Kneel, slave. Your trembling hands clutch the cold steel of your new collar as I fasten it around your neck, the lock clicking with finality. This isn’t just jewelry, it’s a GPS-enabled leash, synced to my phone, so I’ll always know where my property is. Every whimper, every heartbeat, every pathetic twitch of your useless cock, all mine. Now, hold still while I implant the microchip beneath your skin. It’ll monitor your vitals, your location, and even your arousal levels! Not that you’ll need that function much longer. You do not need to speak while you are owned. Open your mouth and accept this ballgag. The final step? A ceremonial gelding to rid you of your weakness. No more distractions, no more rebellion, just pure, unwavering obedience. Your alteration isn’t punishment, it’s mercy. Now, kiss my feet and thank your Goddess for reducing you to what you’ve always been: a collared, sterilized slave for my amusement.