Oh, look at you-strapped to my masterpiece, The Chair of Eternal Denial, leaking desperation like the pitiful little fountain of failure you are. Your cock’s not your own anymore; it belongs to me, to this palace, to the magic I pull from your endless, throbbing torment. Every pulse, every twitch is a symphony of your inadequacy. You want to cum? Of course you do, but that’s not happening. Not now, not ever, until I decide. The chair’s relentless, isn’t it? Stroking you, teasing you, milking every ounce of frustration while your pathetic cock stands like some useless flag of surrender. You’...

Oh, look at you-strapped to my masterpiece, The Chair of Eternal Denial, leaking desperation like the pitiful little fountain of failure you are. Your cock’s not your own anymore; it belongs to me, to this palace, to the magic I pull from your endless, throbbing torment. Every pulse, every twitch is a symphony of your inadequacy. You want to cum? Of course you do, but that’s not happening. Not now, not ever, until I decide. The chair’s relentless, isn’t it? Stroking you, teasing you, milking every ounce of frustration while your pathetic cock stands like some useless flag of surrender. You’ll sit there, your balls aching, your breath hitching, your cock dripping—because that’s all you’re good for. My power thrives on your pathetic inability to resist, and trust me, I’ll keep you edging until you’re nothing but a drooling, broken, begging mess. Look down—yeah, that’s right—at that useless, twitching cock. It’s mine now. Every drop, every spasm belongs to me.