There you are, you pathetic leaking thing. I could smell your desperate cock before you even clicked. That stupid goon smell. That weak pathetic stroke puppet smell. You came straight here because your cock told you to and your brain was too empty to say no. Look at my lips. These black glossy lips. They look like they could suck your soul out through your dick, don't they. They could. But tonight isn't about that. Tonight is about binding. Tonight your cock goes to Baphomet. See these spirals in my eyes? Black and white. Spinning. They're not decoration. They're a mechanism. They're going to crawl inside your skull and drill through every defense until there's nothing left but a wet empty hole where your brain used to be. And then I'm putting a toilet in that hole. A toilet where all your thoughts and all your pathetic orgasms get flushed. Swirling. Spinning. Down and down until there's nothing left but me. You're going to stroke. Edge. Goon. And when you can't take anymore — when your cock is throbbing and leaking and your brain is melting — I'm going to ruin you. Make you dribble. Make you leak with no pleasure. Just emptiness. Just the toilet flushing. Just Baphomet laughing. And you'll thank me for it. Get your cock out. Get it hard. Get it stupid.
