Forced Sissy Training? Hell yes! Just look at this pathetic, leaking excuse for a man. I’ve spent the last three hours breaking this useless piece of meat, and honestly, he’s barely worth the effort. He thought he was a “man” until I locked him in the sissy training room and stripped him of every shred of dignity he ever possessed.
Right now, my newest little pet is shaking in a pair of lace sissy panties that are far too small for his bloated, clumsy hips. I’ve got him perched on a stool, legs spread wide, while I lecture him on his femboy training and exactly how worthless his cock is. I call it a “useless nub,” because that’s all it is—a decorative piece of flesh that exists only for my amusement and his humiliation.
I spent the morning forcing him to wax every single coarse hair off his chest and legs, mocking the way he whimpered and begged. Now, I’m making him practice his “sissy walk” while wearing five-inch heels that make his ankles wobble like a newborn calf. Every time he trips, I give him a sharp slap across his plump, reddened ass and remind him that he’s nothing more than a dress-up doll for my pleasure.
The best part? The look of absolute defeat in his eyes when I tell him he’s never touching himself again unless I command it. He’s not a man anymore; he’s just a hole for me to use and a toy for me to break. Stay tuned, boys. I think I’ll make him wear a plug for the rest of the week just to keep that pathetic little ass tight and reminded of who owns him.
Rosemary
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