You’re going to sit there, straight across from me, holding that eye contact, and you’re not going to look away, no matter how close I lean or how thick each breath fills the air. You’ll feel it—a vile, stale cloud of my stinking burps washing over you, smothering you as you sit there, helpless and pathetic, exactly as I want you. That hidden camera is capturing every second, recording just how powerless you are under my control. I’ll make sure everyone knows just how much I own you, that you’re nothing but my pathetic little burp bitch, marked as mine for everyone to see.

You’re going to sit there, straight across from me, holding that eye contact, and you’re not going to look away, no matter how close I lean or how thick each breath fills the air. You’ll feel it—a vile, stale cloud of my stinking burps washing over you, smothering you as you sit there, helpless and pathetic, exactly as I want you. That hidden camera is capturing every second, recording just how powerless you are under my control. I’ll make sure everyone knows just how much I own you, that you’re nothing but my pathetic little burp bitch, marked as mine for everyone to see.