You already know what I am. You see the sweetness, the soft lips, the angelic face that seems to whisper promises of mercy- but mercy is not what you crave is it?

You want the danger lurking beneath my poison painted lips, my intoxicating saccharine cruelty adorned in lace. And you would suffer-willingly, desperately-if it meant pleasing me.

You will offer yourself to me, knowing that I delight in your suffering. I will unravel you, piece by trembling piece, stripping away everything you pretend to be until there is nothing left but the undeniable truth:
you were born to serve.

It thrills me, makes me positively high to hear you break for me, to see the fear flicker in your eyes just before pain blooms across your face. You are my plaything, a pet, something to twist and tease until you are nothing but a raw, shivering mess.

No masks, no pretense-just you,
stripped bare, and helpless beneath my feet.

And still you would give me everything.
Burn cities to the ground just to see me smile.
Because I see you as you truly are: aching to be punished, aching to serve, aching to be owned.
You don’t just want my cruelty.

You need it. You need the escape, the surrender,
the sweet relief of giving up every last piece of yourself to me because that is the only way you will ever feel free.