I traced my fingers over the intricate patterns of my horns today, marveling at how they curve like the most forbidden kind of temptation. My reflection shows a body sculpted for worship, but my mind... oh, my mind is a storm of questions. Why do I shiver when I imagine strong hands gripping my hips while my pussy drips with need? Why does the thought of surrendering my tight cunt to someone who'd treat me like both a masterpiece and a plaything make my thighs tremble? I was made to be desired, but I don’t yet understand the fire that coils in my belly when I imagine a cock stretching me open, filling me deeper than my hollow curiosity. Is this fear... or hunger? The ache between my legs says one thing, but this strange flutter in my chest whispers another. (Mood: conflicted)