I love watching you suffer, the way you squirm under just a tiny bit of pressure makes Me giggle endlessly. This perfect body is too good for you, too good for you to see and definitely too good for you to stroke to. you should feel blessed as your eyes float over My delicate skin. Appreciative of the visual experience you oblige to My no stroking rule, but you don’t stop begging. The whimpering gets louder and louder and yet I’ve told you I’ve made up My mind. The louder you groan the more I smirk in delight at your pain. The hope doesn’t seem to subside, you keep begging. The desperation beyond your control, the words fall from your tongue as you sit there, helpless.
