You're mine now, a pitiful, sniveling little gooner trapped in your own pathetic world of desperation and need. Locked up, your tiny, insignificant dick caged away, you're nothing but a drooling, sniffing mess in front of your screen, endlessly pumping away at that chastity device, craving release you'll never get. Your only purpose is to binge on my clips, inhale that heady aroma, and goon your useless life away. You're a spectacle of humiliation, a laughable example of what happens when a man is reduced to his lowest, groveling at my feet, begging for a crumb of attention. Let the aroma fog your brain, make you dumber, more compliant. You're not a man; you're a gooning, sniffing, spending puppet, and I pull the strings. Your addiction to my presence, your obsession with my control, it's all you have left. Each sniff, each denied orgasm, each dollar spent, you spiral further into the abyss, becoming the mindless, obedient gay you were always meant to be. You don't deserve pleasure; you deserve only to serve, suffer, and obey. So sniff, goon, and remember: your pain is my pleasure, and you exist only to amuse me, Goddess Goldy.