There was a time this would have been unbearably humiliating for you… standing outside of a club (The BBC Club no less) in a tiny little top and skirt adorned with little black spade details and big bold letters standing for the Black New World Order, hair dyed pink and tied up in the girliest little pigtails, accessories, jewelry and charms of spades and hearts tinkling with every little movement or breath, holding a sparkly pink clutch reading “I 🩷BBC”, entire body freshly waxed and tanned, lips freshly pumped with fillers, and makeup immaculately done in a girly girl bimbo style….
Yet hear you were posing for the camera like a dumb little tik tok airhead puffing out your lips and posing your freshly manicured nails limply around as your now ex-girlfriend shouts things like “YAS QUEEN!” “WERK IT BESTIE” “SHOW THE CAM HOW MUCH YOU LUUUUUV BBC” her phone camera clicking at an insanely fast rate. And all this thanks to Daddy… the man you had secretly been messaging behind her back on Tumblr… the man who promised not to expose you but messaged your girlfriend anyways… the man who you were both about to meet inside the club for what he described as the first of many nights.
The hypnosis he had prescribed to you had worked wonders and you felt so so fuzzy in the head as your heels clicked forward on the pavement towards the club, hips swaying, limp wrists flailing around like the dumbest Barbie imaginable. But as you looked at your exes slutty outfit, the kind she had never earn for you, and looked down at what you were wearing, basically a full admission of your submission to him, suddenly your breath caught in your throat and your heart started to beat way faster. What had happened, how had you let him strip you of your manhood so effortlessly, you had no clue what kind of stuff he’d been saying over text to your girl- ex girlfrie- bestie… as all these thoughts swirled in your head you started to panic and you could feel the cloud of all the hypnosis and training he had put you through starting to part.. then suddenly.
“C’mon bestie! You look like such a GOOD GIRL! BAMBI SLEEP!”
A giggle burst from your lips as your posture returned to that of a stereotypical basic white bitch and you clutched your “I 🩷 BBC” clutch tighter. “Like oh em gee bestie! Let’s like totes get in there!” You barely even registered your bestie cackling at your response to the triggers you just used as you confidently strutted up to the bouncer and entered the club!
“Daddy says he wants a picture with you as soon as we meet him inside bestie, so be a GOOD GIRL and go pose next to Daddy!”
And that was the last time “you”, the old “you”, ever had a single thought again.
This one’s dedicated to @whiteboy-inferiority2 as I daydream about him while he’s on break! 😍💗♠️
