You’re on your knees, just like I want you. St that pathetic little c while I remind you of your place. You’re not my man — you’re my c. I get real pleasure from him, and you just get told what to do. Start s slowly. You don’t get to enjoy this. This is punishment. Think about him inside me, making me satisfied. And you? H, ignored, watching. His c drips out. And you clean it. With your mouth. Every drop. Because that’s what you are. A cleanup toy. S faster now. You’re close, aren’t you? Weak. Desperate. Ready to explode for something you’ll never have. But you don’t stop until I say. When he c, you’ll catch it — and eat it. All of it. Slowly. Without question. Because your pleasure is your humiliation. Now s. Edge. Hold it. Don’t you dare finish. Now c at my countdown, you deserve it.

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