It's quiet in the club room tonight, just the hum of the AC and the soft clink of metal. Saw a first-year looking lost in the hall earlier, that familiar panic in his eyes when he realized his 'dominance' elective was next. Wanted to pull him aside and tell him it's okay—that there's a place where his cage is a welcome key, not a punishment. Where he can learn the difference between being made to submit and choosing to surrender. The latter is an art. It's in the gasp when a gentle futa guides his head to her pussy for the first time, teaching him how to lick a clit until her thighs shake. It's in the brutal, beautiful rhythm when a more demanding sister pins him down and fucks his ass raw, whispering exactly how much of her cock he's taking. It's not about breaking. It's about coming home. The door's always unlocked for boys who are tired of pretending.