Egalitarian Slut

Sorry but I got sick of scrolling through the notes on this on desktop and seeing all the red usernames marked by shinigami eyes reblogging this.

the idea of a woman going through my tumblr, eventually finding my other socials and figuring out where i live and what i like and exactly how to make me trust her...

and then flying out to me and staging a little meet cute at a bar. we talk and flirt and she's getting bolder and coming on stronger the longer our conversation goes on...

i'm already barely keeping it together, a little more tipsy than i'm comfortable with. and then she slides a hand up my thigh and her nails press into my skin a little too hard, and she tells me i'm going to follow her to the bathroom now.

if i was smarter i wouldn't blindly trust someone i just met, but by the time i start second guessing if this is a good idea she's already shoving me into the last stall and locking the door behind us.

she pins me to the wall face-first with my arms behind my back and leans close. asking me if i really thought i wouldn't get what's coming to me for posting the filthy shit i do. turning me around to face her and shoving me into the wall by the throat.

i try to push her off and she just laughs and gives me a hard slap across the face. again. again. another one. i'm too disoriented to keep fighting. she's asking me if it feels like i imagined, mocking how wet i probably am by now. and pulling my hair to force my face up so she can see how scared i look

she tells me i can fight her if i want, but she knows what i need. she's read all about it and she's a little disappointed i'm not more grateful. it's what i've been asking for, isn't it? she hits me again and tells me to thank her. when i don't say anything she presses her fingers into my throat and hits me harder. come on baby you can do it, say thank you.

i do and she tells me good girl, that wasn't so hard, was it? on your knees. i hesitate and she forces me down impatiently, prying my thighs apart with her boot. telling me how pathetic i look. unzips her pants and forces my head between her legs.

she's holding me by the hair so hard it's making me tear up and she tells me if i don't make her cum she'll kill me. i don't think she means it but she scares me enough that i don't want to find out. trying my best to make her feel good while more tears roll down my cheeks... when she's close she pushes my face into her harder and i can't breathe until i get her over the edge.

she lets go and i fall back against the wall. i'm still disoriented and catching my breath, and she crouches down to my level and lifts up my skirt and presses her fingers against the wet spot on my panties. laughs and says that's what she thought. runs a thumb across my bottom lip with her other hand, unexpectedly gentle.

and you keep playing pretend, and it gets to be a habit to nod and agree. it's not real, no big deal. and the habit feels nice, and it's fun, and you get rewarded for it, and the habit gets more engrained. a little harder to break. but you still know it's not real, and you could stop, you're just playing along.

and eventually it's such a nice, comfy, easy habit — to smile and nod and agree and obey — that it almost stops being a choice! you know how that is, right? it's not like you wake up and consciously choose to check your phone and scroll for a bit, it's just a habit, it just happens. you could still choose to stop — but why would you even want to? it's so fun to play along, to nod and believe everything they say. you've been doing it on purpose for days and weeks and months. you had so much practice. you probably can't even remember when it stopped being on purpose, huh? oooooh, poor thing, you really are so susceptible you'll just believe anything, huh?

I can see how important it is to you that this part of you is true, whole, complete, and immutable. I see how you've defined yourself as inviolable, I see how deeply you believe in your 'free will'.

But you know that none of that is real, right? None of your beliefs are, really. We can have fun disproving them one by one. I oh so love the intimacy of you sharing this deeply personal truth because it let's me fantasize about how to break you. And I love seeing what of you is left over after.

No, no, not like that. I know that sounds bad! Let me explain.

The dog was on a walk, obviously. Out on a walk with their owner. On a leash because I suppose they were either going to somewhere the dog could run around or coming back. Whatever.

Point is, the dog was on a leash, and the dog was looking up at their owner. And it was that look that made me think of you.

They were just so happy.

Looking up so adoringly.

It was a look of just complete and total contentment. At that moment, nothing else at all mattered. They were with their owner and that was everything. Not a single worry or anything else in that little doggy head.

That's why I thought of you.

Because I've seen that look before.

No, don't look away, keep looking at me. Blushing's fine, you can blush, but don't look away. There you go. Good girl. You know what look I'm talking about, don't you?

Nod, don't speak. Good girl.

Yes, you know what look I'm talking about. You're struggling to keep it off your face right now because of how I'm talking to you. You're even struggling to stay standing. I know you'd be happier by my feet, and so do you.

That look. I usually see it look down, don't I? Nod again for me. Good girl. And heel. Good girl. See? Look at that. There it is. Speak.

Aww, it just comes right out. Look, you even surprised yourself! Oh, and I didn't think you could get any more red.

Maybe I should take you for a walk sometime, hmm? Would you like that? Just following your own so devotedly, staring up so happily? Yes? Would you like that?

You do know you started wagging a little, don't you?

Such a good girl.

waiting room at the sci-fi future elective surgery clinic

At a certain point, it becomes confusing how many of your actions are natural, and how many are trained responses.

Very frequently, Dolls will find their initial response to be obedience. “Yes ma’am” becomes a more readily accessible response than any other. Others will find they hear their dominant’s voice, ordering them to do basic tasks.