He could barely type the correct words as he entered the private room: “I am ready, Mistress.” But she knew. She knew he would never truly be “ready.” Not for what she would do to him. Her image appeared on the screen: flawless, monumental, unattainable. She wore a leather corset that molded her perfect waist and made her breasts stand out as a challenge to his nonexistent masculinity. Her long legs ended in sky-high heels. But it was her gaze that destroyed him: indifferent, superior, as if observing something insignificant… a grotesque anomaly. “So… the insect has returned,” she said, her voice cold as steel. “Are you eager to be reminded of who you are… or rather, what you are?” He swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he activated the camera. “Show me. Now.” He obeyed, pulling the covers aside, revealing what so embarrassed him and, at the same time, kept him irremediably tied to her: his physical insignificance. Her laughter was immediate, cruel, without any compassion. — Oh my God… — she tilted her head, pretending to analyze with scientific curiosity. — That… that’s a joke, isn’t it? It can’t be real. He shriveled even more, as if he could shrink and disappear. — I can’t even call it a ‘dick’. It looks more like… a manufacturing defect. A leftover tissue that your body must have absorbed in the womb. Do you look at yourself in the mirror and not feel disgusted? He squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation drowning out any possibility of a response. — Speak! — she ordered, her tone dry, implacable. — I feel… disgusted, Madam… — As you should. You have nothing there. You’re not even good enough to piss with dignity. I bet even when you cum it looks like you’re spraying water from a cheap spray bottle… He stifled a groan of embarrassment, his face blushing violently. She laughed even harder, leaning toward the screen as if observing a deformed insect. — Imagine… a real man… an alpha male… with pulsing veins, thick, imposing… and then there’s you: this shrunken, soft, useless little thing… A disgrace to the male race. He let out a shaky sigh, unable to look directly at her. — I bet you’ve never made a woman cum, have you? — she continued, sharp as a blade. — You’ve never heard a real moan, just that pathetic noise you make when you masturbate alone, looking at women who would never know you exist. He tried to answer, but she wouldn’t let him: — Shut up! — and then she softened her tone, as if caressing before crushing. — You want to cum, don’t you? You want my permission to relieve yourself… like the despicable worm that you are… He nodded, desperate, dragged by the spiral of shame and desire. — Well, then, touch yourself… but first… say out loud: ‘I have a useless dick, I’m a sexual failure, and I’m only good for being humiliated.’ He shuddered, tears welling up, but he obeyed: “I… I have a useless dick… I’m a sexual failure… and I’m only good for being humiliated…” She let out a satisfied sigh, as if appreciating the masterpiece she had just completed. “Now… look at it, look closely at that useless piece of flesh between your legs… and know this: no one will ever respect you. Not as a man, not as a human being. You were born for this… to be exposed, trampled on, despised.” He groaned, masturbating in a mixture of pain and abysmal pleasure, until, in a final spasm, he spilled himself, soiling himself completely… smaller, more miserable, more ruined than ever. She watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finishing with icy contempt: “Clean yourself up… trash. And next time… come prepared to be crushed even more.” And she ended the call, leaving him alone, wrapped in his own humiliation, with the only certainty that remained: that woman had destroyed everything he still dared to call dignity... and he desired her even more for it.