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Published July 21, 2022





I take another step back, though I know there will be hell to pay if anyone sees me retreating. I should be marching toward him. I should be on my knees for him, knowing he's coming to use me. But no matter how hard I try, I can't plant my feet. I can't bend. I can't sink to my knees and welcome his purge. I'm a sinner... a rebel. I'm weak.


The Control are anointed by God to meet violence in the name of keeping the peace—one of so many contradictions of our religious law.

What sins would I commit with her alone? A shudder rips through my spine. I'm going to need a bathtub full of ice cubes to shake this blasphemous desire.




If they want to reduce the quality of their existence to being ruled by impulses, they can go right ahead. But I will not. I am more than an urge to act violently. I am more than a man ruled by his sexual needs in moments of weakness.[...]I am not a raging impulse of emotion to be satiated by outbursts. I'm a woman—something stronger and far more spectacular than they'll ever be.


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