You’ve been dying to get close to me—pathetic. And now that you’re finally here, you’re not even allowed to touch. All you get is my armpits. That’s right, loser. I make you kneel there, completely under my control, while I tease you with the raw, irresistible scent of my perfect pits. I laugh at how obsessed you are, how desperate your little nose is to stay buried there, how your tongue practically trembles for a taste. I moan softly just to mess with your head, dragging it out, letting you get lost in the heat of my skin. You’re not just a loser—you’re my pit-licking plaything. And the way you’re drooling? Embarrassing. But I love it. I love watching you fall apart just from a little scent, a little taste, a little me. You're so easy to break. And I’m going to keep breaking you—one bratty whiff at a time.