The following is a letter I wrote to a woman I met online, with whom I've corresponded regularly over the last year. For all the evident perversity of our correspondence, we're both well-respected university professors, very PC in the classroom & with collegues, neither of whom would be suspected of secretly getting off on such vulgarly degrading exchanges. Regardless, we do. She'll no doubt find it mortifying--& shamefully gratifying-- to see this posted to ASS, frantically worrying if any of either of our students or professional collegues could possibly discern our identities. I doubt it, but feel free to speculate (& masturbate) about it.

A standard warning: the following contains sexually explicit content, including graphic descriptions of degrading sexual acts. If you're a minor, or if this kind of stuff offends you, or if it's illegal in your locality to send or receive this stuff, then stop here & stay away from it.

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Nia, you should be ashamed of yourself (and I'm sure you are). Can you imagine what your family would say if they saw the kind of email you write to me, or overheard your phone conversations with me? What would they think of you if they knew what a depraved pervert you really are underneath your respectable facade? Huh? How about your friends, and your professional collegues? Can you imagine what they would think and say about you if they knew? How embarrassing that would be for you for any or all of your family, friends, and professional collegues to find out about you and what a kinky, debased little slut you really are? How shameful and humiliated you would feel to have them know--REALLY know--you as I do?

It makes you queasy and quiver just to think of it, doesn't it? And it makes you wet. Sopping wet. Your clit is tingling, and your panties are getting soggy already, aren't they, Nia? Huh? Is that hot, hairy twat of your's all wet? Poor baby! Better rub it. Go ahead and masturbate again for me. Slip your hand down into your panties--your sopping wet panties--and masturbate for me like you always do. Shove a few fingers up that gushing, gooey cunt of yours. And take your other hand and pinch one of your nipples for me; pinch it hard and pull it out and twist it. Now slap that sagging, little B-cup titty for me; slap both of your tiny titties, back and forth, while you keep that hand crammed down in your panties, finger-fucking your hairy, juicy cunt.

I'm going to make you do things to yourself, Nia. Shameful things. Horribly debasing things. Disgustingly degrading things. Unspeakably perverted and depraved things. You will feel embarrassed. Humiliated. Ashamed.

But you will do them anyway. Because I will make you do them. Because I will tell you to do them. Because all I have to do to make you do something--make you do anything--is simply tell you to do it. Because, deep down, you really WANT me to tell you what to do, to make you do bad things to yourself--shamefully embarrassing and humiliating things that demean and debase you. And that's the most shamefully humiliating thing of all, isn't it? That you simply can't help yourself. Beneath your "nice girl" exterior, you've always been naughty little slut--ever since you began masturbating, as a 9-year old little girl, about being used and abused by men, debased and degraded as their slutty little-girl fuck-toy. And now, even though you've grown up, you've never outgrown your long-repressed and sublimated desires to be abused and debased, dominated and humiliated by someone who really knew you--the REAL you--who furtively craved to be a sex slave beneath her superficial personal and professional facades. Beneath your proper and prudish, self-respecting and well-respected, personal and professional exterior, and your attractive, self-confident, assertive demeanor--beneath the "good girl" whom your family, friends, and professional associates see as having grown into such a "GOOD daughter, GOOD sister, NICE niece, GOOD mother"--you're still that slutty little girl rubbing her wet twat, waiting, wanting to be captivated and cultivated into a helpless, submissive and hopeless masochist, who shamefully craves to become a sex slave, ravished and punished, used and abused, debased and degraded, dominated and humiliated.

Well, I cannot be there with you now to help you, so you'll have to do it for yourself, won't you? Did you moan and whimper, wishing I were there? Why don't you whine a little for me now, Nia. And just keep masturbating for me. Are you gasping and panting yet? Groaning in aroused desperation and frustration?

Why don't you grunt a little for me. Go ahead and grunt, Nia. Louder. Again. Yeah, that's right, like an animal--some lowly animal. Will you be a lowly animal for me, Nia? Sure you will. How about some lowly, debased, barnyard animal? Bet you'll love it.

Let's play "Stupid Pet Tricks", Nia. Will you do that for me now, Nia, while you're there by yourself, desperately wishing I were there? Sure you will.

Hmm. Let's see. I'm thinking of you now as a cow, Nia. A cow with udders, of course. A stupid, big-titted cow, crawling around on all fours, mooing for me. Why don't you get down on the floor, on all-fours, right now, and crawl around and moo for me like a cow, Nia? Go ahead. Of course, you'll look and sound completely ridiculous--udderly ludicrous, if you'll forgive the pun--but that's precisely the point isn't it? So, go right ahead. You know you want to. Make sure your milkers--your cow-tits-- are bare. and drooping down. Now go ahead and moo some more--a little louder (think anyone will hear? what will they think? what would they do if they could see you now, "Nia the Moo-Cow?" Or, maybe we should call you Elsie--a classic cow's name. Or "Cow-tits." Or just "Tits."

*[Don't read any further until you've followed the above instructions precisely, Nia.]

. . . . There now, wasn't that fun? You must feel terribly embarrassed about being so easily debased--so eagerly degrading yourself--in that way. So shameful and foolish to demean yourself like that for me. And so shamefully AROUSED. Did you cum, Nia? Even if you didn't, I bet you couldn't help getting your panties even more sopping wet, and rubbing your throbbing clit, and cramming your fingers in your hairy, wet twat, could you?

But I don't really think you make a very good cow, Nia. In fact, down on all-fours, mooing away, trying as hard as you could to be a good cow for me Nia, you are a very bad cow. You just don't have the tits for it, Nia. You need real milkers, Nia--great, big, sagging, drooping cow udders; big, fat, floppy cow titties--to be a good cow, Nia, no matter how perfectly appropriate you look and feel down on all-fours, and no matter how well you moo, too. So, I don't think I can let you continue to be "Nia, the Moo-Cow" for me, no matter how much you want to and how hard you try. "Cow Tits" just doesn't fit you, Nia. You moo OK, but your tits are too small. Your tits may sag and droop and flop around a bit, but they're not big enough to be good cow milkers.

Nevertheless, as bad of a moo-cow as you make, we might still be able to call you "Tits" or "Floppy Tits"--maybe even "Professor Floppy Tits." How would that be? Would you like that? Sure you would. And your students would be more than amused by it, I'm sure.

But of course, you'll have to earn your new nickname. Let's see if it fits, shall we? Your titties are still bare, aren't they? Good. Stand up and pinch your nipples again for me, and hold them that way--pulling hard on your nipples to stretch hold your tits out as far as you can. Good girl. Now run around like that, tugging on your nipples, pulling yourself around the room by your tits (If it helps, imagine me there with you, tying your arms behind your back with your little B-cup bra, and pinching and tugging on your nipples as I pull you around the house by your tits. I'd love to do that to you, Nia. I think you need it.)

*[Do NOT read any further Nia, until you have followed these instructions precisely.]

. . . . Did your jugs bounce and jiggle, Nia? Enough to earn the nickname "Tits"--or maybe "Jiggle Jugs"? Well, let's see how well they flop. "Professor Floppy Titties" is just too enticing a nickname, and one you certainly should audition for. So, let's try it, shall we? Just stand up and start jumping up and down. Jump higher and harder, and make those jugs of your's not just jiggle, but really bounce and flop for me. Come on, Nia, bounce up and down. Hop around the room, and make your titties really flop for me. You want to be "Professor Floppy Titties," don't you? Sure you do, Nia.

*[Do NOT read any further until you have followed my instructions, and performed as specified, Nia.]

. . . . Well, that was quite a show, I'm sure, Nia. Hopping around, flopping your bare titties for me. I'm sure you feel quite shameful and foolish about it, too. A woman of your professional stature and intelligence so imbecilically obeying such obscenely absurd orders, and performing so ridiculously for me, merely to earn such a demeaning nickname as "Professor Floppy Titties." But I don't know how well you earned it, Nia. I know you tried hard, hopping and flopping around the room for me. But your tits are just too small and insufficient to make your self-abusing performance much more than mildly amusing.

Let's try something else, Nia. I know you can be good for SOMETHING! Let's go back to barnyard animals again, shall we? If we try hard enough, we'll find SOMETHING appropriate for you Nia. I just know we will. You've got to be good at SOMETHING, one would think. You seemed to have so much untapped potential I thought. Maybe I was wrong. But let's try another barnyard animal for you.

How about a pig, Nia? Would you like to be a pig? Hm? Do you want try being a good little piggy for me? My little pig-slut or "fuck-pig"? Of course, you're a mother, so you'd be a sow. I hope you make a better sow than you did as a cow. Let's try it, shall we?

Get down on the floor on all-fours again, Nia. Is it getting to feel familiar and comfortable for you to be down on all-fours, Nia? Appropriate? Where you knew you belong? Well, you certainly look like you belong on all-fours. So, maybe you'll make a good little pig.

Let's just start with a grunt. I suspect that you've already done that--grunting like a pig--when men fucked you hard like you deserve, like the little pig-slut and fuck-pig that you are. So, go ahead and just grunt for me like you have before, but try to make it a really piggy kind of grunt.

OK, now snort. That's it, Nia, snort like a pig. There you go, keep snorting, like a good little piggy.

Now, oink for me. Come on, you can do it. "Oink, Oink, Oink, Oink, Oink." Good girl! Good little pig-girl. "Oink-Oink" little piggy. Now I want you to stick your hand down in your sopping wet panties (if you haven't already, you bad girl; remember that you're supposed to wait for my permission to play with yourself, Nia; but now you have it, as my grunting, snorting, oinking little pig-girl).

Now, start grunting again--grunting like a pig--as you finger fuck yourself, Nia, my little fuck-pig. Good. Good little pig-slut. Now, snort for me with those fingers still snuggled into your gooey cunt. VERY GOOD, Nia. Perhaps there is some hope for you yet. I'm beginning to think you might make a very good little pig. Now we need to oink, don't we Nia? Sure we do. Good pigs like to oink. Oink for me while you masturbate, my obediant little piggy. "Oink, Oink, Oink, Oink."

*[Do NOT read any further until you've followed my orders and performed precisely as directed, Nia.]

. . . . Well, Nia you DO grunt and snort quite well, I must say. But you'll have to work some more on that "oink" of your's, if you want to be my fuck-pig. You're already quite a pig-slut, but being a really good fuck-pig is a more difficult accomplishment. And you're not quite there yet. But keep working on it. Practice it in front of your family, friends, and professional associates if you wish, and see what they think. See if they think you're a pig--a good pig, that is--who oinks well enough to be my fuck-pig. In my absense, I'll defer to their judgement.

I think part of your problem though is that, as a suburban mother and former housewife, you've just become too domesticated--too routinely accustomed to a domestic role--to really perform well as a barnyard animal without alot of work and practice. There's some potential there of course. Particularly as a pig. You're a pretty good pig, Nia (even with an unperfected "oink"). And, maybe with some practice--a few amusing public performances for family, friends, and professional collegues--you can get it right, and become a really good little pig-girl. We'll see.

But I'm thinking your real animal persona might be a dog--a dog-girl, a bitch, fuck-dog, or slut-puppy. I know how much you like to be fucked from behind, doggy-style (while being spanked of course; but we'll get to that later). Nevertheless, as good of a little dog-girl, fuck-dog, or slut-puppy as you might make for me, I'd really have to be there with you in order to train you properly. There to put papers down on the floor to let you pee on, while I housetrain you. There to put a proper dog-collar and leash on you and take you for walks around the neighborhood crawling on all-fours, squatting to piss and shit in the yard, where a good doggie should. There to play fetch with you in the yard, Nia, before leaving you in your kennel, where you'll sleep at night. There to fill the water and food bowls you'll drink and eat from. There to train you to lift your paws and beg, and perform other "stupid pet tricks" to earn your doggie-bisquit treats. There to let you sniff me and hump my leg, like a good little slut-puppy, until I get you another (real) dog to mate and mount you like a good bitch deserves--a dog who will mount you from behind, while your down on all-fours, your ass pointed up in the air, yelping and begging like a good bitch fuck-dog. A dog who'll own you as his bitch, and who you'll learn to worship and serve as a slave-dog, grovelling for him like you do for me, panting and begging to be dog-fucked, licking his balls off afterward, sucking his dog-dick, sniffing his dog-turds in the yard where you both live and licking his asshole to clean out all his dog-shit. You'll make a good fuck-dog, Nia. You were made to be down on all-fours, wearing a dog-collar and leash. We'll even give you a nice furry little tail to wag, with a butt-plug fitted for you to wear it all the time, except for when you bark for me to pull it out so you can squat and shit in the yard. We'll let your body hair grow, but shave your head, except for two long hunks of hair on the sides, to hang down like floppy little puppy-dog ears. You'll look great as a slut-puppy slave-dog, Nia. Once we get you trained, we might even give you to your son, to let him keep his degraded mother as a housepet, and you can be your son's slut-puppy--his "Puppy Mommy"--his bitch-dog-in-heat, his defiled and degraded, but servile and obediant fuck-dog mongrel mother that he keeps in a kennel in the back yard.

Getting off on that, Nia? That grotesquely degraded, mongrel existence as a dog? Calm down girl. (I'd pat your head if I were there.) Quit panting and groaning in pathetically aroused degradation, and get your hand out of your panties for a moment. Your life as a dog will have to wait, because I'm not there to properly train you. And I won't be unless and until I bring along a girlfriend to watch and help train you as a good, obediant little dog-girl. You'll love that, Nia. Groveling and begging before both of us--me and my beautiful young girlfriend. And I'm sure she'll find you--our degraded little dog-girl, submissive little slut-puppy--immensely amusing to torment and to train. I'm sure my elegant, arrogant young girlfriend will let you eat scraps from our table and feed you with her fingers (as well as your dog-bowls)--if you wag your furry little tail and bark for her like a cute little slut-puppy; if you lift your paws and pant and grovel and bark and beg like a good little doggy-girl. And if you perform well as her little doggy-girl housepet, she might not get angry with her little doggy-girl, Nia, when she catches your nose under her skirt, between her legs, sniffing at her panties, dripping with my cum. My elegant, arrogant, gorgeous young girlfriend might even let you sniff her smelly, wet panties--maybe even let you lick and suck on her soiled, soggy panties, while you--our degraded little doggy-girl--pant and whine and hump her leg.

Yes, you'd love that Nia, and you deserve to serve and perform for me and my girlfriend as our degraded but loyal and obediant little middle-aged doggy-girl, slut-puppy, and fuck-dog (to be fucked only by other, real dogs, of course, out in the backyard by your kennel, where you'll be put out to sleep at night, after performing and being fed). You'll miss your former life, as a full human being, but don't worry, my girlfriend and I will take you out for walks in your dog-collar and leash, around your neighborhood, and for visits to your family and friends. And, when we get bored with you, or tired of keeping you, I promise we won't take you to the dog pound. We'll find someone to keep you and take care of you among your family, friends, and professional collegues from your former, pre-dog, life.

But before all that--before you can be trained as our housepet--we'll have to further develop your domesticity, docility, and utter servility by training you as a housemaid to serve me and my girlfriend. Of course, you already have those household chores and domestic tasks down well, having served your ex-husband so well, and still serving your son. Of course, your son will need some time to adjust to having his mother turned into merely a housemaid (and chambermaid) performing demeaning services for me and my girlfriend. But the tarty, slutty little French Maid's outfit you will be attired in should be sufficiently amusing and arousing for him to help him adjust. And the fact that my elegant, arrogant, beautiful young girlfriend--though dominating and humiliating toward you, his docile, submissive, degraded mother--will nonetheless treat your son with dignity and respect, while the irresistably seductive and flirtatious behavior of my gorgeous girlfriend eventually persuades him to betray and abandon his increasingly submissive, debased slave-mother to the ongoing degradation and domination she seems to crave so much.

Of course, we can't get started on any of this unless and until I bring my girlfriend to meet you. And I'd have to tell her all about you first to prepare her for your vile, defiled, servile role. But, though I'm looking now in earnest, I haven't even found her yet--the kind of girlfriend I really want to meet my needs and desires (and your's). So, until I do, and until I can get together with you in person, I want you diligently work on preparing and training yourself.

You've tried hard and done your best at performing as various barnyard animals for me--a cow (tits too tiny), a pig (inadequate "oink")--and I know how much you want to be a good, devoted slave-dog and household pet. Of course, you can continue to train yourself, as you have been doing routinely, as a housemaid--though perhaps you should start wearing more appropriately tarty, slutty attire to perform your housework in.

But, I think that the best way to start your training--your self-training really, in my absence--is to prioritize further developing your already emerging perverted tendencies: (1) your already increasingly obsessive masturbatory habits; (2) your obvious desire to not only be dominated and humiliated, but also be juvenilized, and perhaps even turned beyond dressing and acting like little girl into dressing and acting like a toddler or adult baby; and (3) and your latent, barely evident, but increasingly apparent, panty fetish and compulsion.

Yes, I know you will resist these characterizations at first, like you have each of my previous suggested sexual perversions and deviations (until, invariably and inevitably, if still fitfully and shamefully, they became your compulsions and obsessions as well). And yes, to take one in particular, I know it seems ridiculous and absurd, Nia, for a female to have a panty fetish--for a woman, like yourself, to have a compulsion for her own and other women's panties. I can even hear you firmly denying it to yourself with all the disdain you can assemble (or dissemble) about it. You know men can and do have fetishes for women's panties, and that's lewdly ridiculous enough. But women? How and why in the world would a woman develop a pathetic compulsion to furtively peep at other women's panties; a desperate need and desire to fondle and caress other women's panties (and even her own); to rub smelly, damp panties on her face and wear them on her head; to sniff women's smelly, wet panties, lick and suck on women's panties, worship women's panties, crave women's panties, become a slave to panties and a panty-slave to the women who wear them.

I do not know how and why, Nia. I just know that's you. As ridiculously demeaning and shamefully humiliating as it is for you to confront and admit it to yourself, much less to anyone else, you Nia have a latent, but increasingly apparent, panty-fetish. As you should recall, it was YOU, not me, who first brought up the subject of panty-fetishism, as you told me about another man you met on the net who wanted you to send him your smelly, soiled panties. Of course, you had hit on my main fetish, to which I subsequently confessed. But the panty fetish, along with the other stuff, became one of your primary attractions to me, whether you admit it or not. And it has been YOU, not merely me, who has pursued the panty-fetish theme in our various domination and humiliation scenerios, albeit with me as the dominated and humiliated one.

However, it has become increasingly apparent to me Nia that your jealousies and insecurities ill-equip you for consistently sustaining a dominant role and position in our relationship, and that you are more naturally a submissive who needs and desires to be dominated and humiliated more than to dominate and humiliate. And, as your submissive, masochistic needs and desires have become increasingly evident, the prominent role of panties in your fitful, uneven, not- entirely-successful efforts to dominate and humiliate me have become evident as VICARIOUS (thus your mushy affection) actings-out of your own needs and desires for (among other things) panty-domination and humiliation in your OWN shamefully repressed (but increasingly obsessed) panty-compulsion.

You can deny it all you want, Nia. But I know now. Down deep, you too Nia, need and desire to worship women's panties. Perhaps it started as a little girl, being shamefully admonished and scolded about sitting properly "like a lady," being careful how to cross her legs, not wearing too short of skirts or bending over too far, to show boys (or men) her little-girl panties. Perhaps also being spanked for showing her panties--having her skirt lifted, her panties pulled down, for a shamefully humiliating and embarrassing bare-bottomed spanking. Perhaps having to stand, facing the wall, nose in the corner, her panties still pulled down around her knees, sniveling and rubbing her sore bottom after a spanking. Who knows? But, I do know, as lewdly ludicrous, as obscenely absurd and utterly pathetic as it would seem to anyone else, man or woman--and it IS amusing as well as arousing to me--you're an obsessive-compulsive panty-fetishist, Nia. And I have decided to panty-train you and turn you into a servile, devoted panty-slave--a slave to other women's panties as well as to your own, a shameful worshiper of women's smelly, wet panties. You'll be wearing short, tight skirts, and stockings instead of pantyhose so you can expose your panties to people (women as well as men; and yes, Nia, giggling boys and girls too). You'll find yourself blushing in shameful embarrassment being caught peeping at other women's and girls' panties. You'll be washing them by hand and sneaking them out of laundry hampers so you can fondle and caress, sniff, lick, and suck on women's smelly, soiled, hopefully still damp or wet panties. You'll become a habitual panty-humper--masturbating by pulling your panties up high and hard between your wet twat lips, to get them all smelly, soggy, and wet so you can sniff, lick, and suck on your soiled panties after you have cum in them. You'll begin rubbing your's and other women's panties on your face, and wearing smelly, wet panties on your head to masturbate. You'll begin peeing in your panties--maybe even shitting in them--to make your panty-fetish even more shamefully foul and offensive to meet your ever-more submissive and masochistic desires for panty-domination and panty-humiliation. And, as a woman--a once respected and self-respecting professional woman and mother--you'll become the kind of grotesquely self-degrading joke--a female panty-slave---that other, normal women could hardly imagine. But some women--young and pretty, elegant and arrogant, women--will come to know you very well; and they will find you very entertaining and amusing in your own pathetic way.

You may not be quite ready for all this yet, Nia. But you will be, in your own time. In the meantime, I want you to begin to get with the program of gradually becoming my little "Panty Girl." We'll start you out slowly and simply. I want you to stop masturbating unless and until I give you permission. You know your masturbatory habits are becoming increasingly obsessive and compulsive anyway, and you could use more (self-)discipline, so I will help you with that. But only if you do precisely as I instruct and insist you do.

So, from now on, as difficult as you no doubt will find this, if you want me in your life in any way whatsoever, you will refrain from masturbating without my express permission. When I do give you permission to masturbate, unless I instruct you otherwise, you will always masturbate by panty-humping--that is, pulling your panties high and hard up between your hairy wet twat lips, and humping your panties fast and hard. I may insist that you perform your panty-humping ritual in the bathroom while others are in the house, or in public restrooms, with a pair of wet, smelly panties stuffed and wadded in your mouth to gag you and muffle your gasping, panting, grunting and groaning--and eventually even in places where others might not only hear you, but will also inevitably see you (and, of course, laugh at you) such as in front of house windows or car windows, etc. And sometimes I may require you to wear another pair of (smelly) panties over your face ("Professor Nia Pantyface, I presume") or on your head ("Professor Nia Pantyhead"), or over your little titties ("Professor Nia Titty-Panties"). Regardless of how ashamed and embarrassed or humiliated and degraded you feel, you will do it, if you want to be my good little Panty Girl. And you do, don't you Nia?

If and when you do masturbate without my permission, you will be required (again, in my absence) to punish yourself with a sound, bare-bottomed spanking, with your hand, a hairbrush, a paddle, spatula or flyswatter--but always with one pair of your panties pulled down and stretched between your knees, and one or more other pairs of (smelly, soiled) panties on your face or head, or in your mouth. As vile and perverted as it all may seem, you'll learn to genuinely enjoy, love, even crave it, my little panty-slave in-training.

So, these are my instructions, Nia. You are to buy several pairs of white, nylon, lace-trimmed, skimpy bikini panties and white, nylon "old-lady" high-waisted panties. Those are your masturbation panties--the high-waisted ones your humping panties, and the others to wear on your face and head. You are to masturbate twice every other day, Monday thru Friday, and will await further instructions for weekends, until otherwise instructed. Each time you masturbate, you are to do so only by humping your panties in the manner specified above. On Mondays, you are to wear another pair of panties on your little titties with your nipples poking out through the legholes of the panties, and watch yourself in a mirror while you masturbate as Nia, the Titty-Pantied Panty-Humper. On Wednesdays, you are to wear a (smelly, soiled) pair of panties on your head, over your face, with the smelly panty-crotch covering your nose, while you hump your panties, again in front of a mirror (you may peek out through the legholes of the panties on your head to watch yourself if you wish). And on Fridays, you are to stuff a pair of panties in your mouth to suck and munch on and to muffle your gasping, panting, moaning, grunting, and groaning, as you hump your panties while squatting over a toilet, either in a bathroom of a private residence (your own or someone else's) while others are in the house, or, alternatively, in a public restroom. Tuesday and Thursday you do not have permission to masturbate at all, and if you do, you should promptly and properly punish yourself with a bare-bottomed spanking--by hand for the first offense, by hairbrush or spatula for the second offense, and by flyswatter or paddle for any further offenses--while wearing one pair of soiled smelly panties on your head (again, you may peek out through the legholes if you wish), and with another pair of smelly, soiled panties stuffed in your mouth, where they should remain until you have sucked the panty-crotch clean.

Now, get busy Nia, my debased little masturbator. And I want you to report to me in lurid, graphic detail all about your masturbation (including any offenses and punishments) as well any other sexual activities in which you indulge your slutty little self--and report to me at least every other day. And I want you to sign all such confessional correspondence--and, from now on, greet me as well--by referring to yourself by an appropriately humiliating and demeaning nickname. I'll leave the choice of nicknames up to you--whatever demeaning appelation seems appropriate to you, or fits your mood, for the occasion.

Of course, not merely your demeaning nickname, but the entire degrading ongoing endeavor is up to you. You are a "free woman," Nia--moreover, an intelligent, professionally accomplished one as well. So, I need not remind you that this is all your choice. But, if you wish to communicate further with me, you will do so under my terms, and you will continue to do as I wish and as I say.

Your (now masterful) Obsession