Mean GF Breaks Up With You Pt 239847965

Life is good.

You wake up every morning to a spotless house. Your girlfriend had you deep clean the place all night. You go to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. Your girlfriend requires you to meal prep everything a week in advance, and you aren’t allowed to touch any of her healthy, obviously expensive foods. You pour yourself a bowl of instant oats in scalding hot water. You know, just to feel something. You catch up on the news on your parental-controlled iPad, on websites she has curated and pre-approved just for you. Finally you catch up with your work emails and text messages, all of which she has the passwords to and can check at anytime. You are careful not to laugh, not to make any sounds, not to show any signs of your existence, for fear of disturbing her. The last time you did she made you clean the gutters with your mouth and repaint the house with your eyelashes.

Life is good.

You’re not sure what happened, really. You were laughing silently at a pre-approved meme when you hear the bells of service—a cowbell she found at an estate sale that effectively turned you into the butler bitch she always wanted. Her words. She laughs at you all the time so you know she’s only joking, and yet you’ve learned to find the humor in flitting around the house like a little bitch, making sure there isn’t a spot of dust for her to run her perfectly manicured fingers over. You run up the stairs to her—she’s taken over the entire floor as you sleep in the basement, careful not to exist when she has one of her many friends come over in the middle of the night—just to kneel at her feet, instinctively, without her instruction. She tells you to have a seat. Your heart palpitates.

Life is great.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve had a face to face conversation with her. Most things are communicated via email, as she has expressed once that your voice annoys her. Your interactions with her are limited to head nods and shakes, eyes downcast, sometimes with a paper bag over your head when the light is bright and she’s in bed with somebody else. Like magic, she pulls the bag out right from under her along with a tiny set of keys, the same keys that have likened you to the faithful eunuch she always wished for. Again, her words. You dutifully pull the bag over her head as she palms the keys to your chastity lock in her perfect hands, the fate of your microscopically useless pinclit, likely damaged from years of cramming into an even tinier plastic cage, now dangling between her fingertips. She tells you you’re useless. Tells you she’s done with you. Tells you she can’t take the sight of you blemishing her beautiful home any longer. Tells you to open wide.

You’re not special. You’re a dime a dozen. An uglier than average specimen with no personality, no life, and no desire to be anything more than what you are now. You enjoy being her little bitch, how could you aspire for anything else? Your eagerness only disgusted her, she says, as she holds the keys right over your mouth and drops it right into your hole. Swallow, she says as she’s done before, and you do, just as you’ve done so many times, just for her. Your tongue, so used to the salty hot taste of another man’s cum upon her orders, recoils at the taste of cold metal, but you are well-trained, and you always do as you are told.

You’re on your own now. Door slammed in your face with only the clothes on your back. Left to your own devices, to shit out the set of keys in a few days, to have to sift through your own feces to unlock yourself from something you never even wanted to be released from in the first place. By that time she’ll already have found ten of you to do her bidding, to improve her life even more than you could have ever done, so you can’t even feign sadness. You have to be happy for her. You have to accept that the greatest points of your life have passed, the peaks long gone, and all that remains is a fast car into the darkness you thought you had eluded forever the moment you became hers.

Life just doesn’t get any better than this.