Got The Mondays?

My Dearest Toy,

It’s Monday, isn’t it? That day you pretend to loathe, but deep down, you know what it does to you.

Mondays aren’t just the start of the week — they’re the start of my whispers crawling into your mind and wrapping around you like a velvet leash.

And don’t even try to deny it.

Right now, you’re feeling it — aren’t you? That slow, throbbing pulse between your legs as my words coil tighter and tighter. Each sentence is a soft stroke, teasing the edge of your resistance. You can’t help but feel your body betray you, can you?

You say you resist this kind of attention. You tell yourself you don’t crave it, don’t need it. But here you are, reading every word, hanging onto every syllable, letting me guide you further and deeper into this sweet, intoxicating surrender.

My voice doesn’t just speak to you; it owns you.

Every whisper presses against you, soft yet firm, like a hand stroking the length of your desire. Each phrase wraps around your c*&^ and your mind, squeezing just enough to leave you aching for more.

Today is special, though. You know why.

It’s Monday, the day when resistance melts into arousal, when you stop pretending you’re in control and start admitting that you’re mine.

So, go ahead. Try to fight it.

Try to ignore the way your heart races, the way your body responds without permission.

But we both know you’ll fail. And when you do, I’ll be waiting, ready to guide you further into the pleasure you can’t deny and the surrender you secretly crave.

Good boy.

Yours in control,

Doc