Page 33 of Grotesque
A wicked part of me hoped she wouldn’t remember this. I wanted fear to grip her when she woke full of cum, before it lost out against her desire. That dark, alluring desire that I could see, taste, and smell. Pulsing like a bleeding heart.
The shadow expanded as it eased into the manor, looming far larger than any man had the right to be. Whatever it was didn’t walk, but slunk through the house, pooling from one patch of darkness to the next. My stomach curled as the image on the screen fluttered, before the shadow spilled up the stairs, disappearing from view.
The bright light of the computer screen wasn’t doing my raging headache any favors. It felt like I’d been hit by a truck when I woke up this morning. But as the hours ticked by, bits and pieces of the previous evening had trickled to the forefront of my mind.
The shadow on the screen wrapped around the banister, coiling and writhing like a snake. That’s when the screen froze, right before it leeched out of frame.
“Got you,” I breathed.
I finally had something. It had to be him. Unless there was another dark entity in the house.
Chills burst across my skin. “One thing at a time,” I muttered to myself, clicking on the next file, the one belonging to the camera in my bedroom. I skipped the feed forward to a few seconds after the shadow in the hallway had disappeared.
There was a jump in the feed and then the shadow (I assumed it was the same shadow) was looming over me in the shape of a man. Dread leeched into my stomach as I finally saw just how large the thing was. I’d described the stranger as being six foot five, but looking at whatever it was on the screen, he had to be bigger than that.
The light on my nightstand highlighted his silhouette, the lanky form and broad shoulders. But there were no obvious features. I knew his hair was dark, but not if it was black or brown. And his skin, that Isworehad been pale, was as dark as the rest of him. As if he wasn’t a vampire at all, but a phantom made entirely of shadow.
I felt the ghost of claws trailing down my cheek, my neck. A memory?
He was saying something, but the camera hadn’t been rated highly for its audio quality. I turned the volume up and pressed my ear to the speaker.
“Will you let me give you pleasure?” His voice came across as clear as day despite how muffled it had been previously.
There was another sound, more words exchanged, and then: “You can sleep. Allow me to please you in your dreams.”
Holy fuck.
The image blurred before freezing. The timer ticked another five seconds before the picture moved again. My stomach twisted into a thousand knots as the shadow repositioned my body near the edge of the bed, slid down my thighs and very clearly pulled off my underwear.
I could do nothing but watch as he knelt before me while my body writhed lazily beneath him. The image of a dark-haired man looking up at me with glowing red eyes flashed across my mind.
Even with his distorted image I could tell he was eating me out, fucking me with his mouth the way he had the other night. Slick, wet sounds slipped through the crackled audio every now and then. I must have moaned because the sound he made was deeper, almost a growl, when his shadowy hand moved beneath my shirt.
That’s where it froze again. The image remained the same until it skipped, to reveal him standing between my legs. And that’s when the distorted memory revealed itself, of what he had asked me.
“Will you let me give you pleasure?” The words spoken last night came back clear as day. I’d thought I was dreaming, drunk and needy when I’d answered him. That knowledge did not alleviate the chill rushing down my arms, however, when I watched his body jerk between my legs. Nor did it quiet my racing heart when he moved his fingers inside of me before sliding my underwear back into place.
The shadow hovered over me and then slunk across my body. The shape of the man morphed into something larger before it coiled into a dark mass at my side. The image froze. Five, ten, thirteen seconds went by, and it didn’t change. It remained that way until I skipped it forward an hour and saw only myself in bed. He didn’t return after that.
I refreshed the app but every time I tried to rewatch the video it cut out in the same spot, with him curled next to me. I clamped my shaking hands together and fisted them in my lap. I don’t know how long I stared at that image of him frozen beside me.
I trailed my hand between my thighs and carefully slid my fingers beneath my underwear. Wet and tacky. I slipped myfingers inside myself, finding the new wetness that coated me after watching what should have been a living nightmare.
I restarted the video from the moment he entered my bedroom.
I shouldn’t be excited by this. This was the monster that had chased me through my home, blindfolded me, and eaten out my pussy. And I was watching him do it again. While Islept.
Another memory flashed, of a shadowy figure scooping something up and putting it inside of me. I wasn’t brave enough to look for evidence of what that might have been.
“Will you let me give you pleasure?”
I closed my eyes as his voice trickled through the audio.
“You can sleep. Allow me to please you in your dreams.”
I slumped back in my chair as I watched him do exactly that, actively fingering myself now, chasing that same dark thrill. Again, I replayed the video and watched as he brought me to climax. On the fourth watch I was coming along with us, my fingers pressing hard into my clit as I circled it and came undone right there in the middle of the kitchen, gripping the arm of the dining room chair.
No sooner did my orgasm start to fade than my anxiety spiked. I shot up from the chair and slammed my laptop closed.
