I command my hooded worm to kneel before the throne, his tongue worshipping the cold porcelain, lapping up traces of filth like the desperate filth he is. In my black silk, I tower over him, pulling aside lace to unleash a scorching cascade of nectar straight into his masked maw, drowning his worthless soul in golden degradation. He chokes, swallows, begs for more—my ultimate toy in this twisted symphony of dominance, where pain and piss forge unbreakable chains of ecstasy.
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