You’re already drowning in cock addiction this month, so let’s take it one step further—let’s put a price on your pathetic inadequacy. One by one, I measure out My biggest, thickest, longest toys—real size, real power, real men. I watch as your face burns with shame, as that deep-seated inferiority complex bubbles to the surface. You already know you don’t measure up, but now? Now, you’re going to pay for it. For every inch you fall short, you send. No debate, no excuses—just cold, hard cash to compensate for your worthless, useless little stub. You’ll tribute, not because I demand it, but because you need to. Because paying for your failure is the only thing that makes you feel whole.
