What would Faggot February be without one of My infamous Red Light, Green Light games? We’ll both pretend I’m coaxing you into this—like you still have a choice, like you haven’t already been broken down and corrupted by My control. For the new ones stumbling into My world, this is the perfect place to begin. Admire Me—My tight red miniskirt barely containing My curves, My off-the-shoulder sweater teasing glimpses of My mesh bra, My long, muscular legs wrapped in knee-high socks and red high heels. Take it all in. Feel the ache, the urge to stroke swelling inside you. But the game has rules. You stroke only when I allow it. And when the screen fills with big, fat cocks? You hesitate at first, but My power overrides your confusion. You follow My commands without question. Stroke. Stop. Stroke. Stop. Until something shifts. You don’t expect it, but it happens. The more I tell you to stroke to cock, the more you associate pleasure with it. And when I take it away? You need it back. You beg to see another one, to feel that rush again. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, and suddenly, you sound like a real fucking faggot. And as the pleasure builds, so does the realization—you can’t tell if it’s Me turning you on or the cocks. But by the time I’m finished with you, does it even matter?
