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Oh, you already know what I’ve got planned, don’t you? You’ve got that little jar of tiger balm ready, hands trembling, cock twitching—because you’re that pathetic. You want the burn. You crave it. That icy-hot sting lighting up every nerve while I mock you for even existing. Go on, rub it in like the filthy little pain slut you are. Stroke for me while your cock screams. You know I’m not going to let you stop. You know I love watching you suffer for me. And you’ll take it—every second of it—because it’s the only kind of attention you deserve.