Page 58 of Marked By Feral Monsters
I cry. He undoes the handcuffs binding my wrists.
I cry, he gets me some water to drink.
I cry, he lifts me up and carries me to the bathroom.
Zair, this big, monstrous beast, lathers soap bubbles, gently washing me with clawed fingers.
He bathes me, and I cry.
That deep hum vibrates through me, calming my nervous system. My heart rate slows. My quick, panting breaths soften to equal intakes.
"Tilt your head, Calista," he mutters softly. And I do, allowing him to wash my hair. I can't help it; the gentleness, with this care feeling better than anything so far, I start crying again.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, my voice cracks, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I wasn't expecting—"
Any of that. I wasn't expectinganyof that. I let go. Completely. And now I feel like I'm not holding on to anything. The tears are still streaming, but Zair pauses washing my hair and lifts me closer, hugging me into his warm body.
His gigantic hands cradle me while he shushes me in soothing tones. "It's okay to let go, Calista. I'm here to hold it all for you. Just let go."
That he sounds so sincere would make Calista from this morning scoff and flail for control, to hold on tighter.
This Calista just doesn't have it in her. So I let go. It feels…
It feels… scary.
But safe.
Zair dries me off and carries me to the living room, dropping me off on the couch. He disappears for a few minutes, and when I hear a closet door open, I realize he's changing the bedsheets.
Since I squirted all over them and they're fucking soaked with sweat and cum, that's probably for the best.
He returns a few minutes later.
Aftercare, I realize. It was in the paperwork.
He digs through my cupboards and makes me a snack. I just watch him, wide-eyed, and a little confused, while this big,hulking beast of a man—a monster—pours me a glass of wine, then joins me on the couch. It's the middle of the night.
"I have to work tomorrow."
"You're not working tomorrow."
"Oh."
He sighs, reaches down and grabs the TV remote, clicking it on, a laugh-track filling the silence of the apartment. "You're the boss, right? You can call out."
He's right, of course, but I never call out. I never do anything like this. Hiring an escort… I wince, the reminder that he's being paid to be here with me making me stiffen in his arms.
As if he can read my thoughts, he adds, "I'm not ready to let you go. That was… Calista, I..." Zair trails off, shaking his head, like he can't put his thoughts into words. He's staring again, with that eye-widening look of surprise. His eyes are big and brown, soft and smiling, a generous emotion filling them. He tilts his head, his horn gently pressing against the crown of my head.
Smiling, Zair tucks me under his arm, then changes the subject. "Now, we've tried consensual non-consent and breaking in. I was too gentle with you, though, so we could do that again. And you had a few other things on your list."
That was gentle?
Zair flips through the channels, taking sips of wine from my glass, relaxed as can be, and keeps muttering to me, to himself.
"You checked off a lot of boxes, actually. We'll experiment some more with sensory deprivation and impact play. Are you feeling okay, by the way?"
I nod. Words escape me.
