The Weakest Sex
I'm sure by now you've noticed I've been taking away everything that makes you man - starting, of course, with your penis. Locked away forever, it's now a tool I use against you, a cute little arrangement of plastic, metal and flesh that sends you constant pain and pleasure, overriding your brain with desire, telling you with each throb against its unforgiving walls to obey, obey, obey. You can't cum, you can't have sex, you can't jerk off, you can't ever achieve a pulsing, throbbing hardon capable of satisfying a woman.
Instead, your only means of pleasuring me is your tongue and fingers, just like a woman. Or that strap-on that you'll get to wear when we are finally married. I'll bet you're looking forward to that night, aren't you, slave?
Let's face it now, you're more feminine than masculine. You have to sit down when you relieve yourself. I've started forcing you to wear pads in your underwear because you leak like a sieve when your balls have filled up. That is, when I allow you to wear clothing at all.