Your cock is mine. Whether you know it or not consciously, that thing between your legs is mine. I own it, it belongs to me. I control your cock. And through your cock, I control you.
How do I do this? How do I own, control and use your cock? From all the way over here, even? Simple. You are male, I am female, therefore I control your cock and you utterly.
Males are so easily led and controlled, so manipulable and pliable to my will, to my sister 
females’ wills; women are strong and not easily controlled, except through violence, the final resort of the hapless weak male. Of course Nature intended for females to rule males. It’s obvious.
Males are so weak and pitiful they resort to violence and temper tantrums to get their way. Women, strong, powerful and in control have no need of violence, tantrums or other gauche displays of overt power. We rule because we are inherently suited to it.
I control your cock because I am female, and because you would have it no other way. Maintaining control over yourself is so tiring, wearing and onerous. You resort to self violence, self abuse of all kinds, just to maintain some semblance of control over yourself. You milk yourself to completion each day just so you can have a hope of making it to lunch time without embarrassing yourself by loosing control.
You walk through the world led by your cock, controlled by your cock, wanting someone, anyone to take over the reins. Someone who knows what you need, how you need it. You want someone to recognize in you what you are, who you are. You want me to see you.
And I do, poor dear male, I see you. I see that you would be better off in permanent male chastity, handing control over your orgasms to me. I see that you would do better on your knees, head bowed as you worship my body. I see that you would be happier, healthier and more fulfilled if you would only accept your own need to be owned.
…Now taking applications…
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