I thought I was building a home, new beds, new curtains, new lies to keep a wasteland boy close. But he locked his door. And a stranger in a perfect suit paid me to film myself sipping a drink at a bar, in the name of exquisite data.
One week of silence. One night of surrender.
And a whisper in the dark that changed everything.
I became the House Sub. Owned. Shared. And loving every filthy second.
But some games don’t end when the lights come up.
And some doors you open… lead straight to blood on your floor.

Come play. — Raven Saint Valentine


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