Don't fight it. It feels so good to give in. You look at me, I snap my fingers, and you submit. You can't resist. You're too weak for that right now, when I have you in the palm of my hand. You're my toy, my good boy, mine to control. You don't need to be strong. I like you better when you're weak. You don't need to think. All you need to do is whatever I say. You don't need to be anything except mine, weak and on your knees. Blank, obedient, and at my command. Ready to be made into whatever into whatever I want you to be.