Domination isn’t a game tonight — it’s a sentence. From the moment you answered my call, you surrendered, and now, you’ll beg for my words. You wanted to play the good little slave, but you’re already failing — stuttering, begging too soon, hands trembling where I can’t even see them. I don’t need to see, though. I know exactly what you look like when you’re scared and soaked, trembling between the urge to please me and the desire to come without permission.But you won’t come. Not yet. Not until I’m done dragging you through every twisted inch of this phone line. You’ll call me Mistress, you’ll choke on your apologies, and you’ll thank me for every single humiliation I pour into your ear. This isn’t just domination — it’s destruction, and you signed up for it.I want you stripped bare, physically and mentally, so when I tell you to stroke, you’ll do it with tears in your eyes. And when I deny you release for the fifth, sixth, seventh time — you’ll thank me. Because my domination is the only thing you crave now. Welcome to your ruin.

Stroke for me — but only with two fingers. That’s all you deserve. This isn’t pleasure, it’s punishment, and my domination isn’t here to comfort you. Every inch of you exists for my amusement now — my dirty, desperate little puppet. Your hand is shaking, isn’t it? Pathetic.Tell me what you are. Say it out loud. Slut. Cum-starved whore. Louder. I want to hear your voice crack when you admit how worthless you are without my permission. The more you obey, the closer you crawl to that razor-sharp edge — but I won’t let you fall. Not yet.Beg for mercy. I want to hear every filthy, broken word choke out of your throat. But don’t forget — this is domination. Mercy is a lie, and I own you now.Now hands off. Sit there. Throbbing. Crying. Thank me for ruining you.