“Yes. You’re a dirty little toy. That’s what you want to be. Or at least that’s what I’ll make you want to be. And what do we do with dirty little toys?”
Your breath nearly gone, still breathing heavily from all that punishment you received, whisper something inaudible. But the response is quick, another one, another shiver.
“You … y-y-y-you … p-p-play-y-y-y … and … f-fuck them?”
Smiling, she looks at you, in anticipation of what she knows to come.
“Yes. I fuck them alright. So, tell me again. Do you want to be a dirty little toy?”
“Yes” you whisper.
“C’mon, what’s the point if you only whisper it, that’s not wanting it. With more conviction now, like you mean it from the bottom of your rotten soul. Don’t make me ask twice.”
“Make me” you whisper, not knowing where it came from and regretting it at once, so painful was the shock. You almost forgot about it through all the other punishmeants. And you scream with all the strength in you: “Yes! Please! Please I want to be I beg you fuck me make me into it please do it just f*ck me I’ll do whatever you want just fuck me and make me into one already!”
She smiles, gets down a little, pats your head. “There there, that wasn’t so hard after all, was it?” And proceeds.