A place to express my perversions and fantasies... and sometimes my views on politics
None of the images on this blog are mine. I've manipulated, combined, edited, and otherwise fiddled with many of them. Where I know the original source, I've made a note in the blog entry. I welcome comments and feedback, and I hope you find something here that speaks to your own transgressive fantasies.
"I'm on to you, Daddy! No more making me dress like a bimbo and act silly just for your amusement! And you can't trick me with Easter chocolates and jelly beans like last time! No, this year I'm gonna dress and act like a real grown-up!"
"Sigh. I guess you're just too smart for me, baby!"
"That's right! I'm not gonna be your dumb bunny any more! ...Hey, are there any more carrots? These are really good..."
She was strong and smart and aggressively dominant in bed. She would never have agreed to be tied up, but he presented it as a challenge and she rarely backed down from challenges from her lover.
She laughed when she saw the silly pink fur-covered cuffs, when they were locked in place, a feeling swept over her that she had never felt before: helplessness.
True submissive helplessness.
She barely uttered a sound, staring at the ridiculous pink cuffs, as he stripped her of her elegant black lingerie, leaving her naked. He removed her jewelry: the silver necklace and earrings. Then, with a damp towel, he wiped away her makeup, removing the concealer to reveal the freckles around her nose and the red lipstick to reveal her pink, trembling lips.
She watched in a haze of submission as he stripped away her nail polish and clipped her long fingernail short.
At every step, she felt more and more helpless, but now she understood what it was to be naked, truly naked, stripped of all control, with no artifice or persona to protect her.
When he showed her the bottle of sparkly silver polish, something a twelve-year-old might choose, she tried to protest, but the pink pacifier he pushed between her lips silenced her.
He brushed her hair and tied it in pigtails.
He positioned her on the bed on her hands and knees, a soft pink blanket spread beneath her.
"The practice of sport is a human right. Every individual must have the possibility of practicing sport, without discrimination of any kind and in the Olympic spirit, which requires mutual understanding with a spirit of friendship, solidarity and fair play."
"How about a little milk for my tea?" Tomiko suggested.
Emma scowled but dutifully produced her breasts and squeezed a few drops into Tomiko's mug. As one of Tomiko's research subjects, she was required to comply with all of Tomiko's requests. As far as Emma was concerned that meant anything Tomiko said was a command she was required to obey.
"Mmmm," Tomiko said, sipping the tea."Perfect. I'm so glad you volunteered for my research Emma. I bet you're glad too, aren't you?"
She hadn't volunteered for anything at all, but that didn't matter now. Emma had been hired as a receptionist, but Tomiko had fallen in lust with the pretty, dumb white girl, and Tomiko's research was potentially worth billions to the company, so they gave Emma to her.
Now Emma answered phones and took message for Tomiko when she wasn't in the lab hooked up to milking machines. The injections were making her breasts bigger and filling them with milk. And when Tomiko turned on the machines, relieving the pressure in her breasts and stimulating her nipples into stiff little nubs of pure pleasure, it was harder and harder for Emma to remember why she should be upset with Tomiko at all.
Don't make me laugh! Why would I let you go? I've already dumped my miserable prick of a husband and taken back all the money he gave you. Selling you off as a sex slave is just a special treat for me.
Oh, it sounds like your new owner is here. You sit there quietly while I show him in. Maybe I'll let you watch as I count the money before he takes you away to your new life.
Peter scrambled along behind his stepmother, naked except for the collar around his neck.
Legally, the estate and the fortune that she enjoyed were his, inherited from his father. But Selina controlled it all as easily as she controlled him.
Peter had been looking forward to throwing her out on her gold-digging ass as soon as he turned twenty-one and got control of the trust that his father had created for him, but thanks to the grief counseling sessions with Dr. Pavel that Selina had suggested, things hadn't worked out that way.
It had been easy to get legal guardianship when her stepson began behaving strangely in public. The last straw had been when Peter began masturbating during the reading of his father's will.
A few more sessions with Dr. Pavel, a few doses of a special hypnotic to help Peter relax, and he was under her total control.
She wasn't cruel. She let him sleep at the foot of her bed. She made sure he was well fed and got lots of exercise. She played with him frequently. And Dr. Pavel stopped by every couple of weeks to make sure Peter was quite content with his life at the end of Selina's leash.
Family Day at the St. Lucy's School for Young Woman was something that Millicent and her classmates looked forward to every year. They especially loved visits with Millicent's older brother Miles. They thought it was always so funny the way he begged and cried for them to leave him alone.
She's much happier now that she's given up all pretensions to being anything other than an empty-headed bimbo. She tried to resist the effects of the process, but she finally gave up and gave in.
Operating a bimbo isn't all about making your girlfriend or wife or complete stranger into your ideal fucktoy, ready and available for your use whenever you want it.
Well, it's mostly about that, but you also have to be be a responsible owner and make sure that your bimbo is taken care of. This one, for example, can't seem to pass a mirror without getting lost gazing at herself. Just the other day I found her at the mall, posed like a mannequin, gazing at herself in a mirror outside the movie theater.
I sometimes wonder what it is she sees. Is she entranced by her own plastic glamour? Is she puzzled by the stranger in the mirror who looks just like her? Is there some part of her old personality trying to break out of the pink prison it has been trapped in?
I don't know what goes on in the tiny little mind of a bimbo, but it's probably not much.
"Surprise! Happy Birthday, Daddy! Time to unwrap your present!"
No, it's not my birthday. Nor was it yesterday when she did pretty much the same thing. Or the day before.
Have you ever had too much of a good thing?
It seemed like such a great idea at the time. The brochure made it sound like a perfect way out of an unhappy marriage.
She was bored and frustrated and had finally realized that I wasn't good enough for her and that I never would be.
She wasn't wrong, but she didn't realize just how bad I was.
Now she will never know, because she's just too dumb. Oh, she's gorgeous and eager to please and waaay better in bed than ever before and willing to do anything -- and I do mean anything-- that I want.
The one good thing is that the company has a new trade-in plan. Exchange your model for something slightly used but different.
It sounds good to me, but this time I think I'll lease instead of buying.