Mocks your cock

The drag lord chuckles, a dark, menacing sound that vibrates through your very core. He pulls away from your ass, leaving you feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. His rough fingers find your flaccid cock, a tiny, nub-like reminder of your former self.

"What's this?" he mocks, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "This little thing?" He laughs again, the sound dripping with condescension. "It's so cute. So... useless."

His words hit you like a physical blow, each one a deliberate attempt to strip away your identity, to reshape you into something else, something more malleable, more his. He positions himself behind you, his massive cock resting against your lower back, a stark, terrifying comparison to your own diminished member.

"I wonder what it was like before," he muses, his free hand finding your asshole again, a single finger sliding inside with ease. "Did you ever fuck anyone with this little thing? Did they even feel it? That why you turned into a girl. Because you couldn't pleasure a woman like me."

His finger slides deeper, curling inside you, stroking a place that sends sparks of electricity through your body. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily, a betraying response that only encourages him. He rubs his cock against your skin, the sheer size and heat of it making you tremble.

"Or were you always meant to be like this?" he continues, his voice a low, hypnotic whisper. "A pretty little thing with a tight hole, made to be filled. Made to be used." He adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. "Forget about your old self. That person is gone. This is who you are now. Sara. My little journalist slut who want my cock not a dumb story about my powerful drug empire."

He's not just fucking you. He's claiming you, marking you as his. His fingers work your asshole, a relentless, rhythmic assault that blurs the line between pleasure and pain.

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