We need a moment to think, reflect, and relax. That is until Sir starts playing your dick again.
Sir never asks what I think about when I’m gagged and hooded, unable to talk during the time I am bound. To him, I merely exist as a cumbersome but necessary power adapter needed for my cock to work. My cock is the most interesting toy for him, something he plays with at leisure, when it seizes him. He likes me hard and so needy, so ready to burst – but always on the edge. Never over.
If he only asked me once what I think about when my mind is foggy and distracted by my intense desire to orgasm, I would tell him the truth. I’ve come close to solving the world peace problem a few times. One day I got a great idea for a perpetual motion machine, and another day, a solution for a cold-fusion energy source….but when Sir comes in to stroke my cock again, I lose my train of thought and can never get it back! I swear. I just wonder why I never get brilliant ideas when I masturbate myself…
______________
Text is fictional.