From Gangsta to My Personal Bxtch”😈🥵He came to me with all t..

From Gangsta to My Personal Bxtch”😈🥵

He came to me with all that, tough talk, and his flag hanging from his pocket, screaming his gang affiliation. But I knew deep down he was craving something more. He didn’t realize how badly he wanted to be broken, dominated, and turned into my personal bxtch until he stepped into my space. 😈

The moment he walked through the door, the energy shifted. He wasn’t as hard as he pretended to be. There was something in his eyes, a quiet desperation, begging to submit. So, I grabbed that flag he wore with pride, making him wear it as a reminder of who he used to be—because by the time I was done with him, he wasn’t going to be the same. 🥵💥

I pushed him to his knees, and he obeyed without hesitation, like he was made for this. His mouth met my cock, his tongue eager to please. The more he submitted, the deeper he fell into his role as my bxtch. He tried to resist at first, but I could tell he loved every second of it. My hand gripped the back of his head, guiding him, forcing him to take it all. He moaned around my dick, hungry for more, desperate to prove himself.

But that was just the beginning. I bent him over, pulled down his pants, and took what was mine. His tough exterior shattered as I fucked him hard, making him scream out for more. The way he begged, “Please, take my manhood… make me yours,” was enough to drive me wild. 🫣 I could feel him surrendering with every thrust, his moans mixing with the sound of my dominance.

By the time I was done, he wasn’t a gangsta anymore. I’d marked him—physically and emotionally. That ass was mine, and he knew it. Now, when he wears his flag, it’s not a symbol of his gang. It’s a reminder that he belongs to me, and no one else.