u/Sailorjamie117

I’m not going to reassure you that I won’t drop you. Not all the time at least.

Of course there are always exceptions to that rule, bad days and arguments will still be a thing; but in general, I try to avoid forming a pattern.

It’s a boundary for me, not because I’m heartless or because I actually would, but because I need to be trusted in my decisions.

I’m a frighteningly blunt, university educated woman with over a decade being an adult. I’ve had time to work out what I want, and if I’ve decided on you, it’s because I see something in you I like.

The door is not locked, so if I’m here, it’s because I want to be. Of course, I know I’m signing up for that anxiety and I’m prepared for it, but that does not mean I’m willing to enable the pattern.

Because it is enabling.

In my experience of anxiety and self esteem issues, I will never be able to reassure you enough that I’m not leaving. If a pattern starts to appear where you’re coming to me consistently for reassurance without being able to settle yourself, that tells me I need to support you into professional care.

It tells me I’m becoming a backstop where emotional management and distress tolerance are being replaced with immediate comfort and fresh promises. Neither are helpful to your overall health or the health of our relationship.

As a Domme, I’m not the one to heal your abandonment wounds. That responsibility lays squarely with a therapist. I can support you to find that care, but I will not myself become it.

If you’re my submissive, I respect you well enough to not pretend I can counteract everyone who has ever abandoned you. You deserve the support to heal those parts of yourself.

The feeling rising in your chest that you’re a bad person, or that these words are rejection in themselves? That feeling needs a comfortable couch and a kindly person with an hourly rate.

And when that session is done, we’ll go get ice cream and enjoy being together. That is how I support you as your Domme.

All I can do is show you the water under the bridge, it’s up to you to look up river.

Post surgery report:

A young woman, 26, presented to primary care provider on the 16/3/26 with complaints of discomfort during sexual intercourse and “Very painful” periods.

PCP conducted a pelvic floor exam and on inspection, and referred patient to the OB/GYN in-patient clinic. Further examination, Hx and Sx corroborated a diagnosis of Vaginismus. Patient was referred to pelvic floor surgeon for sedated dilation and cervical botox.

Patient presented to in-patient gynaecology clinic at 08:30am on the 22/06/26. NPO as of 11:45pm. Patient complained of nervousness, sedationist cleared a higher dose of Triazolum.

Patient administered 0.75mg Triazolam via IV, shunted with Saline to manage BP.

Patient vitals at time of sedation. HR: 75, BP: 124/85, RR: 16.

Procedure occurred as advised to patient, Botox administered to the anterior bulbospongiosus muscle, however dilation via inflation yielded inadequate results.

At the Pelvic floor specialist’s recommendation, further dilation was attempted. Owing to time constraints, two RNs used fingers to repeatedly penetrate and apply downwards pressure to the pelvic floor. Rhythmic dilation continued for 20 minutes until desired results were achieved.

Patient may have experienced orgasm while under sedation, leading to further pelvic muscle relaxation. SOB and elevated heart rate, paired with oral ‘moaning’ are consistent with orgasm.

Patient will be provided education/demonstration on proper self stimulation to facilitate further improvement.

In recovery, patient disclosed to the charge nurse a feeling of being “Well fucked,” but having no recollection of the procedure. Patient discharged to PCP with follow-up appointment required.

I’m going to be bluntly gentle when I say this:

If you haven’t attended workshops, or read up on the techniques, safety and risk management of the kinks you want to practice, you have no business bottoming for that play.

I don’t care how thoroughly you want it, that need should never get in the way of conscious choices. Even in kinks where less mature headspaces are prevalent, there will always be a need for a mature, adult part of you.

That part of you needs to understand what you’re getting into, and be an active part in the successful execution of it. If you don’t, you are going to get hurt, and more than likely, you’re going to hurt others.

I say this from experience. As both a submissive who once walked the uneducated path and as a Domme who sees those same people throwing themselves at me, there is a pattern here.

It’s alarming, truly, seeing a perpetual influx of uneducated submissives, freshly laden with abandonment issues and self loathing, appear in the scene each year.

They usually fit the mold of timid little plaything that just wants Mommy to love them; believing that having a Domme will fix their self esteem, help them grow up and maybe, just maybe, love them in a way their parents never did.

I wish it was that simple.

In reality, this desperation leads to people flooding inboxes already in headspace, jumping into dynamics without vetting; just hoping for the best. This pattern leaves little room for the self awareness that kink, like any pursuit, requires effort and training to do well.

Training that happens well in advance. Training that should not, in any sane world, be cast to the side in favour of instant gratification.

The consent classes, the genuine mentorship, the showing up and learning from others who’ve experienced this world; they all seem frighteningly optional in an age where dynamics can form within the space of a comment thread.

People get hurt because they play with scenes they’re unfamiliar with, people they shouldn’t innately trust, wanting to fill holes that can’t be filled with a collar alone.

So, let me set the record straight:

I don’t know who told you that Dommes were going to save you from the mental effort and emotional labour of kink, but they were certainly doing you a disservice.

This idea that your dominant partner will take care of the safety and the planning, the running of negotiations, the gear upkeep, it removes a very real need for you to be informed about what is going to happen to you.

It is on you to be educated, and while I don’t expect most bottoms to be just as skilled at topping their kinks, you should understand the basics enough to assess and actively participate in your own safety. You cannot keep yourself safe if you can’t identify bad practices.

You are not, at your core, a mindless puppy or a little girl. You’re an adult woman with a responsibility to yourself and those you play with. It is not a betrayal of your submission to take your seat at the table.

We’re taught a porn-ified version of kink. The fantasy of an overbearing and controlling Domme stripping away your every choice in life, keeping you in perpetual submission with no voice or responsibilities of your own. The reality is far more balanced, and far more collaborative.

Personally, I like it that way. The learning can be as fulfilling as service as anything else. Classes together, practicing kinks slowly and without time pressure, they can be just as fulfilling as the head-rush of more intense scenes.

The best way you can serve is by taking your own care seriously.

Oh babygirl, you can be dysphoric all you like, it’s not changing the fact that you’re staying buried inside me.

Can you feel how warm my cunt is, wrapped around every inch of you?

You have absolutely no idea how to react, do you? Such a bottom, you don’t even know how to have your cock ridden. It’s rather adorable!

Just relax sweetheart! The viagra I slipped into dinner will keep your beautiful cock nice and hard for me for as long as I want, and you have no chance of escaping, so you may as well let yourself enjoy this!

I know it feels good baby. I can see you hiding it.

Just focus on how pretty you look, limbs stretched to the corners of my bed; your pretty growing tits perfectly on display.

I don’t care if you grow them out, I don’t care if every other part of you changes, but I’ve decided this cock is mine.

Every throbbing inch on it.

I haven’t even started grinding and I’m already close.

You were gifted this cock to make women like me feel utterly divine. You will not waste it.

CW: this does not depict a real world instance of rape, but the fantasy does get quite graphic, to the point where please, please, if you have any hint you might struggle with this, DO NOT READ!!

This gets dark, and there is nothing redeeming about it. It was written for people with a rape play fetish, it is not for casual CNC enthusiasts.

The dove has been killed several times, do not eat.

————

I don’t know why I’m still here.

I waited. I promise I waited as long as I could to catch that bitch in the act. I thought I came back to confront our rapist but…..

I….I think our rapist is me.

It has to be. It’s nearly morning and it happened at night…. It, fuck, I can’t let this not happen,and I’m really, truly sorry.

Please don’t try to struggle, I know you’re confused, I know you’ll only remember flashes of this…..just, please don’t struggle.

The paralytic agent I reserved for our tormentor is already in your…our…system: I made sure you were asleep when it happened.

There’s no point in making this painful too.

I’m….I’m going to do something utterly horrible to you now, and it has to happen. I wish it didn’t. It’s just…all that advocacy work, all the tireless campaigning and support of people who experienced this….. it’s too important that this happens.

I’m sorry, but it starts here. This NEEDS to happen for a world of difference to occur, and it breaks my heart. Fuck, you look so young too….Not even a hint of your transition on the outside.

You’re still a beautiful woman, and I hate that those words will confuse you for a few years…..but now I know why. I’m the first one who saw it in you.

I’m so fucking sorry!

Okay… we can get through this. Slow strip of blankets first right? You need to feel exposed while we ride you.

Omg I remember this! You wore lace panties to bed just to feel feminine! And you could never quite fit everything in the front!

We were rather sizable, weren’t we?! Fuck I’m not sure if I can….okay yes I can, I’ve seen it slide in…. Okay deep breath…

Fuck!! No wonder the girls liked you….. honestly I think I almost came just from that stretch!

…..ew, why am I even thinking that?

Because I have to.

Because she…no, I enjoyed it. Because through the fog, we knew she enjoyed it….we knew she wanted it.

Fuck!!!! That’s not fucking fair!!!

I’m sorry sweetheart…..I really am. You’re going to…mmmhhhmm….fuck you feel good….you’re gonna hate me for a long time. I get it.

I hate me too…..I hate that I can’t stop…. I’m sorry honey, I can’t help it… you feel too good….

I hate that you’ll remember that…that line and think I was some…feral mutt. Truly, I can’t. This has to…..

Fuck you feel good! Let this happen baby, let Mommy ride you…. Mommy can’t help it baby…

I can feel you…..me….us… pulsing. I know you’re already close…… it didn’t take much for you…us…did it?

Just let it happen…it needs to happen…. You need to hate yourself for this….

Please….please cum for Mommy…I promise if you cum, I’ll leave you alone okay? Give me what I need and….holy shit….fuck you feel amazing!!

Give Mommy what she needs and this can all stop….

I know it’s only May, but there’s no heavily commercialized folk deity until December and I can’t call the tooth fairy. I asked the easter bunny already but she brought me newly out trans girls. Said she still considered them eggs, whatever that means.

Anyway, I really really really want a pretty cis girl with big tits and a gorgeous tummy to breed, and no, I don’t want a skinny thicc woman. Well I mean, I do, but that’s not what I’m asking for.

If she’s had her mother bothering her about going on a diet since Christmas, fucking perfect! I want my life to be filled with reminding her she’s beautiful, then making her ride my cock while I marvel at the statue of Venus personified.

I want her to be terrified to sit on my face, just to feel herself locked down while spell her name with my tongue.

I’m talking about a belly that covers the utter mess I’m making of her cunt, tits with a cup size north of E. I want hangers I can make a pretty shade of purple with rope and determination.

Oh and if you could add in some pretty dimples and a preference for sundresses, that would be fucking stellar.

Just so we’re clear, give me a few years and you’ll be getting just a few more letters.

Signed,

Queen of your naughty list.

I know it’s only May, but there’s no heavily commercialized folk deity until December and I can’t call the tooth fairy. I asked the easter bunny already and she brought me newly trans girls. Said she still considered them eggs, whatever that means.

Anyway, I really really really want a pretty cis girl with big tits and a gorgeous tummy to breed, and no, I don’t want a skinny thicc woman. Well I mean, I do, but that’s not what I’m asking for.

If she’s had her mother bothering her about going on a diet since Christmas, fucking perfect! I want my life to be filled with reminding her she’s beautiful, then making her ride my cock while I marvel at the statue of Venus personified.

I want her to be terrified to sit on my face, just to feel herself locked down while spell her name with my tongue.

I’m talking about a belly that covers the utter mess I’m making of her cunt, tits with a cup size north of E. I want hangers I can make a pretty shade of purple with rope and determination.

Oh and if you could add in some pretty dimples and a preference for sundresses, that would be fucking stellar.

Just so we’re clear, give me a few years and you’ll be getting just a few more letters.

Signed,

Queen of your naughty list.

I’m a stranger. Totally and completely. Just another username on the internet.

Yes, I’m a stranger who’s good with words and makes you feel safe, but I’m a stranger nonetheless. There is absolutely no evidence that I’m not a narcissistic, abusive person willing to use your naivety against you!

I write emotional sadism and manipulation VERY well, and there are only two types of people who can do that: people who’ve survived narcissistic manipulation, and narcissistic manipulators!

While I like to think I’m the former, YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!

THERE’S NO WAY YOU COULD POSSIBLY VERIFY BEFORE YOU REACH OUT!!

When you call me Mommy in your first message it tells me two things: you’re inexperienced (A well travelled kinkster would never do that), and you’re desperate for attention.

I can use the first of those things to convince you my impossibly expectations are normal for kink, and because you crave connection, particularly validation, you’ll run to try and achieve them.

I won’t, but I need you to know how vulnerable you’re making yourself, because others absolutely will.

I grew up in a world where Dial-up was still the peak of innovation and it was drilled into us to never share identities online. You never truly know the person you’re talking to.

That attitude of verification and vetting kept me safe, and while some things have changed, others stay the same.

I get it, you’re eager, emotionally invested and struggling with self esteem. You like me because I’m a stern Mommy that you hope will nurture and punish you. The nurture soothes and lets you feel loved for the first time and the punishment is proof I won’t just leave when you mess up.

But please be careful. Those same traits are an easy way to use your own brain chemistry against you.

It’s frighteningly easy to develop a pattern of addiction and you deserve better than that.

If you don’t believe you’re worth being treated with that kindness, you’re particularly susceptible.

Please, for the love of Inanna, expect conversations and friendships before you give someone something as precious as your submission.

Certainly don’t do it in the first message.

No, not even a little bit.

To have a world where I, as a headmistress, get to cane a line of adorable subs in plaid skirts and plain white panties?

Like what do you mean I’m not living the dream of punishing a whimpering little slut for her bad grades by making her stand at a window, panties around her knees?

Personally I think it’s homophobic that I don’t currently have a pretty girl earning extra credit with her mouth full!

I want to be the cold and harsh, but fair older woman giving out lectures while I spank girls with rulers!

I guess, when it comes down to it, I never really found the time.

Between bills and doctor’s appointments and living a healthy life, what modern woman has the time to process what I lost.

Which, given our brief rebirth, was all of you and none. We walked together so briefly, I think I’ve mourned for longer than we ever had.

Six months and every day a reason to find your laugh, clinging static to my soul. Every whispered prayer, each pleaded word, none to deliver me from the apostle I became.

Because scrubbing you from every inch of my being would take an age. Anointed oil build up of everything we were, caked to the core of who I am.

What remains beneath, near indistinguishable from the brief candle of who I was with you; what Inanna deemed to be my…righteous dues.

The lecture to set out the lesson, to produce the sermon of my life. To find the me so intent to learn the rules of who I now become.

I think about that often; the person you helped grow in your small ways, now walking a tangential path.

A lesson I wished had become a reciprocated love. It is a buried wound, closed but barely healed.

Instead I pretend I don’t see you in the sheets of rain, or the way streetlamps bend their light in shattered glass, in every tired metaphor, in every loaded gun.

Enduring, fleeting, subject to a change neither of us could survive. The product of misrepresentation; a desperate, cloying need for different things.

I still drive by the apartment you had when I could lie to my soul and say you were mine. You were never really mine, in the same way you were never really anyone’s.

Far more a spectre than lasted form.

I think about the night I stood on your doorstep, the altar laid deep with unearned sin. Still worried this too would fade like so many of the others, you kissed me and promised me this was real.

Only now do I realize neither knew what real was. To you it meant the feeling, to me it meant the world.

At least, that’s the lie. The way to protect a heart that rushed in too open, too hopeful of dreams, too set on her own.

The woman whose fragile heart you admired, until it was time to stand vigil, to protect the openness you inspired. Even that was too open, beauty to be admired from afar.

I forgot that not heart is shared, not every dream is mine. Too intent on building a home, I forgot to keep safe your wild.

I guess we were both right in our own ways. These feelings still linger and you’re still burdened.

I wonder if you still hold Chloe, if that plush spider of cotton and fluff still brings you the same joy. I wouldn’t blame you if you made her home in a box to match the feelings in mine.

Still too heavy to hold, not heavy enough to sink.

It’s impossible not to wonder if you feel the same. Whether you spend your 4ams wondering what could have been. My heart tells me ‘no;’ that you spare little thought for the Masc who flirted like it was her purpose in life.

I, oh weary poet that I am, must remand myself to the truth that for the months that I knew you, It really, truly was.

CW: I’m working through some stuff. This one isn’t for the faint of heart. THIS IS NOT A HEALTHY DYNAMIC!

———

I’m not going to treat you as a person.

Attention, love, respect? They exist for people who aren’t found kneeling on my doorstep begging to be taken back.

They exist for people who respect me enough to work through relationship problems with me.

You knew what would happen if you walked back into my life. You ran when I stayed to build us up. Return means I do as I wish.

That love is gone. All that remains is a cold distain. Yet here you inexplicably remain.

If you won’t be your own survival instinct, I have no intention of filling in, but I thought you would have learned that lesson the first time I sent you to bed with blood running down your back.

This life is suffering and service.

What baffles me is the unlocked door. Particularly your inability to walk through it, despite how badly I treat you.

I thought you would break, the night I turned you black and blue with my boot. The night you earned my anger enough to know you’ll never earn forgiveness; that you’ll do nothing but serve.

I was surprised to find your mouth around my cock the next morning, sucking like it was your purpose in life.

I admit I turned your torture into a game for my own amusement; a chance to see how brutal I could be before you decided you couldn’t take any more.

How many days did you spend in the hotbox with the task of contemplating the futility of your choice? Three? Still you emerged and knelt with a hardened resolve.

In truth I can’t imagine a more miserable existence.

You live in an old straw covered stall in the stables. Do you think this is the bedding of someone I consider human?

You return to it each night covered in new cuts and bruises courtesy of a woman who calls you a different name every time she fucks you. A woman who shows you photos of the people she’d rather be screwing, telling you all the ways that they would be better.

Even those hours are a dream. At least you’re acknowledged. Most of the day, you cook without being thanked; clean tirelessly without being noticed.

Except for when you fail. Then you’re made to repeat the task through the night. Not that you’re given any chance to rest either way, the nights are bitterly cold in that stable.

You trudge through endless days of this, for what? So you can punish yourself for throwing me away?

I hope you do not seriously believe this is a test. There is no prize of love at the end of your trials. There is no mercy, just the occasional nights I decide you’re allowed to lick my boots after I whip you.

The woman who loves you is gone. I am what remains.

Oh babygirl, I know you like your body hair, but that’s not how this works. Barbie doesn’t have hair below her head, so neither will you!

I have an IPL coming, but I’ll have to wax you this time, so stay still okay?

Oh.

Right.

I’m so glad you signed away the right to your own body! Isn’t this fun?! Here, lemme just set a smile on your face.

I’m taking full advantage of my new play thing! Sure, maybe it was a misuse of hypnosis, programming your blank little mind, but you certainly haven’t protested my methods, have you?

A mute and freeze command is such a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

I don’t think there’s been a night in the last month you haven’t laid frozen and silent beneath me.

I don’t know which is better, your silence holding back tears or moans. I hope it’s the second, I do love playing games together!

I can’t imagine how it feels, feeling a woman bury herself in you with no choice but to watch the panting feral mess pinning you to the bed.

I did try and be gentle, it’s just that….you’re really pretty and you feel so good! Have you seen your tits?!

Either way, you still ended the day as a cum filled and locked in a body that stopped listening to you.

I spent the day shopping, while you drifted, unmoving, through the hours. I know you wouldn’t approve of my fashion choices, but we can work on that.

A few more sessions and you’ll be the perfectly programmed doll.

See the colour of this dress? Isn’t it a gorgeous pink? I found sequined heels to match! Isn’t that exciting? You look just like the barbie I always wished I had!

Of course, a grown up girl needs a grown up doll, so here we are!

I have a few parties I want to take you too when you’re ready! It’ll be so fun, I promise! My friends and I want to see how many of us can use you to get off at the same time!

Now, I’m almost done waxing you, I need to dye your hair next, then we’re going to work on your pussy licking command!

I’m not going to spank you, I’m just going to intentionally load far far too much Vegemite onto my toast without any butter, then fundamentally misrepresent it by telling my foreign audience how awful and intense it is.

Someone called me just another trans lesbian with a misogynistic rape kink last night in a very derogatory way, so I’m proving that there’s a fuck tonne of women who’re into it.

———

Oh sweetheart, did you think you would be any different?

Did you think that because I give you the freedom to express your opinions, that exempts you? You’re a married woman, but that doesn’t mean you get special treatment.

If fact, it’s even more of a moral duty. You’re in a position to influence impressionable young women. Let’s make sure they understand the joy of being a home maker.

I know that silly empty head of yours can’t understand but that’s okay, you’re only a woman; I shouldn’t expect you to understand gender roles.

That’s why it’s my job to teach you your god given place. As the head of the household, it’s on me to educate you on who to vote for, how to dress, how to please.

Admit it darling, you belong in service. You knew this before you agreed to a relationship, or do you not remember vowing to obey?

You’re an asset to this house, as long as you understand your place in it. It would be unbecoming to let someone of your gender hold down a job.

You’re naturally far more suited to domestic tasks. The constitution of a submissive woman has been scientifically proven to need a home to tend to. Ask any psychologist. No wonder so many feminists are working jobs while being utterly miserable.

I won’t allow you to be corrupted in the same way. You deserve a happy and peaceful life doing what your gender was born to do.

It’s in your nature to serve.

So don’t worry that silly little mind with things like earning money, just have dinner on the table by seven tonight.

This way you’ll have plenty of time to perform your ‘intimate’ duties. I need not remind you that the myth of the female orgasm applies to you too, so let’s not worry your silly little head with notions of anything but my pleasure.

Now, I’ll be home tonight at six. I’ll expect to see a clean house and that yellow sundress on you.

And this little overly emotional stunt you pulled? I’ll put it down to your time of the month, but it really is just proving my point.

You’re far too emotional to make decisions for yourself. That’s why you need a wife.

CW: explicit use of the word rape.

———

I know you don’t like this baby, I know. I hear you princess…fuck… I know you want me to stop, I just…

I just can’t help it baby. I know, Mommy’s being a bad Mommy right now…

I’ll try be gentle okay? I can’t help that you’re so tight around Mommy, but…Fuck baby you really are…holy shit!

I know I’m being meany, I’ll make it up to you, I promise….

You just feel so fucking good little one. You running around in only your diaper got Mommy thinking about your princess parts.

No, no, you can cry little one! Remember how we talked about our feelings not being right or wrong?

Mommy’s hurting you, and you’re allowed to be upset at that. Mommy’s touching your no-no parts, that’s allowed to be uncomfortable baby.

Can you feel how Mommy’s stretching you? That’s not okay for a Mommy yo do. I know it’s wrong baby, I just can’t fucking stop… especially when my balls so so sweetly against your ass!

I’m so fucking sorry sweetheart, your pretty tits just need slapping baby. You can cry, you’re allowed to cry at the ouchies….

Fuck baby, Mommy’s so fucking close. Just a little more and then I’ll hold you and comfort you okay?

Can you do that for me baby? Just struggle a little longer. I know I’m hurting you, I know I’m a bad Mommy, you deserve better baby.

Just…. fuck I need to breed you little slut……

Such a tight little rape doll!

Don’t worry sweetheart, you don’t need to keep looking at your boyfriend. He doesn’t matter right now.

Be good and decenter men for once. You know you belong to me when you’re in heat; or do I need to remind both of you of the law?

Let your alpha show you what good cock feels like.

The dick being stroked in the corner of this room? It can’t knot you. It can’t satisfy your body’s needs. You’re an omega, we both know you need this in your heat.

This is for your health pretty omega. You need to be bred. This is what you asked for, wasn’t it? A safe platonic alpha?

No wonder you’re so wound up. Your biology doesn’t give a shit that I’m a holdover. All it knows is that you’re claimed and you’re mine.

How long have you been holding out on this? How many heats have you suppressed?

You know you’re only supposed to skip a couple. By the way your pretty cunt is reacting to me, I’d say it’s more than that.

I don’t even know why you hang out with that beta. It’s not like it’s going to last, your biology doesn’t recognize anyone but me as your mate.

Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Is that why you were dragged here, delirious and sick with need?

Stupid girl.

Your cunt belongs to me. You can deny your biology all you like, but the longer you fight it, the worse you’ll get.

Let go princess. Let it feel good. Let your alpha fill you with pups. Stop fighting and let yourself have what you know you want.

Stop pretending you’re not a slut for your alpha’s cock.

It’s okay babygirl, you’re not weird for wanting this! Plenty of pretty little girls nurse off their Mommies.

It makes you feel safe and small, doesn’t it darling?

The world outside is scary to little ones like you, but tasting Mommy’s milk makes everything better, doesn’t it?

You look so perfect there baby. Your half closed eyes and a content look on your face. Mommy likes seeing you relax like this.

At least most of you is relaxed. I can see your pretty hips moving little one.

Now princess, I need you to open your legs for me, okay? I know you’re trying to hide your little situation, but Mommy wants to see.

That’s it, be a brave girl for me.

Can Mommy touch, sweetheart?

Naawww look at you straining against your panties! Did you know that this is one of Mommy’s favorite things? The way your little princess wand grows under that pink lace is perfection!

Especially when I…. Oh look at your little clit jumping under my touch!

No, no baby, keep nursing! I didn’t tell you to stop, did I? You keep sucking all of Mommy’s milk.

You don’t need to concern yourself with what Mommy’s doing with her hand. This is mine to touch whenever I want baby. My pretty little wand to milk.

That seems fair, doesn’t it? I give you my milk and you give me yours.

The drug I gave you won’t dull the sensation, I promise you.

While you won’t have control of your body, you’ll feel every moment of this.

You can feel my cock inside you, can’t you? You felt my fingers lube you up before every slow inch violated you. Every throb is evidence that your wants weren’t even considered.

I hope it hurt a little; rough hands being indelicate to your porcelain smooth skin. The untouchable princess of parties being penetrated past perversion.

You’re the barbie I always hoped for. The one with the perfect pussy.

I wonder if you’re crying behind those blank eyes. I don’t know which is better, soundless defiance or the quiet acceptance that you’re an audience to your own use.

Feel the way I’m touching your clit? I want you to know it has nothing to do with giving you pleasure. My fingers here are nothing but a reminder:

I get to touch every single inch, down to your most sensitive spots. If I want to grind my ass against your frozen face, that’s my choice.

I hope what I’m about to do makes you sick. The grunt filled rutting, the violent, frantic way I want to use you; nothing is for you.

I want you to see how quickly I forget your sentience.

At least you have an answer to your question. Your silence is an upgrade. Now you’re just a perfect little body with no need for a personality.

My pretty marionette with severed strings. You never needed your dance; your form is art enough.