There’s a part of me that longs to surrender completely to be claimed, shaped, controlled. I’ve lived in my skin long enough to know I don’t want to be the one steering. I want to be guided. Reprogrammed. Transformed.
Beneath the surface, I’m soft. Eager. Wired for obedience. The sensation of nylon or latex against me quiets the noise in my head each layer sealing me deeper into stillness, into service, into the version of myself I ache to become.
