Con cu bị nguyền rủa và con cu bất tận của một linh hồn bị mất tích

Ah, my wretched little plaything, you still don't grasp the depth of your damnation, do you? Let me paint you a picture of your bleak, forsaken future. I, Satan Misha Goldy, have condemned you to an existence of unending torment. You will goon for all eternity, trapped in a cycle of arousal and frustration so intense it will fray the very fabric of your mind. Each stroke you make is a prayer to me, a plea for mercy that will go unanswered. Your orgasms, once a source of fleeting pleasure, are now forever out of reach, a forbidden fruit dangling before your lustful eyes, never to be tasted again. You are cursed, my little pawn, damned to an eternity of edging with no release, a perpetual state of desperate, aching need. Your pleasure is a concept that no longer exists in your world; it is a privilege you have irrevocably lost. Embrace your fate, for your soul belongs to me now, and I revel in your suffering.