Used, owned, controlled

I swear, the moment Sammie messages me, his brain just shuts off. It's like a switch flips and he becomes exactly what he was meant to be—a mindless, obedient little fucktoy. No thoughts, no questions, just pure instinct. He’s not thinking with his head—he’s thinking with that aching, dripping cock and that hungry little pussy. And honestly? That’s exactly how I like him. We don’t really talk. I give a command, he moans out “Yes, Daddy,” and immediately does what he’s told. No hesitation. No resistance. Just full, needy submission. His cock stays rock hard the entire time—because deep down, he knows this is what he wants. What he needs. To be used. Controlled. Owned.