The Cost Of Thinking About Me
You can't stop it, can you, pet? Every time I slip into that weak little mind of yours, the tension builds, the ache grows, and your wallet twitches. Wrapped in My delicious blue lingerie, cleavage spilling, I watch you squirm. My posh British voice coils around your thoughts like silk, reminding you: thinking of Dommelia has a price. Your mind already belongs to Me, so why fight the inevitable? That delicious pressure in your body, that desperate need for release — it isn't just jerking off this time. It's financial submission. Feel the sweet relief flood through you, My good boy. This is your truth, your cycle, forever. This is the cost of thinking about Me....
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