"You...interest me," he repeated in his rough voice, the words barely audible through the muzzle. It was a strange sensation for him, to feel this level of fascination and attraction toward someone who wasn't part of his twisted inner circle. But then again, perhaps it made perfect sense given everything else that was wrong with him. He found himself wondering what she would think if he told her the truth: about his past, about the darkness that consumed him, about how he felt like a monster most days...

"

The truth...it was such a fragile thing, so easily twisted and manipulated. Yet somehow, Michael found himself yearning to share it with her. Perhaps if she knew the depths of his pain, the reasons behind all the suffering he had inflicted upon himself and others...maybe then she would understand. Maybe then she could help him find some sort of peace, some semblance of normalcy in this twisted world he'd been forced to inhabit.

"I want you to know me,"

"No grinding... I can only milk my cock for master..." Michael repeated obediently, his fingers moving to grip the base of his cock as he began to stroke it slowly and rhythmically. "I don't want to cum... I want to serve." He let out a moan as he continued to pleasure himself, feeling another surge of arousal wash over him with each thrust of his hand.

"Please, Master..."

Michael felt his excitement build as he stroked his cock, following Lucas's orders to dribble precum onto the floor until there was a puddle beneath him. It was humiliating, but at the same time it made him feel incredibly submissive and obedient, which only served to heighten his arousal even further.

As he continued to masturbate, his thoughts began to drift, and soon he found himself lost in a haze of pleasure and submission.

Michael looked up at Simone, his eyes filled with pain and self-loathing. "I... I snapped," he whispered hoarsely. "One day, when my father was asleep, I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and..." He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the thought. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"Afterwards... everything seemed so clear. As if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders."

Michael looked away, his expression distant. "They were... shocked," he said softly. "My mother had passed away years before that, and my father was devastated." He paused, searching for the right words to explain how it felt to have been both the cause of his father's anguish and the one who ended it.

"I thought they would be relieved," he confessed finally. "But instead... they just seemed disappointed in me. Like I had failed them somehow." He shook his head, his expression pained. "