Published: December 25th 2024, 5:00:13 am
Imagine we’re in a relationship. I force you to wear a cage because your pathetic little cock disgusts me. On top of that, you’re made to wear women’s lingerie since, in my eyes, you’re not a man at all.
One evening, I tell you to stay late at the office because I’m going out with my girlfriends. But you can’t stop wondering why I laid out my prettiest lingerie the night before and even applied a cute ‘Queen of Spades’ tattoo to my skin.
Still, like the obedient little thing you are, you go to work and stay late as I instructed. You even message me throughout the evening, asking how I’m doing and what I’m up to with my friends. But I don’t respond—your messages don’t even get delivered.
When you finally come home, after staying at work two hours later than usual, you immediately hear my moans echoing through the hallway. Nervously and timidly, you step inside, confused by the mix of arousal and unease flooding through you. You feel your tiny cage getting tight, a little drip already forming.
As you stand awkwardly by the door, peeking inside, you freeze in shock. There I am, riding a bbc bull—strong, dominant, and everything you’ll never be. And all you can do is stand there, trembling, useless, and completely captivated by the reality of your own pathetic existence.