newrabbithole: toymakerblog: aoififi: Just because it’s humiliating doesn’t mean you don’t have to s
newrabbithole: toymakerblog: aoififi: Just because it’s humiliating doesn’t mean you don’t have to smile. Just because it’s degrading doesn’t mean you can get away with being anything less than grateful, obedient, adoring. It’s how you’re programmed to be. How you’re trained to be. How you’re meant to be.Sometimes, it almost feels like it would be easier if he had just completely blanked my mind, and left nothing else. Just an empty, happy, giggling bimbo. But he didn’t. No, Master left just enough. Just enough to know what I once was. Just enough to watch as the rest of me, trained and helpless, humiliate myself, degrade myself, submit, obey. Just enough to know how much I hated it, how powerless I was to stop it, how wet it made me.Doll. Ditz. Dummy. Toy. Slut. Bimbo. Pet. So many names, and so many more, and when I hear them, I crawl, I obey, I smile, I wait. It doesn’t matter what my name was - I’ll never hear that again. ‘Fifi’ is the name that was drilled into my head - a stupid name, a fluffy name, the name of a silly little doll that can’t be taken seriously. Every time I hear it, I cringe inside. Not just from the name, but from the way my body reacts, the way it makes me feel, the knowledge that just hearing it is enough to make me drool, make me drip, make me needy. And I hear it constantly, I say it constantly. It’s the only name I know. It reminds me, too. Reminds me of my place, reminds me of my rules, reminds me of my own weakness. Other dolls are to be addressed as ‘doll.’ Your betters are ‘Sir’ and ‘Miss’ unless they have more appropriate titles. The man who trained you, taught you, broke you, put these tricks in your head - is whatever he tells you he is to be called. Master. Monsieur. Sir. Whatever he feels like. It doesn’t matter how much you hate it. He told you his name once, perhaps, but you’ll never need that knowledge again. Only his peers get to use his name, and you’re not that anymore. You never were. You’re just a dumb little girl, and you should be treated like one. Your betters will talk down to you, and explain things to you, and you’ll nod your head, smile, be a grateful little emptyheaded bimbo even as that tiny little bit of the old you squirms and wriggles and whimpers inside you. Every time someone talks down to you, or puts you in your place… Every time someone cuts you off, shuts you up, shoves something in your mouth to quiet you… Every time you’re a good girl, and are told you’re a good girl… Every time you’re rewarded, praised, patted on the head or the ass… Every time you humiliate yourself more for your Master, for your betters… Every time you see the reflection of the doll in the mirror… You hate it, but you can’t help yourself. It makes you wet. Makes you needy. Makes you whimper and moan and edge. It’s how you were programmed. How you were trained. Just a helpless dolly, unable to escape, unable to do anything but obey. Unable to think, unable to fight, just doing what you’re told. Being what and who you’re told to be. Just Fifi. So smile, dolly. Smile and crawl and obey. Good doll. *click* GOALS. -- source link