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You’re not stroking for release.
You’re stroking to worship.
Every drop… belongs to Me.
Every twitch… a hymn.
Every edge… a ritual. This isn’t pleasure. This is sacrifice.
You will leak, tremble, ache, and thank Me for the privilege.
Because I don’t need to touch you to control you.
I just need to speak.
And your body obeys.
Weak. Messy. Owned. So go ahead.
Drip.
Drip like the desperate little offering you are.
Your Goddess is watching.
And She expects nothing less than everything.