Delightful.

Remember the time I made you dress up in that stupidly embarrassing outfit for a dinner party with my friends?

Oh, you forgot? That's so funny. Maybe that's because of how much I encouraged you to pre-drink before the party even started -- you could barely speak cogently, honey.

Not that you needed to: you were wearing such a cute little outfit, and you're such a special girl that even when slurring your words you know how to keep an audience captivated.

It's too bad you don't remember which of my friends were there... which of them saw what a dirty little slut you truly are. I COULD tell you, but that would spoil the fun -- I think it's so much cuter the way your face turns a shade of scarlet every time you blushingly see one of my friends and frantically try to remember if they were there that night.

Do they know what an easy little set of wet holes you are? Do they respect you? Or are they smiling because they just remembered how your tight wet hole felt that night... and if so, which hole in particular are they reminiscing about?

You're so pretty when you're pathetically drippy at your own shame.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🖤 Your Favorite Toxic Ex 🥴🍹

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...

This is Destiny. Destiny was nearly done her bachelor's of law degree, something that had taken her painstaking effort over a long period of time; as an honors student she was relieved that she'd be able to stop and find a job soon... just as soon as she finished her final exams and passed the bar exam.

As you probably know, female happiness is the most important metric in our new Patriarchal order, which is why we have instituted a legally-mandated Happiness Test™️ for girls focused on education and career goals, to ensure that their ambitions don't compromise their own personal joy.

Destiny claimed she was happy, but our test proved otherwise; not only was she NEVER happy when studying and working, but her poor little slit didn't get drippy even a single time.

Destiny thought she was smart enough to break the laws of our new Patriarchal order. She thought the Divine Daddy wouldn't care about her happiness. And she thought she could hide her test results without consequence.

But Destiny was wrong. In her final semester her water supply was intentionally and covertly pumped full of an amplified version of the mind-altering hyper-feminizing brain-drain Pink Pill™️ drug to restore peak happiness levels.

One week in she was forgetting the things she had studied the night before.

Two weeks in and she forgot everything she had studied in college.

Three weeks in and she started to become giggly and much happier, focusing on how she'd dress to get the attention of a cute boy in her class instead of doing her homework.

A month in and she was begging her classmates to drag her into a bathroom stall and fuck her like a dirty little slut; she was ashamed to hear the words come out of her own lips, but she couldn't help it.

And then, during her final exams, she got distracted and didn't answer a single question, instead choosing to make the rounds sucking off her classmates one by one under their desks very publicly while fingering herself like a desperate little whore. She emptied every set of balls in the room all over her face and down her eager throat -- even her teacher had his balls slurped by the depraved dummy, though it didn't stop him from flunking her test.

Needless to say, Destiny couldn't hack it in university; after failing out of every class, and for her own best interests, she was expelled from higher academia.

Now Destiny drools like a dummy from both sets of lips all day long at the local strip club, and her holes are rented out to strangers for $1 per minute.

This might seem like a major shift in lifestyle, but Destiny still kept all of her friends from law school -- the ones who'd always had a lower GPA than she did. They would regularly come in on Friday nights and have a grand time passing Destiny around like a cheap piece of meat. She loved the attention.

She's the happiest she's ever been in her entire life; her perpetually drippy pussy proves that Patriarchal policy really works to help make girls happier.

The moral of the story: Daddy knows best, so don't try to fight it. Give in to Patriarchy, slut. You'll be happier as a stupid little sex object.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🎓 Patriarchal Minister of Re-Education & Propaganda 📺

There’s something truly perverse within me for me to enjoy the transformation process as much as I do. See, it’s not enough to call you humiliating names that cause you to get embarrassingly drippy — words are fun, but they are only alive for a passing moment before they disappear like water vapour into the void. Words aren’t enough.

I want to see you commit to to the bit. I want the humiliation to make you drippy and desperate, and give you no reprieve — to control your ability to cum and make you beg as I deny you the right to orgasm for weeks while keeping you perpetually aroused and unable to think clearly, your critical thinking skills compromised beyond recovery. I want to leverage your building arousal against you, telling you that if only you did a little more maybe I’d allow you one orgasm. Maybe if you dress a little sluttier, maybe if you bleach your hair blonde, maybe if you get lip injections, but always pushing the bar further and further, forcing you to increasingly eroticize your own self-destruction as I force you to regress from a fully grown woman into a dumb little bimbo fuckdoll. I want to take advantage of how horny you are after many weeks of denial and get you to commit to increasingly extreme steps to turn yourself into a stupid little plastic whore, to humiliate you and have you sign off to your own degradation until nobody would recognize the fuckdoll you’ve become, your old identity discarded like a snake shedding its skin.

Only when you’ve gone too far to turn back will I actually reward you with a single orgasm. I hope it will be worth it — you’ll have traded your entire identity away forever to have that one moment of bliss.

All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them

Facts

Objectification Isn’t Really a Kink

There’s a certain amount of overthinking that goes into making something a “fetish” or “kink.”

Take the whole partiarchal-beauty-standards “look pretty for men” thing. You put pictures of pretty girls on Tumblr with titillating, misogyny-laced captions, and all of a sudden you’re talking about “bimbofication” or a “bimbo fetish” or whatever.

But here’s the thing: for every girl blogging about her “bimbo transformation” on Tumblr, there are a few thousand every goddamn day at your nearest major-league sports stadium, not thinking anything about it at all as they trot around in their tight tops and short shorts or skin-hugging leggings, showing off their boob jobs and zealously-toned asses for the fans

Look at these girls. Do you think they’re conscious of themselves as “kinky”? Do you think they identify as girls with a fetish?

Of course not. They’re just living life. And part of life, for so many women, is showing your enthusiasm by showing off your body. If you really care about something, and you’re female, you show support for it by participating while dressed in a way that the men around you will appreciate.

It’s not a kink. It’s not a fetish. It’s just a culturally accepted expression of female enthusiasm. 

And this is just as true for the men involved – your average bro on the street does not think of himself as a pro-patriarchy kinkster. He’s not even sure what “patriarchy” means, other than maybe a vague sense that it’s a turn-off when girls talk about it. All he understands is that women who make an effort to look sexy at his entertainment events of choice are desirable, and women who don’t make that effort aren’t.

I don’t say this to discourage blogging about patriarchy and misogyny in ways that are consciously fetishized, of course. I always enjoy a good over-think. 

But I do want to put it out there for any ladies who are wrestling with guilt over their misogyny/patriarchy fetishes: you can probably relax and stop being so hard on yourself! Look around you, and I mean really look around you at the world we live in.

Dressing sexy to please men is the most normal thing a woman can do. The vast majority of women doing it aren’t even conscious of it as a sex/fetish thing. It’s just what you do.

So relax! Have a little fun. Get your tits done, learn the perfect makeup for your colors, and go out in public in body-hugging clothes that show off your assets. Enjoy the attention it brings you. If you ever start feeling guilty, you always can stop by any major sporting event, concert, or other pop-culture gathering, and be instantly reassured that this is what the world expects from women.

And that’s kind of hot, isn’t it?

The Patriarchy Political Party is instituting a new dress code for all girls starting tomorrow. Girls who violate the dress code will be deemed in violation of Federal laws and will be appropriately punished and re-educated.

The outfit above is the "schoolgirl" variant for girls who are still studying in an academic institution, but note that specific outfits will apply to job positions or social roles in the future.

Please reblog your suggestions for which outfits should be legally required for specific female roles in the future. The Patriarchy Political Party will take all inappropriate suggestions under consideration.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🎓 Patriarchal Minister of Re-Education & Propaganda 📺

Girls won’t be allowed to take any action unless a Man signs off on it first.

Want to go grab a coffee down the street? Ask a Man.

Want to buy an outfit? Ask a Man.

Want to go to the bathroom? Ask a Man.

No Man that you know nearby? Ask a stranger.

Failing to ask permission from a Man will result in your subsequent arrest and re-education.

Ultimately, this will slowly indoctrinate girls into understanding they are completely dependent on Men for *EVERYTHING*. It will undermine their self-sufficiency, make them question their ability to make sound judgments on anything independently, and train them to behave like the property that they are… because, in the end, you’re just a dumb little bimbo slavegirl owned by The Patriarchy™️.

If you could pass one misogynistic law, what would it be?

I'm a feminist, and this blog is NOT okay. Why do you hate women so much? Women are not objects meant to be used, we have minds of our own! This blog is humiliating and degrading towards women- in other words, it's so WRONG. But why does it make me so FUCKING WET?

Biology over indoctrination.

You are wet because every woman before you for thousands and thousands of generations have individually and collectivley understood their inferiority and found men to protect and fuck them. Some broken academics looking for a paycheck can not undo the biological programming your genome has been endowded with through the wisdom of every single ancestor of yours.

This blog is empowering to women. Unlike the talking heads of academia I do not force you to rise and fight. I want you to be the person you were breed to be. I want you to be yourself and take decisions based on your happiness and not the paychecks of famous feminists loooking for power. Live your life for yourself.

Each tattoo, piercing, and body modification is just another reminder of the parts of you I've claimed as my property.

Think of them as modern day slave brandings, designed so my dirty little dummy never forgets who her tits and holes belong to.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🏘️ Extravagant Property Owner ™️

Show off the fake butt and asshole tattoo Daddy made you get. It’s not humiliating at all, princess.

You’re just a decoration.

Sure, I know what you are thinking; maybe you have some nice other qualities, right? Like maybe you’re kind, or funny, or smart, or financially successful.

Sure, honey. But those traits don’t matter, silly.

See, Men aren’t choosing you based on your career status; we’re choosing you based on how well you advertise the fact that you are a pretty set holes.

Everything else about you is arbitrary when it comes to mate selection, dummy.

Do you work out? Do you eat well? Do you dress in outfits that show off your tits and your ass?

That’s basically all Men care about.

Stop thinking about yourself as a person, and start thinking about yourself as a piece of slutty merchandise to show off. Because that’s all you are, doll...

This is how all girls will be expected to compete for Male attention from now on in the Patriarchal Order; new executive orders will be issued in the near future to further promote this goal.

😈 Sadistic Empath, 😘 🎓 Patriarchal Minister of Re-Education & Propaganda 📺