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SINGLE USE: ASS WORSHIP
You're not a man. you're not even a toy. you're a wipe—single use, filthy purpose, flushed and forgotten. in a brutal display of ebony ass supremacy, mistress mystique stands high while you grovel low, face pressed where filth belongs. she doesn’t need your name, your devotion, or your pathetic desperation—just your tongue and your silence. you were never meant for love. you were meant for use. and when she’s finished, so are you. no praise. no thanks. just used.
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