UP: Jan 23, 26
đ´ Online: 202
Femdom Fiends
You arrive in this shiny new country thinking youâre some big brain office guy, right? Good job, clean contract, boring little grey cubicle, âfresh startâ bullshit. Then the game pretty much slaps you in the face and reminds you youâre just another idiot who got a little too confident with the company money. One wrong spreadsheet, one little âadjustment,â and suddenly your whole life hangs on a few screenshots in someone elseâs hands. Itâs not âoh no, moral drama, what shall I doâ either. Itâs more like: hereâs the trap, hereâs your throat, and hereâs the boot thatâs going to rest on it while you jerk off and hate yourself. And the boot has painted toenails.
Home life is worse. Or better. Depends how broken you are. Your roommates are all too pretty and too relaxed about personal space. You think itâs a harem, but itâs actually a fucking HR complaint waiting to happen if anyone cared. They catch you staring. They donât get shy. They get ideas. The game likes to take simple domestic stuff and twist it. You come home from the office, brain fried from trying not to get caught, and a girl is lying on the couch in tight gym shorts, one leg over the backrest, looking at you like she already read your browser history. Sheâs âinnocentlyâ asking how your day at work was, then suddenly she knows way too much about an âaccounting errorâ and has a folder on her phone that sure as hell doesnât look like memes. Itâs not instant sex. Itâs worse. Itâs that slow âsit down, shut up, and listen to my conditionsâ smile. Sheâll make you kneel in your own living room and call it a âtest,â while the TV quietly plays some random show and youâre there, half hard, half terrified. Thereâs this one moment where she drags you to the gym under the excuse of âyouâre getting soft,â and you think youâre just doing some squats. Next thing, youâre doing push-ups while she sits on your back, shorts riding up, whispering in your ear what will happen to those little files if your arms stop moving. People walk by. They see a trainer pushing a client hard. They donât hear her telling you exactly how youâll lick sweat from her toes later if you want your job.
The corruption stuff is where the game really doesnât pretend to be nice. You start off trying to fight it, making these little choices like âIâll resist, Iâll say no, Iâll be a man of principle,â and the narrative just smiles and shows you how cheap your principles are when your boss might see photos of you on your knees in the womenâs locker room, holding a bra in your mouth because some smug girl told you thatâs how dogs should carry things. The blackmail angle isnât some side tag; itâs the spine. Every request is layered: âTouch me here, say this, sign that document, send this email.â Sexual humiliation gets tangled with office politics in this nasty way. You might be jerking off in a bathroom stall, watching a short clip of your roommateâs foot grinding into your face while she calls you her âlittle embezzling toy,â and at the same time youâre waiting on a message that decides if your career lives or dies. And yeah, the scenes get hardcore. There are CGs where your whole body language screams âI want to disappearâ while your cock is straining against your pants, getting slapped, stepped on, used like a prop in their little power games. The girls donât just dominate you physically; they dig into your shame, into that sick part of you that loves being treated like youâre lower than dirt. One of them makes you strip in the office after hours, under harsh neon lights, and she takes pictures with your own phone, giggling, then casually sets your wallpaper to your naked, collared self. Later, during a real meeting, you unlock the phone out of habit and almost drop it when the screen lights up. Thatâs the vibe: horny, uncomfortable, mean, and somehow you keep clicking ânextâ anyway.
Home life is worse. Or better. Depends how broken you are. Your roommates are all too pretty and too relaxed about personal space. You think itâs a harem, but itâs actually a fucking HR complaint waiting to happen if anyone cared. They catch you staring. They donât get shy. They get ideas. The game likes to take simple domestic stuff and twist it. You come home from the office, brain fried from trying not to get caught, and a girl is lying on the couch in tight gym shorts, one leg over the backrest, looking at you like she already read your browser history. Sheâs âinnocentlyâ asking how your day at work was, then suddenly she knows way too much about an âaccounting errorâ and has a folder on her phone that sure as hell doesnât look like memes. Itâs not instant sex. Itâs worse. Itâs that slow âsit down, shut up, and listen to my conditionsâ smile. Sheâll make you kneel in your own living room and call it a âtest,â while the TV quietly plays some random show and youâre there, half hard, half terrified. Thereâs this one moment where she drags you to the gym under the excuse of âyouâre getting soft,â and you think youâre just doing some squats. Next thing, youâre doing push-ups while she sits on your back, shorts riding up, whispering in your ear what will happen to those little files if your arms stop moving. People walk by. They see a trainer pushing a client hard. They donât hear her telling you exactly how youâll lick sweat from her toes later if you want your job.
The corruption stuff is where the game really doesnât pretend to be nice. You start off trying to fight it, making these little choices like âIâll resist, Iâll say no, Iâll be a man of principle,â and the narrative just smiles and shows you how cheap your principles are when your boss might see photos of you on your knees in the womenâs locker room, holding a bra in your mouth because some smug girl told you thatâs how dogs should carry things. The blackmail angle isnât some side tag; itâs the spine. Every request is layered: âTouch me here, say this, sign that document, send this email.â Sexual humiliation gets tangled with office politics in this nasty way. You might be jerking off in a bathroom stall, watching a short clip of your roommateâs foot grinding into your face while she calls you her âlittle embezzling toy,â and at the same time youâre waiting on a message that decides if your career lives or dies. And yeah, the scenes get hardcore. There are CGs where your whole body language screams âI want to disappearâ while your cock is straining against your pants, getting slapped, stepped on, used like a prop in their little power games. The girls donât just dominate you physically; they dig into your shame, into that sick part of you that loves being treated like youâre lower than dirt. One of them makes you strip in the office after hours, under harsh neon lights, and she takes pictures with your own phone, giggling, then casually sets your wallpaper to your naked, collared self. Later, during a real meeting, you unlock the phone out of habit and almost drop it when the screen lights up. Thatâs the vibe: horny, uncomfortable, mean, and somehow you keep clicking ânextâ anyway.
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đ 8100
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UP: Jan 16, 26
đ´ Online: 85
A Girl on a Train
When a warm-looking girl suddenly appears and starts showing a clear interest in you, you were planning to enjoy a peaceful train ride while diving into your favorite book. But step by step, she weaves an intricate web of intrigue and blackmail that ensnares not only you but several other passengers on the same train. Falling into her trap is surprisingly effortless, yet escaping her grasp proves to be a daunting challenge. Each moment aboard the train intensifies the tension, as hidden desires clash with whispered threats and forbidden alliances. Youâll find yourself drawn deeper into her world, where every glance and touch carries a weight that could unravel your carefully guarded life. Will you succumb to her control, or will you fight to reclaim your freedom before the train reaches its final destination? Dive into this dark, thrilling adventure and test your limits as you navigate a labyrinth of desire, deceit, and desperation. The train is moving fast, and so is the danger - are you ready to lose control?.
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đ 33200
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