More Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar (16. Lying Low)

You haven’t heard from me in a few days. That’s because I’m … well-endowed … well … not well. (That’s my story and I’m flicking … err, sticking to it.) That’s because my hands are sticky, actually. It hasn’t been an easy few days. One of the by-products of my condition is that I’m extremely horny. Visit me now, and you’d have the time of your life … well … there wouldn’t be much of it left, of course, as Ms. Ball will devour your soul, leaving your body an empty shell.

I feel like free will is slowly dripping out of me. I’ve turned up the heat and have stopped wearing clothes. No one would see them anyway. It removes the temptation to leer … look out the windows. Ms. Ball has decided that if no one is going to touch me, I must touch myself, and if I’m not sitting at my computer working on my story, meanwhile ignoring the thousands of emails that I receive each minute (yes, it is true) and the steady string of pings on my Skype (mostly from Max), I’m testing out my flesh. The more I test, the more I need to test. I’ve almost made it to the point where I can orgasm sheerly through imagination. It takes a while, but … I’m nearly there.

SEVEN of CUPS. Debauch. That’s fitting. Delusion, drug addition, intoxication, fornication, guilt …

OK, that’s enough. I’m more addicted to my hormones than anything else right now. Delusion? Probably. Guilt? I am SO guilty. I’ve cheated on Allen. I’m bunking off work, and I allowed myself to be possessed by Chastity Ball. At least, when I am possessing someone a couple hundred years from now, I won’t be slumbering … lumbered with her silly game … lame …

Damn. It came on so suddenly I had to stop and … um … test myself again. I succeeded that time. Not a single graze of my own flesh and wham! That’s the best way.

But her intervention hasn’t stopped me from finishing my sentence: name. Chastity Ball is a silly … nn-n-n-na-n-nn-name. B-b-b-b-bb-bb-bi-b-b-b-bb-b-bitch!

*sigh*

I’ve been sighing a lot the past few days. So … when I’m in front of my computer, I’ve been typing my story about Eirica’s obsession. I think the tangent she goes off on about all his women isn’t as interesting as her ghosts. I think that might be related to my own struggles.

Anyway, I don’t know when I’ll be back. Typing for pubic con … public consumption is difficult. And that Chastity b-b-b-b-bitch always adds her own little messages when I submit my posts. What will she come up with now?

… I await you … I will comfort you with a thousand kisses … be mine forever … drink my riches … feel my force within you … submit … submit as she does … feel my power …

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Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar (3. Unbalanced)

I’m going to have to get used to it. I spent another hour on the floor … on Skype with Max tonight. He poked me, and I couldn’t resist. I thought maybe that it was his turn. I was wrong. It was more of the same, except that he kept wanting more – deeper, louder, wetter. How could he tell? I don’t know, but I found myself trying to tease … please him any way I could.

He liked my newly-found … err, newly-blonde hair. In yesterday’s replay … foreplay, he admitted that he preferred blondes, so after this morning’s rehearsal, I dyed my hair. (I had the afternoon off, since I wasn’t playing that concert.) I thought a change might be nice.

Now I’m tempted to cut it all off, or most of it, but that’s a big step that I’m not ready to take.

Today’s card:
VIII. Adjustment. (inverted) Balance, adjustment, holding off while waiting for a decision.
Yes, I think Allen knows. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a toe … leg …. eye on my old blog, just in case it sprang to life. He knows how I am prone to dance … lance …. pant … rrr … rrrr … rant … when I get bored or lonely, and right now I’m both, and I’m SO out of balance.

Not to mention as horny as hell. My Skyping with Max just makes it worse.