Chapter 6

ChapterSix

Well,I was here. I was horny. And I was getting used to seeing the eight eyes looking back at me. I enjoyed the awe in his gaze, and the fondness in the way he touched me between greedily feasting on my pussy and shoving his cock down my throat. I had come this far, and I was willing to go all the way.

Bishop steadied himself in the web, and I realized my legs were still bound. There were spurts of come on the webbing around us. It cooled against my skin as Bishop watched me, looking at the results of our actions trailing over my skin like a Jackson Pollock.

“You are a mess,” he noted.

“Do you like that?”

“Too much.”

He unbound my legs, and I grasped onto him again as he lowered us back to the floor. His legs barely made a sound as he moved across the open space and toward a back curtain that was nearly hidden among the webbing. Inside, the light was again a red tone. The floor was smooth tile and overhead was a single water spout. A personal bathroom just for him.

“Do you live your whole life in this tent?” I asked.

He nodded, grasping me in one arm and supporting me with his pedipalps as he reached to turn on the water.

“I can’t very well walk around in the open, can I?” he said, a bit of sadness in his voice.

He held one hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up, before he walked us both beneath the stream.

I tilted my head back, enjoying the feel of the water falling over my body. It ran down my heated skin, warming me further. I could feel it trickle along my overly sensitive nipples. My swollen clit was pressing against the fur of his spider half, causing just enough friction to awaken my need for more.

“Sometimes, for Halloween, I go out. I perch on a tent, steady myself, and people assume I am just a man sticking out of a costume. And the ringmaster now has a show she wants us to perform in,” Bishop explained.

“Are you the only one of your kind?” I asked.

I leaned my head back, moaning as he ran his fingers through my hair. I liked how he could hold me steady at the waist, my legs wrapped around him, and still use his hands. The sound made him pause, his eyes staring with hunger at my parted lips.

“I do not know. I was very young when the ringmaster found me, and I have been with her ever since.”

“So lonely,” I said, running a hand down his chest.

“It is,” he answered.

His hand ran down my chest, washing away his seed with the stream of water. I watched him as he worked quietly. There was a bit of sadness to his face. I took note of the shadow of beard along his jaw and how each of his eyes were lined with a soft row of lashes. When he set me down and stepped back, turning his torso away from me, I saw that the blue and gray streaks went down his spine. I reached out, touching them to realize that they were fine hairs that stretched all the way down to his torso where it continued on in the same pattern.

He shivered at my touch and I withdrew my hand.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“No,” he replied, turning to face me. “I like your touch. No one . . . I am never touched by anyone else.”

We finished our shower, and Bishop handed me a towel to wrap around myself. I did not know what time it was and did not know when the carnival was going to close. I stared at my pile of clothes still on the ground and tucked the towel tighter around myself.

“Have other women come here?” I asked.

“Not for a long time,” Bishop said.

He settled himself into a crook where his webbing grew up from the floor. He reached out and I stepped into his embrace, enjoying the feel of his pedipalps wrapping around me to hold me closer to him. He sighed into my hair, stroking where the long strands fell onto my back.

“Then why did Roger send me?” I asked.

“He is my friend,” Bishop explained. “And lately . . . it has been lonelier than before. I am getting older, and I realized I have had no one to share my life with. The carnival yes, but we are more of a dysfunctional family than friends. We are here because the outside world does not want us. It does not, however, mean that we necessarily care for each other.”

“That is wrong,” I defended him, though I knew what it meant to have a family that did not want you beyond their personal ties.

“My family is like that as well,” I told him, avoiding his gaze and opting to stare at the hairs on his chest.

I let my fingers run through them and saw as the bulge beneath his torso grew again, his cock pressing to be unleashed. I was already needy as well. The tent was filled with his scent, his pheromones, and though my body reacted to them I was still not able to name an actual scent.

“Come up to my nest,” he said gently.

I nodded. He pulled the towel from around my body and lifted me into his arms. I forced myself not to look down as he scaled the walls. The nest was bigger than it looked from the ground, and I told myself that I was not going to look out the door to see how far away the ground was.

There was enough room for Bishop to set me down, and I saw there was already a pillow and blankets in a makeshift bed against the soft floor. Bishop disappeared for a moment and there was a click as the lights turned off, only the red bulbs still glowing. If I did not think about how it was a giant spider nest made by a hybrid-spider monster, it was a homey space.

Bishop climbed in, his large body making the space feel smaller. He crowded me into a corner, his glowing eyes the only visible feature on his face. I saw as he blinked, staring at me. All of his eyes glowing together looked like starlight.

“I am going to take you now, Justine,” he said.

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Yes.”