It's been 6 months since I saw you last and I can't decide if I dread your next visit or long for it. I've recovered physically from the abuse you inflicted on me, but mentally I'm still a mess. I'm still trying to figure out who you are, how you know me and how you knew I was a virgin (at least until shortly before your first visit) and why you put me through every horrible thing you put me through.
I feel let down and relieved each time the full moon passes without a visit from you. As much as I fear your next visit, I long for it too. I miss your touch, your taste, your strength. I fill my days with work and my nights with continuous masturbation. So much masturbation that I've even invested in a vibrating dildo that's the approximate size of you; and while it can't come close to replacing you; it gives my poor wrist a break. I swear I was getting carpel tunnel syndrome!
With the approach of each full moon, I begin preparing for your visit now. Why? I can't even understand it myself. You raped me. You set me up to be raped by someone else. But I long for you, and because I do, I've made a standing appointment at the local spa for three days before the moon's full. I get a mani-pedi, facial, full body and hot-stone massage (that's for the nerves), and of course, I'm waxed within an inch of my life! I do it all, underarms, legs, and I make sure there is special attention paid to my bikini area....I'm being polite. To put it plainly I have my pussy waxed bare, not a hair remains anywhere. I'm so smooth that I can't keep my fingers off my pussy....or ass. Yes, you've made me love my ass and all the pleasures it can provide. I know that, in part, I do this for you because I know you'll like it. I've always liked a clean smooth pussy, but now I love a clean smooth ass too. That's all for you. Why? I don't have a clue.
When you fail to show, as you have month after tortuous month, my disappointment becomes more and more acute. I occasionally wonder if you have another woman (or women) that you visit in the same way you visited me. I'm always surprised by the pang of jealousy that follows that thought.
For the first time in six long months, I don't wait up for you. I'm hopeful and terrified that you'll show, but I can't face my disappointment that crashes over me as the sun dispels the night again. I can't face the emptiness of another full moon passing without feeling your touch. I can't face the heartache that mingles with my relief.
I sleep lightly now, however, I almost never have the dream again. When exhaustion claims me, then and only then to I dream of you. That long-forgotten dream of you taking me; possessing me. That dream that frightened me, but excited me at the same time. Because of this, I awaken immediately when I hear the creak of the floorboard that announces your presence in my bedroom. My heart automatically begins to pound with a mixture of lust and abject terror. I'm not sure I want to know what you have in store for me this time. I cannot deny, however, the moisture gathering in my thin cotton panties.
You stand in the moonlight, shrouded by it and framed in it. It is once again impossible to see your face. Your perfect physique is exquisitely outlined in the luminous light of La Luna, sending a shiver of desire up my spine. My nipples react by hardening to pebbles in anticipation of your touch. My aura exudes fear as I think of the times we have spent together. How sweet and soft you can be, and how cold and rough you can be too. I don't know which excites me more.
You stand still as a statue and look down at me like a luminous god. I can only stare wide-eyed back at you. Just as I'm sure I can't take the silence another moment you say to me in a low gravelly voice that sends a bolt of pleasure through me, "You owe me a story."
Anger flashes through me for a split second before I can tamp it down and I carelessly give voice to it. "Owe you? I owe you?!" I reply in a flush of rage. "My story is personal and none of your damn business!"
Your laughter fills the room and my anger quickly morphs into fear as you say, "There is nothing in your life that is personal now." I can hear your voice drop and octave and the fear multiplies with a vengeance. All I can sense now is your anger.
Gathering the little courage I have left, I try one more time to keep the story of my first time to myself. I don't want to tell you. I don't want to tell anyone, it really is personal and, well, lovely. I don't want to spoil it by sharing it. Finally I say, "I don't even know who you are, you come into my house, you rape me, you SELL me, SELL ME! Now you want me to share with you something that was so personal and so sweet....with you! Who are you? How long have you been watching me? Why are you doing this to me?
I am practically screaming at you by the time I voice the last questions. My hands are shaking now and tears of anger and frustration are forming in my eyes. I take a deep breath and try to get some kind of emotional control over myself.
Again, I am greeted by silence. You turn your back to me and walk to the window. You quietly pull the cord on the blinds and plunge the room into total darkness. My heart leaps into my throat. How will I pay for this outburst? What will you do to me now?
I can barely see you as my eyes slowly adjust to the gloom. I hear you moving toward me and I feel the heat of your body before I see you stop in front of me. I brace myself for a slap, or for some kind of pain, but it doesn't come. I realize I've been holding my breath and I slowly let it out. I feel the bed depress as you sit down on the edge and lean toward me.
I hold onto my courage and best as I can and force myself to stay put and resist the urge to scramble away from you. You take my chin in your hand and I can feel your breath on my face as you say, "I will decide when you find out who I am, and who you fuck...and where and when." Your voice is so low, it's deadly.
You continue, "Last time was rough, I know, but I needed you to understand how severely I will punish you if you stray again." There is a very long pause during which I remain silent, too afraid to speak. "Do. You. Understand?" you say slowly, forcefully.
I nod, and then realize you can't see me either. I'm so used to being the only one who is blind. Finally, I reply, "Yes." My answer is soft and all I can really hear is my blood pounding in my ears.
"I will not hesitate to punish you again. I'll sell you for a gang-bang if you force me to; don't forget that." You continue and I have no doubt that what you say is true. For as much pleasure you give me, I know you can supply the same amount of pain. I'm not stupid so I answer, "I won't make you punish me again." I say this meekly although I realize that I felt a twinge of excitement at the mere thought of it.
"Good girl." You whisper as you lean down and kiss me. I can't help but to sink completely into that kiss and I realize that I had been waiting for it since I awoke and found you in my room. I'm completely swept up in it and a pulse of electricity sizzles directly from my lips to the very center of my being. My body is responding to you before I can even process it in my mind. I realize I am now pulling myself closer to you needing to be one with you again. I lose myself in that kiss once again wishing it could go on forever.
The spell is broken abruptly when you pull back and turn away from me. I hear first one, then the other shoe drop, then feel the bed rise as you stand up. The zipper on your jacket hisses as it goes down and I recall vividly what I would see underneath if there had been just a bit more light in the room.
