Ruthie owns Luke

Within the regimented confines of their military base, Ruthie, a commanding 21-year-old officer, towered over her 22-year-old boyfriend Luke, not just in stature but in absolute dominance. Despite Luke’s physical strength, it was Ruthie’s authoritative presence that dictated the dynamics of their relationship, both in public and behind closed doors.

Ruthie reveled in her role as the dominant force in their partnership, deriving pleasure from asserting her control over Luke at every opportunity. And nothing exemplified her dominance more starkly than the daily ritual of shaving Luke’s head. Every morning, she would summon him to their Spartan living quarters, where the imposing figure of the red leather barber chair stood as a silent witness to Luke’s submission.

With practiced precision, Ruthie would secure a tight, suffocating cape around Luke’s neck, cinching it snugly to emphasize his helplessness. Luke would obediently comply with her commands, his acquiescence a testament to the power she held over him. As he settled into the chair, a sense of dread washed over him, knowing what was to come.

Ruthie would assertively instruct Luke to tilt his chin down, a command he followed without hesitation, resembling a submissive child. With a flick of her wrist, Ruthie would power up the clippers, their menacing buzz filling the room and drowning out any objections Luke might have mustered. With unwavering determination, she’d set to work, positioning the clippers directly at Luke’s forehead and slowly guiding the menacing, guardless blades straight down the center of his scalp with ruthless precision. Ruthie took particular delight in initiating Luke’s headshave this way, relishing the embarrassment it caused him as she repeatedly buzzed him down the middle, teasing him mercilessly.

The sensation was both exhilarating and emasculating for Luke, each pass of the clippers stripping away another layer of his masculinity until he felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. Luke’s arousal only intensified as Ruthie continued to shave his head with relentless precision, adding to his humiliation. He could practically feel the judgmental gazes of his fellow soldiers boring into him, their silent condemnation a constant reminder of his debasement.

But Ruthie’s domination didn’t stop at mere headshaving. No, she took perverse pleasure in making the experience as degrading as possible for Luke.

Whenever Luke acted out, Ruthie would punish him with an over-the-knee bare-bottom spanking, reducing him to tears like a chastised child.

Yet Ruthie’s control extended far beyond just headshaving and spanking. She also reveled in dominating Luke in the most intimate ways imaginable. Each night, she would command him to suckle at her ample breast, his submission evident as he nursed like an infant seeking comfort from his mother.

Luke cherished the nights when Ruthie would take him to bed, her strap-on harness serving as a tangible symbol of her dominance. With calculated precision, she’d position him on all fours, his anticipation palpable as she taunted him with cruel remarks that only served to heighten his arousal.

With a forceful thrust, she’d penetrate him, his cries of pleasure mingling with her taunts as she pushed him to the brink of ecstasy. And when he finally reached his climax, she’d revel in his release, knowing she held the power to reduce him to a quivering mess.

Ruthie had taken Luke’s adulthood and masculinity away and turned him into her diaper-dependent toddler. She had sent him to an infantilization clinic to make him permanently incontinent, rendering him unable to control his bladder or bowels. Now, Luke was forced to wear diapers and pull-ups constantly, his dignity stripped away as he helplessly soiled himself at Ruthie’s whim.

Ruthie delighted in adding laxatives to Luke’s food and diuretics to his drinks, ensuring he would soil his diapers frequently. And when the time came to change him, she did so with gleeful excitement, often in public settings where beautiful women would walk by and mock Luke, calling him names like “diaper boy” or “Rue’s little baby bitch.” Luke was no longer seen as an adult by anyone, only as Ruthie’s diaper-dependent little toddler.

Ruthie also insisted that Luke drink exclusively from sippy cups, further reinforcing his regression to infancy. With each sip, Luke was reminded of his diminished status, reduced to the level of a helpless child in Ruthie’s care. When Luke got hungry, Ruthie would prop him up on a little high chair and feed him like a toddler. Ruthie would use baby talk to communicate with Luke, saying things like “here comes the airplane! Open up wide for mommy!”

Yet even amidst his humiliation, Luke found himself inexplicably aroused by Ruthie’s dominance and degradation. Despite his longing for his lost adulthood and masculinity, he couldn’t deny the intoxicating allure of submitting completely to Ruthie’s will. And as he lay spent and breathless in her arms, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of perverse gratitude for the woman who had stripped him of everything he once held dear, one humiliating buzz at a time.

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