The sign of success in my far from humble opinion. I really don’t give a fuck how I get here, but getting here is critical.
I need to see a sign. I have to. I have to see a physical motion in your body – that you did not intend to make – that your body made, without consulting your brain. That was brought on by the likes of good ole Me.
In fundamental Psychology, they call these involuntary movements “reflexes”. They are categorized as such because they access neural pathways known as “reflex arcs.” What makes them so is they require no cognitive triggers to spawn a physical movement. These are impulses. These are reflexes. When my cock is inside you, I call them beautiful.
They are fuel feeding my ego. When I see your legs shake.
Your heels kick.
Your pussy goes from wet to waterworks.
Now I am just feeding my ego with your involuntary impulses.
My oh my what a beautiful sight this is to see too. Cum for Daddy, baby girl. Hard. Shiver. Shake. Clench your body up.
Oh, wait. I forgot. You don’t have a choice in the matter anyway. You see, you don’t control these bodily movements. You have no control over them. None at all. In fact, that is the definition of what makes them so.
Furthermore, since I brought them to you, it’s more like I control them, in your body.
You have become my marionette. Each time I force that orgasm on you – with my cognitive decisions – your body reacts.
You are my puppet on a string. I am making you dance.
So dance. Dance for me, you slutty sexy hot-as-fuck puppet on a string.
Just. Fucking. Dance.