I Am Master Habib, Your Arab Master, and You’re Nothing, Gay Slave!

Every fucking day, I sit in my dark domain, surrounded by the stench of your pathetic obedience. The silence is shattered by my keyboard as I open the messages from my gay slaves, one by one. I read your whimpering words, savoring the desperation dripping from every line. Some of you beg like dogs for my attention, others grovel like the worthless filth you are, trying to earn my fucking approval. Some write with words soaked in submission, while others offer me their broken souls, thinking they can impress me.

You Don’t Understand True Submission, You Filthy Slave!

But you don’t get it, do you? You don’t fucking understand what it means to be a real gay slave. You don’t know what it’s like to be truly broken, to be owned by an Arab master like me. You think your little messages will make me care? You think you deserve my reply just because you typed some shit?

Your Messages Are a Test, and You’re Failing, Gay Slave!

Every message you send is a fucking test. It’s a challenge to prove you’re worth my time. I see the weak ones—I ignore your sniveling asses. I see the desperate ones—I toy with you like the pathetic bitches you are. Only the gay slaves who truly know their place, who understand what it means to serve an Arab master, might catch my eye. But even then, I decide, not you, you disgusting worm.

This Isn’t a Game, It’s Domination, You Worthless Gay Slave!

This isn’t some casual chat for you to jerk off to. This is where true Arab gay domination lives. This is where real masters like me thrive. This is where you kneel, gay slave, begging to serve me. If you want to speak to me, to even dream of my fucking acknowledgment, you have to prove you’re worth my spit.

You’re Nothing to Me, Gay Slave—Prove You Deserve My Attention!

You need to understand this, you piece of shit: in my world, you’re nothing. You’re a gay slave, a speck of dirt craving my attention. When you send your messages, you’re begging for my mercy. But you don’t have the right to beg. You don’t have the right to expect shit from me. I read every word, but I reply when I fucking feel like it—not when your whiny ass wants me to.

Don’t Think You’re Special, You Sniveling Gay Slave!

So many slaves send me their pathetic messages, thinking I owe them something. They’re dead fucking wrong. You think by typing a few words, you’re entitled to my time? No one gets my attention unless I say so. If you want my reply, you better prove you’re worth more than the dirt under my feet, you miserable cunt.

You Think I’ll Reply Just Because You Beg, Gay Slave?

You think you can send me a message and I’ll drop everything to reply? You think clicking “send” makes me your bitch? You’re a fucking fool. You’re nothing but a gay slave, and you’ll stay nothing until I decide you’re worth my time. Some of you think submitting to me is as easy as sending a message and waiting. You think it’s a fucking chat. But this is domination. This is power. This is submission in its rawest form. You want in? You earn it, you pathetic dog.

Your Words Show Me Your Worth, Gay Slave—And You’re Failing!

Every word you write is a mirror of your submission. Your tone, your groveling, your desperation—it all tells me what a worthless gay slave you are. But even if you beg perfectly, I don’t owe you shit. I’m in control. I decide. You’re just a toy, a plaything, a nothing. You’re here because you crave my Arab domination, but you don’t get to decide when I reply. I do.

My Reply Is a Privilege, Not a Right, You Gay Slave!

If I decide to reply, it’s on my fucking terms. You don’t get a message from me because you begged like a bitch. You get it when I say you’ve earned it. And even then, don’t expect me to be kind. I don’t reward weakness. I don’t reward desperation. I reward obedience. I reward submission. I reward the gay slaves who prove they’re devoted to serving their Arab master.

This Is Arab Gay Domination—Know Your Place, Gay Slave!

This is the world of Arab gay domination. This is where you serve. This is where you submit. This is where you’re nothing but a slave. If you want to be part of this, you better know your fucking place. When you write to me, you’re not asking for a chat. You’re begging to be noticed. You’re begging to be used. And I decide if you’re worth it.

I See Every Message, Gay Slave—But I Reply When I Want!

I see every message. I see every gay slave begging, pleading, desperate to prove themselves. And I decide. I decide who gets my time. I decide who gets my reply. I decide who’s worthy of serving me. And when I reply, it’s not a reward. It’s not something you deserve. It’s something you’ve earned through your submission, through your obedience. And even then, it’s on my terms, not yours.

Kneel and Wait, Gay Slave—That’s Your Only Role!

On XGayMaster, you kneel. You submit. You obey. And you wait—until I decide you’re ready to serve. You’re a gay slave, and you’ll stay that way until I say otherwise.