NOW, BE A GOOD BOY...

You didn’t come here for kindness.
You came for precision.
For a gaze that doesn’t just notice you - it evaluates you. And then decides how you’ll be used.

Because with Me, there is no idle touch. No half-hearted command. Every word I speak to you, every order I give, is calibrated to disarm, degrade, and develop you.

Let’s call this what it is: a ritual.

Perhaps it begins with posture training. Spine straight, knees apart, eyes down. You know not to speak unless permitted. And when you do, you do it with reverence. Because the reward is not guaranteed. The reward is earned.

Then comes the inspection. I run a slow hand along your freshly groomed thighs, assessing whether your attention to detail meets My standard. (You’d be surprised how many boys fumble at the grooming stage. But not you, right? You live for this test.)

You are stripped - mentally, emotionally, physically. Each layer peeled back with the unhurried delight of someone who knows what She owns. I might bind your wrists behind your back, hood your head to silence your ego, edge you while whispering how easily I could replace you. Not because I want to - but because I could.

You’ll leak through your cock cage just to hear Me say “Good boy.”
You’ll beg for the privilege of licking My heels clean, after I’ve walked all over you - figuratively and literally.

And don’t think for a moment I won’t laugh when I watch you flinch from the crop, or squirm when My gloved fingers press against the shame you pretend not to feel. The Shapeshifter sees your mask. She enjoys removing it. The Balancer trains your mind with ritual and reward. And the Vampiress? Oh, she feasts on your ache.

You’ll be objectified. Adorned. Perhaps feminized. Perhaps silenced. Perhaps immobilised for hours as I sip whisky and ignore you. Your needs - deliberately unmet. Your desire - mercilessly stoked.

But when I turn toward you, when I finally acknowledge you with that wicked smile and a slow, approving stroke of your cheek?

You’ll feel it. The chemical, cellular transformation of being owned.

You’re not here to impress Me.
You’re here to be impressed upon.

So.
Be a good boy.
Obey.
And pray you’re worthy of My praise.