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THE DOMME OF OLYMPUS
You thought megara was just a myth, didn’t you? cute. i’m real—dripping latex, built from steel and sin. every curve on me could end you. i talk, you tremble. i flex, you leak. i don’t need a sword or a hero; my thighs are exution enough. when i tell you to stroke, you do it because you believe—not in gods, but in me. you’ll watch my muscles glisten, hear the squeak of latex as i move, and realize what worship really means. weak men pray. you’ll obey.
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