INTERACTIVE BRAINWASHING PORN — PUSSY BITCHES LAST NIGHT
It’s called INTERACTIVE BRAINWASHING PORN for a reason! You shout the commands, and I twist their minds into knots. Understand? Perfect. There’s nothing else out there that even comes close to this level of control, you clueless idiots.
Let’s get one thing straight: you guys are a bunch of pussy bitches. Yeah, I said it. I was on cam last night, naked as the day I was born, ready to put on a damn show, and you couldn’t even give me one decent command. I mean, come on, how hard is it to tell me what you want me to do with the poor bastard jerking off in front of me?
I’m sitting there, holding all the power over his mind, he is drooling, completely brainwashed and gone, and you guys can’t even muster up the courage to ask me to have him eat my asshole and sing the national anthem? What the fuck?
That’s not even creative; it’s just basic shit! Hell, even a moron would have thought of something more entertaining than that. But no, you guys just sat there, drooling over your screens, while I was left waiting for something — anything — to spark some excitement.
And then there’s his pathetic little cock. Did any of you think to ruin it? To humiliate him so badly that he’d remember it for the rest of his miserable life? Nope. You just watched like a bunch of scared rabbits, afraid to even type out a suggestion. What happened to you guys? Where’s the creativity? Where’s the edge?
Last night’s interactive brainwashing porn was supposed to be the highlight, a mindfuck like no other. I gave you every opportunity to guide the session, to really fuck with his head and make him feel it deep. But you couldn’t even come up with a single, halfway-decent idea. I swear, the lack of imagination was painful to watch. You had the chance to make something memorable, something that would haunt him forever, and you blew it.
What’s the point of being part of this if you can’t even think of a good way to mess with someone? If you’re going to be in this game, you better bring your A-game. Don’t come to me with half-assed bullshit. Next time, you better be ready with something good. Or don’t bother showing up at all.
I could’ve taken that weak, pathetic excuse for a man and turned his entire life inside out. Imagine this: I delete every last bit of his worthless existence and reprogram his mind to make him strut into a filthy whorehouse, begging on his knees to suck cock for a living. Every inch of his being could’ve been dedicated to swallowing load after load, his whole life reduced to nothing more than a desperate need to please every sleazy John who walks through the door. That’s the kind of power I have, and you idiots don’t even know how to use it.
Doc
