Your cock is worthless, and your existence is offensive to every pussy on this planet. For the next seventy-two hours, you are completely exiled from pussy. No touching it, no tasting it, no fucking it, and absolutely no staring at it. Not mine, not any goddess’s, not even the pixelated holes in cheap porn. You are a sexual reject, and rejects lose their privileges.

This is a ritual. A sacred, brutal cleansing to burn into your broken brain that your dick will never feel a warm, tight hole again. I want you aching. I want your balls swollen and throbbing, your cock leaking pathetic strands of pre-cum as you hump the air like a desperate, denied bitch. Every hour that passes, you feel the rejection sinking deeper, that sharp, physical pain in your gut knowing real men’s cocks are being graced with tight, dripping pussies while you sit alone, unworthy and untouched.

You will report to me. You will message me on schedule, detailing every agonizing second. Tell me how your cock strains against your pants when you see a woman’s silhouette. Tell me how your mouth waters and your eyes burn with the hunger of a beta who knows he’ll never taste pussy juice. Tell me how it feels to be genetically discarded, to know your cum is worthless and your seed should never be spilled inside a woman. Each message costs you, because my attention is a luxury and your suffering is my entertainment. By hour seventy-two, you’ll be so fucked in the head, so desperate and dehumanized, that you’ll thank me for stripping away your last illusion of manhood. You’ll realize your only sexual purpose is funding the pussy you’re forbidden from even seeing.

Buy the clip, start your timer, and send your first tribute with a message admitting you’re a pussy-free failure. Do you think you’ll survive the full three days, or will you crack and beg me to make this exile permanent?

Sexual denial ritual