I like femboys in skirts, humiliation and instructions

Come closer, weak, because in I Like Femboys in Humiliation and Instructions Skirts, I make it clear to you what turns me on: femboys like you, well-mannered, with short skirts that show how little man you are. It makes me sick to see you like this, all delicate, moving like a little woman while I look at you with contempt and tell you how pathetic you are. I give you orders—kneel, lift that skirt, show me how you surrender to my voice. Every word of mine sinks you deeper, makes you more mine, while I feminize you until I erase any trace of your pride. This is my pure fetish: to break you, to make you submissive, to see you tremble under my command. Obey my instructions or stay dreaming about what you will never touch. These femboys live for submission to my masculinity, and you are no different. My testosterone, that raw macho essence that comes out of me, has them trapped, begging for more. It is my confidence, that strength that is not learned, that makes them fall to their knees, eager to breathe my air, to feel