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Session two, patient. New office, new outfit -- squeaky pink latex, a crop, and me, your dumb little doctor playing dominatrix. Don't laugh. Last week you left your brains in my tray, so tonight there's room in that empty head for one single word. Mine. I'm going to install it while you sniff and stroke, and when I'm done, I won't need the crop, the latex, or even a full sentence. One word and your cock jumps. One word and you drip. One word and whatever you were thinking -- gone, replaced, mine. Smart boys need arguments. You just need the word. Cock out. Kneel. Session two starts now.