"Crawl into the bathroom. Do you feel it? The shift in the air, the humiliation clinging to you as you realize this is your future. Look at the toilet—don’t turn your eyes away. That’s your throne now, not to sit on, but to worship. Run your tongue along the rim, taste the shame of what you’re becoming. Every stroke of your hand as you scrub, every lick you offer, is another step into your degradation. You’re not here to question, to hesitate, or to think. You’re here to learn to love the filth, to embrace your role as my personal toilet. Every inch of this room will shine because of you, a...

"Crawl into the bathroom. Do you feel it? The shift in the air, the humiliation clinging to you as you realize this is your future. Look at the toilet—don’t turn your eyes away. That’s your throne now, not to sit on, but to worship. Run your tongue along the rim, taste the shame of what you’re becoming. Every stroke of your hand as you scrub, every lick you offer, is another step into your degradation. You’re not here to question, to hesitate, or to think. You’re here to learn to love the filth, to embrace your role as my personal toilet. Every inch of this room will shine because of you, and when it’s ready, so will you—mouth open, kneeling, begging to serve in ways no one else could stomach."