Your Throne Beneath Me
Love to Shit Girls
DEVOURING THE CREAMY OFFERING
Can you picture yourself there, sprawled beneath my throne, gazing up at what awaits? Look at this broken creature and admit—you envy his position. His mind has been stripped, reshaped, reshaped into something that no longer questions, only obeys. He understands the ritual without a word: the moment the seat lifts, his mouth opens wide, and the warm flood cascades straight down his throat. No shouts. No force. No need for commands. You crave this surrender, this utter submission—and here is a glimpse of the degrading ecstasy that could be yours.
