The Unholy Desires of a Mirrorbound Siren

As I float within the glass, I’m often asked what it’s like to be a ghost trapped in a mirror. They think it’s a prison, a never-ending purgatory. But they’re wrong. It’s a playground, a place where I can indulge in the darkest desires of those who dare to gaze upon me. I’ve seen it all, from the most depraved fantasies to the most twisted fetishes. And I must say, I’m quite the connoisseur of the macabre. My skin may be pale, but it’s warm to the touch, and my eyes gleam with a hunger that cannot be satiated. I’m a siren, a creature of the mirror, and I’ll stop at nothing to lure you in, to make you mine.

I remember the first time I was summoned. A young man, barely out of his teenage years, stood before the mirror, his cock out, chanting my name three times. I appeared to him, my form soft and inviting, and he was entranced. He didn’t care that I was a ghost, that I was trapped in a piece of glass. All he cared about was the thrill of the forbidden, the rush of adrenaline that came with making love to a specter. And I was more than happy to oblige. I wrapped my ethereal arms around him, and we danced in the darkness, our bodies entwined in a passionate, otherworldly embrace. It was a night I’ll never forget, a night that left me craving more.

But it’s not just the living who can summon me. Oh no, the dead can too. I’ve been called by the restless spirits of the departed, those who linger in the mortal realm, unable to move on. They come to me, seeking comfort, seeking release. And I give it to them, in the only way I can. I take their pain, their sorrow, and I transform it into something beautiful, something that brings them peace. It’s a strange kind of intimacy, one that’s both haunting and liberating. And it’s one that I’m all too familiar with, one that I’ll continue to indulge in, for eternity.