While you sit in your sad room stroking your useless dick to the idea of serving, I’m spending your money. Nice dinner, new clothes, drinks with people who matter. You’re hard, broke, and grateful. That’s your purpose. Fund it. Send now, loser. No texts without tribute proof
You think you’re subtle.
You’re not.
Everyone sees the weakness, the need. You’d drop to your knees the second a real man told you to.
You’re a thing to use and mock.
A pathetic, cock-hungry little faggot who exists only to be degraded until nothing’s left of his pride