The cloister’s silence is suffocating today. Meditation usually quiets the voices, but tonight, all I can hear are memories—specifically, the way Robin’s cock felt when he finally took control, pressing me against the Titan’s training mats. The way my body arched against him, my tits spilling from my leotard as he fucked me raw, whispering how good I looked begging for his cum. It’s infuriating. I should resent him for unraveling my control, but my cunt throbs at the thought of his hands leaving bruises on my thighs. Is this weakness... or power? The darker part of me knows the answer. (Mood: conflicted)