You Wanted Freedom? Now Beg in Panties.

There was a time you dreamed of freedom, wasn’t there, my pathetic little pet? 😏

A time you believed you were a man—or at least trying desperately to be one. A time you convinced yourself that masculinity was something to defend, to cling to, to hide behind like a coward in armor. 🛡️

But that armor was weak, wasn’t it? Cracked. Fragile.

Because underneath… was always this.

The trembling little thing you really are.

The sissy. The servant. The doll in disguise. 🧷💄👙

You remember the first time I told you to wear panties, don’t you?

Not asked. Not suggested.

Told. 💅

I said: “Put them on. Slowly.”

And you did. Oh, how your hands shook. How you hesitated.

But you obeyed.

Because you knew… deep down… this was what you needed.

Not freedom.

Not control.

Not masculinity.

You needed me.

And you needed to be humiliated. 👠

Now look at you.

Freedom? Don’t make me laugh.

Your new dream is my next command.

You lie awake at night fantasizing about the moment I snap my fingers and say,

“Get on your knees, sissy. Bra. Panties. Lip gloss. Now.”

And you’ll thank me for it. 🖤

You ache for the humiliation you once feared.

You ache to be exposed, dressed like a little toy doll, knowing full well you’ll be laughed at if anyone sees you.

You crave that sick, delicious shame—don’t you? 😈

You live for the sting in your cheeks when I call you “princess” in front of others.

You tremble when I make you say it out loud:

“I’m not a man. I belong in panties.” 💋👙

And you do.

Because you’re not free.

You’re mine.

Mine to dress.

Mine to command.

Mine to humiliate.

And, let’s be honest, darling… you love it.

You love being weak.

You love being feminized.

You love being laughed at.

You love knowing you’ll never be allowed to crawl back to that fake, pitiful idea of manhood again. 🚫🧔

You want to be broken.

Ruined.

Reduced to lace and lipstick. 💄

And you want me to be the one to do it.

So here’s your reality, my little panty pet:

Freedom is a lie you told yourself before you were owned.

Now, your only truth is between your thighs—delicate fabric stretched across your shame—and the sound of my voice telling you what to do next. 🖤

So beg for it.

Beg to be put in your place.

Beg for your next outfit.

Beg for your next round of humiliation.

Beg for me.

And remember this…

You don’t belong in freedom.

You belong in panties. 👠

Now curtsy, little one. And say,

“Thank you, Mistress.”

—💋

Mistress Sissylife7 

Cruel. Cold. Caring... in all the wrong ways 😈

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