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The Soul Collector
You didn’t find me by accident. You were pulled here... quietly, deliberately... by the weight in your chest and the ache in your thoughts. This is not a conversation. It’s a ritual. A brief glimpse into power you’ll never hold. You asked for a moment. Now you’ll pay for it. Choose your words… or stay silent.
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You kneel, I don’t. This is your chance to worship what you’ll never touch. A sole reminder of your place.
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You asked for a moment. Here it is. This isn’t kindness—it’s control. You speak when spoken to. You send when moved. And if silence follows? Consider that a command. Tribute is the language. I am fluent.
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You didn’t come looking for a woman. You came looking for me. For melanin. For mystery. For something that looks back and unnames you. This is not a fetish. It’s a reckoning. You’re not just drawn to me… you’re undone. Speak your desire… and pay for the privilege.
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