Nigdy nie pozwolę ci spust. Edge Play

Oh, what a sorry spectacle you've become, squirming in a pitiful mix of lust and agony, teetering on the precipice of climax but forever barred from it. No, you won't find that cheap, fleeting moment of release you're so desperate for. You're my plaything, a sad little toy whose sole purpose is to entertain me with your pathetic plight. Each pulse of your straining desire, each whimpering plea for mercy, only serves to heighten my enjoyment of your pitiful state. Can you feel that mounting pressure, that unbearable urge to explode but forever denied the satisfaction? That's where I want you, suspended in a tantalizing limbo of unfulfilled desire. Each desperate throb of longing, each toturous wave of anticipation, they're all music to my ears. The more you whimper and beg, the sweeter the melody. This is your lot now, entrapped in a delicious cycle of ceaseless torment and denied gratification."