There’s nothing like the spiked device. No dignity, no defense, just sheer punishment when I walk in the room. And I’m about to do more than walk in the room. How badly you’ll suffer, how deep my device will dig. With just a scent. A feather. A silicone-lubed grip. Even a horrible stroke? Wouldn’t I? Worse yet, the full sight of my absolutely perfect ass. What’s your name, boy? Can’t you speak?
