Sarah Sees You

I couldn’t stop staring at the screen, my fingers trembling on the mouse as your Algorithm history unfolded like a filthy confession. Session after session, hour after hour, you’d fed that porno-driven app every dirty little secret about your pathetic micropenis and those sad, wrinkled little balls. “User profile: 1.3 inches erect, pencil-thin girth, hypersensitive pink head that leaks at the slightest tease, balls barely the size of grapes.” The Algorithm had eaten it up, generating endless custom chapters just for you—each one more viciously humiliating than the last.

My breath hitched as I clicked deeper. In one branch you were at a crowded party, **** to drop your pants while three women pointed and laughed. “Look at that tiny baby dick! It’s not even a cock—it’s a clitty! Those pathetic balls don’t even hang right!” The Algorithm described you throbbing uselessly while they compared it to their pinky fingers, then made you edge for hours without permission, your little nub leaking clear precum like a broken faucet. Another session had you locked in pink chastity, the tiny cage crushing your shriveled package while a dominant voice narrated how your “micro-dicklet” would never stretch a pussy again. The Algorithm knew exactly how to twist the knife: constant comparisons, size queens rejecting you, your balls aching blue while real men fucked the women you wanted.

My pussy was soaked. I could feel my clit pulsing against my soaked panties as I read line after line of your submissive cravings. I slipped two fingers inside myself right there at your desk, fucking my dripping cunt to the rhythm of your shame. “Fuck… you really are this pathetic,” I moaned, voice husky. My nipples were diamond-hard, breasts heaving as I pumped faster. The Algorithm had captured you perfectly—your **** need to be broken down, mocked, owned by someone who knew exactly how worthless that tiny thing between your legs really was.

By the time you walked through the door I was waiting on the couch, legs spread, your laptop open beside me to the most degrading thread yet. My eyes locked on you like a predator. “Strip. Now, little dick.”

You froze, but I saw the twitch in your pants—the telltale sign your micro was already trying to swell. I laughed, low and cruel. “That’s right. I saw everything. Every single session you spent jerking that sad excuse for a cock to the Algorithm. Get naked and show me what I own.”You obeyed, cock already half-hard and still barely two inches. I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Jesus Christ, look at it. That’s it? That tiny pink nub? Those pathetic little balls that can’t even fill my palm?” I reached out and flicked the head with one finger, watching it bounce pathetically. You whimpered. I laughed louder. “Pathetic. The Algorithm was right—you were born to be humiliated. Say it. Tell me your cock is a worthless micropenis.”

You stuttered it out, voice cracking, and my cunt clenched hard. I stood up, towering over you in my heels, and shoved you to your knees. “Good boy. Now worship the pussy you’ll never satisfy.” I grabbed your hair and ground my dripping slit against your face, smearing my juices over your lips while I kept talking. “While you lick, I want you to think about every story the Algorithm wrote. How women laughed at this tiny thing. How it could never stretch me open like a real cock. How your little grape balls are just decoration.”

I rode your tongue until my thighs shook, then pulled back and made you lie on the floor. I straddled your chest, hovering my soaked pussy inches above your face. “Watch this, tiny. This is what a real woman does with a real clit—not that sad button you call a dick.” I reached down and pinched your micropenis between two fingers, jerking it roughly. “So small I can barely feel it. The Algorithm said you leak when you’re this humiliated—let’s test that.” I spat on your tiny head and stroked mercilessly, fast and tight, while I described every degrading detail I’d read. “In one chapter they made you cum hands-free just from being laughed at. Is that what you want, little dick? To spurt your weak load while I tell you how useless you are?”

Your hips bucked. I squeezed your small balls until you cried out. “Beg me to ruin you. Beg me to lock this pathetic clit away forever.” You broke, sobbing out the words, and I felt my own orgasm building just from the power. I rode your face again, grinding my clit against your tongue until I came hard, flooding your mouth while I kept stroking your micro-dick with two fingers like it was nothing.When I finally let you spurt—thin, watery ropes that barely reached your stomach—I laughed right in your face. “That’s it? That’s all your tiny balls can make? Pathetic.” I scooped up your cum and fed it to you, forcing you to swallow while I whispered, “This is just the beginning. The Algorithm showed me exactly how to break you… and I’m never going to stop.”

I kept you there for hours, edging that worthless little nub over and over, recounting every humiliating line from your history until you were a shaking, leaking mess. By the time I was done, your micropenis was raw, your balls aching, and your eyes glazed with total submission. I owned you now. Completely. And the Algorithm had given me the perfect blueprint.