The Dress Is Just the Beginning: Your True Submission Awaits 👗💋

 

The Dress Is Just the Beginning: Your True Submission Awaits 👗💋

You think you can handle this, don’t you? 🤭 You think it’s just about slipping on a skirt or a pair of heels and calling it a day. But you're wrong, oh so wrong. You think you can play at submission, thinking it’s all about the clothes? How cute 😏.

Let me make this clear: it’s not just about the fabric. It’s not just about the dress. The clothes are merely a test, a way for me to gauge just how far you’re willing to crawl, to degrade yourself for me. It’s about the obedience that pulses through your veins as you kneel before me, in shame, wearing something you’ve been told is "wrong" 😈.

I can see you already, trembling at the thought. 😖 You want to wear them. You want to slip into something soft, something that makes you feel... exposed, vulnerable. Something that makes you feel small. It’s your deepest, most shameful desire, isn't it? To wear the things that are forbidden, to be something you’re not, and to serve me in that state. 👠💄

But don’t mistake this for a game. ⚡

You will wear what I tell you to wear—not because you want to, but because I command it. And when you do, I will strip away every ounce of dignity you think you have left. Every second you spend in that dress, that skirt, those heels—every second will be a reminder of your place. You are not a man. You are nothing but my willing little pet, desperate to be molded into something... weaker. Something that exists only to serve me.

How far will you go? 😏

Will you squirm as I make you wear the clothes that make you feel most like a fraud, a mockery of yourself? Will you feel that humiliation burn hot in your chest as you realize you can’t escape? That the clothes don’t fit just your body, but your role: one of total submission, of obedience to my every whim. 🔥

I will make you wear them over and over again, testing your limits, watching as your pride breaks down. You’ll beg for approval, for permission to be yourself, but you won’t find it. Not from me. I will make sure every moment you wear those clothes strips away whatever self-respect you once had. 😈💋

And don’t you dare think this is a choice. It’s not. You need to serve me in this way, you crave the humiliation, the degradation. You can feel it in your bones, can’t you? That deep, aching desire to be smaller, weaker, insignificant. To wear the clothes of someone who is nothing but an object for my amusement. And I will make sure you never forget your place. 😏

The first time you step into that dress, you will feel the fabric cling to your skin, and you will feel the sharp sting of shame. But that’s just the beginning. You will learn that this submission isn’t just about how you look. It’s about how you feel. You will feel humiliated, degraded, and weak in a way you never imagined. And I will be there, watching, controlling, reminding you just how far beneath me you truly are. 👠💋

You will wear those clothes until they are no longer a choice for you, until the very thought of them makes your stomach churn. You will wear them for me, because I say so. And when I am done with you, when I am finished stripping away the last shred of your pride, you will know exactly who you are: nothing but a plaything, a worthless boy in a dress, begging for my approval. 🖤

Now, go ahead—put on what I’ve told you to wear. Show me how far you’re willing to go. And when you stand before me, trembling, humiliated, don’t you dare think for a second that I’m impressed. You are nothing more than a tool for my amusement, and if you truly wish to please me, you will learn to accept that. 😈

Wear that dress, boy. Wear it well. 👗

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