Atrapamos a nuestro perezoso criado doméstico durmiendo en el suelo (al menos sabe cuál es su lugar). Si va a comportarse como un saco de carne inútil, entonces la Diosa Kat y yo vamos a tratarlo como tal. Pasamos por encima de nuestro felpudo humano, pisoteamos y torturamos sus bolas, y hacemos que ruegue por oxígeno bajo nuestros culos perfectos. Maltratamos a nuestro inútil criado mientras se disculpa una y otra vez por ser semejante decepción. Le damos una lección para que se asegure de pensarlo dos veces antes de holgazanear en el trabajo.

Dressed in sporty leggings and sneakers, we turn casual athletic energy into something far more sadistic. Our submissive is bound tight, unable to protect himself with his hands and obligated to absorb every kick, punch, slap, and squeeze we deliver. The rubber on our sneakers connects over and over with his pathetic, sensitive balls, leaving him no choice but to drop to the floor like the little bitch he is.

He thinks the couch means relief. Comfort. Safety. Goddess Kat and I quickly crush that illusion. Our kicks send him reeling backwards, but we're relentless with our ballbusting. We don't stop until we're satisfied. Every single kick, punch, slap, and squeeze reinforces the reality: there is no safety or comfort when you're around us.

Goddess Kat and I return from a serene yoga class all stretched, centered... and utterly unimpressed. The house is a mess, and our maid is about to pay for his laziness. With ruthless kicks, punches, squeezes, and slaps to his balls, we remind him exactly what happens when standards aren’t met. Disappointing us always comes with consequences.