Delusional Brat Makes Fun Of Your Tiny Cock

I start off almost sweet, a little awkward, like I’m trying to be polite while I stare at you. Then I notice it. I point, tilt my head, and ask what that’s supposed to be. I laugh softly at first, confused, curious, pretending I’m genuinely trying to understand how something like that even works. I ask how you use it, how you touch it, how you expect to get off with something so tiny, giggling as the questions get more pointed.

Pretty quickly, the tone shifts. I get bratty. I tell you flat out that I’m way too hot for you and that someone like me would never end up with someone like you. I tease you by lifting my skirt just enough to mess with your head, absolutely convinced you’re desperate enough to lose it without me showing anything at all. I act smug, spoiled, and arrogant, enjoying how worked up you’re getting while I barely try.

I start poking deeper, laughing louder, getting more erratic and cruel in that playful, teasing way. I question what you even are, mock how you get yourself off, and joke that maybe things would make more sense if it were gone entirely. I say it casually, like it’s an obvious solution, still laughing, still circling you with my words.

At the end, I tell you this is your last chance to redeem yourself. I say I really hope your release is somehow better than the rest of you, counting you down with false optimism. When it finally happens, I pause, then let the disappointment hit hard. I laugh again, unimpressed, shaking my head and making it clear that even that couldn’t save you.

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