CBT AND A BELLY FULL OF CUM

Look at you. Cock already stiff in your grip, stroking like the impatient slut you are. Charlotte Sartre sees straight through that weak grip. She steps in, black hair sharp against pale skin, and locks those dark eyes on yours. She grips you hard. Nails dig. She smiles when you flinch, then squeezes tighter. No warm-up. No mercy. Every tug and slap is deliberate, sharp, designed to turn pain into need. You grit your teeth. She laughs. Her other hand shoves your stomach, pins you down while she works. She keeps you on the edge. Makes you thank her for every twist, every slap. Makes you mean it. When you’re shaking and leaking, she strokes once, slow, then lets go. Leaves you throbbing and empty. 2025. Charlotte owns the scene. CBT. Domination. Bottom. She decides when you cum. She decides if you cum. Right now you’re just hers.