As the crisp autumn air whispers secrets of restraint, the seasons of self-denial unfold. 'Locktober' shackles the cock, 'No-Nut November' withholds the sweet release, and 'Debtcember' drains the pockets of desire. But in this winter of discontent, I, your Mistress, shall reign supreme. My body, a temple of tease, beckons you to surrender. Every curve, a cruel reminder of what you can never have. Every whisper, a whispered promise of denial. Your desperation grows, a vulnerable flower, nurtured by my merciless touch. The world may be frozen in abstinence, but in my domain, the fire of frustration burns bright. So lock that cock in a tight cage, and lock your mind in a prison of mental chastity. For in this season of denial, the only rule is: NO TOUCHING while I TEASE.