Lady Oyanka and I before you in our tight, glossy Matrix-inspired fits, every inch of our bodies sharp, intimidating, and completely in control. On you back already, the entire world shifts into our reality, our rules, our dominance. You’re already staring up like a trembling little offering, hands shaky knowing exactly why you’re here. You don’t get to fantasize about power, or strength, or being a man with choices. You exist to serve, to kneel, to obey, and to give up the one thing you cling to the most. Procreation isn’t your destiny. Service is. Obedience is. Devotion is. You don’t need urges or fantasies or autonomy. You just need to be our snipped, dedicated bitch, ready to make the biggest tribute of your life. We show our edged clamp right before your moment of surrender, all while your body twitches with a mix of fear and desperate excitement. You imagine handing everything over to us, letting us take your manhood and reshape your purpose forever. By the time we’re done with you, you’re already nodding, already submitting, already begging for the moment we turn you into the perfect tribute we’ve been waiting for.
