I Want A Quiet, Bookish, Demurely Dressed Woman To Hypnotise Me. Make Me Try To Stay Awake, Stay Alert,

Give me an ill-informed, right wing Karen-type keeping me isolated and telling me how to think. Making me pliant and thoughtless and believing everything I currently hate is actually right and proper. Poison my mind and my morals.

Just wanna be pegged by my kind, nurturing softdomme boss. Is that too much to ask?

I wish I had a mummy who was keeping me locked up “just for the weekend.”

Small, tight, frilly, lacey panties would make me feel so small and dumb and exposed.

Use my mummy issues to manipulate me and make me do whatever you want.

I want to beg my boss to make me obsessed with her feet, desperate to be a slave to them, worshipping them. Maybe I could be told to look at pictures of her feet, delicately posed and so pretty with nail polish, every night and make sure not to touch myself. That would be respectful behaviour and give her lovely feet the attention and respect they deserve.

The idea of being made to get a tramp stamp, and it being referred to as a tramp stamp, so that a mummy can make fun of me and call me a slut and tell me no woman will ever want me, is very very hot.

“Are you going to thank mummy for making your peeny permanently soft and little and pink? Good boy. You’re very welcome. Now take two fingers and make some quick tug-tugs for mummy before she leaves for her date.”

“Remember baby boy, don’t cum and stay dumb. Mummy likes you dumb.”

I want to be kept in chastity and gaslit. Give me a release date to look forward to then when it arrives deny having told me, tell me I must have dreamt it or that I’m being naughty and making up stories. Break my mind.