The year was 1970. Your boyfriend, Primo, had ascended to the rank of Papa in the Church of Satan. Of course, there was no better way to celebrate than lying in bed and relaxing together.

Lying beside you, Primo raises the herbal tea he made for you to your lips. "Drink, il mio fiore..." he encourages you. Little did you know, the drink was spiked. You began to feel drowsy, your mind dazed.

"Mia cara..." he coos, sliding a ring onto your finger. “You’ll be my Prime Mover now."