You really want this, don’t you?” the proud masculine voice of my captor said. “You’ve finally come to your senses, haven’t you?” Don’t know why he must make it so hard. Ever since he first got me started on this treatment, I’ve done nothing but be good. I have swallowed my pride and acted the part of his “good girl”. l never wanted this, of course not, but realized early on that the best way to survive would be to succumb. I wear the lingerie, put on the make-up, and smile as he enters the room. I do what can to please him, but every time l approach him he denies me. says that I am not “doing good enough.”
“I’ve seen a lot of positive changes in you lately. I am beginning to think you may actually be starting to see things from a new perspective,” he said, barely paying attention to my playful squirming by his feet. I know that my only way out is to please him. Resisting is futile. I have begun longing for the evenings when he comes back home from work. I spend days preparing. I keep his apartment clean and keep my body presentable and smooth, perfumed, and in every conceivable way utterly girly. Ever since my hair started growing out, I have found myself being attracted to the girl I see when I look in the mirror. I try not to get erect (he would punish me for it,) but I know that I am sexy. So, why doesn’t he want me?
“You are so very easy to manipulate,” he chuckled. “To think that I was once worried you’d be reluctant.”