Untitled

You always need to smile.

✨️ please let me please ✨️

Ms. Pervology

Miss Püppi Topas by Ulrich Waschul

Good girls make more good girls

Even during the holidays, Saturdays are for reblogging House of Gord! (or at least Gord's sister site, Petgirls.com)

Yes of course the last thing I wanna do is watch you work

Yes I talk to much but is this really necessary

Good girls make more good girls

Recently been obsessively fantasizing about Men collaring me to another girl and having us make out to entertain him and his friends 💕

I love how my lips look around my new training gag 💞 can’t wait til I can get a longer one and feel it slide straight down my throat

I don’t need reminding of those things anymore, but he reminds me anyways. On our first… ‘Outing’ as a couple, Master decided it would be ‘best’ to reintroduce me to all of my former subs and clients.  I wasn’t asked.  Why would I be?  I was led in - a trophy, a toy, a thing - in front of them all.  Over to where I used to sit and watch the subs compete and strive to please me.  He sat me in his lap.  Took my gag out.  Waited. ‘Thank you, Master.’ I hear the intake of breath, and then the silence.  I must have gone as pink as my outfit. ‘Do you need your cock sucked, Master?’ That had been the first rule I had learned, so long ago: when the gag comes out, good girls should be thankful, and offer to be useful to their betters.  I was a good girl.  A pathetic little slut, and a good girl.  And now they knew. My fall was swift. Most of my…Former…Playthings were quick to see me for what I was - a dyed blonde bimbo, dressed in pink latex.  A joke.  A caricature of my former self.  Lower than Master.  Lower than them.  Only one of them needed convincing, after seeing me beg, and hearing me apologise.  Master offered to demonstrate the truth of the matter.  Master offered me… And I obeyed without question. It didn’t take long.  Master was right, he said (of course he was).  I wasn’t a domme.  No domme would let her sub fuck her face like this.  Only a submissive little slut would treat a cock like it was her whole world (of course it was.  Of course I was).  I hated myself as I did it.  Hated how humiliating it was.  Hated how wet I was at the thought.  Hated how much I loved the way he pulled my hair, called me all sorts of awful things, held me down onto his cock until I gagged, and slapped me with his dick when I wasn’t quick enough to do what he wanted.  Hated how much I had to fight not to beg him to use me… But that was okay - he used me anyways.  My former submissive came in my mouth, made me show him, made me kneel and hold it while he talked to my Master.  When he was finished, he had nearly forgotten I was there, but he patted me on the head and gave me permission to swallow. Of course he paid me no mind.  I wasn’t his former mistress. I was a silly slut.  I was a pretty pink bimbo, there to empty his balls for him.  I swallowed. I thanked him.  From then on, I was Master’s perfect toy all night - there was nothing left to be. That night was also the last time I was allowed to cum.  Master was pleased with me.  So pleased that he bent me over my old throne and fucked me, right there, in front of what were, in another lifetime, my submissives.  I still remember it - remember being grateful to be gagged again, so at least they wouldn’t hear the horrible, degrading things I was saying, completely unbidden.  I’m sure they knew, though.  When he zipped me back up, I thanked him.  I knew it would be a long time before I was given so good a reward again. I would have to earn it. Tonight, Master is bringing me out again - this time, to meet my former peers.  I’m ready, he says.  Ready to show them what I really am.  To apologise for ever pretending to be their equal.  Ready to grovel, and beg, and offer them whatever punishments they want to give me.  If I do that, my training will be complete.  My collar will be locked on, and any final memories of a silly girl who thought she was a domme will be wiped away from everyone’s minds.  All that will remain is what you see right now.   A pink latex doll.  A mocking version of a dominatrix.  A good girl.  A pathetic slut.  A bimbo.  His. Master’s. ——————————— Oof.  That was a long one, and probably could have been longer still.  I’ve been wanting to write something for this picture ever since I saw it, but I’m not sure whether I’m happy with it.  I don’t normally write from a domme’s perspective (even a broken one), but I had to, after reading the original caption - it was too perfect.  Hopefully it worked.