Hello again, my swollen little fuck-toy. Day 85. You’re not new to this anymore—no, you’re conditioned, cracked open, rewired around one truth: my tits own you.This isn’t a show. It’s a ceremony.You will sniff—slow, filthy, focused. You’ll feel the scent rot through your spine, curling your brain around the shape of my curves. You’ll stroke—lazy at first, then frantic as the aroma strips away your thoughts. Every twitch in your cock? Mine. Every moan? Fed by my body.You’re here to edge for my tits. To drown in their weight. To beg for a lick, a touch, a taste—but get nothing but ache and humiliation. That tightness in your balls? That’s me. That glaze in your eyes? All mine.Your pleasure is not yours anymore. It’s mine to give. Or never give again.Let’s see how far you fall for me this time.