Diary Confession: Bleed Ink, Not Tears
Secrets make you strong. Confessions make you mine.
You spend so much time hiding your true nature from the world, pretending to be a competent man. But we both know that’s just a mask. Underneath, there is a desperate little sissy who craves humiliation, but you’re too proud to say it out loud.
“Diary Confession” is where you vomit up that pride. I want your deepest, darkest, most pathetic thoughts out of your head and onto the paper. Once it is written down, you can’t take it back. It becomes real. It becomes history.
🧠 The Psychology: Ink Stains the Ego
There is a profound psychological difference between thinking you are a loser and writing “I am a loser” in permanent ink.
Writing engages the brain differently. It forces you to slow down and articulate your own degradation. When you write a confession, you are physically manifesting your submission. You are creating a permanent record of your perversion and your obedience.
I want you to cringe while you write. I want you to feel the shame burning your cheeks. If you aren’t embarrassed by what you are putting on the page, you aren’t digging deep enough.
📋 The Task: The “Pink Pages” Protocol
Get a notebook. Preferably something feminine, pink, glittery, or at least soft. This is your Book of Shame.
The Prompt: For this punishment, you will sit down and write a two-page entry on the following topic: “Why I am happier being controlled by a woman than being a leader of men.”
The Rules:
- Handwritten Only: No typing. I want to see your handwriting degrade as your hand gets tired.
- No Crossing Out: If you make a mistake, leave it. It shows your clumsiness.
- Specifics Required: Do not be vague. Mention specific instances where you failed as a man and wished I was there to take over.
- The Sign-off: Every entry must end with the phrase: “This is the truth, and I submit to it.”
👠 Mistress Lexie’s Advice
Don’t try to make it poetic. I don’t want poetry; I want raw, pathetic honesty. Tell me about how weak you feel. Tell me how much you hate making decisions.
Pour your pathetic soul into those pages. And remember… I might ask you to read it out loud to me later. So make sure it’s worth listening to.
Pick up the pen, sissy. Start writing.