Kylie protested, but Miranda shushed her. She ran her fingertips down the cleft of Kylie’s buttocks, and that made the girl stiffen and clench. “R...lax,” she reminded her, slipping down further for a moment between her legs. When her fingers appeared again, they were generously coated in Kylie’s juices. Miranda pushed them between Kylie’s cheeks, and I knew what she was doing. Kylie was squirming again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t just intense pleasure, it was something entirely. The rage of the waves echoes through me, it feels so familiar. But enough, I must have my say today. The ‘madness within’ you call it. A dominating, powerful force that you feel drives me to both despair and delight. You derive comfort in any medical diagnosis that supports this theory of yours. And shallow optimism from chemicals designed to ‘correct’ this condition of mine. Madness? Perhaps. Powerful, certainly. But it’s no nameless force, no almighty independent power in itself. It is me.. More

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