Jerk Your Small Dick With Pliers

You must be joking. I don’t even try to hide my reaction as I look at you and laugh, openly questioning how something so small could even exist on a grown man. I tease you relentlessly, comparing it, diminishing it, making you feel just how inadequate it really is. I make it clear that what you have could never satisfy me, or anyone like me.

I toy with the idea that it’s barely worth keeping at all. I talk about how useless it feels, how pointless it is, how it might as well not even be there. I let the thought linger, letting you imagine what it would be like if it were simply gone, erased, no longer something you have to be ashamed of.

I tell you that touching yourself is the only way you’ll ever feel good, and even that is only allowed because I permit it. I keep your focus on my body, my chest, my confidence, reminding you of everything you’ll never be able to experience. I make you imagine a future where that tiny thing no longer defines you because it no longer exists.

The humiliation deepens as I reinforce the fantasy of permanent loss, of surrendering what little you have left, not through action, but through acceptance. I stay calm, amused, and completely in control, guiding you through the idea that giving it up would be a relief. By the time I let you finish, you’re fully aware of your place, and why this fantasy feels so right to you.

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