You still think you're free to breathe, to cum, to decide when your cock deserves to be rewarded? How naive… You have no power left. Your entire sexual existence depends on our will now. You’re not allowed to breathe without our approval, you’re not allowed to vibrate without our permission, and you sure as hell aren’t allowed to come unless we decide it, provoke it, command it. We’re going to change the way you jerk off. We’re going to improve it, spice it up, by taking your breath away. As long as you’re holding it in, you get to press that vibe against your cock, you get to shake, to tremble, to ache. But the second you breathe? You stop. You pull away. You become our frustrated little puppet again, cut off, dangling by our voice, our rules, our delicious cruelty. The more you are breathless, the harder your cock gets for us. The more you vibrate, the closer you think you are to relief… but all we’ve done is program your frustration. This isn’t a game for the weak. It’s a ritual of control. A slow, sensual, merciless descent into a kind of pleasure you can’t handle on your own. You breathe. You shake. You hold it in. You go again, and again, and again… until you finally understand that even your breath no longer belongs to you.