existence to me, right? You owe your life, you wealth, your sense of being to me. I took you and formed you into being with my own hands. I crafted you
and smooth. The shine on them reflects every curve as I move for the camera. You’re so hard just imagining your dick pressed up against the soft, slick texture
arousal without ever being touched. Why? Because you’re my little slave puppet, that’s why. I move my hands and yours move the same way. You dangle on little strings for