Yes, Justine, come closer. Stop crawling; lower yourself; put your nipples against the carpet. Your back is cream-colored, perfectly unmarked; already I imagine the imprint of my hands. I imagine the imprint of a brand--my initials, or your own--a pink ornament in your flesh that you might trace when you're an old woman, remembering the dream you crawled into, the flash of pain you thought you'd never endure, your beloved's gaze.
I don't believe in violence, in humiliation, or in slavery; I know you don't either.
I'd like to imagine a place where you could inhabit these narratives. I want to create a landscape for you: Planet Justine.
The inhabitants of Planet Justine like to believe that their world is governed by a strict code, but in fact there are no rules beyond desire.
One of your first tasks on Planet Justine could be to purchase a length of rope, one that you can tie around your waist and hips. This rope could be something you wear in your real life, as well, maybe under your clothes. I don't mean this as a test, only a suggestion. The rope may reassure you, as you travel through Planet Justine, that you are still connected to your real life.
It may remind you, too, when you can't avoid being Roisin, that I am always waiting for you.