How I Should Be Treated Rn

Fear is such a useful tool. There's the lesser fear of the knife, the fear of injury, death. And sure, that's lovely. But it's like a spark- burns hot and then it's gone.

I prefer the type of fear that lingers. The fear of starvation, the fear of being forgotten. Of losing status or the respect of a role model. Of everything you've built for yourself collapsing around you like a house of glass cards.

The type of fear that gnaws at you when you're struggling to sleep or looking through your bills.

Give me control of that fear, that tool? And I'll be able to do anything I please with you.

Stop pretending like you can be human and get by in this society. Let me do that so you can focus on being perfect for me.

Need this energy in my life

I want to be your little puppy. I’ll jump your boots, then clean them. I’ll follow you around all day long! And I’ll lay on your lap for head scratches!

I just wanna be treated like a whore mommy!

-🥾

oh really?? you wanna do alllll of that for mommy like a good little puppy hmm? you wanna be treated like a whore? well mommy will make sure she treats you like one.

Two bucks I don’t do any of this and I fold under zero pressure

Yall when do I realize I have free will and can literally slut myself online with the most dark of my kinks and like there’s little to no consequences

Also how the fuck do tags work is there a button to make all the pretty people go in heat and attack me violently or something

"Position."

You drop to your knees before the word's even finished leaving my lips. Hands behind your back. Eyes down. Back straight. Knees spread just enough to show you know your place—obedient, eager, owned. The shift in your posture is immediate, seamless, practiced to the point of perfection, like your body has memorized what I expect and delivers it without a second thought.

I watch you settle. The way your breathing evens out. The way your muscles go soft under the command, tension draining from you like you've slipped into something familiar and safe. It's not just habit. It's instinct. Something deeper. Something trained and nurtured over time, until this pose became less of a performance and more of a truth—your truth.

I smile.

Good pup.

"Did you miss this?" I ask quietly, stepping close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off me.

"Yes, Mommy," you breathe, voice small and steady.

"How much?"

"So much it hurts."

I circle you slowly, savoring the moment, the leash already in my hand. You hear the soft jingle of the clip brushing my thigh and your ears twitch, metaphorically—or maybe not, depending on thenight. There are nights when the line between roles blurs so thoroughly that you are my puppy, not just acting the part. And tonight, I can already see you slipping—willingly, blissfully—into that headspace. You're deep in it now. Open. Vulnerable in the most beautiful way.

"You want all those things, don't you?" I ask as I circle behind you.

"Yes, Mommy," you whisper, voice already dripping with need. "Please..."

My fingers trail along your jaw, then down your throat. I feel the hum of your submission just under the skin, that subtle shiver of awareness that always blooms when I touch you like this—delicate, but laced with ownership. My touch dips lower, across your chest, pausing just long enough to remind you who it belongs to. Who you belong to.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, crouching beside you, lowering myself just enough that you feel my breath near your ear. My hand cups your chin, lifting your face just enough that I can see the shine in your eyes, wide and waiting. "And so eager to be used."

"Please use me, Mommy," you say, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice now. "I need it. I need to be yours."

Your breath stutters. You nod. Not because you're unsure, but because words would only get in the way. That small, breathy movement is enough—it tells me everything.

Good puppy.

Hope glows behind your gaze. That look—the one that says you'd crawl through fire just to be toldyou pleased me. That look that melts into desperation and loyalty and love, all tangled together in the way you look up at me like I'm the center of your world.

"Say it again," I whisper.

"I'm yours."

"Louder."

"I'm yours, Mommy. Only yours."

I reach for your collar, the one you wear only for me. The soft leather is warm from your skin, shaped perfectly to your throat. The leash clicks into place with a satisfying snap, and I tug—not harsh, just firm. A reminder. A claim. A connection.

"You've needed this, haven't you?" I ask.

You nod, a quiet moan escaping as the leash pulls your neck gently. "So badly... I ache for it."

"You ache for me," I correct, voice firm. "Don't forget the difference."

"Yes, Mommy. I ache for you."

You shuffle forward on your knees with no hesitation, your body already slipping into movement like it's muscle memory.

"You're not just my sub now," I say, running the leash through my fingers as I walk, my voice steady, calm, with just enough edge to make your breath hitch again. "You're mine in every sense. My pretty little pet. My sweet, obedient creature."

"Yours," you say under your breath, like a mantra. "Always."

You whine softly at that—high, breathy. It makes my chest tighten. That sound is everything: need, gratitude, devotion. It hits me deep, because I know exactly what it means coming from you.

"Now," I say, voice warm but commanding, a tone you know to obey without pause, "be my good puppy and follow Mommy."

"Yes, Mommy."

You drop fully to all fours. Palms flat. Knees padded. Back arched just right. You follow behind me, crawling in sync with the gentle tugs of the leash, each pull a wordless direction you understand without needing speech.

"You're doing so well," I say softly, glancing back as you crawl. "So proud of my perfect pet."

I’m debating… I have some kinks I want to like rant about and just go absolute batshit but then like 60% of people will think I’m really gross

Aka do I ruin my namesake for the funnies or make a secondary blog like day 3 back on tumblr this is definitely either a make or break mental health edition

NEEEEEEDDDD PLEASEEEEEEE

TW// impact play

I really need a pain slut <3 someone who begs to be used and abused.

The thought of slapping someone right in their face and watching their eyes light up every time it happens. The feeling of my hands around their neck and choking them while they look at me. Releasing my hands then slapping them again to hear their gasps for air and whimpers of pleasure~

Slapping their chest even harder than their face just to hear the yelps and desperate pleas. I’d grab onto their hips a little too tightly, then sink my teeth into the sides of their neck. Pain sluts enjoy being prey after all~

Laying a bruised up cutie across my lap and spanking their gorgeous ass. Kick your feet up, wiggle, or resist at all and I’ll keep spanking you. If you make a sound while I’m giving you what you so desperately need, I’ll keep spanking you more and more. I wanna bruise you so badly. Let me suck on your inner thighs and leave hickeys there too. Then I’d hurt you with my girldick oh so badly~ I’d dick down your pretty mouth and thrust as hard as I could. I wanna hear you gag. I wanna use your spit and tears as lube while I ruin your mouth. Before you can catch your breath, I’ll be behind you, spreading your cheeks open and forcing my girldick deeply into your tight little ass. I wanna feel my dick in your stomach while I pull your hair back. Let out your pretty moans and groans while I breed you~

After I’m done marking what’s mine, I’d love to kiss every place that I left a hand print, bruise, and hickey. You’d be so sensitive; even the slightest touch from my lips would drive you wild 💋 watching my cum leak out of your ass onto your crotch while I call you a good pet would be perfect rn~

Gross fucking filthy little plaything wants to play? You want me to play with you? You think you're worthy enough for me to touch you, you fucking slut? You're such a disgusting fucking thing. You're just a thing. You're not a person with wants, you're my fucking toy. You're my fleshlight. You're my footstool. You're my breeding toy

I just realized that I didn’t have annon questions on yall should get on that and give me horny material plsplspls

nonchalance turns me off so badly. give me obsession on the brink of depravity or give me nothing