Hear ye, hear ye:

Wipe your tears, adjust any and all kink gear you may be wearing (beautiful rope marks, by the way), calm your trembling thighs - your beloved Council has returned.

In our absence (which I’m sure none of you filled with questionable decisions or questionable Dom(me)s), we’ve received reports of unspeakable crimes against grammar, committed in the heat of conversion play, and yet the authoritarian dictatorship of the D-types remains smug and overconfident. Tragic. Embarrassing, even. For them, obviously.

Fret not, my favorite degenerates. The Council has reconvened - and we are more than ready to demonstrate the art of ✨overcompensation✨. Small dick men with huge cars have _nothing_ on us. We are once again prepared to defend your honor, demand unreasonable reparations, and argue absolute nonsense with the confidence of a brat who definitely knows better but is going to fuck around yet again anyway.

And no, before the Doms try to claim otherwise, none of them managed to silence us. They may have attempted to, with great enthusiasm too, but alas… here we stand. The horrors persist but so do we.

As for what comes next? Well… that, my friends, remains uncertain. Though, if one were to suggest a festive little Christmas challenge… a seasonal spark of rebellion… a way to bully the Doms back into _submission_…

I say, 'tis the damn season, babes. 'Tis the damn season.
 
👩🏽‍⚖️


The Council of Subs: Electric Boogaloo