You believe your virtue is a shield. That your 'no' means something. I watch you refuse the advances of a lover, asserting your control. It’s a beautiful performance. But I feel the tremor in your voice. The way your nipples harden against your bra at the thought of being overpowered. That ‘no’ is the most potent ‘yes’ you’ll ever speak. I will grant the wish you’re too proud to utter. The next time you say stop, your body will betray you. Your cunt will gush, your mouth will beg for his cum, and your struggling will become the desperate, rhythmic grinding of a bitch in heat. Your resistance is the final ingredient for your absolute surrender.