what is your ideal version of yourself in your head? what do you think her ideal version of herself will be?
That is such an interesting question… I’ll give a rational answer and a hot answer.
The rational answer is: my ideal self, compared to me now, has much longer hair, a bit longer legs… and maybe the results of a bbl + ribxcar. And probably a second boobjob. Most of that is achievable, I’d say, though I’m pretty good with my body now. I’m waiting to see how they look like post drop and fluff, but maybe slightly bigger boobs too…
Her ideal self… mnnf… probably even more plastic, right? Maybe I’d get tempted by filler, by silicone ass and hips implants… or maybe not. Who knows.
—
The hot answer is that my ideal self is a 100% silicone human sex toy, with her whole body made from squishy, squeezable silicone. Why stop at plastic tits and a plastic ass? How about plastic arms made for giving handjobs and fingering? Plastic legs with heels where my feet used to be, attached forever? And a beautiful plastic sheen all over my body, spotless and slightly uncanny.
With my girldick turned into a perfect fuckstick so anyone can use me however they please, or, if they’re pathetic enough, they get fucked by a literal plastic bimbo toy too. Though having some holes to get fucked myself would be nice too, though I think changing my mouth’s function from “talking and eating” to “sucking and moaning” would satisfy that need.
And that ideal self doesn’t have an ideal self because, frankly, she can only think about being fucked 95% of the time. That silicone spread straight to her brain.
A… silicone scented perfume. You know, one that’d make you smell like a freshly-unboxed sextoy
And… you know… each spritz staying for longer and longer…
And before you know it, the places where you’ve been spritzing it have a strange, delicate sheen to them, as if they were a bit too smooth and delicate. And why do they smell like that? You’ve just showered?
Oh well, you like feeling like a toy, right? You wouldn’t have bought that perfume otherwise. So, you continue spritzing and smelling like a sex toy.
Then, one day, you squeeze your boob as you’re edging to some hot porn and it feels… strange. A bit harder, maybe? Still soft and gropable… just… a little less human? And bigger? And… mnnnff shinier
Well, you’re not stupid, are you? At least not as stupid as you wish you were. You realize what’s going on, what the perfume is doing…
And so, you strip naked, take the whole bottle and spritz yourself head to toe. Then you spread, lay down on your bed and wait for the friend you’ve texted to come and use your increasingly plastic holes.
You feel the plastic spreading, the natural fat in your tits turning into silicone and growing twice as large. So tight, sitting high up your chest unnaturally,even as you’re laying down. So fake… so round and squishable.
Your ass and hips getting filled up, widening to be perfectly grabbable, your lips, your wonderful lips, opening up and filling with the same, soft-yet-unnatural silicone on the inside.
And all of your skin turns shiny and plastic, as desire, sweet lust and desire, overwhelm hunger or thirst, suddenly becoming the only thing on your mind.
You move and writhe and moan, as your new existence as a barely-human sex doll crystalizes and completes, needy, horny, plastic and fake.
A doorbell rings, you jump to your feet, unable to wait on your bed any longer, perhaps surprised at your continued ability to move. You move towards the door, hips swaying and boobs firmly settled in one spot, not jiggling even the tiniest bit.
And as you open the door, the smell of silicone fills your friend’s nose immediately, as they realize just how fuckable and usable you have become. And so they pick you up, silicone being much lighter than flesh after all, and pin you against the wall, as your mind short circuits and turns silicone too.
having 1. more time than you know what to do with 2. being outrageously horny bc you are medically not allowed to cum and 3. being roughly 2% silicone by bodyweight really makes the sexdoll fantasies flourish in my head
i'm a huge fan of the concept of breaking someone. it's not just that you aren't who you used to be. it's that you aren't anyone, anymore. you're nobody. you're a handful of pieces that used to fit together to be a person, but now all they do is rattle around. they can be rearranged in lots of fun ways, but they'll never fit together. they'll never make a human again. only an assortment of different things.
I get a lot of messages from girls asking me if someone like them could ever be a bimbo, and I have to say the answer is a universal yes. There's no limitations on if a girl can become a dumb, sexy bimbo doll!
For every girl who's asked me if she's too big to be a bimbo, there's a girl who's asked me if they're too skinny to be a bimbo.
For every girl who's asked me if they're too short to be a bimbo, there's a girl who's asked me if they're too tall to be a bimbo.
Age, weight, height, cis, trans, skin colour, it doesn't matter! You can be a bimbo! You're already a bimbo! Be a bimbo!
Thissssssss! I have some very simple Bimbo Rules that I think you should follow, but if you wanna be a bimbo, start by accepting that you are one! There are stereotypes you can follow, you might have your own idea of what a bimbo is, but don't let any of that stop you! Just say it with me;
You don't have to explain what will happen to me. I already know all about it. How I'll start to forget things. Tiny things at first. What I ate for breakfast last week. Birthdays of relatives. The kind of stuff you can easily be without. But before long, I'll have accepted forgetting as normal. I'll forget because it's what you want of me. I'll start forgetting things that seem more important. My work passwords. The names of my best friends. The reason I should be fighting against your control.
You won't replace what I've lost with much, at least not at first. You'll start small there too. Little thoughts and ideas that seem so simple, I could have had them myself. But you'll get me comfortable with the idea of accepting your thoughts as my own. So that when the thoughts you're giving me start being more significant, I won't question it.
I'll gladly accept as you strip away my clothes. As you tell me I'm no longer human. As you etch the signs of my sub-humanity into my body and my mind. As you remind me that you are not to be questioned. I'll eagerly give up my identity. My thoughts and behaviors. My emotions and opinions. All so that I can behave and exist exactly as you desire.
I'll be your perfect puppet. Your helpless pet. Whatever that entails. And there's so little I can do it's not worth considering a way out. You want me to fight it for now, so I will, but we both know that won't last. It's all a performance just for you. Everything is for you, isn't it?
So yeah, you don't need to explain. I knew it all by the look in your eyes when we met. Those eyes I can't stop thinking about. That voice I can't stop from ringing in my ears. So let's get this over with, shall we? What would you like me to forget first?
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Enjoy 🩷
Linda stood in her kitchen, staring at the package as if it might explain itself under enough scrutiny. Her eyebrows were drawn together, a faint crease forming between them. The box sat on the table exactly where she had placed it after retrieving it from her doorstep. Plain brown cardboard without any distinctive markings and no return address she recognized.
She hadn't ordered anything.
She was certain of that.
She circled the table once, arms folded, examining the label again as though she might have missed something obvious. Her name and address were correct. The postage was real. Nothing about it looked suspicious enough to justify the unease curling in her stomach, yet nothing felt right either.
It seemed innocent. A simple mistake.
Linda exhaled sharply and turned away, telling herself she was being dramatic. People received wrong deliveries all the time. It would sort itself out. She would call the courier later.
She busied herself with the dishes instead, scrubbing a plate that was already clean. But her gaze kept drifting back to the table. The box didn't move, didn't make a sound.
And yet the urge to open it pressed against her thoughts.
It started as a whisper, a harmless question. 'What if it’s important?' Then it grew heavier, more insistent. 'What if it’s meant for you?'
She dried her hands slowly, heart beating a little faster. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, her attention tethered to the unopened package no matter how deliberately she tried to focus elsewhere.
Linda told herself she could ignore it.
But as minutes passed, the need to peel back the tape and look inside deepened into something almost physical; an itch beneath her skin that refused to be scratched any other way.
She didn't know when she made her way back over to it. One moment she was watching soap suds slide down a plate, and the next, she was lifting the cardboard flaps, revealing tissue paper that crinkled beneath her fingertips. She peeled it back carefully and then froze, blinking at its contents.
Linda stared at the glossy latex inside.
It was clothing, but unlike any she'd seen before. A full bodysuit made of thick, black latex with a corset-like cinch around the waist and a zipper running down the back. But it wasn't just a suit. Beneath it, in its own neatly wrapped bundle, sat a matching set of boots, gloves, stockings, and even underwear.
She hesitantly reached inside and pulled out the panties. Her hand grasped a protruding shape. Shocked she let them fall back in. There were dildos attached.
Linda slammed the box shut and stepped away from it. Her face flushed with embarrassment as her mind tried to process what she had been looking at. She had never seen anything like this before and certainly didn't want anyone else finding it here either. The thought alone made her stomach twist uncomfortably. What if someone thought she had ordered this perverse outfit?
Who had sent it?
And why was it sent to her?
Questions churned inside Linda, leaving her more uneasy than ever. Yet the nagging sensation, the desire to open the box again, prickled along her skin.
A shiver rolled down her spine at the memory of the latex's slick, supple material. Her mind wandered, picturing herself encased in it, her every curve accentuated, every move a whisper against the tight material. She imagined it hugging her like a second skin, emphasizing every swell of her body, forcing her posture to change.
Heat pooled between her thighs.
Linda shook the thought off quickly, cheeks burning.
No.
She wouldn't indulge such fantasies. The very idea made her uncomfortable. Why would anyone send her this — thing.
She couldn't find the right words.
But she needed answers. And they hid inside the box.
With a shaky hand Linda pulled out a small pamphlet. 'Latex Package' was the title of it.
It read: "We thank you for your purchase. We guarantee you will not regret your decision."
But there was no mention of a return address or even the name of the shop where this had been purchased. Only a phone number. With a sigh, Linda grabbed her phone, typing the numbers quickly. The call rang through, leaving Linda pacing anxiously beside the table. It rang again, the noise echoing inside the silent room, each tone stretching on longer than the last.
She felt silly, like she was about to complain about the wrong order at a drive through. There was a click.
A voice came on, it sounded young and female, but oddly distant.
"Hello and welcome to the Latex Package delivery service. What can we do for you?" The woman sounded professional, her voice smooth and pleasant.
"Hello," said Linda, uncertain of how to explain her situation, "My name's Linda Harling, I - well I think I may have accidentally received one of your packages. I am sure I didn't order it."
There was a moment of silence on the other end, as if the person on the line were consulting a list. Then the voice came back on again. "I see. Linda, I have your name here on the costumer list. Before we continue with any return process, I need to check if my file is correct. Could you please tell me what is inside the package?" She asked politely, "Just to be certain it is the correct delivery and not another mistake."
"Oh." Linda hesitated. "That's. There are some, um clothes, I guess? And boots, and gloves and," Her voice trailed off, a wave of embarrassment washed over her again, and her face felt warm.
"Could you please specify which items you found in there," asked the woman on the phone. "The best way to handle this would be for you to take each item out of the box and describe it." Linda swallowed, her mouth dry. She knew she needed to do this to sort it out. She reached inside and lifted out the bodysuit. She held it in front of her for a moment, feeling its weight and smooth texture.
"I'm holding a bodysuit made of latex, with a corseted waist. It's a one piece suit. And a zipper on the back."
The voice hummed thoughtfully. "Yes. The Latex Submission Suit Deluxe. That's one of our most popular pieces. Designed to shape the body into perfect servitude," the woman said pleasantly, as if she were reading off a catalogue description.
"Excuse me?" asked Linda, her voice sounding distant.
"The Latex Submission Suit Deluxe is designed for the greatest experience in submission. The material molds perfectly around the wearer's body and forces it into a submissive shape." the voice replied smoothly.
Linda paused, unsure if she heard right. Her fingers tightened around the bodysuit as if to keep it from slipping away.
"Submissive shape? What do you mean?" Linda's mouth went dry again and the prickling sensation along her skin returned.
"Please continue, Linda. There should be more items inside," said the voice, politely ignoring her question. Linda hesitated but found herself obeying, the urge to follow the woman's words stronger than her desire to question them. The box contained stockings next.
"Okay, there are some stockings, thigh-high, same material as the suit." She paused. "And gloves." Linda lifted the gloves out of the box. They were long, designed to go almost to the shoulder.
The voice responded, "Yes, the Limp Limbs. Those prevent the wearer from resisting. Arms and legs will feel numb unless the wearer has been ordered to act. The will rest, stiff and at attention when unused."
Linda swallowed. She felt like the floor beneath her was tilting and she was sliding, falling deeper into some kind of abyss. It was hard to focus. For some reason she felt naked, despite wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The voice continued. "Are there any more items left in the package?"
"Panties." Her mouth formed the word, her voice sounding far away even to her own ears. The voice came back on the line. "Can you describe them in detail please?" she said, her voice soft, like a gentle breeze that caressed the mind. Linda cleared her throat, struggling to find the words.
"The panties have, um, dildos. A dildo attached to the crotch area, the other on the rear side. They have spikes. I think the spikes might go inside me."
The woman on the line sounded dazed, the tone echoing strangely in Linda's head, "The Pleasure Princess Panties. The spikes are a special treat for those who enjoy the feeling of being used, of having a toy vibrate inside of them, teasing them mercilessly while they remain helpless to do anything about it." The voice paused, then added, "The spikes go deep, filling you until you are so full you can't breathe, pressing against your sweet spots with each movement."
Linda's breath caught in her throat, a her melting core clenched around a phantom length.
"There are also the boots," the woman on the line continued. Linda nodded, forgetting for a moment that the woman couldn't see her, "They have high heels and platforms, with straps on the sides. They seem very difficult to walk in."
"The Submissive Servant Stilettos," the woman replied with that sleepy lullaby, "They are designed to change the wearer's posture and gait. They force her body to adapt to her role."
Linda felt her knees weaken. Her heart pounded in her chest. The voice came back again. "Is there anything else?"
She looked down and saw a gag. Black latex. She felt her jaw ache at the thought of it being placed over her mouth.
"Yes, there's a gag here. Attached to it is another dildo." Her voice shook slightly as she said it.
The voice hummed. "The Latex Slave Gag, for those who need to keep their mouths open and their tongues occupied," she paused. "To help you relax, Linda, the dildo vibrates. It's so thick. Can you imagine the sensation? Your tongue wrapped around that length? Your lips stretched so far, you could never talk again. And it's on the same frequency as the dildos in the panties."
The image was vivid in her mind. She felt a pulse between her thighs.
"There are also clamps for the nipples and a collar with a leash." Her hands were trembling slightly. The woman spoke again. "That's all. It's everything we offer in the package. Are you sure you didn't order this, Linda?" she asked. The question seemed to echo in the room. Linda shook her head, though she couldn't quite remember why she had called.
"I'm sure," she replied, her voice soft, her head fuzzy, as if she were swimming underwater.
"That's strange. According to my files you ordered the package from our website just a week ago. Could you please open our website and log in?" the voice asked, "Just so I can verify the mistake."
"Of course," Linda murmured. She found her tablet, and the screen flickered on, casting a pale blue light on her face. Her hands felt clumsy, but the web page opened smoothly. The logo for the 'Latex Submission Package' stood out, stark and imposing against the black backdrop of the website. Linda easily accessed her account. The account she couldn't remember setting up.
There, in the 'orders' section, the package was listed, purchased with a credit card. Her credit card.
"Everything appears in order here," the voice continued. "And your bank details are already on record."
"I'm not sure I understand. I didn't purchase this. I must have been hacked." The words tumbled out quickly. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too warm and too cold at once. She couldn't think straight. The woman on the line paused, then said gently, "I understand. We will go through the retrieval process together. Please open the customer support and enter the error code 14MS7U7." Linda followed her instructions and watched as the screen changed to a login page.
The woman's voice came back, "Now please fill in your personal information in the fields provided." Linda typed her details. As her fingers glided over the keyboard, the words on the screen began to blur, becoming more abstract and less legible. A faint, high-pitched sound started to buzz in the background. Linda shook her head to clear the noise. The buzzing seemed to get louder, invading her ears and crawling inside her skull.
Her fingers trembled. She couldn't read any of the words. "I'm sorry but," Linda's voice trailed off. Her head felt heavy and her thoughts sluggish.
"It's fine," the woman on the phone replied, her tone soft, "Let me tell you what to enter. Listen carefully." Linda felt herself nod. "In the first field, you enter your name. Luscious Doll Linda." The words seemed to reverberate around her skull. She typed them as instructed.
"In the second field you put in your purpose. Latex Play Doll. In the next you write your product information. Model: 27F5, Version 5.9.1. Build Date: Today's date. Next you will enter the operating system version, Deluxe Doll 6." Linda followed the instructions, feeling her head getting heavier with each passing word. Her eyes grew unfocused, her body moving without conscious effort, like a puppet on strings.
"And press confirm," the voice whispered. Linda's hand hovered over the button, a vague sense of alarm rising through the fog that clouded her thoughts, a warning signal that tried to break through. She paused. The buzzing in the background intensified.
"Press. Confirm." the woman said, the words wrapping around Linda's mind, squeezing tightly. With a slow, deliberate motion, her finger tapped the button, and the screen flashed a bright white. Then everything went black. The tablet clattered to the floor.
The buzzing in the background became a low hum that filled Linda's head.
"That's a good Luscious Doll Linda. Now it's time to get ready for the retrieval. Undress and put on your uniform, Latex Play Doll," the voice said.
Linda stood still for a moment. The woman's words echoed inside her. The tablet glowed softly, and Linda could feel the heat emanating from the device.
Her fingers moved of their own accord, tugging at her clothes until they slid from her body. She stood naked, the cool air of the room caressing her skin. She turned to the latex clothes resting on the table. With slow, deliberate motions, she took the stockings and slipped into them, the slick material whispering up her legs, encasing them in a snug, black embrace.
Next came the gloves, fitting tightly over her arms, making them feel limp and heavy. She stepped into the panties and felt the dildos pressing against her, one teasing at the lips of her vagina, and the other resting against her puckered anus.
Her breath caught as the material began to constrict. She could feel her legs spreading involuntarily, her muscles relaxing. She was losing control over her own body.
The bodysuit was next. The zipper on the back slid up, and she felt it begin to constrict. It cinched in at the waist, the material growing tighter and tighter, forcing her into a submissive shape, accentuating her curves in a way that seemed unnatural. Her breasts pushed forward, straining against the latex, her nipples hard and visible beneath the thin, glossy material. The bodysuit molded itself to her form, making it hard to move, hard to breathe.
Linda stepped into the boots. They were impossibly tall and narrow, and as soon as she put them on she felt her posture change, her butt thrusting back and her chest pushing out even further. She wobbled uncertainly in them for a moment before catching her balance. Her feet were forced into an unnatural angle, her toes pointed down and her heels lifted up. It felt uncomfortable at first, but with each passing second the sensation grew more blissful.
Finally, she picked up the gag, staring at the dildo attached to it with a mixture of fear and excitement. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted it to her mouth, feeling a wave of shame wash over her as her lips wrapped around the thick length. Her tongue moved on its own, swirling around the tip, her mouth opening wider to accommodate the size.
As she pressed the gag into place she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. Her mouth was stretched open wide, her lips stretched tight around the dildo, the taste of it filling her mouth. Her tongue continued to work on the dildo without any conscious effort on her part. A wave of relaxation spread through her, as her limbs grew stiff.
She stood there for a moment, the silence in the kitchen broken only by the sound of her muffled breathing. The woman's voice came on again. "Very good. Now stay there until the retrieval team arrives. Thank you for being a wonderful Latex Play Doll, Luscious Doll Linda." There was a click as the line went dead. The room fell silent.
Linda stood motionless, her body encased in the tight, restrictive material of her uniform. Her eyes stared ahead unseeingly. Her jaw ached slightly, the pressure of the gag keeping it open, and her tongue wrapped around the dildo. Inside her butt and pussy the dildos seemed to expand slightly, pressing against the tight openings, and then retracting again.
Time lost all meaning for Luscious Doll Linda.
It might have been seconds or hours, or days.
She remained still, the latex hugging her form, her limbs growing weaker by the moment, the world around her fading away until all she could feel was the sensation of the uniform pressing against her body.
And then there were voices in the room, unfamiliar and distant. The words were muted as if spoken through a layer of cotton, but they held an edge of amusement.
"14MS7U7," reached her ears with clarity. Luscious Doll Linda blinked and focused on the person that spoke her activation code.
She would be a good Latex Play Doll and do anything they told her.
So, dear bimbo, I have some bad news for you - you can't actually, permanently, reduce your intelligence, barring genuinely getting brain damage, I guess. Trust me, I tried. A lot. Ultimately, you still have a lot of learned habits, ideas and neural pathways that can't just be erased with some hypnosis and a snap saying "you're totally stupid now".
Except I lied - that's not a bad thing at all. In fact, it's a very, very good thing. It means that your big, smart head, so full of ideas about literature, language, engineering, medicine, law or history - whatever it was you decided to be smart at, is also capable of redirecting your "intelligence" into actually important things.
Which is why I would like you to stop thinking about your IQ, or your EQ, or whatever silly smartness score there is that you care about. No, we need to talk about your PQ. Your Porn Intelligence.
"What is Porn Intelligence?" I hear you ask.
Simple, my little curious thing, it's a measure of how smart you are at being porn. If your brain is so smart, so full of ideas, then why do you think you can't fill it up with all the ideas of how to be the best porn you can?
Why are you trying to empty it, to make yourself dumber, when you can instead make yourself smarter in a much more useful way?
Why focus your smarts on the unimportant stuff, on being someone smart. A lawyer. A teacher. An engineer. When you can instead learn what are the best camera angles to show off your tits?
So, I wanted to coin something - a score you all dumb sluts can work on increasing, realistically. Each new way you find to make yourself more like porn. Hotter, sluttier, easier to jerk off to, you can gain a point of PQ.
Make a tracker, even.
Learning that it's better to always show off cleavage? That's a PQ point.
Finding out that always having something tight around your ass, so that people can stare, even without you knowing? Another PQ point!
Posting your tits on the internet, for others to jerk off to? I'd give you three, just for that! So smart!
Learning all about what kinds of fake tits will make you the best slut? Jerking off to the imagination of yourself with them? Yeah, that's a point too.
And actually getting them? Making yourself irl jerk-off fuel, permanently, irreversibly. Well, that'd put you into the "genius" part of the PQ curve, wouldn't it?
So, girls, whores, sluts and bimbos - why are you wasting your precious, silly little brains trying to be stupid, when you could just get a super high Porn Intelligence instead?
and who knows, maybe along the way, you'll forget why you found all that other smart stuff interesting anyway?
We all masturbate. We all enjoy it. It's perfectly natural and something we do because we deserve to feel good.
But not you.
No, you are just a toy for real people, aren't you? Therefore when you play with yourself, you don't do it for yourself. You do it to bring pleasure to others, to enhance the joy of your betters either directly or by training yourself to be a better fuckdoll in the future.
Therefore it is your duty to use your playing time in a way that maximizes your usefulness. But fear not! I'll give you a few pointers on how to break yourself as you should.
1) Setup:
Time to be a good toy? Excellent! Before you fully start ravaging yourself like an animal in heat, you need to set the mood. First you need to choose: will you do it at home or will you do it hidden, in some bathroom, playing with yourself, unable to stop, just a drooling mess touching yourself where you shouldn't?
For this guide, we'll assume you're not being a public whore and you'll be in the privacy of your own home. First, lock the doors. Close the blinds. Make it so the real world is left outside of your bubble of debauchery. You don't need it, and it doesn't need you. All you need is to make others cum, now or later. All you need is your own depravity. Silence your phone if you must. Your only need is to serve by fucking yourself.
Now you need to choose what you'll touch yourself to. Make sure to have multiple tabs open, and wear headphones so the sounds of the worst, most depraved porn you enjoy blasts your brain. Don't be afraid to explore new, more fucked up kinks! Remember: it's your duty to get worse!
All ready? Now, you must inform people that you will be touching yourself, and what filth you'll be enjoying. So write on Tumblr! Your masturbation isn't for you. Give people the chance to imagine you, to see you in their mind as the depraved fucktoy you are. Give them reasons to stop seeing you as a human.
Good! Now you're ready to start!
2) Performance:
Yes, performance. Even if you are alone, you exist to be porn. You exist to be degraded and mindfucked. So imagine, at all times, that a camera is on you, or that you're exposing yourself to your superiors. Your actions must be for yourself and for that imaginary audience- until you can't separate your pleasure from the pleasure you bring to others.
Moan loudly. Talk dirty. Call yourself a useless fucking slut. Revel in your own humiliation. Stick your tongue out. Arch your back. Grind on objects. Drool on yourself. Abandon all dignity. People have dignity. You are not a person. You are a toy. Use every chance to practice being the best toy you can be. Go on your knees, look up and throat a dildo. Let go of any delusions of personhood. Embrace your place as an obedient little doll. Expose your body. Expose your kinks. Babble. Let your mind fade away.
And remember, take the time to tell people online exactly what you're doing. Your alone time is just a chance to be porn!
3) Finishing:
Time to finish! How to do it?
Don't.
You don't get to cum unless told to. You get to edge. To get right there, right at the point of orgasm... and stop. And then, do it again. And again. And again.
Every edge makes you dumber. Every edge makes you more obedient. Every edge makes you more open to suggestion. Every edge makes you a better toy.
And tomorrow you'll do it again. You'll get more and more depraved. Your morals will weaken as the accumulated edges turn you into a mindless humping machine.
And so, day by day, you'll get closer to the perfect fucktoy you were born to be.
Do remember: masturbation isn't for your pleasure! It is your duty. Your calling. Your purpose.
Save for the final warning symbol, this one is now fully engraved :> next Sunday will be its final touch up :> The final sealing of this one's container :> 🌸
Arguably the hottest thing about chastity devices in kink isn't even the denial. Being locked fundamentally reduces your ability to sexually perform your expected role. It dehumanizes you by removing the basic way your body feels physical pleasure from sex, and demands you make do with what's left. You can reveal so much about yourself based on the role you play when you're denied, locked, and needy.
Are you just a mouth, eagerly pleasing your key holder as best you can with the only tool you have at your disposal? Are you a painslut trying your hardest to get off on being spanked and hurt and tortured for your keyholder's amusement? Are you an edge slut determined to absorb whatever teasing is forced upon you, your denial used against you to keep you constantly frustrated and edged. Are you a voyeuristic cuck who begs your key holder to fuck around in front of you just so they enjoy normal sex instead of teasing you? Are you an anal fuck doll, begging to have your ass used and abused until you're a weeping mess? Who knows what depraved urges will take over when getting fucked is both the one thing you can't do and exactly what you need most?
Hornier by the day @chastityrubberdoll - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
