Do I look like a good little fag?

Jake’s been such a good little bitch lately.

So desperate to prove he belongs to me—anywhere, anytime. Just to prove he’s mine.

He sends the photos with a pathetic little caption—

“Do I look like a good little fag, Daddy?”

And he does. Even in public, even fully dressed, you can see it in his eyes— That hunger. That need. That desperate urge to be degraded, owned, and praised for being a filthy little exhibitionist.

Jake doesn’t care who might see.

Doesn’t care how risky it is.

All he cares about is being a good boy for me.

And trust me—he’s nailing it.