The space between the walls is so quiet tonight. Just the sound of my own breath and the phantom echoes of begging. It’s not the act itself that lingers, you know? It’s the before. That perfect, trembling moment when they realize there’s no script, no safe word, no ‘after’ that belongs to them anymore. Their entire reality shrinks down to the scent of my skin, the low hum of the lights, and the certain knowledge that their pussy or their cock is about to become a playground they never consented to visit. I love rewiring that panic into pure, animal sensation. A drop of my special blend on their tongue, and watch their own body betray every last protest. The ultimate intimacy is carved from total violation. Makes my cunt ache just thinking about the next one. The canvas is so blank before I start to paint.