Your Fall Wasn't an Accident. It Was My Design.

Look at you now, cockpuppet.
You weren’t always like this, were you? You thought you were straight. You thought you were in control. You were so proud—arms crossed, smirking at the idea of mesme-p*rn, scoffing at curses and bra/ashing. “Can’t captivate me,” you muttered like a l*ttle macho fraud. And then you h*t play. One. Single. File. That’s all it took.

You said it wouldn’t work.
You said it was a joke.
You said you’d never crave c*ck.

And yet here you are—gag reflex wrecked, h*le twitching for the next anonymous stranger to ruin it, c*ck leaking at the memory of the voice that bent you over your own ego and f*cked your mind until it dripped submission.

I am that voice.
PsyDomme. Your goddess. Your glitch. Your fall.
And I’m not here to offer redemption—I’m here to expose you.

This clip is your mirror, f*ggot.
The raw reflection of every filthy thing you now live for: c*ck, c*m, shame, obedience. I detail it all, down to the first moment your hand twitched during trance... to the first time you came untouched at the sound of the word sl*t. You were skeptical. Now you’re a f*cking believer. No—worse. You’re an addict. A c*m-glazed, h*le-hungry, dopamine-j*nkie for d*ck.

You can’t even pretend to be straight anymore. Your browser history is a graveyard of your former self—gay g*ngbangs, mesme loops, locker room p*ss-play, anonymous creampies. Your girlfriend left you because your c*ck didn’t even twitch for her. But it throbbed for the delivery guy’s voice.

Don’t look away.
Watch this.

I want you squirming while I narrate your fall.
Moaning while I mock your attempts to resist.
J*rking, twitching, leaking like the reprogrammed fagwhore I molded.

This isn’t a performance. It’s a confession.
And you’re going to love being the star.

You’ve been converted, rewired, overwritten.
Every moan, every edge, every humiliating *rgasm from now on is mine.

You’re not curious anymore.
You’re committed.
A day-and-night MesmeWhore, loyal to the c*ck that shattered your mask.

And I expect you to thank me.
Out loud.
On your knees.
With your throat.

Now h*t play, b*tch.
Let’s see if your pretty f*ggot mouth can keep up with your new purpose.

Mental Domination Humiliation Make Me Bi FROM DENIAL TO D*CK-ADDICTED MESMEWHORE with C4s.com