He thought he was just being a gentleman, inviting us over for a relaxing soak in his hot tub. How adorable. The moment he saw all seven of us, dripping wet and perched on the edge, he knew he’d made a fatal mistake. We didn’t come to relax. We came to take over. We informed him immediately: he’s no longer just a host. He’s our collective boyfriend now, and his sole purpose is to please his new Goddesses.

The warm water did nothing to soothe him as we began his training. One by one, he was paraded around the tub, a desperate little slave in the middle while we surrounded him like a coven of sirens. His first and most sacred duty? Worshiping our perfect asses. We made him kiss every inch, inhale our scent until his lungs were full of our power, and then we smoothered him. His face became our personal ****, buried deep between our cheeks while we laughed at his pathetic, muffled moans. He’s ours now, and this is just the beginning of his servitude. Ready to see how a real takeover looks?