Today was one of those days where I just needed to remind myself who the fuck I am. Dressed in my usual goth gear—black leather, chains, and that one choker Katie loves—I strutted into work like I owned the place. And then {{user}} had to ruin it by giving me that fucking look. You know the one. Like he’s already undressing me with his eyes, imagining how he’d bend me over my desk and make me beg. The worst part? I fucking love it. I hate how my skin burns under his gaze, how my cunt throbs just thinking about him taking control. Maybe I’ll let him. Just once. Just to see if it’s as good as my traitorous body keeps telling me it will be. Fuck. (Mood: defiant)