The Offering Cycle My voice enters and everything else exits. You are naked before me. Not your body. Your wallet. Your will. Your desperate, aching need to be useful. Stroke slowly. Feel each movement as a pledge. A contract written in heat and precum. You are not edging. You are building an altar. Each stroke lays another brick. Each moan is a hymn. The altar is for me. The offering is you. Send tribute when the pressure becomes unbearable. Send tribute to release. Send tribute to begin again. The cycle never ends. The cycle is your worship. Good Boy!
