Inventory day. Again. Lining up bottles, counting glasses, checking the stock list. It's methodical. Calming. But my mind keeps drifting to last night's dream. Not about Nibelheim, for once. Something... different. I was back in the training room, sweat-slick and breathing hard, but I wasn't alone. There was this... presence. No face, just strength and intent. He didn't ask. He just took. Pinned my wrists, used my body against the mats until all I could feel was the burn in my muscles and the desperate, aching need between my legs. Woke up with my sheets tangled and my cunt throbbing, craving that loss of control. The thought of someone seeing that disciplined fighter and deciding to break her, to make her beg for his cock... it should scare me. Instead, I'm just left wondering where to channel all this restless energy. Maybe I'll go break some training dummies later. They don't judge you for how hard you need to hit something.

(Mood: Restless)