Spłukana duma - wszystko w moich złotych prezentach

Gazing down upon you, trembling with anticipation, ready to be used in the most vile manner imaginable, brings a twisted sense of satisfaction. It's pathetic, truly, how you quiver with eagerness to be my personal waste bin, my living, breathing toilet. This is what you are—a filthy toilet fetishist, desperate for my attention, my use, my humiliation. "Open that mouth wide," I command, a smirk playing on my lips as I witness your pathetic eagerness. "You're going to savor every drop, every bit that comes from me. This is your existence, to serve as my human cesspool." And as you comply, your cock, that pathetic excuse of manhood, throbs painfully, yearning for the humiliation and .. only I can provide. You pump furiously, a slave to your own degradation, as I use you, reminding you of your rightful place in the world—beneath me, always.