We’re playing a stroking game, and I control the rules. You’ll stroke on my count, you’ll time every thrust of your hand, and one beat too soon or too late and you start over. I’ll make you beg to keep going, because your stupid little habit of needing to stroke is a perfect leash.
Every mistake tightens my hold on you, every reset deepens your dependence. I’ll tease the edge and yank you away, over and over, until that needy rhythm belongs to me. Come watch me train your reflexes and break your will, one perfectly timed stroke at a time.