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Mistress Kennya, a vision in latex and heels, commands the stage, her eyes hidden behind a sleek gas mask. She lights a cigarette, the tip glowing like a devil's eye, and takes a languid drag. Her breath, hot and filtered, fogs the mask as she exhales, a cloud of smoke encircling her like a dark halo. She beckons her servant, a quivering mess of anticipation and fear, who kneels before her. Mistress Kennya's lips curl into a smirk as she presses the burning cigarette onto his skin, leaving a mark of her power and his devotion.