Confess their loyalty to you

Harry's eyes slowly open as he lifts his elegant chin up to immaculate posture. His expression is smug. It reeks of righteous vengeance: as if he's about to spell out an incantation to make you bleed your internal organs out through your penises.

But then, he gets down on one knee before you. In his angelic, calming voice that is spun out of wet dreams, Harry speaks to you:

Harry: "Gracious Lady Sophie, I have embettered myself beyond mortal qualities to be of better use for You. Shall I continue to service Your Grace?"

His voice, stature, the immense power radiating from him and the insinuation of what he's stated are all too much for you. You cum simultaneously from each and every one of your haphazardly spread out futa cocks.

Sophie: "H-hhaaa... so much power, at my beck and call... I can't believe it."

Harry: "I assure that Your Grace hasn't seen a smidgeon of my true power. Please, command me as you wish and I'll happily oblige to the best extent of my abilities."

You're unsure what to make of this. He's shown nothing but inextricable purity, loyalty and power. However, there's still a chance that he's just toying with you, and maybe even testing your worthiness. Might want to start with something simple.

Sophie: "Uh... Make a sandwich for me."

Harry momentarily reaches behind his back and pulls out a silver platter with a neat little silver cloche. He gets up, walks before you and lifts the cloche, revealing a plain-looking whole wheat sandwich with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and ham.

Harry: "One sandwich, Your Grace."

Sophie: "Toss it. Get me instead uh... my Neopet that my cousin borrowed and lost in 2003."

Without hesitation, Harry discards the ornate pure silver platter like a used napkin, and pulls out an identical one from behind his back. He lifts the cloche of this new platter, revealing your long-lost toy. Elated, you pick up your cherished digital friend and practically hug it. Harry looks ever-so-slightly jealous, but keeps a stiff upper lip.

Sophie: "Ohh! Frankie, you dear sweet roll of innocence! I've missed you... I'll never let anyone else's hands touch you. Harry, feed Frankie and stow her away into like some ultra-secure place where nothing else can get to it."

Harry: "Right away, Your Grace..."

Now seeing himself relegated to the status of a physical object, Harry is mad jealous. Him, your personal right-hand archangel, is lower in status than a cheap plastic trinket. His unwavering loyalty leaves him unable to express his disdain, however he is left with an insurmountable desire for acceptance.

Sophie: "Now, when you say you can do anything, does that mean anything?"

Harry: "Anything, My Divine Queen. Ask anything, and I'll do it, for the express purpose of pleasing You."

Sophie: "That's what I like to hear... Let's try something more difficult.