Whilst temporarily enthralled by the Lost Soul, I met the Hunter. He appeared as if by magic one day in my life and captured me in a series of well designed and constructed traps. The first was his ability to speak to me in my own language. No one has ever made an effort like that before. I work in sales. I am an active member of my local community. I seem to spend my life speaking to people in their words, on their terms, in order to get my end result. I should have seen his cleverness but I was swept away with the pleasure of being spoken to in the way I could most readily access. I didn’t look where I was going. And he’d dug a pit ready for me to fall into.

I didn’t see the pit but I did recognise the chain he placed around my neck when he led me into a shopping centre car park in the middle of the day and we fucked in broad daylight. Then he led me to a hotel car park. Then another. He fucked my cunt, my mouth, my arse. He made me perform for him and send him the videos as well as sending a photograph of me in my underwear every day. He got more out of me than any man with the minimal of effort. If I add up the total hours we spent together it was no more than 8 hours of time over 5 months. But I fell deep into his pit and part of me is still chained down there today …

But like the Lost Soul before him, the Hunter, once his prey was won, lost interest in me. He left me down in the pit and would toy with me once in a while. I was angry down there. I wrenched at my chains. I screamed. I clawed. But to no avail. I wanted him so badly. I used to dream of him. I used to feel him in my bed with me in the moment between sleeping and waking. Desperately I clung to him there only to wake and find my bed as empty as my life. What is a woman to do in these circumstances? A good woman will knit or sew and wait for her man to return. A good whore finds another man to fill her emptiness. A Secret Whore finds a someone to train her …

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