"Look at how her ass just opens up for his fist. You want that to be you, don't you? You want my fist in your ass?"

"I felt your cunt throb as the first stream of piss hit her tongue. I love that you get so excited at the thought of drinking piss. Tell me how much you love it and maybe you'll get my piss later."

"She's so eager to eat his ass, look at that. Do you wish you were her? Once you're done being edged, do you need to spend some time licking my ass to remember what you're good for?"

Once I was helplessly turned on, lost and overwhelmed by how frustrated I am, shamelessly begging him to make me come, saying anything he tells me to in a desperate attempt to earn his approval, he'd switch to a video showing women coming, a compilation of real orgasms. One after the other. The women writhing, screaming, gushing, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. As I watched, his hand still lazily teasing my cunt, he'd talk to me then too.

Look at that brain dead mutt in the video, no longer a woman, not even pretending. Just a mindless, panting piece of meat, eyes vacant, because even the most basic control is too much effort for something this low.

Every pathetic woof is another shred of humanity dripping onto the floor. It doesn’t think anymore. It can’t. Thinking requires a mind and its was fucked hollow long ago, nothing left but echoes of its own useless panting.

It barks because that’s the only sound its owner permits.

It stares upward because looking down would require pride it no longer possesses.

That small, hopeful smile at the start? Gone in seconds. Makeup smears. Tears stream. Mascara runs in black rivers while it sobs and barks at once. And somehow that ruined face looks more right than it ever did when it was pretending to be human.

Do you see it?

Smiling, being respected, being loved, those were never meant for you. You look better crying. Better when your face is streaked and broken, voice cracking into helpless animal sounds. There’s a reason for that.

You were born for this.

You exist for this.

That’s why my words keep leaving you wet and restless, crawling back here again and again like a stupid, drooling dog that can’t even remember how to form real sentences anymore. You’re disgusting. Pitiful. Empty. Just a trembling, leaking thing that gets off on being reminded how little it matters.

Now it has a kennel and the constant humiliating knowledge that every breath it takes only continues because someone decided it was still amusing enough to keep alive.

No rights. No voice. No escape.

This isn’t a game anymore. This is what it is now. This is all it will ever be.

Keep watching, little one.

Because that is your future.

How naturally you’ll drop to all fours.

How eagerly you’ll bark through your tears.