You wake up alone.

It's too much on you. The sex, the smell, the feeling of breaking free of your own mind, you just collapse and pass out almost immediately, Queenie on top of you.

It's dark when you wake up again. The first thing you and your sleep foggy brain notice is you're alone, and, oddly enough, clean of any drying fluid. You turn to your alarm clock and see it's almost 1 in the morning.

It takes a minute before your brain is completely back to its maximum capacity, and the memories of last night hit like a Semi-Truck. Buying Queenie, her weird honey and its sweet cloying aroma that clouded your brain, the sex. Dear God above, the sex. It was beautiful, more pleasurable than any previous girlfriends, and definitely better than your palms.

But, something about it makes you feel gross, used, manipulated...afraid. You had never debased yourself like that before, and your sober brain felt disgusted at how easily you became a bootlicking **** to your new petgirl. Ever since you laid eyes on her, you thought she was gorgeous, beautiful, a woman. But now you're scared of her, like some horrifying monster from a 90s horror flick. It was...

"Master? Are you awake?"