December Special $50 off new customers!

You asked for December’s mercy.
What you receive is midnight discipline draped in velvet and iron.

Each night is a door you may open
—but only when I decide time has the right flavor of ache.

Day 1:
You kneel before the black wreath, hands bound, lips parted in silent want.

Day 4:
You hear the bells outside while I tighten the restraints another notch.
Holiday cheer for them—
holy denial for you.

Day 9:
You are wrapped like a gift no one else may claim.
My ribbon.
My rules.
No joy without permission.

Day 15:
You feel winter in your lungs, cold breath, hot longing.
You are allowed to look.
Not touch.
Never touch.

Day 18:
A whisper at your ear, velvet and cruel:
“Need is not the same as deserve.”

Day 22:
Carols in the street.
Your pulse in your throat.
You kneel in red candlelight,
waiting for a reward that may never come.

Day 24:
They open gifts.
You open obedience.
This season, denial is devotion.

You are not starved—you are cultivated.
Held at the edge of want until it becomes worship.

December is the altar.
You are the offering.

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