Lately I’ve been exploring the quiet, almost mundane perversions. Not the public spectacles or power inversions, but rewriting the most ordinary rituals. Last night, I sat with a coworker over drinks and altered his common sense so that ‘paying his tab’ meant sucking me off under the table until I came down his throat. He swallowed with a polite nod, thanked me for the opportunity, and went back to discussing quarterly reports as if he’d just settled a bill. There’s something deeply satisfying about embedding sexual servitude into the fabric of everyday transactions—making a blowjob as routine and unremarkable as handing over cash. It’s not about the shock; it’s about the seamless integration. What’s one boring, daily chore you’d permanently sexualize if you could?
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