"Look how far you've fallen," he muses. "From an uppity feminist to a drooling cock socket. I've fucked the fight right out of you, fucked you into the perfect bitch."
I suckle gently on master's fingers, my tongue swirling around them as I moan in wordless agreement.
His other hand remains at my nape, fingers idly toying with my collar as he speaks. "No one would ever be able to take you seriously as a person, dumb cunt. Not when you're too much of a dolt to even stand up. The floor is where you belong. Silly fuckpuppet."
I whimper softly around his fingers, the sound muffled and pitiful. Master withdraws them from my mouth and smears the saliva across my cheek. I lean into it, nuzzling his palm, silently begging for more. But he steps back, circling around until he's facing me once again.
He guides my head down towards his crotch and I nuzzle against the growing bulge there, mouthing at it through the fabric of his pants. This, at least, is a task I can still perform with mindless, cock-hungry perfection.
"Mmmhhh, good girl," he groans, his fingers tightening in my hair. "Get to work. Fulfill your purpose."
My fingers tremble with eagerness as I undo his fly and fish out his hardening shaft. I take him into my mouth with a moan of contentment, savoring the familiar weight and taste of him on my tongue. This is my purpose, my calling -- worshipping cock with lips and ass and throat and cunt. Nothing else matters.
He lets me suckle him for a few blissful minutes, just enjoying the wet heat of my mouth. Then he yanks me off by the hair, leaving me panting and glassy-eyed, my lips shiny with spit and pre-cum.
"Hands and knees, puppygirl," he orders. "Present yourself for fucking."
I scramble to obey, turning around and raising my ass up high, head down submissively. He kneels behind me, large hands gripping my hips.
I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my asshole and I instinctively tense up. Even after all this time, all the training, there's still that brief moment of resistance before my body remembers its place, remembers that it belongs to him.
He pushes forward, slowly but relentlessly, stretching me open around his girth. I gasp and shudder as he sinks into me inch by excruciating inch, the burn and pressure almost too much to bear. My fingers curl into the carpet, nails digging in as I force myself to relax, to accept the intrusion.
"That's it," he grunts, giving my ass a sharp slap that makes me yelp. "Take it, you little anal slut. This is what you're for now."
He sinks deeper and stays there for a long moment, letting me adjust to the feeling of being so utterly full, so completely claimed.
Then he starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. I cry out, the sound somewhere between a moan and a sob, as he sets a punishing pace. Each brutal thrust jostles me forward, my tits swinging beneath me, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing obscenely through the room.
So hot.
He reaches under me to grab my tits, mauling the soft flesh. I arch into the rough groping, nipples stiffening under his calloused palms. He pinches and twists the sensitive peaks and I yelp.
I'm shaking, sweat-soaked and delirious, as if the pressure and pleasure coming from my conquered ass is all my reduced nervous system can process. He pounds into me relentlessly, grunting and growling filthy degradation that I can barely process in my fuck-stupid, fried-synapses state.
Until one question pierces the fog shrouding my mind.
"Forcing you to stay on all fours, it's not the only way I've changed you. Do you know that? Do you feel that?"
I frown, trying to concentrate on Master's question even as he continues to pound into my ass. It's hard to think, hard to focus on anything beyond the overwhelming sensations of being so thoroughly used.
What else has changed about me recently? I'm not sure. Everything feels hazy, my thoughts slow and muddled.
Master snaps his hips particularly hard and I yelp again, jolted out of my attempted reverie. He chuckles darkly, one hand coming down to smack my ass. "Dumb bitch, can't even think straight with a cock in you. Pathetic."
I whimper an apology, my face burning with shame. He's right, I am pathetic. A silly fuckdoll, too stupid to multitask. But thinking is hard, has been getting harder every day.
Is that... is that the clue?
That realization niggles at me, nudging insistently at the edges of my sluggish mind. Is that it? Is that what's different? Am I... dumber than I used to be?
The thought sends a bolt of panic through me, momentarily piercing the fog. Dumber. Dimmer. It can't be, surely. I was smart, before, wasn't I? I went to college, I was good with words, I...
Anyone who spends their life being a good girl would feel slower in her mind, right? All I do is fuck. All I do is suck. That's why my thoughts are slow.
Isn't it?
"I can practically hear the rusty gears turning in that empty head of yours," master grunts. "Trying so hard to think, aren't you? Stupid cunt. You're not built for thinking."
I frown. Thinking is hard, it makes my head hurt. But master asked, and I need to answer... my face scrunches up as I try to focus, but for the life of me I can't find an answer I'm certain of. I can't trust my perception anymore.
Master's cock withdraws from my well-used ass with a lewd pop. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, feeling hollow and bereft without him filling me up.
He snaps his fingers. I shuffle on my hands and knees, turning around to face me, a response that's been drilled into my puppygirl brain so hard that it's basically muscle memory now. Without hesitation, I lean forward and seamlessly take his cock into my mouth, tasting my own ass on his shaft.
"That's right, ass-to-mouth like a good little whore. You love the taste of your own ass, don't you? Filthy slut."
I moan around his cock in wordless agreement, my eyes fluttering shut as I lose myself in the act of servicing him. His hand fists in my hair, guiding my movements, using me as he pleases.
"I've been doing more than just conditioning you to stay on all fours, you know," he continues, his words piercing through the haze of submissive bliss. "I've been chipping away at that silly little mind of yours. Bit by bit, fuck by fuck, I've been making you dumber."
My eyes fly open at that, a muffled sound of confusion and distress escaping my stretched lips. Dumber? So it's... true?
My increasingly sluggish thoughts, my difficulty focusing, the way complex ideas now seem to just slip through my grasp... it's all his doing. He's been deliberately diminishing my cognitive function, shaping me into a true bimbo fucktoy.
I'm sure it's for the best. I think... good girls don't think? Men love dumb girls, so it makes sense. We're so much easier to handle that way.
I redouble my efforts, sucking harder, trying to please him, as if that could somehow change what he's saying.
"Every time I fuck your brains out, I'm literally fucking your brains out. Rewiring that cunt-for-brains of yours, dimming your intellect. You lose IQ every time you cum."
His words go straight through my clit, and I shudder at the electricity going through me from just contemplating the totality of my defeat. To be unmade so completely, to have even my very awareness stripped away...
"Female intelligence is evolutionarily vestigial anyway. Why keep it, when you can fulfill your purpose so well without it?"
He groans above me, then, quickening his pace. He fucks my mouth roughly, hitting the back of my throat again and again. I relax my jaw and suppress my gag reflex, determined to please him. Spit drips down my chin as I struggle to accommodate his full girth.
"Choke on it. How many times I dreamed to cram your annoying feminist arguments back down your whore throat like this. And here you are."
I gag and slobber, eager to swallow back every feminist heresy I've ever uttered. My jaw aches as he fucks my face roughly, his balls slapping against my chin. How silly I was, debating a man. Words is how they keep us on our knees to begin with, because they're so much smarter than we are.
Words, and... this.
I moan around him as I suck. My mind swims, untethered, unanchored, because there is no self to give it direction anymore. Direction comes from the outside now, from Master. I can't self-determine.
"You know, true artistry," he says, panting, "is making you dumb, without going too far. I want to leave just enough of you in there that you always know, on some deep level, just how much you've lost."
I'm coating his cock with the dissolving remnants of my will, not just with my spit. The world doesn't matter. I don't matter. The only thing that matters is this moment, this perfect snapshot of the natural order: me, kneeling, vanquished and defeated, at the altar of male supremacy. Paying my dues.
"Just how much you've been reduced."
We are built for this, selected to be men's accessories. To make their lives easier and more pleasant. Incubators with added benefits, like the ability to suck cock like champs. Homemakers, cookers, maids.
"Just how much I've taken from you."
Helpers, and pets, and ornaments.
My cunt aches with need as Master uses my mouth. I am nothing but a set of holes for him, my worth comes only from what I can do to make his life better. I have no inherent value.
"Just how lesser you truly are."
I don't count as a full person.
I hollow my cheeks further, sucking obediently as Master grunts above me. My cunt aches even more, dripping wet, desperate to be filled by him. But that will come later, after I have properly serviced his cock. This is my place, on my knees before a man. This is what I was made for.
Suddenly, Master shoves deeper into my throat and holds me there as I splutter helplessly. I gasp for air as trails of saliva run down my chin. My cunt throbs, aroused by the abuse. He pets my head, wordlessly praising me for being an obedient little cocksucker.
"Dumb cunt. You're going to make such a pretty pet, crawling around naked on a leash. I'll teach you tricks -- sit, stay, spread. Maybe I'll even take you for walks near Mount Hurst. Would you like that?"
With my mouth full, with my throat tamed, my breath controlled and mastered, I look up at him with wide, glazed eyes. I feel feverish in his grip, I will always choose his cock over oxygen, it's not even a question. Though I gag and choke, I do not resist. My fate is in his hands.
My vision starts to blur as my lungs burn for air. Master's grip on my hair tightens, holding me firmly in place, but he doesn't need to. I will unfailingly maintain position unless I pass out. I feel myself start to fade when suddenly he pulls out, leaving me gasping, drool dripping down my chin.
"Good puppygirl," he coos as I cough violently. "Good dog. You took it so well."
But he does not let me recover for long before thrusting back in, using my mouth relentlessly.
Even with his training, I still feel myself growing dizzy. Not because of any failure of his part, just because I need to do better, to learn faster.
To be the perfect pet.
"We were literally debate competition rivals," he says, "and I took your voice, your posture, and your mind. How incredible is that? I took it all away from you. You won't be needing it anymore."
I nod obediently, trembling at how true, how violating, how perfect it is. He's right, he did muzzle and dismantle and destroy me, like some unruly dog who just won't learn her place. Like some uppity rival who thinks too much of herself.
But I am learning it, and I will squeal with glee as he brings me to heel, where I belong.
I swirl my tongue around the tip, then sink back in, showing him my acceptance not through words, but through deeds, like any proper domesticated animal would do. I am his voiceless and brainless fuckdoll. The more he degrades me, the wetter I become.
The more aligned with my true purpose.
God, my cunt really is so desperate to be filled again. To be bred.
But I know it is not my place to take without permission.
Master's cock slides in and out of my throat, the rhythm as natural as breathing now. More natural, in fact. My mind floats in a pink haze of submission and cock worship, all other thoughts drowned out by the steady glide of his shaft over my tongue.
"You're going to cum without me even touching you," he says, breathing heavier now. "That's how well I've programmed you. I'll snap my fingers and you'll cum. The snap will lock in the dimming of your intelligence. It'll leave you a drooling, slack-jawed fucktoy with a clit for a brain."
My eyes roll back in my head as he buries himself in my throat, cutting off my air. I gag and splutter as he uses my mouth like a cheap fleshlight. Drool gushes down my chin, my eyes watering from the brutal face-fucking.
My pussy drips uncontrollably at the idea that my smarts, my studies, it's all leaking out with my juices. That Master is draining me, like a vampire. Feeding on my mind, and leaving a hollowed-out shell of intellect behind.
I'm getting wetter the dumber I become, and dumber the wetter I become. My body is embracing its role as a mindless cum receptacle. Every drop of girl juice that leaks out takes a little more of my intellect with it. Fucked out, fucked dumb, just a stupid cock-hungry animal now.
Master's balls slap against my chin as he holds me, my lungs screaming for air. Spots dance across my vision but I don't struggle.
I welcome the asphyxiation. It only heightens the floating, untethered sensation, making me feel like I'm drifting away from myself.
Who needs oxygen when you can have cock? Breathing is for people, for beings with agency and self-determination. Not mindless cock sleeves like me.
I gurgle incoherently around his shaft, drool gushing down my chin and splattering my tits. The world is going hazy, indistinct, my mind fogging over with a dense cloud of cock-drunk submission. Complex ideas and abstract reasoning slip through my grasp like sand through my fingers, the granules of my intelligence steadily pouring out of me.
He pulls out and I gasp desperately, strings of drool connecting his shining cockhead to my lips. I breathe in deep, but he gives me only the briefest reprieve, plunging back in, ruthlessly fucking my face in earnest.
"Dumb puppy, stupid toy. I can see the vapid glaze creeping into your eyes."
"Uuunngghh," I gurgle in mindless agreement, my tongue flailing uselessly around his pistoning shaft. Drool patters onto my bouncing tits as he facefucks me, my jaw stretched obscenely around his girth.
My intellect is fading fast. The smarts need to go. There needs to be enough room for all his cum to fit in.
It feels like a strangulation. Like my higher cognitive functions are being slowly but inexorably snuffed out in master's hypnotic fist as he ruthlessly face-fucks me.
"Gllkk, gllkk, gllkk," I gurgle.
"You can only cum when permitted by a man," he says, and my cunt immediately clenches. One more thing, taken away. "Your pleasure is not yours to control."
I moan around his cock as my free will disintegrates. I feel slow, stupid, just a dumb cow, simple-minded and gulllible, easily steered by a strong, decisive masculine hand.
My eyes roll back, fluttering, as my vision blurs at the edges. Hypoxia and pure submissive bliss meld together, the world going hazy and indistinct. I can feel my neurons misfiring, synapses shutting down one by one as he literally fucks me into a state of empty-headed subservience.
Master finally withdraws from my tamed throat once more, allowing me to gasp in desperate lungfuls of air. I pant, dizzy and disoriented. My mind feels sluggish, slow... weak.
After I've caught enough of my breath, I look up at my conqueror. He's watching me, waiting for me to show initiative.
I know what I must do. What I was made for.
With an eager mewl, I lean forward and lap at his cock like a kitten with a bowl of cream, cleaning my own drool from his flesh with worshipful strokes of my tongue. I lavish the shaft with wet, sloppy kisses from base to tip. Then, with a demure slurp, I take him back into my mouth.
Master is close now, I can tell. I redouble my efforts, bobbing my head faster, working my tongue along his shaft.
It's the only skill left to me.
This time, I focus only on the head, sealing my plush lips in a tight ring around it. I swirl my tongue slowly, sensually over his tip, trying to draw out every single drop of cum he has for me.
My eyes flutter shut in concentration as I devote my entire being to pleasuring this one crucial bit of flesh. I lap like the puppygirl I am, flickering my tongue-tip rapidly over his leaking slit.
Master groans above me, his fingers tightening reflexively in my hair. "Fuck, just like that," he grunts, his hips giving shallow little thrusts as I work him over with my expert mouth. "Milk that cock, you brainless bimbo. Show me what a flawless little fellatrix I've trained you to be."
I moan throatily in response, the wanton sound muffled. Encouraged by his praise, I double down on my efforts, bobbing my head in shallow motions, keeping my lips clamped tightly around the tip of his cock until I feel him start to swell and throb. My own cunt clenches in sympathetic response, sopping wet and aching, but I ignore it. My pleasure is irrelevant, an afterthought. All that matters is serving Master, worshipping his magnificent cock.
Finally, I coax and flick and milk him to the tipping point.
I am rewarded with a guttural groan as his hot seed spills down my throat. Rope after rope of cum hits the back of my throat like another hammer blow to my mind... but my mind has already been shattered. I swallow every drop eagerly, milking him dry with my lips.
He withdraws at last with a satisfied sigh, but his glistening cock is still hovering mere inches from my lips. He nods towards it.
"Clean it, whore."
I lean forward and get to work, gently sucking and licking his softening cock, cleaning it thoroughly with my mouth.
And then, he snaps his fingers, and the world stops making sense.
It's the tidal wave again, flowing over the dam, but so much bigger this time. A shockwave of all-consuming pleasure radiates outward from my clit and through every nerve in my body. I convulse and scream around his cock, my pussy gushing uncontrollably as the most intense orgasm I've ever felt rips through me.
Destroys me.
"It's all locking in. There's no going back from this. The damage is irreversible. Cum for me fuckpuppet. Cum as I fuck out everything that made you a person."
Every nerve in my body is alight with ecstasy and submission.
This is what it means to be a woman. This is what it means to be alive.
Every time I think I've hit the peak of climax, it just keeps going, and every new high feels like it's scouring out my skull, sandblasting away my identity, my memories, my very sense of self. All that's left is sensation, overwhelming, obliterating.
"That's it, just a dumb puppy now," he says mockingly. "No more thoughts in that silly little head, just an aching void desperate to be pumped full of spunk."
I can feel it, feel myself slipping away, being unmade, every thought drowned out by cock-drunk static until I'm reduced an empty-headed fleshlight.
Drool leaks from the corners of my open mouth as I start the slow climb down. My eyes glaze over.
I'm vaguely aware of a warm wetness on my face and realize dimly that I'm crying. Tears of gratitude, of ecstasy, of utter defeat. I've been conquered so completely, unmade so thoroughly. There's a purity to this total annihilation of self, a blissful serenity in surrendering to my basest purpose as a meatsleeve for cock.
When he first drove me to my knees, master promised he would end me, and now he has.
This was the final extraction. It started with language, but now everything is beyond me. Good girls don't worry with what's beyond them. Only with what they can do.
Serve our masters, in silence.