We're not going to work out unless I get to destroy your mind, too.
You know how I want you to look. You've seen the porn stars and models and social-media "celebrities" in my feed, and you know they've barely scratched the surface of what's possible with a willing body.
You know how I want you to behave, too. Your body is my property, and I will enjoy it whenever I wish, treat it however I want, and make it do whatever pleases me.
But it's not enough to play the role of the docile, weak-willed submissive. Our "relationship" won't be a role that you play part-time while you continue to develop your spirit and intellect. Your mind is my property, too, and I intend to grind it into powder before reshaping it into the depraved, shameless, unthinking machinery of the perfect little fucktoy. Every interaction with the world will reinforce your helplessness and stoke your arousal. Words and numbers will but into meaninglessness. You will drink, smoke, snort, and swallow every instrument of pharmaceutical destruction and rebirth I give you. You will fall asleep trashed and wake up reeling, and if you can stand upright and string together a complete sentence when I come home from work, then I'm doubling your intake until you're just the right amount of stupid.
Are we clear?

























