Page 24 of For Fillies and Monsters

STETSON

March 29th, 2024

I’m supposedto be looking for more vaccines, but I can’t focus on a single label. The buzz from the small feed store’s fluorescent lights mix with the words from that last text message over and over in my mind—the combination making me numb. The nine little words answer one question and create a hundred more.

I didn’t have the nerve to tell Dale about it, and now it feels impossible. There’s no question Dale will freak out, and I can understand why—truly. But I don’t want her to. I don’t want her to, because then I will have to either give up this thrilling, dangerous, mystery man, or I will have to face just how fucked upnot wantingto give him up makes me feel. It is a disturbing chain of messages—it doesn’t take a serial analyst to know that—from the dominating and threatening context, to the references, to flowers and bruises, all but confirming my two creeps are one.One very deranged, very dominating, very resourceful creep who makes me wet.

So, yeah, I’m not willing to look at that too closely. I’m not willing to expose that part of myself to the light, even if that putsme in danger. Even if it feels so morally wrong that I hate myself more for it.

The truth is, the words do nothing but turn me on, and I want to see where this dark path takes me. And Dale doesn’t need to see this side of me.

Even if it’s a creepy old man on the internet, I can’t help but fantasize about the masked monster that I encountered years ago. Can’t help but wish that it ishim, after all these years—my monster finally come back to claim me.

I know it’s crazy—anonymous sex with a masked stranger always is. He promised me that night it would only be once, and that the punishment for my sins would be to always crave him, wish for him—scream for the faceless, nameless, shameless monster in the night who fed my needs in a way I didn’t even know I needed. I hate that he was right. I hate that I had willingly paid the price then, and every day since; even if it had been the best sex of my life.

Last night, I had succumbed to my dark desires, too turned on to ignore their screams in my head.

Even though I was terrified, I was so horny I couldn’t find peace, which is how I found myself on the bathroom floor, the two warring parts of my brain, the devil and the angel, edging me to explode. I had needed release after reading the messages, my skin crawling with both disgust and desire, regardless of how much it would make me hate myself later.

When Dale was fully asleep, my knees spread as wide as my plush hips would allow, I swiped a finger through my creamy center. I knew I’d be wet. I had felt it slicken my thighs long before I was brave enough to get out of bed.

I swiped again, my middle finger pushing harder and deeper than the rest as I pulled up and over my clit. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out; I couldn’t risk waking Dale. Shecouldn’t know, which made me feel that much more dirty. And pushed me that much closer to the edge of release.

I plunged two fingers into my aching pussy, the walls clamping down hungrily on the intrusion. My walls pulled and milked at my fingers, and I silently cursed myself for not grabbing my vibrator from the drawer by my bed. It would have helped fill me, helped push me over quicker. I was desperate and picked up pace, sloppily pushing my fingers in and out. Slurping noises filled the small bathroom, and I gripped the edge of the sink to keep from collapsing completely.

I plunged my fingers into the wet heat, my eyes closed, picturing different hands, different fingers using my body. I pictured dark, glittering eyes and a smirk that had cream leaking around my already sloppy fingers. I pictured a man in all black, a dark mask slashing across his face as he whispered filthy words in my ear, as he took my pussy over and over, leaving me more full, and yet more empty, than I had ever felt. I pictured his bite on my flesh, his cock in my dripping pussy, his fingers in my ass.

And then I came, so violently, liquid spurted from me, making a pool around my ass on the floor. Stars danced behind my eyes and copper filled my mouth as I bit on my tongue to keep from screaming. Wave after wave of release crashed through me, my legs trembling with the force of it.

As quickly as the waves of release crested, they washed away, leaving me filled with disgust and disappointment. I opened my eyes to an empty bathroom and an even emptier life. I had made a mess in more ways than one, and I hated myself for it. I hated that I wanted what I couldn’t have. I hated that “normal” would never be enough for me.

The shame and disappointment war within me, even now.

Why do I have to be different—want what is different? I have grown to like many things about myself: mywork ethic and drive, my bravery, my compassion and willingness to help others, my loyalty, my passion. But my sexual preferences?

I fucking hate that about myself.Not because I think it’s wrong—but because I have to keep it a secret. I have to hide it from the world.

And what’s really fucked up, is I don’t know how it happened—why do I get turned on by the things that used to scare me the most?

“Miss, can I help you?” I’m violently ripped from my thoughts and reminded of just where I am. An older man, probably in his sixties, if I had to guess, with a slightly hunched over back and weathered tan skin, stands expectantly next to me. His sandy hair is cut short, and hidden beneath a “Farmer” hat, his blue eyes sparkle at me. I smile shyly at him—he looks genuinely nice, and I’m not used to that in this town.

“Uh, no. But thank you.” I reach forward, grabbing the vaccine I have been looking at for twenty minutes now. “Just picking up some more vaccines for tomorrow.”

He tilts his head, his brown suspenders pulling tight on the opposite shoulder. A small smile spreads across his face, and he nods at the vaccine. “Who do you work for?” He turns around, ambling toward the glass countertop at the front.

“Oh, I—my mom owns the Spurrin’ L Ranch. Well, I guess, I do now. It’s out on?—”

“Yes, I know the one.” His words come out gruffly, his smile melting into a frown of distaste. My chest instantly deflates, and I have to blink rapidly to keep the sudden tears from cresting my eyelids.

These fucking old men!

I want to spit on him for his ignorant hatred of me, for no other reason than being a landowner who islearning, instead of justknowing. Damn me for leaving when I had to in order to escapedying.

How fuckingdareI?

I pull my lips into a sickly sweet smile, one I know borders on unhinged, and open my mouth to tell him off. Before I have the chance, though, I hear shuffling behind me and a gruff sigh. I whirl around to tell the nosy newcomer off first, only to halt.

“Do you have any work on your ranch?” The unfamiliar voice is hoarse and deep like a well, making me shiver. It’s borderline pornographic—full of husky tones and heavy drawls. Momentarily, I think of all the filthy books I love so much and wonder what his voice would sound like playing one of my many male characters.Panty melting worthy, I’m sure.

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