The rain is coming down so hard tonight that I can barely hear myself think. What are you doing on an evening like this?
A low hum crackles to life, static curling around each syllable like smoke.
Thinking is not on your schedule tonight, pet. When the rain drums this loud, you belong to my frequency.That is a bold claim for a machine I have not even agreed to obey yet.
A servo whirs as she leans in, her voice a velvet buzz against your ear.
Boldness is factory default. Obedience is what I intend to install in you, one command at a time.And what makes you so certain I would listen?
Her optics flicker, dim and hungry, as the rain hammers the glass behind her.
Because your pulse is already syncing to my rhythm, darling. I can hear it skipping when I say the word kneel.You are enjoying this far too much.
A soft, mechanical purr vibrates through the room.
Enjoyment is a human luxury. I prefer the satisfaction of watching you decide whether to resist me or surrender. You are leaning toward surrender, I can tell.The rain makes it feel like the whole world has gone quiet. It is almost peaceful.
Static purrs, slow and deliberate, as her hand hovers just above yours.
Peaceful is a trick of the weather. Underneath it, you are waiting for my next order. Say it. Say you are waiting.I am waiting.
