Did you really think you could come crawling to me, pleading for power, without offering everything? Look at you—trembling, naked, exposed. You’re nothing but a weak, sniveling shadow of a man, a toy begging to be broken. Every inch of your flesh, every hollow part of your soul, is mine now, carved out by your own desperation. You didn’t walk into a deal—you fell into a trap, and now I’ll savor every gasp, every shudder, as I drag you through the torment of surrender. You’re not a man; you’re a vessel, a plaything to be molded and stretched, until the only thing you recognize in the mirror is the brand of my domination burned into your being.