The hottest thing you can do for Me is be so confident in your sexuality that you'll let Me watch you reach behind your own back. Secure straight men don't flinch at one little finger, and you're not scared of your own pleasure, are you? No lube, because I want to see you feel every bit of that friction and watch your face when your body finally relaxes and lets you in. Slide it slow and deep until you find your prostate, then arch that back for Me and show Me how good it feels to be a little slutty when nobody's judging you. Moan louder, rock back onto your hand, and let your cock get harder and harder without a single touch, because the more you let go, the more I like you. You're going to cum from your ass alone, all over your thigh, then lick your fingers clean and thank Me for turning you into such a confident little butt slut. Confidence looks so good on you.

You came before I finished my first sentence last time. No stroking. No begging. Just spurt. You didn't even say thank you. So tonight the clock belongs to me. One inch of movement, up, down, on my voice, in lingerie you will never once be inside of, then hands off while it throbs and you learn what waiting costs. That thing standing up between your legs is not what men have. It's a fear boner. It already knows how this ends. Two hours of barely lightly edging and going soft, edging and going soft, until your premature ejaculation problem solves itself the only way it can: erectile dysfunction, on purpose, by my design. Then I let you finish. No arch, no flood, just a cold clear smear you stare at wondering why it felt like nothing. Ruined orgasm, virgin humiliation and cum denial in one breath. Lick it off your finger. Same edge tomorrow. Same nothing forever.

Put me on my knees in your head. Feel my breath come through the gaps, my tongue flicking the bars, tracing the ring and every scrap of skin the metal left exposed, and then feel me lift away the second you swell against it. This is cock sucking you only get to imagine, blowjob instructions delivered through a chastity device you can't grow out of. Hands off. I mean it. You climb on my voice alone, handsfree, and when your body jumps without my permission it's a trickle through the bars, not an orgasm. Barely sticky, shaking, ashamed. Then I build you back up and strip it away again, cleaner this time. No release. Just the ache, the empty, and the forever ruin.

Your secret was never safe, and part of you prayed I would find it. I don't even have to push, since you reach for the padded push-up yourself, which is why encouraged feminization works so well on you. Once 20 denier nylons hug your thighs, my pantyhose domination stops feeling like a rule and starts feeling like relief. You wobble in stilettos while posing for my screenshots, and it dawns on you that your boss is only one post away from seeing them. How could you let this happen? Your profile has grown so massive. But the panic makes you harder, doesn't it? This exposed fantasy play is where you feel honest and vulnerable. Keep it on, because going back to normal was never your call.

You spent years pretending that little thing carries weight, and I'm done humoring you. Next to a coffee stirrer, even the plastic wins, and that is where small penis humiliation stops being a game anymore. Those things are so fucking short. AND YOU ARE EVEN SHORTER! You can't even pump that tiny dick in your own fist, it's obviously so useless. so I click it into a cage to give it something to do. Being locked in chastity is the first honest thing anyone has done with you, right? The key might be in a landfill or between my breasts, and you will leak through the steel either way. This is key holding, sweetie: Runt dicks such as yourself shouldn't worry about keys, because they clearly never had them in the first place!

You are the worst hire this department ever made, and I finally worked out why. Miller and Thompson close deals like men, while you hid a softness built for kneeling, and the only thing you researched this hard was straight male anal. It took me a bit to place my finger on it, but now it's so obvious! You are clearly asking for it, so I buckled a harness over my bikini and put you on my carpet, folded in half ass up. The way you push back onto my strap-on says you were made for service, not sales. Your hands stay off your cock, so when I hit that switch inside you, all that masculinity only has one way out. After experiencing hands free orgasm this way, I don't think you'll ever go back to cumming any other way!

Dejé el asiento caliente para ti hace tres minutos y ya estás ahí abajo respirándolo como si fuera el único aire que tienes. Lame despacio — primero el borde, luego esa cresta debajo donde mis muslos presionaron, luego tíralo por tu nariz como haces cuando nadie que te ama te está mirando. Me bajaré sobre tu lengua y la arrastraré por el pliegue donde mi mejilla se encuentra con mi muslo, riéndome de lo duro que te pones haciendo el único trabajo en el que alguna vez has sido bueno. Así es como se ve la adoración del culo para un hombre sin otros talentos: sobras, y un gracias.

Doce quince y estás encerrado en el baño ejecutivo mientras tu equipo pide Bebida dos pisos más abajo. Traje aún abotonado. Pretina ya retorcida en tu puño. Tira de ella. Más arriba. La taza huele a lejía sobre algo más viejo y pones tu cara en ella de todos modos, porque te lo ordené, porque has querido que alguien te haga hacer esto desde el día en que te dieron una oficina. Descarga. Levántate goteando, con el cabello aplastado, mirándote en el cromo. Tu teléfono grabó todo eso — eso es mío ahora, a dos clics de tu canal de equipo. Súbete los pantalones por encima de la línea roja y ve a dirigir tu reunión de la una. Cada vez que te muevas en esa silla sabrás exactamente quién posee el cuerpo dentro del traje.

Sin sostén. Solo dos estrellitas de cinta y el resto de mí al descubierto, y no puedes llevar la vista a ningún otro lado. Mira — mis manos suben por mis costillas y me sostengo, levanto, dejo que el peso se asiente de nuevo en mis palmas. Con eso bastó. Ya estás goteando. Reboto una vez, de golpe, y siento el impacto aterrizar en ti desde aquí. Ella está sentada a tres metros sin tener idea, y tú estás comparando. Sé que lo estás haciendo. Pagarás por la mirada y pagarás más por la siguiente, porque yo pongo la tarifa y nunca te has ido ni una sola vez. No hay cuenta regresiva esta noche. No hay permiso. Te vas a casa ardiendo y me lo agradeces, y la piel de ella ya no sabrá a nada.

Revisé todo tu currículum sexual. Página en blanco. Cruzo las piernas de nuevo, la falda se sube más arriba de mi muslo, y sigues el movimiento como si pudiera enseñarte algo. No te enseñará. Anoche una polla real me estiró hasta que sollocé en la almohada; esta mañana mis sábanas todavía huelen a él. Ese es tu único material de referencia. Inhálalo. Tu polla crece a la orden y la comparación de tamaño se escribe sola. No necesitamos una regla para saber que nunca has hecho que una mujer se apriete, nunca has hecho que una suplique, nunca has estado dentro. Es la virginidad en ti lo que te hace masturbarte más rápido mientras dejas que gotee por tu propio estómago en cuatro segundos húmedos mientras cuento. Cuatro segundos, y lo único en lo que has estado dentro es tu propia mano.

Coloca el espejo donde puedas ver tu propia cara recibiéndolo. No puedes apartar la mirada de lo que estás a punto de hacer. Te mantengo goteando sin usar las manos, hasta que yo dé la orden, y entonces es rápido y hacia arriba: justo a través de tu boca, tu nariz, tus pestañas. Sin toalla. Cada vez que te detienes, me doy la vuelta y te doy mi culo en este bikini, un recordatorio de lo que tu boca no se acerca hasta que esté limpio. Luego la lengua. Las comisuras de tus labios, los lados de tu nariz, ambas mejillas, y ese grueso globo colgando de tu barbilla — abre, déjalo caer, mastica antes de tragar. De alguna manera tu vida ha llegado a esto. Instrucciones para comerte la leche sin salida al final, autofacial y humillación verbal cosidas en una sola limpieza larga. Cuando tu cara esté impecable, lo dices en voz alta: lo lamiste, tragaste cada gota, y en cierto modo te gustó.

Say it flat for me. Clinical. "I've never made a woman cum." Good. Now say it again slower, because we both know exactly which nights I'm talking about — the performed moans, the sudden roll-over, her hand drifting between her legs while she tells you she's satisfied. I don't even have to work for this one. Your flaccid dick humiliates you every single night without my help, and I just get to sit here in my lingerie and watch it do my job for me. That's what makes this inescapable.

No stress excuse. No timing excuse. I'm walking you through the whole ceremony — the pill, the dry mouth, the clock-watching, that borrowed erection you clutch. You aren't broken, and that's the part that eats you alive. Broken means it worked once. This is just how you were made.

Erectile dysfunction humiliation, virgin humiliation, and small penis humiliation folded into one flat verdict: you're a pussy-free let down...Not a threat. Not even a real option — just the guy that knows to shut up and stay soft while I decide what I feel like using you for.