lil girl, slut, fuck doll

*soft tease*

Please Sir.

Please tell me what to do, Sir.

Please tell me what to think, Sir.

Please pick my outfit, Sir.

Please let me dress up for you, Sir.

Please say I can't cum, Sir.

Please say I won't ever cum, Sir.

Please let me touch, Sir.

Please let me be porn for you, Sir.

Please take away my words, Sir.

Please let me just moan and drool for you, Sir.

Please make me less, Sir.

Please make me more for you, Sir.

Please make me only for you, Sir.

Please, Sir.

Please.

do·mes·ti·ca·tion - noun

the process of taming an animal and keeping it as a pet or on a farm.

the process of making someone fond of and good at home life and the tasks that it involves.

You aren't "supposed" to be here. You "shouldn't" be visiting these spaces. As much as feminism preaches the acceptance of every woman's unique desires as equally valid as all others, it is an undeniable truth that in almost all feminist spaces should one express a desire to submit to men in a male-centric relationship there will be at minimum sideways glances and quiet murmurs and a subtle avoidance. I have even heard it expressed that there "must be something wrong" or "something must have happened to her in the past" in order to explain these things. The idea that a woman might actually have desires that align with this philosophy is antithetical to so much of what feminists actually practice.

But. And this is a big BUT...something happened. Either all at once or drip by drip. Blindingly fast or so slow that you didn't realize what was happening until it was far too late. But it did...suddenly you didn't quite hate being the target of misogynistic vitriol. Rather than be entirely disgusted by men leering and ogling and speaking about you...some sort of interest inside was piqued, and thoughts started playing in your mind on loop or in random directions. But all along the same lines. Men. Cocks. Submission. Power and powerlessness. Arousal and shame and lust and fear and an electric thrill and fear all rolled up into one big roiling ball in your chest.

Why now? Why you? Why THESE desires? What do they mean, for you, for the future, for your sexuality and identity? Questions you struggle with as you find yourself scrolling through another subreddit, opening just one more GIF, reading just one more man's comment or private message. Until the hours have flown by and you're dehydrated from the loss of fluids that you've been rubbing out from between your legs. The deeper you sink the more lost you feel. Stressed. Confused. Spiraling as you are unable to pull yourself out or to figure out how to grab control back from your own body. Deeper and deeper. The only thing that helps, temporarily, is to rub more. Read more. Watch more. To turn off your brain and rub your cares away imagining a world where a man was responsible for all those worries. Where a man could take those decisions from you and let you just...rest. Not have to fight for your own identity, your own future, or your own sexuality.

The world is not slowing down. The world is not getting any less complex or crazy. If you are in this deep, then you already know there is no escaping this on your own or you would have done that already and these words would not be pouring into your head. But here you are, and here we are. It's time to end the charade. It's time you admitted that you don't have the answers, your girl friends don't have the answers, and the only place that you might possibly find some peace is to figuratively prostrate yourself at a man's feet and to ask his help in guiding you through the emotional and mental labyrinth that you have found yourself in.