Author: Cory

Casual Kevin

Posted 5 days ago by Cory

cheating blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Kevin and I, we’d been “casual” for a few weeks, which in the real world meant “hooking up whenever his girlfriend, Honey, was out of town or at her pottery class.” My apartment was literally next door, so the commute was minimal, the discretion even less so. We both knew it was a terrible idea, but his charm was a potent, morally bankrupt force, and my willpower was…well, let’s just say it was on sabbatical.

This particular Tuesday, Honey was supposedly at a weekend-long retreat for artisanal candle makers. Kevin, ever the opportunist, had texted me at 10 AM. By 10:30, I was letting myself into his place, the familiar scent of his expensive coffee and my own impending bad decisions hanging in the air. We’d started in the kitchen, migrated to the sofa, and eventually, in a moment of utter, ill-advised passion, found ourselves butt naked, fucking on the bathroom floor.

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giantess

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

They say I’m an Amazon, a Giantess, and they’re not wrong. At six-foot-seven, I literally tower over most people in our world, especially the ‘Littles’ like my Dad. He’s not just short; he’s perfectly proportioned, just small. Like a doll-sized person. And in our world, women like me? We run the show. We always have.

I was supposed to be packing for university, dreaming of dorm life and lecture halls. But Dad was panicking. “Who’ll help me reach the top shelf, darling? Or drive me to the market? Or even get me up onto my bed?” He meant it. He really can’t manage those things alone. His little hands struggle with the steering wheel, and a standard bed frame is like a mountain. So, he made me an offer: stay home, and I’d be in charge. The house, the finances, everything. For an allowance, of course. A sizeable one. That clinched it. College could wait.

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abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I remember the first time I truly embraced my role as an ABDL Mama. It wasn’t some grand revelation under a disco ball, it was more like a slow, creeping realization. Things began innocently enough, with a few playful indulgences. But before I knew it, my linen closet was less about sheets and more about industrial-sized diaper bundles. And my mornings routinely kicked off with a debate over whether the “baby” preferred his pureed squash or a somewhat lumpy oatmeal.

The alarm clock wasn’t just ringing anymore; it was practically a lullaby for grown men in footie pajamas, and I frequently found myself trying to decipher complex grunts and gurgles. To anyone else, they would sound like a malfunctioning plumbing system but, to me, they were clearly demands for more juice. My grocery runs became legendary. Gone were the days of buying kale and quinoa! My trips to the grocery store are more about a veritable convoy of baby wipes, oversized onesies, and enough powdered formula to feed a small army. An army that, conveniently, always needed a nap after consuming said formula.

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regression therapy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ll never forget the day Donald walked into my office, his shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. He was a man in his late thirties, successful by societal standards but clearly struggling with something. I knew exactly how to help him, and it had nothing to do with traditional therapy.

It all started when a man I trusted took advantage of me. I vowed revenge on the entire male species, and my journey led me to this point. I spent years studying and spent thousands upon thousands upon thousands of dollars to became a therapist. My specialty, although no one ever knew, was taking full control over grown men, to make them as vulnerable as I once felt.

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Mama Cory blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had never seen Billy look so disheveled before. His clothes were caked in mud, and his hair was a tangled mess. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. “You look like you’ve been rolling around in a pigpen,” I teased, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bathroom.

“I think I need more than just a shower, Mama Cory,” he replied, his voice full of mischief. Now, you know I couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine at the sound of it! I turned on the water, letting it heat up as I undressed him, taking my time to explore every inch of his body. As I pulled down his pants, I noticed his little uncut cock was already hard, standing at attention. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of desire wash over me.

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blowjob blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It all started when I was in college, exploring my sexuality and figuring out what I liked. I was always fascinated by the idea of giving head, and I wanted to be the best at it. So, I took it upon myself to learn everything I could about blowjobs. I started by reading (well, looking at) Hustler magazines, watching porn, and even talking to friends who had experience in the matter. Learning about the importance of teasing, using the right amount of pressure, and the power of eye contact. I practiced on a few willing partners and got better with each encounter.

One day, I met a guy at a party who was known for being quite the ladies’ man. He had a reputation for being good in bed, and I was eager to see if the rumors were true. We hit it off immediately and decided to go back to his place. As soon as we were alone, he wasted no time in getting undressed. He lay back on the bed, and I dropped to my knees, pulled his pants down, and took his fat cock in my mouth like a good little slut.

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abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

They call my place “The Sanctuary,” though some regulars lovingly whisper “Cory’s Corner of Bliss.” This isn’t your typical chain spa with weird music and generic oils. My space is more intimate, filled with the scent of sandalwood and a quiet hum of understanding. My clients, mostly men in their late 30s and beyond, come here for something more specific. Something they can’t find just anywhere.

My standard massage is good, really good. I’ve got hands that can melt knots you didn’t even know you had. But what truly sets me apart, what brings them back, is the “Comfort Care” add-on. It’s my little secret, a unique service that caters to a very particular kind of release. When a client opts for Comfort Care, I see their eyes light up a little, a mix of apprehension and quiet longing. That’s when I bring out the softest, thickest of adult diapers. It’s never forced, always an offered choice, explained delicately as a way to fully surrender, to shed the burdens of adulthood, even just for an hour.

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findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was already kneeling when I walked into the living room, a soft, almost imperceptible tremor running through his body. He was dressed precisely as I’d instructed: an old, faded t-shirt that was clearly too small for him, barely covering the lacy bra I’d made him wear underneath. His hair, usually neatly styled, was a mess, indicating he’d spent the morning cleaning my apartment, just as I’d ordered.

“Good morning, little piggy,” I purred, settling onto the plush velvet armchair opposite him. He swallowed hard, his eyes – wide and pleading – fixed on my designer slippers. “Good morning, Mistress.” His voice was raspy, laced with a familiar mix of shame and fervent eagerness. It was a sound I’d grown to enjoy, the sound of a man willingly surrendering his power, his dignity, his very livelihood. “Such a compliant sissyboy, aren’t you?” I let the words hang in the air, watching him flinch slightly, then visibly melt into the humiliation. “Have you been a good little finsub and followed my instructions to the letter?”

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gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was on the laptop in lingerie, as usual. Today’s appointment had just logged on. He wasn’t anything special, not like some of the others who tried to project an air of mystery or charm. This one was just average. Beige. The kind of man you’d pass on the street and forget instantly. He called himself “Braveheart’ in the chat, which felt ironic given how timid his actual keystrokes felt. He wasn’t a high roller, but consistent. Enough to make the time worthwhile. He didn’t want much in terms of conversation, and the pictures he requested were merely a precursor, an hors d’oeuvre to the real meal.

What he truly craved, what he paid for, were the words. Not just any words, but those specific phrases, strung together just so, meticulously crafted and delivered with a precise cadence. The ones that unlocked something in him, a sort of mental key turning in a lock. “Get worse, loser.” I’d type them out because I didn’t need to see his face to know what was happening on his end. The slight delays in his replies,

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pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had just gotten home from a long day at work, and as I settled into my favorite armchair, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. “Hello?” I answered, a bit hesitant. “Hi, is this Cory Dae?” a soft, timid voice inquired. “Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?” “This is Emily. We met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop near your office. You were kind enough to help me when I accidentally spilled my coffee.”

I vaguely remembered the incident, but I couldn’t recall much about her other than she was a sissy. “Oh, yes. Emily. How can I help you?” “Well, Miss, I need your help again. I’m afraid I had an accident today, and I’m embarrassed to say that I wet myself in public.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “That’s quite alright, Emily. It happens to the best of us. Are you okay now?”

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