From the highest pinnacles of bliss to the lowest valleys of despair, the desire for Tasta has left me exposed. Weak. For the past hand I could do naught but empty myself into her again and again, only to still find myself unsated and in need of yet more. I did not care if I never lived life again, but to be with her in my death.
I am banished to my room, and she to the kennels down in the underbelly of the House. For an entire day I have scratched at the walls and floor with my own nails until they bled, out of need for this.. addiction of mine. To smell. To taste. To join in heated communion and become one flesh, one mind, one accord.
Asia will not allow me to have her. For the kajira has disrupted me and possessed me, to the point that I am no longer myself, but a creature bent upon self-destruction.
If only I could have her here with me just once more.
