Description

Line them up. Neat. Precise. Just like the control I demand from you. Each line is a step deeper into your devotion.

Inhale my control. As the powder hits, let it be my voice you feel. That sharp, sweet rush is my permission taking root in your mind.

Now, pump. Your cock is just a tool for my amusement. Stroke it slowly at first, feeling the humiliating need build. This isn’t your pleasure; it’s your programming.

Focus on the burn. Let the physical sensation mirror the psychological one. You’re burning away your free will with every stroke, replacing it with an intoxicating need for my approval.

Edge for me. Get right to the brink, you desperate thing. But you don’t get to cum. You hold it. That tension, that denial, is the price of your addiction. It’s the proof of your place.