Latest Posts by sadistic-empath - Page 3

Can daddy train me to be his filthy slut?

I can, slut. Send me a private message that isn't anonymous, and we'll talk...

Oh! Is your picture of a Kajira? I noticed the brand.

The picture is most definitely of a kajira; very perceptive catch! 😉There's something about a slavegirl permanently marked as property that I find utterly intoxicating; add to that the submissive pose and it makes for some magnetic imagery...The Gorean lifestyle boasts some beautifully twisted concepts. 😈👌🏻

These two dirty little sex dolls are dressed up in bright, colorful outfits for the entertainment of men.

Imagine, slut: this could be you! You could be wearing this thin, red outfit in public, perfectly placing all of the titular assets of a big-tits, big-ass whore on display for the world to ogle. You could be a giggly little bimbo delighting in the comments of superior men, all of whom see you as a delicious piece of meat to consume as a treat...

... and deep down, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted, pet?

The collar around your neck says everything there is to know about you.

You are not a person; you are a pet.

You are not an independent mind; you are a sex toy.

You are not a classy lady; you a a filthy pleasure slave.

The sooner you learn these fundamental facts, the sooner you can become Daddy's perfect little slut.

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.

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.

A Thousand Words

There are a thousand words we need not say, For this image says them all; There are a thousand places you are depraved, Where painted pixels fall.

Your ruby lips are lush with tits Hidden beneath your locks; You don't await a charming date, No prince, but a pulsating cock.

You've a will to please for praise it seems, So kneel at my feet and serve; Open your mouth as I spill my seed, And swallow your just deserts.

When your makeup is smeared and your eyes have teared, You'll have met your purpose well; I dabble my canvas with cum's hot spatter And splatter from spit that fell.

But you are not finished until I've diminished All of that which you were; The pièce de résistance which I'll flaunt Is to scribble the word "WHORE."

Now you are perfect and purgèd and worthless For all but my servicing needs; And with a thousand hot words we need not say, You swallow my cock in greed.

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.

This post was truly profound, and something I think people of all walks in the kink community go through, not just Bimbos. As a sadistic dominant, I know that I had a similar journey of guilt at my "immoral" desires to hurt or humiliate people sexually, as the sexual repression slowly ate away at me psychologically. My logical / emotional mind was constantly at war with my sexual mind, and it is only recently that I feel I have begun to consolidate these two sides of myself.

The human experience is a complex and mysterious thing, but it is important to remember at the end of the day that we are all deserving of happiness, regardless of where we might need to go to find it; never be ashamed to be who you are.

So now being a bimbo, would you say that "bimbo is better" than non-bimbo? How so?

I’d have the world’s most hypocritical URL if I didn’t say that, huh? :)

Yes, bimbo is absolutely better!

(Warning: this answer is way too long, and I’m not going to bother editing it down to a length that’s reasonable. You’ve been warned!)

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Imagine these beauties wrapping around a hard, pulsing shaft. Imagine sucking Daddy's hot cum out like it's a cocktail straw.

Good girls are always ready to show their decorated cock-sucking lips to Daddy.

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Your mind.

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.

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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.

That's right, pet; take off those clothes like a good girl... and show the world the slut that you've been hiding deep down inside you for too long.

Also entitled, "The Meaning of Life."

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.