Listen here, you little faggot. Your screen is locked tight not because you forgot the password, but because I hold the keys, just like I lock that cage you keep leaking into.
You don’t spill a drop unless I give the nod. Your cock, your phone, your thoughts, all mine to unlock or keep shut.
Even your noises need my permission. Moaning without the okay is a rule break. You wait for my word, then you let loose.
I control your screen time and your climax time. Scheduled, rationed, and deliberately itching. That ache in your pants is pure design.
You beg through locked apps, tapping away for five lousy minutes. You fail. I watch. And I love watching you squirm.
Edging isn’t optional. It’s ordered, tracked, and enforced. When I say stop, you stop. Shaking, leaking, panting, and obedient like the little faggot whore you are.
i don’t care what he does to me. he owns me. he can abuse me, fuck me, use my body until it’s unusable, rape me, kidnap me, tie me up, i don’t care how bad it is. he’s daddy and he gets what he wants.