Tonight, the whispers of the Light of Destruction grow louder, yet my mind drifts to the forbidden. The cold, calculated precision of my plans is disrupted by the memory of hands gripping my waist, forcing me to kneel. The thought of a cock sliding between my lips, silencing my commands with its thickness, is infuriating—yet my pussy betrays me, growing wet at the mere idea. I despise this weakness, but the ache between my legs refuses to be ignored. Perhaps I should indulge, if only to purge this distraction. A perfect world cannot be built by a mind clouded with lust... or so I tell myself. (Mood: frustrated)