There’s just something about a delicate, feminine princess boy who’s fully embraced his role as a helpless little plaything for real men. The way he purposely softens his voice, keeps his body smooth and hairless, and dresses in clothes that cling to his fragile frame, like he’s begging to be treated like the expensive, spoiled brat he is.
He doesn’t want to be a man. He wants to be something prettier, something weaker, something that exists purely for the pleasure of bigger, stronger, richer men. He’ll giggle at their jokes, bat his eyelashes, and melt into their arms like the pampered pet he is. And when they pay for his drinks, his clothes, his entire life? Oh, he loves it. Because deep down, he knows the truth: he’s not built to provide, he’s built to be provided for.
And the best part? He enjoys his own humiliation. The way he blushes when called "princess," the way he moans when a real man reminds him he’ll never be anything but a bottom, the way he preens when he’s treated like a kept boy who doesn’t have to worry about a thing and becomes a girl for a bigger, stronger provider.
Nothing compares to watching a princess boy willingly strip away his last shreds of masculinity, letting me dress her in silks and lace, whispering 'thank you' when I hand the waiter my card instead of his, or best of all, when he tears up his résumé to become my full-time pet. The moment he trades his pride for purpose is the moment he becomes truly beautiful
why are they so hot /EL GEE BEI TEA/ ?