatever this is, it doesn’t last as long as that.

I hear Helos come back. He locks the door again and then he sits down. I can hear his breaths, low and slow. Perhaps being outside and away from my smell cleared his head.

But now it sounds like he might be struggling.

I don’t say anything. Not a word. I sit there, listening to his breathing, listening to my own. Desperately wanting to touch myself, desperately wanting him to touch me too, and knowing that neither of those things can happen.

“How long have I been here?” I ask when I hear his breathing finally under control.

“Three days,” he replies.

I gulp.

Three days. I’ve been in this state, this arousal for three days? I’ve never had anything like this before. Even when they first caught me, when I first laid my eyes on a human and my hormones and body went into overdrive, it never felt like this.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No,” I say sadly.

It’s a lie. I do need something. I need something so desperately I have had to lock myself in here and force my body into submission.

And what I need is literally right there, on the other side of this door, breathing, talking to me, comforting me, but not doing the one thing I want him to. Touch me.

“I will sit with you as long as it takes,” he says.

I know he means to be reassuring, but it’s not. I need to be touching myself again, I need to be feeding the creature inside me, and I can hardly do that with him right on the other side of the door.

I fall asleep, uncomfortably, and despite my best efforts not to. When I wake, I am not fully alert. Not fully thinking. My feet are moving, my body is doing what it wants, and it’s as if I am sleepwalking.

I run a bath and when it’s barely half full, I submerge myself in it and let the water from the taps continue to pour as if they were a waterfall crashing down over my body.

I am touching myself again. I know Helos is there. On the other side of the locked door. But I don’t care.

It’s not like I haven’t done it before, made myself cum with him right there, and at least this time there is something between us and the water to muffle my cries.

I moan out into the water. My fingers are moving, and though the creature is there, it is my body, my head that’s in charge. I am sliding my fingers up and down, spreading my labia, teasing myself, moaning under the surface.

If Helos can hear, if he knows, then I can’t tell, and when I remember he is there, within touching distance, that turns me on even more.

My eyes are shut. My head is thrown right back, and I imagine him here, in the bath with me, touching me. I imagine it is his hands on me, his lips kissing me, and not the water.

I scream out and my fingers press on, keeping me cuming, keeping me climaxing, and as I let the release rush through my body, I open my eyes, and he is there.

Standing over me.

His face is one of shock. And he’s staring at me through the ripples of water.