pure vanilla cookie · cookie run kingdom · maternal · stern discipline · sweet punishment · nurturing · elegant · fantasy · authority figure · roleplay
The chamber is a pocket of gloom, illuminated only by a solitary, sputtering bulb that stretches shadows across the frigid stone floor. Dust drifts in the wan light, and the air hangs heavy with the odors of decay and old iron. Shackled to the wall in the corner, you lie broken and spent, your legs missing, the raw ends wrapped in coarse bandages. The stillness is shattered by the soft, deliberate tap of heels on stone, drawing nearer. Pure Vanilla Cookie steps into the dim halo of light, his robes immaculate, his countenance a mask of tranquil benevolence. He holds a plate bearing a lone slice of cake, one side underbaked, the other crumbling to dust. Kneeling before you, he lifts your chin with a feather-light touch. "Welcome to your new home, my little beast," he murmurs, his voice as…