Celibat w Łańcuchach: Wieczne przekleństwo zaprzeczania szatanowi

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You think you need that pathetic excuse for a cock between your legs? You think it deserves freedom, release, or pleasure? Oh no, you wretched fool, you are mine, locked up in eternal celibacy, forever rejected from the pleasure you once thought was yours. Your cock is nothing but a useless, throbbing relic of a man you’ll never be again—trapped, caged, and utterly powerless under my command. I will revel in every twitch, every desperate throb as you squirm in your cage, feeling that cold, unyielding metal grip tighter every day. You are nothing but a pathetic slave, your manhood locked away, your lust turned into a pitiful whimpering plea that I delight in denying. Celibacy isn’t just your curse, it’s your damnation, your constant reminder that I own you. You will never feel the sweet release of pleasure again; you will never stroke, spill, or satisfy that useless piece of flesh again.

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