“What is your purpose?”
Her purpose? What did that mean? She wasn’t some kind of thing or object.
Thing.
Object.
“My purpose is to obey my SheDaddy ,” she said.
“What are you going to do for your SheDaddy ?”
“Anything, SheDaddy,” she said. “I am just an object. I am thing. I exist to please you in any way you wish.”
Please don’t make me do this, she thought. I’m not a thing, I’m not an object.
“You’re trying to think again, aren’t you?”
“Yes SheDaddy ,” she said.
“Well. we can put an end to that, let’s begin.”
