When Being Nothing Means Everything
In the quiet hours of obedience, some submissives want more than rules. They want erasure.
Not punishment. Not praise. Just the sacred stillness of having no name, no needs, no thoughts beyond function.
To be used, not as a person, but as an object. A mouth. A hole. A footstool. A vessel.
And in that objectification, paradoxically, they feel seen.
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