Another video this time of him pumping his bbc with a cock sleeve

He didn't send a task. He didn't send a taunt. He sent a video of himself. It was a simple, raw shot, filmed from a high angle. You could see his powerful fist wrapped around a thick, black cock, the skin glistening with lube. The cock was sheathed in a clear, fleshy-looking sleeve, and with every stroke, you could see the head swell, the veins pulse. He wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking down at his own cock, a look of intense concentration on his face. He was enjoying himself. He was enjoying the power he held over you.

The video was silent, save for the slick, rhythmic sounds of his strokes. It was the most intimate, the most dominating thing he had sent yet. It wasn't just a picture of a stranger's cock. It was a demonstration of his power, of his pleasure. It was a reminder of what you were fighting for, and what you were fighting against.

Your own cock, despite the dull ache in your balls, began to stir. You watched, mesmerized, as he picked up the pace, his strokes becoming faster, more urgent. You could see the tension building in his body, the muscles in his arm and chest flexing with each movement.

"My BBC turns you into my little white bitch." He said as the video ends.

You knew you had to rate it. You knew you had to give him a number. But this was different. This wasn't a GIF, it wasn't a hypno video. This was him. This was the man who had broken you, who had made you buy a dildo, who had made you slap your own balls until they were red and swollen.

You typed your response, your fingers shaking slightly. '10,' you wrote. 'What's my next task, master?' You didn't even hesitate. You didn't even try to fight. You were lost. You were his. He had you completely.

His reply was quick. 'Good boy. I knew you'd see it my way. Now, for your next task. I want you to take a marker. I want you to write 'Darkdick37's Bitch' on your chest. Right above your heart. Then, I want you to take a picture. A clear picture. I want to see the words. I want to see the mark.'

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