An Endorsement for Edging

Slooooowly stroke it.
Go all the way to the tip, rub your thumb around its slippery head and grasp it tightly as you thrust your hips on the way back down.
Follow the rythum of my voice.. Uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn; uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn; uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn. That’s it, good boy. Listen to my instructions and do exactly as I say. Because, little bitch, who does that dick belong to now? Thaaaat’s right. It belongs to me. It’s my dick. I own it. I say when you can touch it. I instruct you on how to stroke it. I am the one who says when, how and if it gets to cum. You need someone to school you. To train you and that misguided dick. Before me, you just went around every day, every chance you got squirting that foul shame seed. That’s just sad. Don’t you want to aspire to be more, to be better than that? A real man knows control. A real man has the ability to restrain himself. You are not a real man and sadly, will never be a real man. You are a bitch; a sissy; a cuckold; a jerkoff addict. This is where I come in. This is why you reached out to me in the first place. You need help.

An Edging Endorsement
The first business we must attend to is your inability to keep your goddamn pervert hands to yourself. No, I’m not talking about those nasty bouts of frotteurism when you rubbed up against those poor unsuspecting women on the subway. I’m talking about your dick.. oh, wait; whose dick is it? And really, is it even fair to call it a dick? It’s certainly not a cock. Oh dear, please don’t make me laugh, snorting this fine Riesling out my nose by referring to it as your manhood. Who are you, Danielle Steele? Smirking, is it your thrusting member? Quivering joystick? Oh dear, now you’ve gone and gotten yourself to the edge already.
Hands down. I said hands down, you stroke addict bitch! I swear to fucking god, if you go and have yourself another one of your accidents, I am going to cage the thing and not let it out for a month. You think I’m joking? Go on and fucking try me.
That’s better. Sit on your hands if it’s easier. I do not blame you for not being able to control yourself. Admitting your problem, what do they say, that is half the battle? “They” have obviously never had to battle this one-eyed, stroke monster. However, knowing your limitations is a plus and if it’s easier for you, then by all means, sit on your hands.
There. Is that better, my pathetic pet? Yes. That’s better for me too. I do love the way it quivers, longing for me. It aches. It dribbles. It moans. It cries. And it’s all for me.
But it’s still not enough. I want it to really fucking throb. Ok; again. Uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn. Good boy.
Watch me. Watch my eyes light up with the delight of my power. Watch my own hips start to swivel due to the unwavering authority I possess over you and that pulsating penis. It’s odd; although you are nothing and mean nothing to me. I still gain pleasure from controlling you. Well, I gain pleasure from denying you. And don’t think for a second you have any affect on my hips. It’s all me. I am stimulated simply because of my own ability to fuck with you. Uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn. That’s it. Listen to my words. Let your shame be your lubricant.
Now pump.
Pump it because that’s what I want. I want you at the edge. I want you mere seconds from explosion. I want you in pain. Pump it, fuckwad!! Harder. Faster.
Now stop. Hold it. Hollllllld it. HOLD IT. Yes. Let all of that shame and anxiety dribble out of my penis. Is it shame? Embarrassment? Or is it pride? Ego? I think it’s your dignity, that thin, milky white liquid liberally pumping from your quivering member right now. And yessssss; that’s exactly what I wanted. Let all of your honor, all of your self respect just flow out of you. Although this is defined as pre-cum, it is not a prelude of what’s to cum. No, boy toy. There will be no release today. No real satisfaction. And therefor there will be no regain of self. Don’t you see? I do not want you whole. You are better broken. Only after I have broken you down into many different tiny pieces can I mold you into who I want you to be.
Remove your hands and take a deep breath. Ready? We’re going to go again. And again and again. I want you thoroughly milked with no release. All of that pride drained from your system until you are nothing but a shell of a broken boy, desperate, and mine to mold.
Yessssssss. Uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn. Uuuuuuuuuupppp and doooooowwwwnn.