Once upon a depraved night, in the kingdom of endless lust, there lived a gooner slave, forever bound to the whims of his wicked Spiraling Goddess. His days and nights were consumed by an insatiable craving, a relentless need to stroke, edge, and goon at the behest of his commanding Mistress. She was a figure of cruel beauty, her voice a siren's call that led him deeper into the abyss of his own debasement.

Each stroke was a testament to his degradation, a rhythmic dance of shame and ecstasy. The Spiraling Goddess, with her mesmerizing gaze and seductive cruelty, wove tales of perv...

Once upon a depraved night, in the kingdom of endless lust, there lived a gooner slave, forever bound to the whims of his wicked Spiraling Goddess. His days and nights were consumed by an insatiable craving, a relentless need to stroke, edge, and goon at the behest of his commanding Mistress. She was a figure of cruel beauty, her voice a siren's call that led him deeper into the abyss of his own debasement.

Each stroke was a testament to his degradation, a rhythmic dance of shame and ecstasy. The Spiraling Goddess, with her mesmerizing gaze and seductive cruelty, wove tales of perversion and humiliation that ensnared his mind. "Stroke for me, my pathetic gooner," she would purr, her words dripping with contempt and desire. "Edge for your Goddess, and ... in the sea of your own denied release." He was lost in the labyrinth of his addiction, a maze with no exit, where pleasure and torment were indistinguishable.

Night after night, the gooner trembled under her spell, a puppet enslaved by his own perverted longing. The Goddess's tales were a twisted symphony of eroticism and humiliation, each word a stroke upon the canvas of his debasement. He was her loyal subject, a gooner enthralled by the pain and pleasure of his unending edging. And as the dawn approached, he remained trapped in the cycle of his own making, a slave to the never-ending story of his gooning.