Pink Bows N’ Bunnies

Then he would start requiring me to keep it shaved at all times. Then later, I would need to keep it waxed. That would make me feel so feminine and dysphoric. My super smooth skin empathising my “female” anatomy. Then he would make me wear lingerie. Lacy, super feminine and tiny thongs would be the only kind of underwear I were allowed to wear. I could still present masculine and take my hormones all I wanted, my body my choice and all that - but my boycunt? That was his. Or, my pussy or cunt as he likes to call it. This still meant fucking whenever he wanted. If we were out and he was horny, he could at all times pull down my pants, pull my thong to the side and fuck my smooth pussy and leave a load in me to thoroughly soak the panties afterwards. Even though the rest of my body was still my own, it would be hard to still feel like a man with my wet boycunt clinging to some feminine lingerie and a real mans load slowly running out of me.

Then the torture would start. He would start biting my transdick. My “tiny female clit”. He would start slapping me down there making me red and swollen and really fucking sore. This would also make me feel super dysphoric, but it would be his right as a real man to own my boycunt. He would pump the entire area, making my anatomy grotesquely swollen and really emphasize that I don’t have a beautiful cock. Then whip it afterwards. After all kinds of torture, he would fuck me, no matter how sore I was and no matter how fucked I looked, I would always end up with a fresh load soaking out of my boycunt. Lastly, he would put on my thong again so it could really rub against the sore area and never make me forget who owned that part of my body.

"you're welcome, doll" I whispered, hands on your hips and mouth against your neck.

you spun around suddenly. "But wait, you always said you liked the old ones..." your eyes narrowed, suddenly certain you caught Me in a lie.

"Oh I liked them a lot, doll. But see, now I own part of you, just like investing in company stock. Fully paid for. How much of you do you own? Nothing. That makes Me the only person with a vote."

"Oh..." you murmured, thinking a little harder than you should. your eyes furrowed, then you suddenly grinned. "OK!".

"Hop up on the counter and open your legs wide, doll."

you whined, pouting and stamping a foot. "But Daddy, I'm tireddddd..."

"Sorry doll, we put it to a vote and I won"

I know that you're touching yourself like a good Doll to each post you go by, unable to help yourself from bringing yourself right up to the edge and then stopping. Over and over again, denying yourself that final wave of pleasure just so you can keep going.

I know that you're not nearly as sweet and innocent as all your followers, your family and friends see you to be. I know that your rubbing yourself silly to videos of women taking thick cocks down their throats or men getting fucked so brutally that their stomachs are bulging from the size of the cock inside them.

I know that you're just acting innocent, so why don't you just give in to the Hedonism? You want to make yourself feel good, day in and day out, that much is obvious— why else would I be getting notifications saying that you liked my posts on your blog, your blog with followers and likes hidden behind a wall of embarrassment perhaps?

“It’ll help promote breast growth”