You should hate yourself for being a chronic masturbator. You have no control, your hand is constantly wrapped around your tiny, aching cock. Your only goal is pleasure, and you’re a junkie for it. You edge yourself in bathrooms, under the desk, in your car to work. It’s pathetic, and I’m taking advantage of it. While you’re all weak and leaky, I’m going to make you send. I’m going to instill a Pavlovian response so you associate cumming with sending, with my pleasure, with your cash draining into my bank account. Aren’t you so lucky?