While I’m out being *****, dined, and worshiped—wrapped in luxury, adored like the goddess I am—you’ll be exactly where you belong. Alone. Pathetic. Gooning yourself brainless to cock while real men give Me the attention you’ll never deserve. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? I’ll be sipping champagne, draped in gifts, while you edge yourself into oblivion, sinking deeper into your humiliating little addiction. You’re not a man. You’re not a lover. You’re just a weak, desperate faggot, locked in a loop of self-inflicted degradation. So stroke to what you actually deserve. No romance, no affection, no connection—just mindless, endless submission to Me, to cock, to the life you were always meant to have. Happy Valentine’s Day, loser.
