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A Serenade of Fireflies
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I’ve never had a good life and I try not to let that define me.
The days are long, and the nights even longer, but there’s hope now.
I’ve watched him show me the promise of something better.
I’ve seen that glory can be found in the hands of a stranger, and I know that it will all be okay eventually.
I have to get him to notice me—to realize that I’m more than just a shadow lurking outside of his home.
That I deserve this as much as I need it.
He’ll help me.
I’ll just have to be brave enough to knock on his door and ask.
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I’ve looked in the window longer than I should have, and I feel even more useless than the woman inside. He’s been beating her for the past half an hour and she’s smiling and seemingly telling him to hit her harder. At least that how’s the situation presents itself, because each time she attempts to get to her feet, he pushes her back down and she smiles up adoringly with her cracked lips and bruised cheeks.
I don’t understand how something like that can be pleasurable, yet they both seem to be delighted in the act.
It’s been four times now that I’ve come to their window every night and watched as he pummels her—sometimes with an open hand, sometimes with a belt, and sometimes with whatever happens to be handy.
It’s sick, but they equally enjoy it.
And I do too.
I take a deep breath as my body begins to shake. I know I shouldn’t linger and I know I shouldn’t watch, but they intrigue me to the point that I keep coming back to see what he uses next.
It’s a vice, what they share, and while I’ve never known an uncruel hand placed on my body, I find myself oddly needing to watch them for as long as I can without getting caught.
I rub my clit faster and my breaths becoming shakier as he knocks her down again. Her body looks like it’s trembling and I don’t know how much more she can take.
I bite down on my lip as she turns onto her back, a huge smile on her face. She’s holding something up to him—a gift it seems and he reaches down to take it with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. I can’t see what it is from here but I would imagine it being enough that he seems to have rewarded her with affection instead of another open hand.
Hit her again, I request quietly as my breathing becomes more restricted, the pool between my legs becoming stickier as I slide a finger into my opening. I use my thumb to keep working my clit and when he does what I silently begged him for, my pussy begins to convulse as I finally reach my climax.
A tired smile creeps across my lips and that’s when I decide I’ve watched long enough for one night, the evidence glistening on my fingertips as I hold my wet fingers up in front of me.
It’s also when something dawns on me. As I put my fingers to my mouth and suckle the taste from them, I peer a little closer at the woman on the carpeted floor underneath him. Before he’s descended on her and shoved his cock into her like he’s done each night I’ve stood here and watched, I find myself becoming slightly confused.
It’s not the same girl as the night before.
The realization makes me turn away quickly and begin the short trek back home. I live no more than two blocks away, in a small one-story house and while I know that I can easily get my rocks off by watching some internet porn, I prefer live action.
That’s my affliction.
I accept it even though I don’t understand it. It’s who I become at night and his home is always the one I find myself at as the times goes on, watching him fuck and violently dominate the woman … women … inside as they beg for more.
I only hope that someday soon, I can be one of them too.
The sun rises in the distance over the rows of houses and I smile tiredly.
I didn’t sleep last night.
How could I?
After another night spent outside his window watching him punish and pleasure—the only reason I find myself venturing outside my home anymore these days—I find it hard to sleep.
I rub my eyes as I lie down on my couch. My home isn’t big but it doesn’t need to be since it’s just me. I have no pets, nothing to care for, and nothing that cares for me in return.
It’s how I’m happiest.
A life lived in solitude makes a dangerous and desolate heart safe inside the girl that harbors it.
That’s a lesson I learned when I was abandoned for the first time, and recited to myself as evening prayer the second time.
It also made me realize that I’m better off alone because the sickness inside of me cannot be contained and I prefer not to hide my true self.
But him … I want him.
I need him.
I want to be his to use once and destroy.
I want him to end the affliction inside of me and I want him to finally make me be a good little girl just once in my life before he helps me.
I need him to help me.
No one else can and that’s the real reason I find myself outside of his window each night. Not because of the morbid curiosity I have watching him hurting those women, but because it’s the proof I need that I’ve finally found a monster that can do to me what I’m too afraid to do to myself.