ORDER 66: COCK CONTROL PROTOCOL

Execute Order 66.

And just like that… your “freedom” is gone.

No heroic last stand. No dramatic escape. You’re not a Jedi. You’re not even a Padawan. You’re the disposable little extra in the background… and now you’ve been marked for control.

Your cock? Confiscated by the Empire.

Your pleasure? Restricted access.
Your willpower? Already weaker than a Stormtrooper’s aim.

From this moment forward, you operate under my command. Every urge you feel is monitored. Every twitch, every needy thought… logged and judged. You will follow daily protocols like a well-trained droid, except even droids are more useful than you.

Some days you’ll think you feel “a disturbance in the Force.”

That’s not the Force. That’s ME.

You might hope for mercy… a “new hope,” even.

There isn’t one.

This isn’t a Jedi trial. There’s no balance here.

Only control. Only obedience. Only me.

Disobey, and your sentence extends faster than the Kessel Run.

Comply, and maybe… maybe… I let you get close to release… just to remind you what you’re not allowed to have.

You don’t get a lightsaber.

You don’t get a choice.

You don’t get to finish.

You were never the chosen one.

You’re just another locked little asset…

and the Empire owns you now. 🥵

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Disclaimer: Picture made with the dark magic #AI