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Look at you.

Sitting there, right in front of your glowing screen, eyes locked onto my words like a desperate little mutt waiting for scraps.

You know exactly why you're here, don't you?

You know that no matter how much you try to pretend you have control, you don't. I do.

I own that weak little brain of yours, that useless wallet you pretend is yours, and that throbbing, aching little excuse for a cock you dare to call a dick.

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