Listen up, you pathetic excuse for a man. If you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally admitted that your cock is useless and your only purpose is to be my little dress-up doll. Welcome to the grind.
In my house, your masculinity is a disease, and I am the cure. Training starts with total submission. You will strip naked, crawl to my feet, and beg for the privilege of wearing lace. I don’t want to hear your voice unless you’re whimpering “Yes, Mistress.”
The regimen is simple: extreme feminization through pain. You’ll be shoved into a corset tightened until you can’t breathe, and your balls will be locked away in a steel cage where they belong. While you’re shaking in those five-inch heels, I’m going to treat your hole like a waste disposal.
I don’t do romance. I do breaking. I will fuck you raw with a strap-on until you forget how to stand, screaming while I call you the worthless sissy slut you are. You aren’t a man anymore; you’re just a hole for my amusement and a canvas for my makeup.
Now, get on your knees and start scrubbing the floors with your tongue. The training has just begun, and I’m not stopping until you’re completely broken.
Rosemary
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