I am Mistress Laurel, a therapist with a difference. I specialize in helping men become the individuals they were meant to be. But sometimes, a simp or submissive comes along who is beyond help, and I cannot resist the urge to make him my devoted servant.
Such was the case with a man who came to see me not too long ago. This simp, he was a pitiful sight with his meek demeanor and timid gaze. He seemed to shrink before me as he entered my office, his eyes darting around nervously as he took in the leather-bound chairs and the whips and chains that adorned the walls.
I could sense his apprehension, but I also saw the opportunity to indulge in a little bit of fun. I decided to have some sport with this simp, to see just how far I could push him before he broke.
“Welcome, simp,” I said, my voice dripping with condescension. “I am Mistress Laurel, and I will be your therapist today. But I warn you, I don’t have much patience for weaklings like you. If you want my help, you’ll have to prove yourself worthy.”
The simp nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.
I could see the hunger in his gaze, the desire to serve and please me. It was pathetic, really, but I couldn’t resist the urge to exploit it.
“Good,” I said, my voice taking on a softer, more seductive tone. “Then let’s begin. Tell me, simp, why do you think you’re a simp?”
The simp hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the question. But I could see the wheels turning in his head, the desperate need to please me and give the answer I was looking for.
“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “I just always seem to do whatever women want, even if it’s not good for me. I let them walk all over me, and I never stand up for myself. I-I guess that’s why I’m a simp.”
I nodded, a cruel smile twisting my lips. “Yes, that’s the definition of a simp, all right. A weak-willed, pathetic excuse for a man who lets women use and abuse him. But don’t worry, simp, I’m here to help you. I’m going to teach you how to be a real man, how to stand up for yourself and demand respect.”
The simp looked at me with a mixture of hope and fear, his eyes pleading for me to help him.
I could see the potential in him, the raw material I could mold and shape into the perfect servant.
“First, simp, I want you to do something for me,” I said, my voice low and sultry. “Take off your clothes and get on your knees.”
The simp’s eyes widened, and he hesitated for a moment. But I could see the desire to please me, the desperate need to submit to my will. With trembling hands, he began to undress, his body shaking with fear and excitement.
When he was naked, he got down on his knees before me, his head bowed in submission. I could see the erection straining against his boxers, the evidence of his arousal clear for all to see.
“Good boy,” I said, my voice dripping with approval. “Now, simp, I want you to take off my shoes and massage my feet. Show me that you’re willing to serve and please me, and maybe I’ll consider helping you.”
The simp eagerly complied, his hands shaking as he removed my shoes and socks. He began to massage my feet, his fingers digging into the soles with a desperate need to please.
I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his hands on my feet. It was pathetic, really, how easily this simp had succumbed to my will. But I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement as I watched him grovel before me, his body trembling with desire.
For hours, I made the simp serve me, his body and mind completely at my mercy. I had him do everything from massaging my feet to licking my boots, and he never once complained or hesitated. He was completely devoted to me, his every thought and action focused on pleasing me.
In the end, I knew I had broken him, and turned him into my devoted servant.
But I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment, a sense that I had missed out on the opportunity to help him become a real man.
But as I looked down at the simp, his body exhausted and his mind completely under my control, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I had turned this pitiful excuse for a man into my own personal plaything, and there was nothing he could do about it.
And so, I continued to use the simp for my own amusement, teaching him to serve and please me in ever more degrading ways. He became my devoted slave, completely under my control, and I reveled in the power and dominance I held over him.
In the end, I knew that the simp would never be a real man, never be able to stand up for himself and demand respect. But I didn’t care. I had found a new toy to play with, a new source of amusement and pleasure.
And as I looked down at the simp, his body broken and his mind completely under my control, I couldn’t help but smile. This was the life of a therapist like me, a life filled with power, dominance, and control.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Until Later
your erotic phone sex mistress, Laurel
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