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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
Controlandsurrender
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.
Cry For Me. Show Me That The Proud, Strong, Independent Woman Is Really Just A Sobbing, Weak Little Girl.
Vacant Eyes. Lips Parted. Body Displayed In A Humiliating, Objectifying Little Maid Uniform. Her Former Life Just A Distant Memory In The Back Of Her Silly Little Mind. She Knew This Wasn’t What She Used To Be, There Were Half-Remembered Memories
“Come Along, Little Sis, Master Wants To Fuck Us.”
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