I have your bank account details, a wealth of information about you, and a lawyer so deviously creative you'd think he was the devil himself. It's evident, isn't it? You've been locked into this from the moment you drooled over the contract, your cock hard, mind fuzzy with arousal. Did you ever bother with the fine print while you were too busy jerking off to fantasies of subservience? Clearly not. You're not just in a debt contract; you're in a cocksucking contract, designed meticulously to ruin you unless you bend to every humiliating demand. Remember how you watched, wide-eyed, as your wife was pounded into oblivion? That aroused you, didn't it? But not just the act—you were envious, desperate to be in her place. Well, guess what? Your turn is coming. If I say suck, you'll suck. If I command you to bend over in the filthiest of stalls to be used, you will comply. Each refusal will ring up your debt, charges compiling with every disobedient ding. Either way, you're fucked—literally and financially. And as your body betrays your feigned reluctance with every hard-on you can't control, you'll remember my words. You'll inhale deeply as you take another man's cock deeper, just like your wife did, load after load. And you should know, the moment you even think of saying 'no,' you'll hear your phone, a constant reminder of your fiscal descent. You’re trapped in a relentless cycle of degradation and debt, a perpetual motion machine of humiliation.