"Do you see these lips? Perfectly shaped, coated in the richest red, glistening like forbidden fruit. You’re transfixed, aren’t you? Every curve, every pout has you trembling, powerless, and pathetic. You’d give anything just to be near them, to inhale the intxicating mix of my lipstick and my power. But you’re not worthy of their touch. No, all you get to do is kneel there, worshipping from a distance, stroking yourself like the desperate little slave you are. You’ll imagine their taste, their heat, their softness, but that’s all you’ll ever have—your filthy, humiliating fantasies. Because...

"Do you see these lips? Perfectly shaped, coated in the richest red, glistening like forbidden fruit. You’re transfixed, aren’t you? Every curve, every pout has you trembling, powerless, and pathetic. You’d give anything just to be near them, to inhale the intxicating mix of my lipstick and my power. But you’re not worthy of their touch. No, all you get to do is kneel there, worshipping from a distance, stroking yourself like the desperate little slave you are. You’ll imagine their taste, their heat, their softness, but that’s all you’ll ever have—your filthy, humiliating fantasies. Because my lips aren’t for you. They’re above you, untouchable, a symbol of everything you’ll never deserve. So keep stroking, keep dreaming, and remember that every time you worship them, you’re just sinking deeper into your obsession, your addiction, your pathetic, unending servitude to me."