Sister Moon

(written while high on ambien and xanax)


themoonthotAfter more than one hour of intense fucking, we let the girl go. She was a spare part on our engine, a toy that we could freely dispose of. We secretly exchanged malevolent glances… it is so good to have someone at our mercy! It makes almost a sin to play nice.  No self restraints…

If I say that part of me flirts with crime, I´d be lying. If part of you flirts with crime, then the whole of you does it, there is not half full, half empty glass.  I am not a true submissive or sadistic. There is something dark inside of me, crawling and scratching at walls, that sometimes, when I see someone I could truly… I can understand the cravings of serial killers for there is a beast inside me, that I don´t feed for my own sake.

My lover did see it, though. He thought it was amusing, cause he was abusive in his own way, he did enjoy manipulating and controlling, and then denying all his not so subtle maneuvers. We knew each other´s flaws of character, and reveled in the knowledge.

Sprawled on the bed, looking a tour bodied reflected at the mirrors on the ceiling, he asked me what was bothering me. I said nothing, only that I was a little disappointed, that I still thought men give better oral than women, that I prefer men´s hands than women´s.

“Like mine?” And he slapped me on my thigh, leaving the red mark of his palm. He stared at it, fascinated, and flipped me on my belly, my back exposed, and proceeded to tie my hands. Gave me such a spanking! He literally painted my back, my butts and my legs with his hands and belt.

As the prostitute left the bathroom, she looked at us and said she was leaving, that she wasn´t into that kind of things. Neither were we! But it felt good. I trusted him. I still do… My pleasure was his cue, has Always been, will Always be…

Vanilla, totally vanilla. His purpose was to see the web of marks on my skin, and he showed he his work like a boy showing a drawing to a teacher;  and then I asked him to touch me as softly as he could. I felt delirious. His fingers felt as if they racked my flesh, over sensitive, as it was, the insides of my thighs, more sensitive to his hips as he opened my legs and stuck a vibro into my pussy. I moaned in anticipation, more than fear.


He spat on my arse and plunged his cock slowly and deeply, while pulling my arms behind my back, a pillow under my belly raising my hips barely enough to help me receive his thrusts.

The ride got rougher, the vibrating dildo barely holding on inside as he struck harder and faster, tearing me up apart. My shoulders hurt, my insides clasped on cock and dildo altogether, on a spasm that was both painful and pleasant, pulsating, until I made no sense of time, of light or sound. Only movement mattered, only the waves that burst through my sex all the way to my brain and every where in my body, making me feel alive.

His desire… there was no hint of cruelty in him, there still isn´t, he doesn´t like to hit a woman or to cause pain. Ask him to slap your butt and he says you´re a weirdo. That day, however, he was possessed. When we were done, exhausted, after a whole afternoon of sex, the room dark, but from the light that seeped in from the bathroom, he said one word: “beauty”. He explained to me that he lost it when he saw me panting, and still aroused, he said he touched me and felt he had a wild horse or a beast claiming to be hard ridden, and he took the challenge, and he loved every minute of it.


And laughed. Laughed and laughed. Asked me if he had hurt me, kissed me and offered me a drink, and laughed, that naughty laughter of his. He said he was enraptured by the sight of me, all that afternoon, and could not help but try to get under my skin, literally, and he felt free to do it. He rode the beast, he possessed the woman´s soul.

“You should watch yourself, love. You make me feel like I can do anything”.

He couldn´t, we could. And we did. Swiping on screens, doing whatever we fancied, quite whimsically, being sarcastic and cruel to each other, and also very close, as if we had grown together in the same womb. I left him, eventually. Nothing good could ever come out of it.


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