EPISODE 3: Gooned Into Findom: Owned And Empty
You are staring at my sofa. You are staring at me. I am looking past you, through the screen, because you are furniture now. That is how it works. Your hand is glued to your cock because my hand moved. That is the trigger. Numbers lose meaning when you are this deep. You feel the blank space when I tell you to kneel, and your thumb moves on its own. I am talking about next month while you stroke. I am talking about the custom clip you are going to buy, the wishlist you are going to clear, the debt you are going to carry because carrying it for me feels like carrying my weight on your back. You are stroking slower now. You are in the state. I snap my fingers and tell you to send one more time. You do it while the come is still building in your balls. That is the proof. I describe the future sessions while you are open like this. I describe how you will message me after you come, covered in your own mess, stupid and grateful, already hard again because you know I read it while I drink my coffee. I tell you to beg for the final trigger. You beg. I give it to you. My voice drops. My eyes meet the lens. You are mine. You type the tribute note while you are still coming. You are programmed. You are property. Welcome to your new routine.