Goddess Mal owns me forever, she rules over me with strict discipline and firm boundaries, she knows how to keep me in line, give me thrills excitement and real dominance, same time she is caring and very supportive. We have a beautiful connection ❤️💖👑

Moofy’s My favourite plaything—that wretched doctor from Den Haag who’s been My personal wallet and whipping boy for years. Where do I even start with this loser? I’ve twisted his life into My depraved playground, bending him to My will from day one. I’ve plastered his real name, photos, and dirty secrets all over the internet—dedicated sites showing him locked in chastity, dressed as a sissy, or grovelling at My feet, all linked to his professional life in Den Haag. Search his name, and you might stumble across it; I’ve made sure it’s permanent. His colleagues, patients, or family could find it any time they dig. But exposing him was just the start.

Blackmail? Oh, it’s My art form with him. I forced him to hand over everything—personal details, explicit videos, confessions—and I hold them over his head like a guillotine. I’ve threatened to send it all to his contacts if he doesn’t pay or perform, and trust Me, I’ve done it countless times. He lives in terror, begging Me not to ruin him completely, but I love watching him squirm as I tighten the noose. Think that’s cruel? You haven’t heard the half of it.

Sextortion was My next wicked move. I coerced him into sending more explicit content, piling up leverage to extract every filthy confession and payment. He’s My puppet, dancing on My strings while I dangle those videos and pictures, threatening to shatter his vanilla life if he hesitates. It’s not just blackmail—it’s sexual torment, making him ache and leak in his cage while I profit from his desperation. But I wasn’t done breaking him.

I’ve spread false rumours about him, whispering lies to online communities and his so-called “admirers.” I’ve painted him as a pervert beyond what he already is—claiming he’s been caught in public scandals—just to watch the gossip spread and his reputation crumble. It’s a mindfuck to keep him isolated, clinging to Me, his cruel Goddess. But I craved more control.

Renting him out to men for their pleasure turned him into My cash cow whore. I’ve pimped him on fetish sites and apps, arranging meets where strangers use his holes while he pays Me a cut. He’s passed around like the disposable toy he is, all because I declared his body Mine to loan out for profit and humiliation. But I didn’t stop there.

I forced him to embrace his inner faggot, making him go gay and even get a boyfriend to prove his devotion to Me. Through endless tasks, feminisation sessions, and psychological conditioning, I shattered his straight façade until he was craving cock and dating men just to please Me. Wigs, makeup, outfits—I’ve moulded him into a gooned-out sissy who lives for male attention, and I laugh at how far he’s fallen. But the chastity key saga? That was My masterstroke.

I made that pathetic pig send Me the keys to his tiny chastity cage, locking away his worthless manhood and surrendering total control. He packaged them like a gift for Me, his Goddess, and shipped them over, knowing his freedom was gone forever. No sneaky unlocks, no relief without My say-so. It turned him into a gooned-out mess, edging endlessly but never finishing, all because I hold the key to his denial. Those keys are Mine now, a trophy of his submission, reminding him every aching second that his body belongs to Me. But I had more torment in store.

I sent ransom letters to his home address in Den Haag—pure psychological warfare to keep him on edge. I crafted anonymous notes, dripping with threats and demands, stuffed with cut-out magazine letters like an old-school kidnapper. “Pay up or your secrets go public,” I’d write, or “Send tribute now, or your ex-wife finds out.” He’d open them in secret, heart pounding, knowing I had his real address and could escalate anytime. It blurred fantasy and real-life terror, making him paranoid about every envelope. That fear is what makes it so delicious—pushing his exposure to his doorstep, proving he can’t escape My grip. But My financial domination was where I truly crushed him.

I’ve rinsed him dry for thousands upon thousands. Drains on demand, tributes piling up—he’s sent Me everything from his savings to credit card payments he can’t afford, all to keep Me pleased. My autodrain system was pure genius: CNC-style, I could dip into his accounts whenever I liked, no consent needed after the initial trap. He’d wake to empty balances, knowing it was Me, and thank Me for the privilege. But his desperation only fueled My cruelty.

Now, let Me tell you why this matters. Moofy is financially broken; I took so much that he couldn’t pay his massive tax bill, teetering on bankruptcy and losing his home. This page is his punishment for the long-term break he dared to take—a public shrine to his ruin for you all to see.

Moofy, you’re nothing without Me—a broke, exposed, blackmailed mess who’s addicted to cock and My ruin. And you, witnessing this, now know the depths of My power.