Dead Anaconda

You’re no longer allowed to think like a person. I’ll keep you edged for hours on end, teasing that needy cunt until you’re humping my boot like a bitch in heat. Then I’ll punish you with hard slaps across your pussy and ass, pushing you straight into agonizing overstimulation while I laugh at how perfectly I’ve ruined you.

I control every single one. The more you cry and beg for mercy, the longer I’ll keep denying and torturing you, humiliating you for how wet and broken you get under my control. Your pleasure is mine to give, take, and destroy.

I decide how wet you stay, how desperate you become, and how much suffering you endure. I’ll edge you until your brain goes blank and your hips move on their own, then slam you into wave after wave of overstimulation until you’re a , leaking mess. This is total ownership — your pleasure, your pain, your sanity, all under my hand.

Now you live for the edge. I’ll bring you right to the brink over and over, denying you until tears stream down your face, then slam you into overwhelming overstimulation while I hold you down. You’ll cum harder than you ever thought possible, only to keep suffering through wave after wave because I decided that’s what your corrupted body deserves.

If you make too much noise I will step in to shut you up, although your slut self might end up enjoying what I have in mind. I've got rope and a duffel bag for you to sit in, and if you force me to shut you up, I'll unzip the bag just enough for your head to poke out, so I can use your crying and begging as an opening for rape your mouth.

You’ll stay there, folded and dripping, my living fleshlight, existing only to be used and pushed past every limit I choose.

Stay right there, broken and empty. That's where you