Page 68 of Marked By Feral Monsters
I was determined to hate her. To scare her away. A relation to the woman who terrorized me and many others, how could Dina, who looked so much like her kin, be any different?
But in those first few days here, with quiet determination, she moved around the house, cleaning out Greta's junk—our junk, things Greta stole from us—and got rid of it all. Each day, the house felt lighter, brighter. I felt freer.
I didn't know how cathartic it would be, having someone clean out the remnants of Greta's terrorizing reign.
And I watched Dina—with so much tension coiled inside her, she looked ready to pop—swallow down her frustrations, roll up her sleeves, and work through everything this house threw at her. Piles of stuff, strange rooms with cold spots that made evenme uncomfortable, trinkets belonging to the dead, mirrors upon mirrors which reflected more than what was visible.
But she had patience, and just kept going.
It was beautiful.
Andshewas beautiful.
A pin-up straight out of a 50s magazine. Thick curves, hourglass shape. A soft belly, tits and ass that jiggled when she walked. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she walked around the house, unaware I followed her every step.
She fixed and cleaned things and muttered to herself about how much work the house needed, and at one point, questioned her decision to come here. I don't know if she meant it, but the idea of her leaving sent me into a panic. I couldn't let her go, not after everything I'd endured. Dina's arrival brought life back into the house. Shecouldn'tleave. I wouldn't let her.
I hadn't planned on making her come. But when I stood over her, watching her sleep, something shifted inside me.
I went from wanting her gone, to hoping she'd stick around, to wishing I could wipe that sad look off her face.
She struggled with it at first—me, touching her. She didn't believe I was really here. But I have ways of making myself known. It's exhausting, and sometimes I exert too much, and disappear for a while. I fall into some in-between place: an empty void that's as terrifying as being killed and chopped up into small pieces, then buried beneath a rose garden.
But I had some energy reserved, and I used it all on her.
Dina came so sweetly for me, and for the first time since she arrived, she began to relax. And over the next few months, we fell into a rhythm. Eventually, she no longer jumped in surprise when I kissed her or wrapped my arms around her in a hug.
If only she could hear me. See me. Touch me back.
I tug at one of her loose strands and trace my fingers along her neck. She smirks and leans into my cold embrace, but keepstyping on her computer. I know Dina needs to work to save up enough money to make this house more habitable. Like fixing the wiring, so she could have better internet.
But I want her attention.
Her jaw tics when I don't stop, but she doesn't tell me no. So I keep touching. The benefit of being non-corporeal is that it doesn't matter if she's wearing clothes. My cold caress trails to her collarbone. I squeeze her breast, flicking her pointed nipple through her shirt, making her shiver.
"I'm working," she sighs. But it's hardly a rejection. So I don't stop until she closes the laptop and pushes away from the table.
"Dammit, Eric." She looks up at the ceiling and sighs. When her shoulders shake with laughter, her tits bounce a little. It's distracting.
"God, you're a menace. I wish…" she starts, looking not directly at me, but to the side. She doesn't know where I'm standing.
I ignore the pinch in her expression, lips pressed together. Because if I acknowledge it, if I let her dwell, then we both have to think about the fact that this is the only thing I have to offer her.
Her lips are naturally a little red, but when she wets them, they shine like she's been sucking on a lollipop. I focus on her pleasure, on her wet lips, instead of the sad look in her eyes.
She looks around the empty room and shakes her head.
Dina doesn't finish her sentence. There's no point. There're a lot of things we both wish. But this is enough. It has to be.
She pops the buttons on her shirt open, one at a time, exposing her big round tits shelved in a lacy bra. I may not be able to feel physical pleasure, but the sight of her is still breathtaking. I remember what that feels like. Pleasure, release.
I can make myself get an erection, but I don't actually feel anything. It's more just willing my body to take a certain shape. There's no warm blood coursing through me.
Dina enjoys doing stripteases for me. I think it makes her feel less alone, because if she just sat in her chair and spread her legs, I'd be little more than a vibrator.
When the last button releases, I let her take her time, shimmying it down her shoulders. Then, tapping into my energy reserves, I push her onto the table. She squeals with laughter.
It's the greatest sound on Earth. She radiates like the sun.
