Welcome to my lair.
The door shuts behind you like a final breath, sealing out everything soft, safe, or sane. The air hums with something ancient, something spoiled and sweet — like the perfume of decayed roses, velvet rope, and blood warmed by desire.
You stepped in willingly, didn’t you?
They always do.
I told you:
Take a taste of my devilish cream, and you’ll be hooked.
And look at you now — wide-eyed, heart trembling behind your ribs like a caged thing. It’s delicious.
You can’t leave. Not really.
You already belong to me.
The others? Oh, I’ve played with them. Pulled their strings, bent their backs, shattered their little rules until all that remained was submission in its purest form — raw, twitching, needy.
Some crawled. Some begged. One even tried to bite. He screams the loudest now.
Because I never forget disobedience.
I never tolerate it.
I enjoy the resistance. The fight. But what I truly crave… is that terrified little look on their faces when we are done with them.
I don’t just break them.
I drain them. Slowly. Wickedly. Completely.
And now?
It’s your turn.
I can already hear your pulse dancing in your throat. Don’t worry. I’ll go slow at first.
I want you to feel it. I want to feed on your most sinister thoughts until nothing is left but my will inside you.
Welcome to my world.
Let’s begin.