
Compte à rebours vers la RUINE
Aww, lil thing, ready to hand over control? You get ten strokes and not one more, that's the deal. I count, you obey, simple as that.
Full fist, base to tip, one second per stroke, don't you dare speed up on Me. Ten. Nine. You're already shaking, aren't you beta. Four. Three. Look at you leaking already and we're not even close. Zero. Hand off. Now. I don't care how close you were, that's what happens when you agree to
My rules. Good boy for making it this far, shame you didn't get to finish.
Maybe next time I'll let you count higher. Maybe.
