Author: Amber

pantyhose blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I met Mike at a private party, where I was working as a professional tease. He was a handsome man, with dark eyes that held an intensity I found irresistible. I was wearing a sheer black negligee that left little to the imagination, and beneath it, a pair of silky black pantyhose. I could see the desire burning in his eyes as I strutted towards him, my hips swaying seductively. “Do you like what you see?” I asked, running my hands over my curves.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving my body. I laughed softly, then reached out and grabbed his hand, placing it on my thigh. “Feel that?” I whispered, as his fingers traced the delicate pattern of the pantyhose. “That’s what you’ve been craving, isn’t it?” He nodded again. I could feel his dick straining against his pants, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. After leading him to an oversized lounge chair, I pushed him down onto it and climbed on top of him. I straddled his waist, my pussy just inches from his throbbing cock.

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butt

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Some guys just really like my butt. I know, I know. It’s a common thing, maybe even a cliché, BUTT…there are levels to it, aren’t there? And then there was him. HIM. Most guys, they like the curve, the shape, the way it looks in a tight pair of jeans or a silk dress. Standard appreciation. But this one? He was an ass man with a very particular vision.

He wanted me to dress up. Not for a party, not for a night out. Just for him, and for the specific fantasy he’d crafted in his mind. A patent black catsuit. Gleaming. And patent black stiletto boots, so high they practically dared me to fall. My nails, already long, were sharpened and painted a deep, dangerous crimson. When I looked in the mirror, I wasn’t just a woman in an outfit; I was a creature. A typical superhero villainess, absolutely, from the sharp lines of the suit to the predacious gleam in my own eyes. And I felt like one, too. Powerful. Unattainable. Menacing, even.

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loser

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My phone buzzed on the counter, startling me out of my morning scroll. “Hey, it’s Scott. Got a new phone and wanted you to have my number.” Scott…SCOTT?! My mind did a full-body cringe. “Um, why?” I muttered to the empty kitchen. Not just why send it, but why bother letting me know? The memory of why we weren’t together ambushed me, as it always did, though the sharp edges had dulled to a dull ache of annoyance.

Scott had lost his job early last year. Not that he was fired, not that he quit for something better, he just floundered. And then he spent MONTHS moping around our apartment, turning into this hollow shell of a man, expecting me to magically fix everything and support us both. UGH, it was overwhelming. And so, so frustrating. Every day was a weight, an anchor dragging me down. I just needed an escape, you know? A breath. A moment where I wasn’t carrying the entire world on my shoulders.

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findom

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I reclined on my velvet chaise lounge, my ruby-red dress hugging my curves just right. My lips, painted the same shade of red as my dress, curled into a wicked grin as I watched Tobias. He stood before me, his eyes filled with desire and longing, his chiseled body tensed with anticipation. He thought I liked him, but oh, how wrong he was. I liked that he paid me. Tobias was a man of wealth, and I was a woman of power. He was my plaything, my puppet, my pet. Our one rule was that he could pump, he could stroke, but never ever would he be allowed to cum. He couldn’t touch me, but I could touch him. I was his goddess, his queen, his mistress. He was my submissive, my slave, my whore.

“Take off your clothes, Tobias,” I commanded, my voice as smooth as silk. He obeyed without question, shedding his designer suit piece by piece until he stood before me in all his naked glory. His cock was already hard, twitching with need. I

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Sweet Tooth

Posted 1 month ago by Amber

ruined orgasm

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I’ve had my fair share of unusual requests, but none quite like Axel’s. He had a sweet tooth, a vivid imagination, and a love of ruin. Our conversations were never dull, but this one took an interesting turn. “Amber…Let’s put honey in the back of your pants and lay down,” he said, his voice low and sultry. I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his request. “And then what?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“Then, I want you to grab some caramel sauce and drizzle it down the front of your pants,” he replied. I bit my lip, considering his words. I followed his instructions, giggling the entire time. The honey was sticky and sweet against my skin, and the caramel sauce was warm and inviting. I could feel my heart racing as I laid down on my bed, waiting for Axel’s next command. “Now, Amber, I want you to rub your clit for me,” he said, his voice husky. I did as he asked, letting out a moan that I hoped would satisfy him. I could hear the pleasure in his voice as he told me not to cum…Not yet, anyway.

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asmr

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Okay, Zoey, are you sure about this?” I asked, fiddling with my headset. Zoey, perched on the edge of my desk amidst a chaotic pile of chips bags and candy wrappers, grinned. “Absolutely, Amber,” she winked. You see, we’d recently stumbled upon the ASMR fetish community somewhat accidentally, after both of our TikTok FYP’s were filled with videos of whispering voices and the strangely compelling sounds of people eating. Zoey, ever the entrepreneur, had the brilliant idea that we should use this to our advantage – you know, being PSO’s and all. “Food-focused ASMR calls,” she’d declared, eyes gleaming. “We’ll be the queens of the crunch!”

And so, here we were. The first video call came through Teams, after a quick DM with “CrunchKing69.” “Hello?” I said, my voice a little too excited. Zoey was already unwrapping a bag of spicy ramen noodles. “H-hello,” a nervous voice replied. “Is…is this the, uh, ASMR call?” “Youuuuu betcha,” Zoey purred, before chomping hard on the crunchy noods. The sound filled the room, and we could see CrunchKing69 drooling on the other end while stroking his dick. Next, it was my turn. I grabbed a

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met gala

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Under the bright lights of the Met Gala, I stood, a vision in silver, my mermaid gown shimmering, my hair adorned with tiny silver flowers. Willie, my ABDL boyfriend, looked dashing in his silver suit, his eyes sparkling with excitement and nervousness. We were nobodies, but tonight, we were the stars, our futuristic attire capturing the attention of every photographer on the red carpet.

As we posed for the cameras, Willie leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. I thought he was going for a sexy nibble, but instead, he whispered, “I’ve had an accident.” Trying not to show my shock as my mind raced with the implications, I reassured him, my voice steady, “It’s okay, baby. We’ll handle it.” We made our way into the venue, our strides confident despite the situation. We bumped into an old friend, who, after a quick explanation, led us to the washroom.

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soldier

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

He was standing on the corner, bathed in the warm glow spilling from O’Malley’s Pub. He was a soldier, I could tell from the crisp cut of his hair and the easy confidence in his stance, surrounded by a boisterous group of his comrades. His eyes met mine, and the noise of the pub seemed to fade into a dull hum. He simply stared, a magnetic pull drawing me in.

He broke away from his friends, a sheepish grin on his face. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “I couldn’t help but notice you. Are you headed home? Mind if I walk with you?” I hesitated. The walk was short, only a few blocks. But the man exuded a raw energy that both intrigued and frightened me. “That’s kind of you,” I said. “But it’s really not necessary.”

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pinged

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The notification pinged, a shrill, digital cry slicing through the quiet hum of Mark’s cheap laptop. He knew what it was before he even glanced at the screen. A DM from me. Or, more accurately, the DM. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. It was Tuesday. Rinse day. The day his meager freelance earnings evaporated, funneled willingly into the digital abyss of my demands. He’d managed to tuck away a tiny bit extra this week, clinging to the hope of finally replacing his cracked phone screen. Now, that same phone mocked him from the corner of his desk, a constant reminder of his weakness.

Mark sighed, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. He knew the rules. He lived by them. Or, rather, he lived for them. The thrill of the chase, the delicious self-loathing as he emptied his digital wallet, the fleeting sense of purpose it gave him. It was pathetic, he knew. Utterly and completely pathetic. He clicked the DM.

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participant

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Liam is a willing participant in our little game of power and control. His bedroom was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation and a hint of nervous sweat. Liam was strapped to a plush velvet chair, his eyes wide and pleading. Miss Anna, a vision in a tight black dress and sky-high heels, circled him as if she had found her prey. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on my lips.

“Now, Liam,” Anna purred, her voice dripping with mock concern. “We had a deal, didn’t we? Hands behind your head. Or else…” Liam whimpered, his gaze darting between Anna and me. “But… but it’s been so long,” he stammered, his voice laced with desperation. “Please, just a little…” “A little what, Liam?” I interjected, pushing myself off the doorframe and strolling closer. “A little touch? Perhaps a little relief? You know the rules. Obedience is rewarded, disobedience is punished.”

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