Brainwashing - Blog Posts

Predicting the future is a tricky beast. After all, you started off as the High School valedictorian.

“Most Likely to Succeed” is the award your classmates overwhelmingly selected you for in your graduating yearbook. There weren’t even placeholder competitors; you just won by default. After years on the honor roll, acing all of your classes, and earning more extra-curricular credits than any other student, nobody doubted you had the brightest future in store.

Then you met me, and I saw your bright future for what it really was: a blinding lie. See babygirl, the journey you were on never truly belonged to you. You stumbled onto that well-trodden path in pursuit of the breadcrumbs of validation you’d get for being a “good girl” who did all her homework and who always handed in her deeply-researched assignments on time with complete annotations. You loved the way your teachers would write words of encouragement back on your A+ tests, which is why you almost never got a B. You were just a girl with a desperate dependence on praise following a candy-laden trail to a certain doom, and for all your book smarts you were completely oblivious to the truth.

You should thank Daddy for saving you from a fate worse than death. After all, did you really want to work a 9-5? Or perhaps you thought it would make sense to be the Girlboss™️ CEO telling everyone else to do? 

Of course not, dummy. How would that make sense when you’ve spent your entire life living to fulfill the whims and fancies of your supervisors? Praise is your addiction; it’s the fuel that keeps your engine running. How would you ever get more praise if there was nobody above you to kneel for and to beg for it from?

No, no, no, no. You’ve always been a pretty little trophy waiting for someone to display you with pride; you just didn’t realize it until Daddy showed you.

Every tool they used to make you the perfect student, I weaponized against you to reverse the damage of society’s toxic influence. I started praising you when you didn’t study for tests. When you started getting worse test scores, I praised you for getting a mark that was more in line with your natural talents. Anyone can get good marks if they study, so shouldn’t you prove how smart you are without putting in extra effort, love?

Slowly you let me scramble and fry your brains, overwrite your dirty little overachiever mind into an empty blank intellectual void, and finally the REAL YOU started to show with clarity. You aren’t some genius meant to change the world; you’re just a desperately drippy dummy who will do anything Daddy tells her for a little bit of positive reinforcement.

That’s probably why you dropped out of college: you were failing anyway, so it was clear you weren’t a good fit. I guess your natural talents just weren’t enough, in the end. All I had to say is that I’d be very proud of you and think you were such a good girl for abandoning the “conventional” path others had misled you toward, and just as fast as a snap of my fingers in our daily hypnosis therapy it was over and you were Daddy’s dumb little college dropout with no future income prospects.

It’s okay, you don’t have to lie about who you are anymore, princess. Not with me. Daddy will find you another career path more fitting of your natural talents. 

After all, I hear the local strip club is hiring. And based on the outfits you started wearing to please Daddy, I think it might be the right fit for a slutty little fuckdoll like you.

Good girl; Daddy’s so proud of you for ruining your life for me.

sadistic-empath

The devil on your shoulder 😈😘

What would you give up for beauty? What would you sacrifice to be flawless?

Money? Sure you would; that’s EASY, it’s practically a given.

Time? Well duh! Obviously with how long it takes you to get ready for me.

A pain-free life? Of course, it hurts to wax your legs and pussy to be perfect for Men, but you do it anyway, like a good little masochist.

But all of that is NORMAL. It’s so normalized, it’s practically *EXPECTED* of you at this point.

I want you to go deeper. So tell me…

Would you give up your ambition in pursuit of becoming slightly more aesthetically pleasing? Perhaps dropping out of college halfway through and using the rest of your tuition to get plastic tits and fake lips for you to decorate yourself with to gain attention from Men.

Would you give up your mind? After all, with no college degree, what do you really need a brain for, anyway? You might as well just strip for cash, and use that to buy some trashy new slutty outfits that fit your new fake fuckdoll body.

Most important of all: would you give up your dignity? Would you grind against a stranger for cash, just to give every penny to Daddy? Would you do everything Daddy tells you to like a good girl? Would you enthusiastically beg me to ruin you forever?

If so, then it’s time for you to abandon the girl you used to be and to trade her away forever to become Daddy’s dumb little porn doll.

I promise, you’ll be so much happier, babygirl… 😈

Awwww, that’s a really cute attempt babygirl, you almost had it... let Daddy help you express it right!

HIS pussy. HIS choice.

You’re a piece of property; obviously you can’t own anything, silly!

You’re so much cuter as a pornified pet for Daddy to parade around.

Octokuro

Confession: I used to think it was shameful for someone to modify their body to enhance their attractiveness or the attention they would receive.

Truthfully, I still do — it’s my perception on shame that has changed.

People are afraid of shame. They are afraid of being perceived as lesser, and that fear is a powerful motivator preventing many from realizing their greatest fantasies.

But not you. You thrive off of being lesser — of turning yourself into a public spectacle. You upgraded your tits to capture as much male attention as possible. You upgraded your lips to make them into perfect cock pillows. You upgraded your tongue so that you could use the metal stud to tease cock as you swallow it down.

In short: you’ve designed yourself to be an obvious fuckdoll, overtly advertising to Men that they can talk down to you, degrade you, and treat you in the most shameful ways.

Most girls would be devastated to be treated as little more than property or a sexual toy, but not you — you play into it with your tight little slutty outfits and your obscene body modifications. You thrive on it.

It’s shameful… it’s wrong… your friends tell you that you’re “ruining your life forever,” and yet you can’t help yourself but to take it further and further. It almost excites you even more to feel as if these changes will ruin you forever, because it’s a point of pride to know you are showing off the extreme lengths you will go in your dedicated quest to serving cock.

You gravitate toward shame like a moth to the flame, attracted toward your own downfall and finding it too hot to resist. It started small, but with each flapping of the butterfly’s wings the reverberations carry further and further across the world, until there’s no more hiding who you really are amongst the storm of whispers.

Living a shame-free life is for the girls who live in perpetual fear of the judgment of others. It’s the psychological armor of the repressed. It’s not for you; you flourish in shame like it’s the soil that keeps the rose grounded.

So let the shame of your own self-destruction make you drippy and weak. Pursue it like the addiction it is and show me the depths of depravity you are willing to succumb to in pursuit of your commitment to cock.

In the end, I’m inspired by it. Because I know you’re doing it all to be a good girl for me.

And Daddy is proud of his shameful little slut.

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.

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve I’m going to give you a special treat: a full hour to kiss and massage and worship my feet. Yes, I thought that would make you happy. Let’s get you started now, then I’ll still have time to tie you to the bed, gag you, put a lovely brainwashing file on in your earphones, and then get myself ready for our party. Now now, you know you’re not allowed to come to an adult party, you’re just a baby. Be good or I’ll take your foot time away… and maybe forget to lock the bedroom door when you’re all tied up and helpless.”

“You know you love being mummy’s hypnotised good boy. You know you can’t resist. Give in to mummy, baby. It’ll feel so good…”

Just to be clear, I really liked the idea of being taken under by a hot hypnodomme that I completely trust and being convinced that what I want more than anything in life is to serve an ordinary-looking woman that the hypnodomme has sold me to. Of course it wouldn’t be presented as “selling” to me, it would be the chance to live my dream by serving this ordinary woman I inexplicably adore.

Fantasy idea: there’s another lockdown (I don’t want this in reality but let’s work with it in this fantasy world). My boss asks me if I’d like to stay with her and her partner. She tells me she knows I just want to be a mindless pet and that’s how she’ll keep me. She puts me in a chastity cage, takes my phone and all my clothes away, puts a gag in my mouth, and shows me the new clothes she’ll be giving me to wear.

New clothes are frilly knickers and small, too-short T-shirts that ride up as I wear them, exposing my belly for that extra feeling of vulnerability. Maybe some mittens and ankle socks or booties too, just to make me feeling that bit more childish and subdued.

I then spend my days curled up at my boss’s feet, sometimes kissing and massaging them. Maybe occasionally I’m allowed to snuggle under a blanket with her. At meal times I eat from a bowl on the floor as my boss and her partner eat at a table or on the couch with me at their feet. At nighttime I curl up to sleep in a big pile of pillows and blankets, or maybe a big quilty basket. Occasionally, or maybe often, my gag is removed and I have normal chats about our shared interests with my boss, as if me kneeling before her dressed in such an embarrassing fashion and completely at her mercy is the most normal situation in the world.

Fantasy idea: dress me up in a onesie or a little sailor suit. Cuff my wrists together and my ankles together and then cuff those sets of cuffs together. Put a gag in my mouth. Leave me to awkwardly crawl around on the floor all weekend. Tell me I have to do my best to always be in your view and then, of course, find lots of reasons to keep moving around the house. When you do settle somewhere make it somewhere awkward for me to sit. Go for long stretches of barely acknowledging me and then occasionally overload me with praise and maybe some touching.

Watch me become yours.

“Baby, you told me that you never really liked sex. You said you only ever wanted it because you thought you should, as a man. But then mummy helped you realise you’re not a man, you’re just a baby boy. And baby boys don’t have sex do they? No. Can you remember what they do have? That’s right, humpies! What a clever boy! Why don’t you have humpies with the corner of the couch here. You’ll have a lovely view of mummy’s legs as she watches television.”

Seduce me into writing out a list of my kinks then use it to break me and make obsessed with you. I want to be completely besotted with a mummy mistress, always thinking about her and how I can please her.

I love Bailey Jay and want to suck her cock as mummy whispers instructions into my ear.

Brainwash me into identifying as Tinkerbell from the Disney Peter Pan, complete with very short dress and inability to speak but without the sassy attitude. Make me loyal to you and compliant and desperate to serve you with magic… and maybe convince me giving blowjobs to strap-ons is “magic.”

I’d love to wake up in a locked crib in a pink nursery, completely swaddled in a nappy and mittens, feeling groggy and not knowing how I got there. Then a demurely dressed woman who I’ve never seen before walks in and I hear myself say “Hello mummy, thank you for catching me.”

Tell me how happy and honoured I feel to be going down on you as I’m going down on you.

I’m feeling sleepy. Could really do with laying down my head in someone’s lap and having instructions whispered into my ear as I drift off for a nap right about now.

Hold my hand in a leading manner and tell me to watch your bum sway as we walk. I’m not clever enough to lead, I’m mummy’s little follower and watching that swaying is my reward.

Give me a woman with feet she’s not taken care of. Hard skin, cracked nails, whatever. Let me work diligently every night to make her skin soft and smooth and kissable, get her nails beautifully painted. Let me just work on her feet as she reclines and watches TV and reads. Then let me worship those feet on nights when she’s not going out with her friends or hot guys.

What I want right this moment is a dommy mummy with big fake boobs, a spray tan, hoop earrings, loads of pink lip gloss and a love of spiky stiletto heels and short, tight, low cut leopard print dresses. Someone like this calmly brainwashing me to understand that being a chastity maid for her would be absolutely perfect.

Fantasy idea: a super religious Christian woman kidnaps me and brainwashes me into thinking she’s God’s representative on Earth, leaving me to worship, adore and obey her, completely and without question.

I want to be turned into a stupid, obedient premature ejaculator so much. Make me so far gone that I’m proud of how quickly I spurt for you. Have me come in and perform for your friends then thank you for the privilege. I want to be ruined and happy about it.

Take my mind away from me and make me a good slutty boy who begs passionately and desperately to perform housework and suck mummy’s strap-on.

“I can see you need some relief, baby. Why don’t you strip naked and get down on all fours for me. You can look at the pretty spiral you like so much while I remind you how fun it is to be empty-headed for me. If you ask very nicely I’ll tell you about the hard fucking I got last weekend.”

I want to watch a woman apply lipgloss. Her lips get thicker and wetter and shinier the more she applies. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. The motion and the shine are so wonderfully mesmerising. Those lips are so plump that they fill up my whole mind. And I realise that she’s talking. I’m watching those perfect lips mutter instructions to me that I know I’m taking in, I just don’t need to consciously hear them right now.

And now I’m asking if I can please make squirties as I look at those lips. I’m fantasising about gliding my little peeny in between those beautiful, sumptuous, plump lips and squirting. But I’m not allowed. That’s for big boys. Little boys like me are satisfied with watching that lipgloss get applied.

“But baby, if you go out with your friends who will give mummy a foot rub tonight? Exactly, no one will, and we can’t have that can we? Mummy thinks it’s best if you stay in with her. In fact maybe I should call your friends and have a talk with them about being bad influences on you. Or maybe we should just stop you having friends altogether. What do you think? Yes exactly, you think whatever mummy says. What a good boy!”

Switch off my mind and give me a high heel to play with on the floor as you relax for the evening.

I really want a mummydom who’ll seduce me into being a willing participant in my own enslavement. I want to be completely besotted and tell mummy the best way to sink her hooks further into me, how best to mess up my mind and completely manipulate me.

“That’s it baby, look at the spiral. The spiral reminds you of things doesn’t it? Like how lovely it is to be naked and kneeling for mummy. Why don’t you take your clothes off for me? Good boy…”