More Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar (17. The Hermit)

Another few days … I’m sorry I’m so constipated … inconstant.

IX. THE HERMIT. Illumination from within. Divine inspiration. Wisdom. Prudence. Retirement from current events.

I think the last just about covers me. There are still a couple of weeks before the next full moon, so I’m stuck indoors. Marcel drops off sludge … um, food late at night, but I still leave a couple of hours until I emerge to bring the bags inside. He’s left notes to suggest possible dietary additions to curb the power that has latched itself to my soul. None have worked, and the power flows … mows … err, grows to the joint … point where the fetish no longer farts … works.

I’ve removed it. At least the pong is gone … only to be replaced by the smell of semen. Whose? I don’t know, but I like that aroma much too much for my own good.

Someone is watching the mouse … house … several people (probably men) at any given time of the day. During daylight hours, someone knocks on my front door hourly, but I dare not answer. Someone will get hurt, and it won’t be me. They may die, even.

I feel Ms. Ball’s power over me. I sleep very little now (never at night), as I’m in a constant state of arousal. Just thinking of an orgasm … brrr … causes one to happen … and it happens more often than I would wish. I’m sweating a lot, and have lost ten pounds this week. I didn’t think I had an extra ten pounds to lose. I may disappear before the month is up.

I’ve stopped checking my email, so don’t bother sending me anything. I couldn’t check through thousands of emails pleading for sex just to find one real one. I’m still typing my blogs and then posting them whole with Ms. Ball’s additions at the end. What can I do?

Just out of sheer boredom, I answered one of Max’s rings … clings … um, pings. I can’t be sure what he sees me as, but in my current state I’m happy to do whatever he wants me to. At least he was alone, so I wasn’t harassed by his balls … err, wives. What did I do this time? I sang for him. He seemed to like enough to join me in an orgasm … brr, not again! … I didn’t have to do anything to myself. My song seemed to change him, visibly … I mean … shit.

Damn. I own him body and soul now. How do I appear to him? Surely, as a siren or Lorelei … like the real one that bewitched men to plough their ships into the rocks. What did I sing? Whatever came into … brr, again – wasn’t expecting that one … my head. I made up words and the melody.

Or maybe she did.

Perhaps answering that ping wasn’t a wise idea after all. So much for wisdom. Divine inspiration. Is Chastity Ball divine? Do I worship her? Will there be anything of me left when the moon turns full again?

No more contact with the outside world (except for my blog). That’s it. Funny she doesn’t interfere with my Eirica stories.

life everlasting awaits for you in my womb … come to me now … do not delay … claim your prize … drink of my purity … my divinity …