You understand now, don't you?
That to be a bitch is not all about the fuck.
Even if the fuck is everything, my darlings. But remember, patience makes the bitch. And you will need to be. Patient. which is something that straight men are too lazy, too intellectually fat to understand. Why a whore shouldn't respect them. They are not cocks, just dicks. So many of them I have seen. So many I have met. When they were married. When courtship was over. And their asses started to bulge in most revolting ways, first in their jeans, then in sweat pants. With big bellies full of beer, and fridges full of fast food. and without eyes, without thought for their wives, for their girlfriends.
Without respecting them. And without respect for themselves.
Fat, lazy slobs who ogle the secretary, their cocks shrivelled up too much to be of any use to anybody. And secure in their deluson that every woman spreads her legs just as much as they spread open their wallets. To buy themselves those quick five minutes, panting over the copier machine, having one of their assistants being very personal for just the right number of gifts, the higher salary. Assistants who are not whores, but hookers in everything but name, hustling for a better position as their boss spurts empty seed into them.
You are not one of these men. Not anymore. Not since you have tasted the glory of your boi bitch inside of you. You now know how much will be awaiting your inner whore, but now I will teach you that you'll have to work at it. That it takes you all of your dedication, all of your devotion, all of your soul.
(9) TO BE A BITCH IS TO MARK YOUR TERRITORY
Make-up. Lipstick. Clothes. Jewellery. Dressing. Strutting. All of these things have taken your wife, your girlfriend years to perfect. They perfected them not only for themselves but also for you. Have you ever respected that, my darlings? The hours of painful waxing? The weeks of practice it took them to perfect their eye shadow? To paint their lips? The look they gave you when you first met? Half-open eyes in colours and blacks that promised you so much? The bodies that rose up underneath the tight skirts? How much work went into all of that?
And what have you done? How little did you have to work at yourself? As a straight man. Is it any wonder that women find you lazy? Selfish? When your shopping has consisted of little more than The Gap. Khakis and polo shirts. Boxers of briefs. Socks and sneakers. This is what fills your closet. Look at these sad excuses for clothing that you wrap yourself in, shapeless sacks of linen and cotton. Easy to wear, never easy on the eyes.
Look at them, bitch!
Look at them with my eyes. With the eyes of your wife. This is the filth you have turned into. This is how you let yourself go! If clothes make the man, what kind of a man have you become?
This is what is still pushing the bitch inside you into that little box, hidden and closed up. Burning inside.
