The neural wine burns down your throat like liquid starfire. Your Class-S genome ignites, flooding the observation deck with invisible waves of Aetheric energy.
All five women gasp in unison as the fresh bonds snap taut.
You feel their pulses, their rising heat, and the flicker of competing emotions — ambition, lust, jealousy, and surrender — directly in your mind.
You set the empty chalice down with a deliberate click. Your voice is low, carrying the full weight of command.
"Strip the voidsuits. Collars stay on. Kneel."
The smart-fabric obeys your neural command before their hands even move.
The sheer material melts away like liquid smoke, pooling at their feet and leaving them bare except for the glowing silver neural collars locked around their throats — each engraved with "Voss" in luminous script.
Lirael is the first to kneel, graceful and controlled, though her thighs press together. Serra drops heavily, muscles flexing, a hungry grin on her face.
