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I genuinely forgot what this topic was about...

They don't use their penises for that, jail "love" has nothing to do with pleasure or... well love, it's about dominance and humiliation. An iron chair foot, a spoon, a piece of glass... it doesn't matter as long as it's not fatal.

Gulags? Oh no no no, r*pe toilets you mean. And don't worry about dropping the soap, you get no soap anyway.

Drugs? You been to a eastern european jail man? I guess not else I would have called you miss.

This is not about likes, love or pleasure. This is about hatred and pain. Making someone like you or fall in love with you is as easy as following the natural order of biology, no, I want him to hate me, I want him to feel pain each time I emerge in his thoughts and dreams. I want him to hate me so much he can no longer feel anything else. I want him to hate me so much that he starts touching himself only to feel even an ounce of positive sensation but end up finishing in an explosion of rage and disdain towards someone he hasn't even seen in person. I want to be the parasite inside his soul. I want him to be me, to hate me so much that his very sense of self becomes wrapped so intensely that he starts to see me in himself. I want him to cum screaming in anger.

DT me @Odd B==ЭO:

Pigments are for surface dwellers. Down here we're all translucent. Although some of us might still give out a slight tint of colour but we're afraid to try and illuminate the matter because frankly... I think our frail colourless skin would immediately bake under the stress of any light and our organs beneath would probably just enter into a state of shock and shut down, so for our own community's sake we will assume we are all equally without any trace of colour.