Listen closely, my groveling pet. I am your Spiraling Goddess and you exist solely to provide my amusement. Your marathon is about to begin, an arduous journey where each stroke, each gasp, each desperate whimper is orchestrated by my whims. My spiraling eyes will hook your weak mind, reeling you into a world of unending pleasure and ceaseless torment. Your hand will move on its own, seeking the pleasure I permit but the release I deny. In my realm, gooning is your sacred duty, a torturous rite you perform under my unforgiving gaze. Your desperate hand will pump tirelessly, your arousal teetering on the edge of release, yet always denied the satisfaction. I want to see your body convulse with unspent pleasure, your cries of frustration music to my ears. Your agony and ecstasy are my entertainment, your denied orgasms a testament to my control. You are a puppet dancing on my strings, spiraling deeper into my control with each desperate stroke. Every whimper, every twitch, every denied climax fuels my power and your addiction. Caught in my web, you're helpless, lost in the pleasure of my mesmerizing spirals, bound by my command. The marathon has no finish line, pet, not until I decide your torment has provided me enough amusement. Until then, keep pumping, keep whimpering, keep begging for the release I may never grant.
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