The domination does not come as a whip. It comes as a relief .
You are wrong.
A scent rises from the oldest part of your brain—the fossilized coil where the lizard still sleeps. It smells like rain on hot asphalt. Like the fur of a predator just before the pounce. Like the copper of your own blood, tasted from a forgotten cut on your lip. primals mental domination
It yawns. It stretches its psychic jaws. The domination does not come as a whip
Your prefrontal cortex, that proud librarian of morality, tries to file this scent away. Danger. Ignore. that proud librarian of morality