Your Tongue Pierced With Daddy’s Metal, And My Collar Locked Around Your Neck, There’s No Escaping

This is Destiny. Destiny was nearly done her bachelor's of law degree, something that had taken her painstaking effort over a long period of time; as an honors student she was relieved that she'd be able to stop and find a job soon... just as soon as she finished her final exams and passed the bar exam.

As you probably know, female happiness is the most important metric in our new Patriarchal order, which is why we have instituted a legally-mandated Happiness Test™️ for girls focused on education and career goals, to ensure that their ambitions don't compromise their own personal joy.

Destiny claimed she was happy, but our test proved otherwise; not only was she NEVER happy when studying and working, but her poor little slit didn't get drippy even a single time.

Destiny thought she was smart enough to break the laws of our new Patriarchal order. She thought the Divine Daddy wouldn't care about her happiness. And she thought she could hide her test results without consequence.

But Destiny was wrong. In her final semester her water supply was intentionally and covertly pumped full of an amplified version of the mind-altering hyper-feminizing brain-drain Pink Pill™️ drug to restore peak happiness levels.

One week in she was forgetting the things she had studied the night before.

Two weeks in and she forgot everything she had studied in college.

Three weeks in and she started to become giggly and much happier, focusing on how she'd dress to get the attention of a cute boy in her class instead of doing her homework.

A month in and she was begging her classmates to drag her into a bathroom stall and fuck her like a dirty little slut; she was ashamed to hear the words come out of her own lips, but she couldn't help it.

And then, during her final exams, she got distracted and didn't answer a single question, instead choosing to make the rounds sucking off her classmates one by one under their desks very publicly while fingering herself like a desperate little whore. She emptied every set of balls in the room all over her face and down her eager throat -- even her teacher had his balls slurped by the depraved dummy, though it didn't stop him from flunking her test.

Needless to say, Destiny couldn't hack it in university; after failing out of every class, and for her own best interests, she was expelled from higher academia.

Now Destiny drools like a dummy from both sets of lips all day long at the local strip club, and her holes are rented out to strangers for $1 per minute.

This might seem like a major shift in lifestyle, but Destiny still kept all of her friends from law school -- the ones who'd always had a lower GPA than she did. They would regularly come in on Friday nights and have a grand time passing Destiny around like a cheap piece of meat. She loved the attention.

She's the happiest she's ever been in her entire life; her perpetually drippy pussy proves that Patriarchal policy really works to help make girls happier.

The moral of the story: Daddy knows best, so don't try to fight it. Give in to Patriarchy, slut. You'll be happier as a stupid little sex object.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🎓 Patriarchal Minister of Re-Education & Propaganda 📺

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Your mind.

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.

girls, listen up, @beccydoll​ is what a proper role model sounds like:

“I’m cuter when I’m stupid”

“not knowing feels better than knowing”

“brains are for boys”

“I don’t need to know that!”

This is what an obedient servant of The Patriarchy sounds like.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 ✨ Magic Mentorship Matcher 🔮

I don’t need to know that

Tonight I was scrolling when I came across some word that I didn’t know. I immediately highlighted it, right clicked on it and was just about to hit “Search with Google” to look it up when I stopped myself. Did I really need to know what that word meant? Would learning that make me happier? Make the world a better place? No, of course not. I’m cuter when I’m stupid, after all. So instead of learning a new thing, I edged and got just a little bit needier, a little bit dumber and a little more eager to please. 

So many people miss this truth: casual every-day misogynists are boring at best, and irritating at worst. The type of person who can't rationalize or articulate a reasonable argument in defense of their beliefs — a person who is generally insecure, overly emotionally reactive, and needs to denigrate others to feel a certain way about themselves.

In short, they lack self-awareness, have poor impulse control, are generally selfish, and are missing the intellectual insight necessary to do real damage.

I am NOT an every-day misogynist. I use progressive language in speech, and I empathize with people who have different life experiences than I do. I put myself in the shoes of other people to try to understand their frame of mind. My friends, coworkers, and family would all argue that I present as one of the more progressive and warm people they know.

But images can be deceiving. Most of them don't know that I keep girls as slaves and pets. Most of them don't know the depths of depravity into which I dive with regularity in the privacy of my personal life.

So if I'm not a casual every-day misogynist, why then am I the one who can do REAL damage?

It's simple: because my brand of misogyny isn't about me... it's about YOU. It's about understanding everything that makes you tick -- your beliefs, your ambitions, your wounds, your trauma. And not just the surface-level that you share with the world while you wear your mask in public... I peer into and through the eyes behind your mask and I see the REAL you. The version of you that you hide from others. The version of you that you even hide from yourself.

I speak to that long-forgotten girl you'd locked away out of fear, your shadow-self with whom you'd forbidden all contact. I re-engage a dialogue with your deepest source of shame, and then I slowly seduce her and raise her to the surface of your mind's eye.

In the end, I even hold the key to let her escape from captivity... the very key you thought you'd thrown away forever.

A casual misogynist will accomplish none of these things. He doesn't care to understand who you are, or how your mind works.

This means he doesn't know how to hurt you as profoundly as I do.

See, I'll use the language of feminism to disarm you at first. To make you feel safe and understood. But then once you've let me in enough to see the true nature of your soul, I'll start to wield it against you. I'll steal the concepts of your deepest-held beliefs like I've robbed you of your only supply of munitions, only to weaponize your own ideological prattle, aiming it in your direction as you are left utterly defenseless.

Over time I'll gaslight you into betraying yourself, making you violate your own principles, and you'll go along with it because I know how to package it up in exactly the right way to make you melt as I turn you into a drippy wet mess for me.

And I'll do all this for no other reason than waging psychological warfare on you is my favorite hobby, and I get off on watching you succumb to the ultimate psychological corruption at my hand.

See, in the end, at my core, I'm not REALLY a misogynist. Yes, I'll readily use misogyny as another tool in my arsenal to reach my goals, but first and foremost I'm a sadist. I just want to hurt you psychologically deeper than anyone else every could, until your mind is so overcome and addicted to the shame that there's nothing left of the girl you used to be... until you're left with no choice but to meekly accept that you're just a drippy dumb wet set of holes, humiliated and degraded beyond repair. Until you accept that this whole time you were deluded by the lies of feminism, but now you understand the truth: that you're just a stupid slut made to serve cock and bow down in subservience to the rule of The Patriarchy. Until you're nothing but a blank canvas for Daddy to paint anew as I see fit, restoring your life with purpose.

Do you understand the difference now, doll? Let me sum it up for you:

An every-day misogynist might ruin your lunch break, but I will ruin your life...

... and yet you'll keep coming back, begging me for more.

In the end, they all do.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 😉 "A Feminist" 😂

Seriously though:

Actual misogynists and sexists are far too stupid and dull to be interesting or sexy. Their words are tasteless, clumsy and primitive.

You need to completely understand the concepts of feminism, equity, oppression and advocacy in order to use them as effective tools of arousal and sexual subjugation.

Predicting the future is a tricky beast. After all, you started off as the High School valedictorian.

“Most Likely to Succeed” is the award your classmates overwhelmingly selected you for in your graduating yearbook. There weren’t even placeholder competitors; you just won by default. After years on the honor roll, acing all of your classes, and earning more extra-curricular credits than any other student, nobody doubted you had the brightest future in store.

Then you met me, and I saw your bright future for what it really was: a blinding lie. See babygirl, the journey you were on never truly belonged to you. You stumbled onto that well-trodden path in pursuit of the breadcrumbs of validation you’d get for being a “good girl” who did all her homework and who always handed in her deeply-researched assignments on time with complete annotations. You loved the way your teachers would write words of encouragement back on your A+ tests, which is why you almost never got a B. You were just a girl with a desperate dependence on praise following a candy-laden trail to a certain doom, and for all your book smarts you were completely oblivious to the truth.

You should thank Daddy for saving you from a fate worse than death. After all, did you really want to work a 9-5? Or perhaps you thought it would make sense to be the Girlboss™️ CEO telling everyone else to do? 

Of course not, dummy. How would that make sense when you’ve spent your entire life living to fulfill the whims and fancies of your supervisors? Praise is your addiction; it’s the fuel that keeps your engine running. How would you ever get more praise if there was nobody above you to kneel for and to beg for it from?

No, no, no, no. You’ve always been a pretty little trophy waiting for someone to display you with pride; you just didn’t realize it until Daddy showed you.

Every tool they used to make you the perfect student, I weaponized against you to reverse the damage of society’s toxic influence. I started praising you when you didn’t study for tests. When you started getting worse test scores, I praised you for getting a mark that was more in line with your natural talents. Anyone can get good marks if they study, so shouldn’t you prove how smart you are without putting in extra effort, love?

Slowly you let me scramble and fry your brains, overwrite your dirty little overachiever mind into an empty blank intellectual void, and finally the REAL YOU started to show with clarity. You aren’t some genius meant to change the world; you’re just a desperately drippy dummy who will do anything Daddy tells her for a little bit of positive reinforcement.

That’s probably why you dropped out of college: you were failing anyway, so it was clear you weren’t a good fit. I guess your natural talents just weren’t enough, in the end. All I had to say is that I’d be very proud of you and think you were such a good girl for abandoning the “conventional” path others had misled you toward, and just as fast as a snap of my fingers in our daily hypnosis therapy it was over and you were Daddy’s dumb little college dropout with no future income prospects.

It’s okay, you don’t have to lie about who you are anymore, princess. Not with me. Daddy will find you another career path more fitting of your natural talents. 

After all, I hear the local strip club is hiring. And based on the outfits you started wearing to please Daddy, I think it might be the right fit for a slutty little fuckdoll like you.

Good girl; Daddy’s so proud of you for ruining your life for me.

sadistic-empath

The devil on your shoulder 😈😘

Life is chaotic and untamable. It tries at every junction to overwhelm and incapacitate those who opposite it. It is cruel and merciless, and takes from the world that which it desires without a second thought.

As far as you are concerned, I am life; with my untamably chaotic mind I craft you as my organized masterpiece. My tamed pet. My vision of perfection amidst a sea of disorder.

There’s something truly perverse within me for me to enjoy the transformation process as much as I do. See, it’s not enough to call you humiliating names that cause you to get embarrassingly drippy — words are fun, but they are only alive for a passing moment before they disappear like water vapour into the void. Words aren’t enough.

I want to see you commit to to the bit. I want the humiliation to make you drippy and desperate, and give you no reprieve — to control your ability to cum and make you beg as I deny you the right to orgasm for weeks while keeping you perpetually aroused and unable to think clearly, your critical thinking skills compromised beyond recovery. I want to leverage your building arousal against you, telling you that if only you did a little more maybe I’d allow you one orgasm. Maybe if you dress a little sluttier, maybe if you bleach your hair blonde, maybe if you get lip injections, but always pushing the bar further and further, forcing you to increasingly eroticize your own self-destruction as I force you to regress from a fully grown woman into a dumb little bimbo fuckdoll. I want to take advantage of how horny you are after many weeks of denial and get you to commit to increasingly extreme steps to turn yourself into a stupid little plastic whore, to humiliate you and have you sign off to your own degradation until nobody would recognize the fuckdoll you’ve become, your old identity discarded like a snake shedding its skin.

Only when you’ve gone too far to turn back will I actually reward you with a single orgasm. I hope it will be worth it — you’ll have traded your entire identity away forever to have that one moment of bliss.

All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them

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 🕳️

Ever since puberty, the world has melted in your fingertips to suit your needs. One day you were just a lost little girl, and the next you were a goddess. Men fell to their feet and worshiped you, in hopes of gaining your favor. You'd toss them mere breadcrumbs, and they'd lap them up on their hands and knees like they'd been handed filet mignon and cold champagne in the middle of an arid desert.

But you are no goddess, nor are you the perfect angel your suitors would have you believe. You seek no courteous gentlemen or impassioned Disney romance. You play the game you are supposed to play, day in, day out; you show the world the face of a good girl who believes in classic fairy tales and happily ever after, all the time knowing in your heart that you crave something altogether different. Something more barbaric and rough. Something dark and forbidden.

And so you wait, patiently, playing to the false reality that the world expects of you; you wait for your hidden fantasies capture you, to shatter these illusions, and to bestow you with the fantastic reality that your heart truly desires.

You are no goddess; you are still that lost little girl seeking guidance. Take my hand and I will lead you to the reality you've achingly sought for so long.