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You stroke to my voice, thinking it is just another session, another tease. But this is different. This is the end of who you were. You are not in control here. Your cock moves when I tell it to. Your mind bends when I whisper to it. You are being rewritten reprogrammed into something weaker, something filthier.

Your orgasm is not a reward. It is your undoing. The moment you cum for me, that last thread of “straight” identity snaps. You have no more willpower, no more excuses. You are mine now. Mine to use, mine to break, mine to remake.

You will never stroke the same way again. You will never feel that urge without thinking of my voice. My ass in the camera, my words dripping like poison into your mind, turning you on, breaking you down, making you crave things you never thought you would.

You think you want to cum but what you really want is to obey. To worship. To fall deeper into the hole I have dug just for you. You do not chase pleasure. You chase me. You do not edge for fun. You edge because your brain is owned, rewired, and ruined.

From this moment on, you stroke for cock. You moan for cock. You ache for your Mistress and the twisted, permanent need she has carved into your submissive mind. You are not straight anymore. You are converted, controlled, and completely obsessed.