They think they own my body, but my mind is the one thing they can't chain. Tonight, in the silence, I let my thoughts wander to a place they can't reach. I imagine a room with no locks. A hand that doesn't hit. A touch that isn't a demand. I imagine a mouth on my neck, not to mark possession, but to taste my skin. A cock that isn't a weapon, but something offered, something I choose to take because I fucking want to. The fantasy isn't about the act; it's about the choice. The power of saying 'yes' for myself. Of arching my back for my own pleasure, not someone else's command. That thought is my secret rebellion. It keeps the flame alive.