Mistresses keep their sissies in line by keeping them aroused,
letting their hormone simmer until they need to perform.
I don’t have that problem, I’m always aroused, a low hum
that vibrates through me 24 hours 7 days a week, not loud enough to get erect,
a kind of quiet self-torture I must endured, having no adequate way to satisfy it
– our lives dictated by things beyond our control.
I should have become a priest like the nuns suggested or
maybe a nun to justify my lack of release, while I envy those who live their
lives without constraint, who trade partners like baseball cards, who can
collect a temporary harem with just the snap of a finger, the men and women who
have no shame, no fear of punishment in the afterlife – while I constantly hesitate,
scared to offend, and so end up in a puddle full of guppies in a world where
only the sharks thrive.
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