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I enter the room like a storm — dark, commanding, unstoppable. You drop to your knees before you even think. My presence crushes you. My voice freezes you. I don’t need to raise a hand; my stare is enough to make you shake. I circle you like a predator while you tremble like prey. My words slice into you, stripping away your excuses, your manhood, your delusions. I order you to crawl, to bow, to press your lips to my feet, to beg for the privilege of my gaze. This is Ebony Domination at its most unrelenting. I don’t coddle. I don’t comfort. I don’t care. You wanted to know what it’s like to worship a Black Goddess? You’re about to find out. You’ll beg for mercy. You’ll get laughter. You’ll beg for forgiveness. You’ll get orders. You’ll beg for a chance. You’ll get humiliation. And the whole time you’ll get harder, weaker, smaller. My power isn’t a game. It’s a law. You kneel or you’re gone.