My voice is my weapon, and I have spent years sharpening it. When I want to humiliate you, I don't need props or costumes. I just need the phone, your ear, and the truth about what you are. That's all it takes.
Verbal humiliation is intimate in a way nothing else is. I'm not touching you. I'm inside your head. Every word I say lands directly on the part of you that you've been protecting, and I say it slowly, clearly, with a smile you can hear. I describe you the way I see you. I narrate what you're doing right now, how pathetic you look doing it, how you couldn't stop even if you wanted to.
I love the moment it clicks for you. You'll be breathing hard, trying to stay quiet, and I'll say something so precise, so perfectly aimed, that you gasp. That's when I know I've got you. From there I just keep going. I talk about your weaknesses like I'm reading a menu. I rank you. I compare you to real men and watch you squirm. I make you repeat things about yourself, out loud, in your own voice, because hearing it from your own mouth makes it real.
A lot of you are scared to ask for verbal humiliation by name, so let me make it easy. When you call the dispatcher, just ask for Chanel and tell me you want me to be cruel with my words. I'll take it from there. I always know how far to push. I read your breathing, your pauses, the little sounds you try to hide, and I calibrate every sentence to keep you right on the edge.
I can be cold and clinical, dissecting you like a specimen. I can be mocking and playful, laughing at you like you're my favorite joke. I can be disgusted, like you embarrass me just by existing. Tell me which voice breaks you fastest, or let me find out on my own. I enjoy the discovery.
I also do this in public scenarios, and those are delicious. I'll describe us at a party, at dinner, in a store, with me saying these things just loud enough for others to hear. The idea of strangers knowing what you are, hearing me reduce you in front of them, makes you panic in the most delicious way. I describe their laughter. I describe their pity. And you can't do a thing about it.
Your words belong to me during our call. I tell you what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. And when I'm done talking, you'll be thanking me. They always thank me.
Chanel