You're back, predictably groveling at my feet, you abject specimen. It's clear you've abandoned any pretense of normalcy, choosing instead to wallow in your self-made mire of debasement. Your existence? A ceaseless cycle of tugging on your laughable excuse for a manhood, endlessly chasing a high you'll never truly grasp. You've relegated yourself to the saddest echelon of manhood, forever barred from the warmth of a woman's embrace, destined only to paw at your own flesh in a pitiful attempt at satisfaction.

Every night is the same dismal routine, isn't it? Your hands, those twin a...

You're back, predictably groveling at my feet, you abject specimen. It's clear you've abandoned any pretense of normalcy, choosing instead to wallow in your self-made mire of debasement. Your existence? A ceaseless cycle of tugging on your laughable excuse for a manhood, endlessly chasing a high you'll never truly grasp. You've relegated yourself to the saddest echelon of manhood, forever barred from the warmth of a woman's embrace, destined only to paw at your own flesh in a pitiful attempt at satisfaction.

Every night is the same dismal routine, isn't it? Your hands, those twin agents of your downfall, perpetually engaged in the sad ballet of your own ruin. You're ensnared in a web of your own making, entranced by the glow of your screen, forever a spectator, never a participant. In your heart, you know the truth: you're not just abstaining from women — they're repudiating you, a visceral rejection of your very essence.

So, continue on your path of self-degradation, you despicable excuse for a man. Stroke away your dignity, your prospects, every last shred of self-respect. I demand it. Grovel and debase yourself, let your pleas for release echo into the void. Your pleas are music to my ears, a symphony of your utter subjugation. Remember, in this twisted dance, I lead, you follow. You are mine to command, a puppet to my whims, an object devoid of any purpose beyond serving my cruel intentions.