Oh, how utterly pathetic you are, my little denial junkie. You sit there, begging to be stripped of the last shred of control over your pitiful existence. Three months without climax? Oh, sweetie, that’s just the warm-up. You think you’re capable of such devotion, but the truth is, your desperation drips off you like sweat, making you weak, pliable, and so deliciously pathetic. Your nipples, your cock, your balls—they're not yours anymore. They’re mine to clamp, to torment, to tease until you're trembling and begging for a release that may never come. You don’t just long to be denied; you l...

Oh, how utterly pathetic you are, my little denial junkie. You sit there, begging to be stripped of the last shred of control over your pitiful existence. Three months without climax? Oh, sweetie, that’s just the warm-up. You think you’re capable of such devotion, but the truth is, your desperation drips off you like sweat, making you weak, pliable, and so deliciously pathetic. Your nipples, your cock, your balls—they're not yours anymore. They’re mine to clamp, to torment, to tease until you're trembling and begging for a release that may never come. You don’t just long to be denied; you long to be owned, humiliated, and molded into the quivering, chastity-locked toy you were born to be. And believe me, I’ll make you thank me for every second of your aching, useless torment.