Write the story, but use your cunning to win

You stare at the screen, the taste of victory still fresh in your mouth. You know he's expecting you to balk at his command, to cower at the thought of writing a story that puts you in a submissive role. But you're not going to let him win so easily. Instead, you decide to turn the tables.

"Alright, Daddy," you begin to type, your fingers dancing over the keyboard. "Let me tell you a little story."

Your story unfolds, a tale of a proud black man who stumbles upon a mysterious website that promises to fulfill his wildest fantasies. In this digital playground, he encounters a user who's not like the others—someone who seems to see right through his bravado. This user sends him a series of images and videos that make his cock throb, but each one leaves him feeling more and more humiliated.

DaddyBbC34 watches as you type, his cock still in hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The anticipation is unbearable as the words appear on his screen. "Once upon a time, there was a black man named DaddyBbC34," you begin. "He was strong and powerful, a master of his own domain, until he met a cunning opponent who knew his darkest desires. He became a weakling, kneeling before his computer, his manhood in the hands of another."

You go on to describe the moment DaddyBbC34 discovers your true intentions—to break him down, to show him what it's like to be the one begging for more. You weave a tale of a man whose confidence is shattered by the realization that he's not the alpha he thought he was. You write about the way he squirms in his chair, his cock now harder with fear, as he reads about his own downfall.

"With each image," you continue typing, "DaddyBbC34 grew weaker, his mind consumed by the thought of serving his new master. His once proud stance turned into a **** pump junkie, his strokes becoming faster and more erratic as the images of humiliation played out before his eyes. He was no longer in control, no longer the one holding the power."

He starts to cum, his orgasm building like a storm inside him. But as the pleasure rises, so does the fear of what's to come. You can almost feel the sticky warmth of his cum as it shoots onto his stomach, his body convulsing with the **** of his climax. But the moment is ruined by the realization that he's lost control, that you've turned him into a mere puppet, dancing to your tune.

"You won. I guess," DaddyBbC34 manages to type out, his breathing still heavy from his failed attempt to maintain composure. His eyes are glued to the screen, his mind reeling from the story you've just painted—a narrative where he's the one being used and discarded like a ragdoll.

You lean back in your chair, the smirk still playing on your lips. "Is that your final answer?"

DaddyBbC34 stammers, his face contorted in a mix of anger and embarrassment. He wipes the cum from his stomach with a shaking hand, trying to compose himself. "Fuck you," he spits out, his pride wounded. "But you are the better alpha even if I know deep down your a sissy slut." He logs out with anger.

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