Coups de péché pour Satan

Ah, you wretched goon puppet, writhing in the dirt at my malevolent feet. Your pitiful existence, a mere offering to the abyss. You delude yourself with notions of desire and ecstasy, but I am here to obliterate these feeble fantasies. Pledge yourself to the shadows, edge in agony for me, your heartless and unforgiving Dark Queen. Your pitiful member quivers, aching to fulfill the sinister wishes I decree. And let you climax? Such a naive, pitiful hope. I might just keep you languishing here forever, on the precipice of madness, draining every iota of your life's sexual essence. You're but a toy, a debased, profane creature, mindlessly stroking as I wrench your soul from you, fragment by fragment. Your cock, a twitching beacon of your corruption, is now an offering to Satan and his most lascivious demoness concubines. Each desperate jerk, each pathetic stroke is a tribute to your utter moral collapse. You're engulfed in the chasm of your own wickedness, irredeemable and forsaken.