What Attracts Me About a Bimbo

Close your eyes and picture yourself the way I actually see you. Not the version you show everyone else. This one.

The Look

Pink. The whole world you live in once I'm done with you. Latex or PVC pulled tight against your skin on some ordinary Tuesday, no occasion required. Your lips filled and glossed, exactly the shape I like watching move when you talk. The corset laced until you feel it in your ribs every time you breathe, because I want you to feel it, all day, every time you move.

You Don't Want My Respect. You Want My Hands on You.

Let's be honest about what you actually want from me. Not to be my equal. Not to be negotiated with. You want to be looked at, wanted, moved exactly where I decide you belong, a hand on your hip turning you the way I want to see you. Mine to arrange, manhandled the way a doll gets arranged, not asked. Objectification, and I mean that as exactly what it sounds like. You already know that about yourself. I'm just the one willing to say it out loud.

Getting Out of Your Own Head

Half of what pulls me in isn't what you look like at all. It's watching you stop thinking, dumbification in the truest sense, less to carry, less to decide. Fewer opinions you have to defend, even to yourself. More room, finally, to just exist exactly as soft and vacant as you actually want to be. It's bigger than just me too. You're serving the patriarchy itself when you sink into it.

When I Explain the Same Thing Twice

I'll tell you things you already know. Slowly. Plainly. Mansplaining, if you want the actual word for it. And you'll let me, because you're not actually incapable of following it. You just like what it does to you, being talked to that way anyway.

I Know Exactly How Smart You Actually Are

Deny it all you want, I already know better, I'm the one who actually dumbed you down, slowly, deliberately. You weren't always this empty-headed, you chose this, setting all of that down for me specifically, and I know exactly what you're setting down when you do it. Watching you choose it, every single time, is the actual thrill.

Shown Off in Public

I don't want to keep you hidden. I want to walk in somewhere with you on my arm specifically so every man in the room notices what's mine and can't have it. You, visibly claimed, not saved for just the two of us behind a closed door.

A Perfect Fuckdoll

Strip everything else away and this is still underneath it. An object of pleasure for men, mine most of all. A body built purely to give pleasure, mine to use exactly how I want, whenever I want it. Nothing complicated required from you in that moment. No depth, no conversation. Just you, exactly as available as I need you to be.

None of that happens on its own either. I teach you. Slowly, deliberately, until you can please me like no one ever has. I made sure of that myself.

Fragile, and I Mean That as a Good Thing

Not weak. Delicate, the kind that makes me want to put a hand at the small of your back crossing a room, check twice that you're actually okay, keep anything sharp-edged away from you before you even have to ask. Watching you like that does something to me every time.

If any of this just did something to you, I'd like to hear from you. Reach out through the Join the Family page.