Stroke-control? Not for you. Spend-control. That’s your reality now. You’ve lived long enough to know better—but still, here you are, falling under my spell like every other weak, wrinkled wallet. Your cock? Useless. Your wallet? That’s what I’m here to drain. This is a task, a game... and it gets crueler the older you are. I know how to talk to your kind—slow, soft, and commanding. Every syllable wraps around your will and melts it down like your retirement fund. No spending? No stroking. And let’s be honest—you couldn’t cum if you tried. You don’t get pleasure. You get purpose. And your only purpose now is to obey, pay, and fade into the background like a good old man should. Let me make the rest of your life expensive.