Author: Cory

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?”

Continue reading “my phone buzzed…it was Emily.” →

pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Daniel wasn’t my usual type. I usually went for the brooding artist, all messy hair and existential angst. Daniel was corporate. Crisp suit, perfectly coiffed hair, the kind of guy who probably knew the exact Dow Jones closing number. But he’d been clear in his profile – and even clearer in our messages. He wanted to be pegged. And honestly? After a string of disastrous dates with said brooding artists, the clarity was refreshing.

“So,” I said, as I opened the door to my apartment. He stood on my welcome mat, looking slightly awkward, holding a bottle. “You brought drinks. How traditional.” He blushed, a surprisingly endearing look on his meticulously groomed face. “Is that okay? I wasn’t sure…” “Perfectly fine,” I reassured him, taking the bottle. “Come on in. Drinks first, or straight to business?” I winked, trying to gauge his reaction. His blush deepened. “Maybe drinks first? Ease into things?”

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abdlCory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I opened the door to find James standing on the porch, his shoulders slumped slightly. He was a regular, and I knew the signs. His red-rimmed eyes suggested a rough week, and the way he clutched his backpack to his chest told me he was feeling small and vulnerable. “Hey, James,” I said, offering a warm smile. “Come on in. I’ve got your favorite juice box chilling.” He shuffled inside, kicking off his sneakers near the door. The house was carefully curated to be a comforting space. Soft rugs, pastel colors, and a complete absence of sharp edges. It was designed to soothe.

“Rough week?” I asked gently, leading him to the oversized, plush armchair in the living room. He nodded, unable to meet my gaze. “Work’s been awful. My boss is breathing down my neck.” He finally looked up, his eyes filled with distress. “I just… I messed up and forgot a really important email.” “Everyone makes mistakes, James. It’s okay. That’s why we have second chances, and erasers, and…mamas.” I gently stroked his hair. It was soft and fine, not like a grown man’s hair at all. “Tell me about it.”

Continue reading “Consequences For James” →

mom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s a confession I never expected to hear, not even from Julio. We’ve been friends since college, seen each other through bad breakups, questionable fashion choices, and career crises. We’re the kind of friends who can sit in comfortable silence for hours, knowing the other is just there. But this? This was uncharted territory.

“I know it sounds wrong,” Julio mumbled, swirling the ice in his drink. We were at O’Malley’s, our usual haunt, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses providing a thin veil of normalcy around the confessional booth we’d inadvertently created. Julio, with his easy smile and genuine concern for others, was suddenly someone I barely recognized. He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It started a few weeks ago. I was helping Mom clean out the attic. You know how she is, holding onto everything.”

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blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Mr. Davenport was different. He wasn’t aggressive or demanding, just quietly eccentric, with a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. This was my first session with him, and already, I felt a knot of nervous anticipation in my stomach. “First things first,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble. “The pantyhose.”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. Black pantyhose were hardly the strangest request I’d received. I slipped them on in the small, cluttered bathroom, the nylon cool against my skin. When I emerged, he was sitting in a plush armchair, a stopwatch in his hand. “And now, my dear, something sticky. From your pantry, anything will do.” My pantry was a chaotic testament to my haphazard cooking habits. I rummaged through jars and cans, finally grabbing a bottle of honey. It felt cliché, but undeniably, honey reeked of stickiness.

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bukake

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve seen a lot in this line of work, regularly catering to all kinds of desires, but Reed was a new experience. He wasn’t looking for the usual. He had this fantasy, he explained, a very specific tableau he wanted to create for years before we met. And honestly, I’m a sucker for helping people explore their passions! He seemed genuine, a little nervous, and the money was good, so I was in.

The hotel room was generic, beige on beige, but clean enough. I got Reed settled in a chair in his underpants, with a slightly bewildered look on his face. “Just relax,” I told him, smoothing down my tight little halter dress so my tits didn’t pop out. “I promise, Reed. Everything’s going to happen exactly as you imagined.”

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Last Sunday

Posted 2 months ago by Cory

Sunday

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Last Sunday started like any other. I woke up early, made breakfast for Ronnie and his sister, and got them ready for church. “Here,” I said, handing Ronnie a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “This is for the church donation. Make sure you put it in the collection plate, okay?” “Yes, Mama Cory,” he chirped, grabbing the money. His sister, always the responsible one, nodded solemnly. Off they went, all sunshine and smiles. I trusted them implicitly, or so I thought.

A few hours later, they returned. His sister, bless her honest heart, pulled me aside as soon as we were in the kitchen. “Mama Cory,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “I saw Ronnie at the candy shop across the street from the church after Sunday school! He was buying a whole bag of jawbreakers!” My heart sank. The donation money! I felt a surge of disappointment and a familiar maternal irritation bubbling inside me. Guiding an Abie to do the right thing can be incredibly hard, y’all! “Ronnie!” I called out, trying to keep my voice even. “Come here, please.”

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a grown man

Posted 2 months ago by Cory

Bartholomew

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s not every day you see a grown man sporting a full-on tuxedo with, shall we say, a little extra padding in the rear. But then again, my relationship with Bartholomew is anything but ordinary. He’s my big boy, emphasis on the big, and sometimes, bless his heart, his body just malfunctions.

Last Saturday was our friend Brenda’s annual “Soiree of Sophistication,” and naturally, I wanted Bartholomew to make a splash. Hence, the tuxedo. He looked dashing, kinda like heèd accidentally wandered into a James Bond film. The problem? Bartholomew gets cripplingly shy in social situations. His default setting is “awkward,” and apparently, his anxiety expresses itself through wetness.

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abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and I was lounging around the house in my favorite Metallica t-shirt and pink lace panties. My little ABDL buddy had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap, and I was left with a few hours to myself. Now, I have a pretty active social life, if I do say so myself. And one of my most reliable friends is Kevin, a fellow kinkster who shares my love of all things taboo. Kevin is my go-to guy whenever I need a little company, or a little excitement. And on this particular day, I knew he would be just the thing to liven up my quiet afternoon.

So I gave Kevin a call, and he was more than happy to swing by for a visit. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” he said, his voice already sounding a little breathless with anticipation. When Kevin arrived, he didn’t even bother to knock. He just let himself in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Well, well, well,” he said, eyeing me up and down. “Looks like someone’s ready for a little fun.”

Continue reading “It was a lazy Saturday afternoon” →