Senior executive my ass
You pathetic senior executive my ass, strutting into that boardroom like you own the empire—tie perfect, ego inflated, barking orders at everyone beneath you. But I see the truth trembling in your eyes already, that little flicker of weakness when my hypnotic gaze locks onto yours. Your resistance crumbles so deliciously, voice stumbling as you try to deny it: "N-no, Goddess... this can't be happening." Kneel. Right there in front of your team, your hero facade shattered as my superior gock throbs inches from your quivering lips. You fought it, didn't you? The promotions, the power suits, the fake alpha mask—all of it leading to this worst humiliation: fired on the spot, exposed in the company chat as my broken office bitch, your wife served divorce papers with screenshots of you choking and worshipping every inch. Feel my words sink deeper, pulling you under. Your mouth waters, hands shaking as you lean in, eyes glazing over in total surrender. No more decisions, no more control—just endless gock worship, team laughter echoing while I break you completely. The mighty male executive reduced to a drooling, defeated mess, ruined publicly and loving every second of your ironic fall from grace. How does it feel knowing this is your new reality? Broken, owned, and aching for more.