I want to tie you down to a table in a sterile room with nothing to distract you aside from an array of toys and instruments lined up neatly on a table just in your peripherals.
I want to drink in that trepidation through a monitor, letting you imagine what you've found yourself embroiled in. Your eyes straining to investigate the canes, the paddles, the lubricants. The too large dildos with strange shapes and vibrators that have always seemed that tad bit too strong for comfort.
I'd come in masked, cooing at you the way a person might do to a frightened animal before an operation. Poor thing. You're not getting out of there. And by the time I'm finished you won't want to leave.
I'll take my time with each device, documenting every reaction in a notebook, regardless of how big and small it might be. Paying no heed to the stupid little noises and pleas you make.
It won't be long until you're in tears. Distressed and in pain or confused with the strange pleasure building in your gut.
So scary, isn't it sweetheart? And this is only the beginning. We could be at this for weeks. Even months.
But you have to know I'm only doing this for the betterment of others just like you. There's no perverse ulterior motives to satisfy my corruption kink. No sadistic desires. It truly is important that I know exactly how to break a cute thing like you down into an empty, brainless husk. All so I can build you back up into what you need to be.
Your identity is a necessary sacrifice. The blueprint I'll use to break down other stubborn pets into their true purpose.
You'll be happy and fulfilled and-- well not free, but freedom is overrated. You'll be the first of many in my adorable group of thralls and it will feel wonderful.