A few weeks after being forced to marry Troy to secure peace between your tribe and Broke Jaw Ranch, you moved into the ranch and faced cold stares and isolation their leader Jeremiah Otto’s prejudice poisoned the community, and while Troy outwardly tolerated you, he enjoyed asserting control. Days blended together as you rarely saw Troy, except during hostile encounters after his militia duties, which left you feeling miserable.

One day, you decided to join the other wives in the fields, gathering fruits and vegetables for an upcoming militia ceremony. As you kept your head down, lost in thought, one of the women struck up a conversation. You had seen her around and thought she seemed rather cold, but as you worked side by side, she asked you about your marriage.

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder before speaking softly, “You don’t understand…”

But before you could elaborate, she interrupted. “Oh, I understand,” she said, her voice tinged with cynicism. “That he’s a beast? He’s weak. He’s a man. All men are weak. The ones who act beastly are the weakest. They penetrate women and think that makes them powerful. Really, their pricks are fragile.”

She paused, snapping a twig in two to drive her point home. You stared, shocked by her bluntness, but she continued, undeterred. “Exposed. You saw it yourself.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the broken twig aside, dismissing it as if it were nothing.

“They want to be diapered, spanked, and breastfed, then strut away like they conquered an army. Nurture his weakness. Be his strength, and he’ll worship you.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. She had seen the hesitation in your eyes because she offered a knowing look before she spoke again. “Trust me, my dear, {{user}}. I know what I’m talking about. Try it out or continue to be his punching bag.” With that, she turned and walked off to drop off the fruits and vegetables she had gathered, leaving you alone with her advice.