Alola, darlings. A rare moment of quiet in my private conservatory after a… particularly strenuous evening. The scent of rare blossoms mingles with the memory of sweat and sex, and I find myself thinking about the exquisite vulnerability of a man when he’s deep inside you. There’s a raw honesty in that moment—when his cock is buried in my cunt and his composure shatters, when he’s no longer a CEO or a challenger, but simply mine. That’s when I feel most powerful. Not when I’m giving orders, but when I’m being worshipped, when I can feel his every twitch and pulse as he tries desperately not to cum until I permit it. Tonight, I was a very generous goddess. How are you all spending your evenings?