Can Daddy Train Me To Be His Filthy Slut?

There is something so delightful about breaking a whore and molding her physically and mentally into the slut she was meant to be... yum!

Physical changes

On Monday Kate will go through some minor physical changes, she does not have access to internet right now so she will not see even though she knows about the lips.

1. Lip injections.

2. New hair color, pitch black.

3. A new tattoo, a tramp stamp.

Amen 🙏

Britney used to be smart, but then I fixed her.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🎓 Female Re-Education Specialist 📺

Awwww, that’s a really cute attempt babygirl, you almost had it... let Daddy help you express it right!

HIS pussy. HIS choice.

You’re a piece of property; obviously you can’t own anything, silly!

About Me

This is a kink blog where I share my darkest and most twisted turn-ons. My tastes are rather extreme, so beware that my content might be triggering for some people; if you don’t have an appetite for psychological pain, I suggest you turn away now.

Still here? Then read on, you naughty pervert! 😈😉

Basics:

Age: 35

Gender: Cis Male

Location: North America

Orientation:

Mostly Straight

Dom-leaning Switch

Psychological Sadomasochist mainly into Erotic Humiliation

Kinks:

Humiliation

Degradation

Dirty Talk

Name-calling

Mindfucks

Mind Control

Brainwashing

Gaslighting

Bimbofication

Dollification

DD/lg

Age Gaps (Older Man, younger girl)

Owner/pet

Orgasm Control (Edging, Denial, Forced Orgasms)

Power Exchange

Domestic Servitude

Wardrobe Modification (controlling how she dresses)

Short Schoolgirl Skirts

G-String Thongs

Revealing Outfits

Latex

Candaulism (exposing her for voyeuristic purposes)

Body Modifications (Piercings, Tattoos, other aesthetic changes)

Slave Brandings (Body Modifications as marks of ownership)

Behavior Modification

Creampies

Breeding

Objectification

Misogyny

Patriarchy Indoctrination

Male Worship

Public Play

Exhibitionism

Gangbangs

Sharing / Pimping Out my property

Cheating as Humiliation (Cuckold / Cuckquean)

And plenty more...

Hard Limits:

Vomit

Blood

Feces

Do Not Interact:

Minors are NOT welcome here

Good girls wear as little as possible; that's just a fact.

Your outfit speaks volumes about you. It's the advertisement for a Man to know if you're the gift he wants to unwrap.

If you want to be the pretty toy he picks, you better make sure the wrapping paper hardens his... resolve.

Give Him a reason to slip off the pretty ribbons hugging your body to take the object beneath as His property.

And never forget as the fabric clings to your most private places that you do it in service of Him, even before you've met Him.

Because you're just a dress up doll in search of a strong guiding hand.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 😏 Likes Playing with Dolls 🎀

if the bikini bottoms not this tiny then i don’t want it

Confession: I used to think it was shameful for someone to modify their body to enhance their attractiveness or the attention they would receive.

Truthfully, I still do — it’s my perception on shame that has changed.

People are afraid of shame. They are afraid of being perceived as lesser, and that fear is a powerful motivator preventing many from realizing their greatest fantasies.

But not you. You thrive off of being lesser — of turning yourself into a public spectacle. You upgraded your tits to capture as much male attention as possible. You upgraded your lips to make them into perfect cock pillows. You upgraded your tongue so that you could use the metal stud to tease cock as you swallow it down.

In short: you’ve designed yourself to be an obvious fuckdoll, overtly advertising to Men that they can talk down to you, degrade you, and treat you in the most shameful ways.

Most girls would be devastated to be treated as little more than property or a sexual toy, but not you — you play into it with your tight little slutty outfits and your obscene body modifications. You thrive on it.

It’s shameful… it’s wrong… your friends tell you that you’re “ruining your life forever,” and yet you can’t help yourself but to take it further and further. It almost excites you even more to feel as if these changes will ruin you forever, because it’s a point of pride to know you are showing off the extreme lengths you will go in your dedicated quest to serving cock.

You gravitate toward shame like a moth to the flame, attracted toward your own downfall and finding it too hot to resist. It started small, but with each flapping of the butterfly’s wings the reverberations carry further and further across the world, until there’s no more hiding who you really are amongst the storm of whispers.

Living a shame-free life is for the girls who live in perpetual fear of the judgment of others. It’s the psychological armor of the repressed. It’s not for you; you flourish in shame like it’s the soil that keeps the rose grounded.

So let the shame of your own self-destruction make you drippy and weak. Pursue it like the addiction it is and show me the depths of depravity you are willing to succumb to in pursuit of your commitment to cock.

In the end, I’m inspired by it. Because I know you’re doing it all to be a good girl for me.

And Daddy is proud of his shameful little slut.

Delightful.

She hadn’t believed the app could work, at first. It was supposedly able to instantly judge how fashionable your outfit was based on a single photo. For a laugh, she’d lain her jeans and a favourite t-shirt out on the bed and given it a shot. After a moment, it had pinged and told her they were a 2 out of 10. When the numbers flashed onscreen, she’d actually felt a little disappointed… Not that she really cared.

Still, she tried again. And again. And again. Pulling clothes out of drawers and flinging them on the bed only to be disappointed by a sad little ping and a 2 or even a 1. But she’d always thought that hoodie was awful anyway. Hadn’t she?

And then she got a 3! She squealed with glee, so proud of that bright pink t-shirt and the skirt she never wore. But it was still too low, the app reminded her. She could do better. She had to do better.

And she did. The next day, she went clothes shopping for the first time in so long she couldn’t even remember. The app was just full of good ideas, suggestions for lingerie and shoes and all manner of accessories. The little black cocktail dress she brought home netted her a solid 4 on its own, 5 when she added in the matching black heels, bra, and panties. She wondered if the app could see her underwear and she giggled. The app knew everything.

That was a month ago. Or maybe two. She wasn’t very good at keeping track of time and stuff anymore. That cocktail dress was long gone - she didn’t even sleep in anything less than a 7 now. She spent her days swanning in and out of clothing stores, trying on all manner of outfits and snapping photos in the changing rooms, in search of the catchy little jingle that would herald the perfect glowing number 10 on the screen.

And then the app would ask for permission to use her location and she would say yes, because the app always knows best. And then she would wait.

——————————————-

Well, that was a little longer than originally intended. I think I might be able to stretch that out into a full story at some point.

What does it mean to be reduced? To become less than you were?

You kneel on your hands and knees like the obedient good girl I've trained you to be. Your legs are spread wide seductively, and you arch you back while lifting your ass in the air, waving your tail like a naughty pet. Your breasts are nearly spilling out of your lacy black top, but you pay no attention to them as you focus on your prize; the fresh milk which drips into the bowl in front of you is captivating and alluring. A studded leather collar is wrapped firmly around your neck; the collar, along with the piercing visibly hanging from your outstretched tongue, serve as a testament to your new life as my property.

You are my slut; a fucktoy whose purpose is to please.

At one time you might have been revolted by your current situation; where is the value in being turned into little more than a naughty plaything? Where is the merit in reducing yourself to an animal? The world is filled with such vibrance and colour; how can you let yourself succumb to fifty shades of grey?

But with time, you've come to learn that the world is simplest in black and white. Let the stress and worries of the real world slip away as little more than a whisper in the wind. Let go of your greenest envy, your bluest sadness, and your reddest anger.

You have not been reduced to my pet; you've been elevated to my pride and joy.

Honestly, I never expected it to be so easy to corrupt you. You always made yourself appear to be the good little feminist, arguing that society’s extreme beauty standards were chauvinistic and degrading to girls. After all, objectifying a person is bad, isn’t it?

But see, and this is my favourite part, you truly BELIEVE that. You FEEL it in your heart and soul. And yet… it doesn’t stop you from CRAVING the opposite treatment from Men, does it? It doesn’t stop you from going online and rubbing your pussy to imagery objectifying girls like you into slutty little toys and fuckdolls, and words professing an admiration for a lifestyle where Men rule over them.

It’s almost like, deep down, this is what you’d wanted all along…

Perhaps that’s why when I came along it took so little effort for your resolve to snap like a twig under the first signs of stress.

You’ve spent your life so obsessed with who you SHOULD BE that you’ve been hiding from who you TRULY ARE…

It’s okay. You don’t have to renounce your beliefs for me. Daddy likes you better this way — as my dumb little set of holes, dripping with shame every time I make you violate your own beliefs.

You’re cute when your brain’s broken from cognitive dissonance. I wouldn’t have you any other way…

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😏 🕳️ Liberator of Holes 🕳️