Female supremacy

You don't need me to tell you that I'm superior to you. From the moment you saw my photo, you knew I could destroy you. I see through your masculine presentation and your carefully constructed armour, deep down you know that you're nothing when confronted with the power of a woman like me. There's no hiding in my dungeon, you're naked, literally and figuratively and I know what you really are.

Slave, dog, maggot, slut, scum, pig, bitch. You are grotesque.

The feeling of humiliation is visceral, it lives deep in the darkest corner of our minds. The eroticism of facing the truth of your disgusting existence is fascinating to me. You've worked hard to hide the dark part of yourself, made yourself a valuable member of society, perhaps you even seem impressive to some. We both know that it's a lie.

You can see what I am in comparison, beautiful and mesmerising, glorious and divine as perfect woman. I am charismatic, intriguing and intelligent. But you?

You are nothing.

You are replaceable, cannon fodder, fundamentally irrelevant. The very nature of man is disposability. You know this and I know this. Your purpose is to serve and obey. You will crawl on your knees to worship me, look at you, pathetic! Lucky for you I have found a use for your mindless devotion. You are desperate to redeem yourself and maybe if you manage to impress me, I'll throw you a few scraps.

I will identify your most delicate parts, both physical and mental and I love nothing more than to torment you with no remorse.

You are so deliciously exploitable when your weaknesses are exposed.