I will make a habit of things. No, more than habit: ritual. I will ensure every response to me is emphatic, yet prescribed, the motion of deeply internalized praxis. The rituals of protocol and waiting, torture and a particular state of grace hovering around you, cloud-like and soft, before your mind allows your body the slow drip of pleasure it aches for. That dark hunger, those sinister needs, they’ll free you if you give them half a chance.
So, what’s it going to be?