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I’ve had her like this for a few hours. Three at the most. For her, I’m sure it feels like an eternity. Keeping her on edge, controlling how much pleasure she’s allowed to feel. Turning off the vibrations when I can tell she’s getting
Controlandsurrender
Because What You Have To Say Isn’t Important.
Look At The Camera. You Want Your Friends To Recognize Don’t You? You Want To Them To Understand Why You’re Going To Be Dropping Out Of School? Because You’re Just A Dumb Little Girl Who Is Going To Give Your Tuition Check To Me Instead,
When It Comes Down To A Choice Between Two Sisters, The Easiest Solution Is To Just Claim Them Both. Make Them Both Dress Alike, Wear Their Hair Alike, Make Them Talk And Walk In The Same Manner. At Some Point You’ll Forget Which One Is Which,
Completely Encased From Head To Toe. Not Even A Bit Of Her Flesh Displayed. Unable To Speak, Unable To See, Unable To Even Hear Anything. Reduced Completely And Utterly To Just An Object. Soon To Be Put Onto A Pedestal, Kept As A Thing For It’s
She Still Has That Defiant Look In Her Eyes, But You Can Also See The Fear. She Knows Her Defiance Won’t Be Able To Last. That Her Will Will Break. That Her Body Will Succumb. That She Will Cry Out For Him. That She Will Moan For Him. That
Your Fate Is To Become Just Another Drone. Another Identical, Anonymous Object. Completely Interchangeable With The Others. Your Own Identity Stripped Away, Replaced With Obedience And The The Programming That Runs Through Your Empty Mind:you Are
They Weren’t Exactly Sure Why They Were There, Or Why They Were Wearing The Skimpy Little Bikinis. Still, They Stayed In Just The Positions He Told Them To, A Soft Fuzzy Feeling Running Through Their Minds.“Hello Girls,” He Said. “Hello Master,”
Look Cute. Be Pretty.turn Off Your Mind.obey.no Think.just Pink.your Life Is Better When You’re A Bimbo.
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