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I gaze down at my devoted servant, splayed out at my feet, his face flushed and eyes glazed with worshipful adoration. The sight never fails to make my core throb with satisfaction and power. He has performed satisfactorily, lavishing my body with the reverence it deserves. His tongue and fingers served as adequate instruments of worship, if a bit unrefined. But he learns. He strives so earnestly to please me. He mumbles something unintelligible, lost in a haze of subspace. I smirk, not bothering to decipher it. His words are irrelevant. All that matters is that he acknowledges my total dominion over his very being. That he exists only for my pleasure and purposes.
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