Author: Stella

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

People ask me, constantly, why I do this. It is about understanding the fundamental truth of the human psyche: how much they desire the total absence of responsibility. For me, being a Domme—la Déesse, if you prefer the proper terminology—is the only way I can truly breathe. Everything else is noise. But when someone kneels before me, the world outside vanishes. There is only the weighted silence of utter obligation.

I love the control, of course. Who wouldn’t love the knowledge that a single, slow lift of my eyebrow can shatter a man’s composure? But that’s just the starting point. The real allure is what comes after the initial submission: the raw trust. They put themselves and their entire emotional landscape into my hands. They need me to be sharper, wiser, and crueler than they are capable of being themselves.

Continue reading “the fundamental truth of the human psyche” →

cock

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I love weiners. Cocks, penises, la queue. Whatever the polite name is, or the dirty one, the object remains the same. For me, it is the center of the world. It’s not just a casual interest; it is an obsession. I remember once, walking through the grocery store. List in hand, I paused in front of the thick packaged sausages. My friend, Élise, was with me. She asked, “Stella, why are you staring at the food?”

I didn’t answer right away because I was too busy looking at the weiners. It sounds silly, I know. A girl obsessed with hot dogs. But they remind me of big, fat, juicy cocks. My stomach was hungry, but that had nothing to do with lunch. This need is so intense! When I see a man, really see him, my eyes skip the face and I ignore the clothes. They go straight to the center of his pants, imagining the veins, the rough heat under there just waiting to fill up a girl like me. It’s an instant turn on!

Continue reading “I love weiners and weiners love me!” →

masturbation

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

It smells in here, like cheap drinks and a lot of dreams. I walked fast through the backstage hall and pushed open the door to my small dressing room. I needed privacy and quiet. But I needed something else, too.

On stage, I am bright lights and fast moves. My smile is for the money. But in this quiet room, the smile is just for me. I looked at the mirror. Glitter was everywhere. I started taking off my outfit. The velvet, the straps, the tight little things. Slowly. I like this part. Peeling off the layers and the feeling of myself, it comes back.

Continue reading “Backstage Masturbation Fun” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He was kneeling before me with his head bowed. Fear is a sound I understand intimately. It’s a language universally welcomed and accepted here. My gaze drifted down the line of my black pencil skirt, lingering on the whip on table beside me. “Look at me,” I commanded.

The sound of my voice broke the tension like a glass shattering. He flinched, then lifted his chin slowly and reluctantly. His eyes were a deep, unsettling blue, swimming with an emotion I recognized instantly. It was the terrifying beauty of surrender. He wasn’t looking at a person; he was looking at the weight of his own submission.

Continue reading “Fear is a sound I understand intimately” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

They come to my apartment, crawling with their money and their sad, empty eyes. They want to be nothing. And I am good at making them nothing. When my heels click on the polished floor, it is a quick, clean sound. Like a tiny whip. I wear black, always. Black is serious. Black is power. My red lipstick is the only color. It is like a stain, a mark, on a clean sheet.

Today, it is a man named Mark. He sits on my velvet couch. This man is too big for it, so his shoulders are hunched. He looks like a little lost, but he is old. Pathetic. He avoids my gaze. Good. He knows his place. “You are early,” I say. My voice is not loud, but it is like ice. “Did I say you could be early? No.”

Continue reading “crawling with their money” →

spanking blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Brian knew. He’d forgotten himself, let a task slip in a moment of defiance, and now…now he would have no choice but to remember his place. My place. A slow, predacious smile touched my lips, unseen by him, but surely felt in the sudden tension that stiffened his spine.

“Brian,” I purred. “Did you truly believe, even for a moment, that I would tolerate such…well…nonsense?” He remained silent. Good. Fear, respect, anticipation – all blended into a potent melange. My gaze swept over him, from the dark hair falling into his eyes to the vulnerable curve of his neck. This was where he belonged: at my mercy, awaiting my command.

Continue reading “Brian Must Be Punished” →

findom

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Attention is currency, and mine is priced high for a reason. Don’t confuse this with being a kind soul, mon chéri. I don’t waste time on ghosts who confuse feelings with transactions. My only rule is etched in the ice of a Montreal winter: I only talk to losers who send me money.

And they are, universally, losers. Not in the theatrical sense, but in the sad, damp reality of their lives. They are the men who linger on the edges of crowds, who treat their pathetic lives like a tragedy requiring an audience. They try to send poems, long screeds about their mothers, or worse, unsolicited pictures of their sad little faces or their sad little neglected cocks.

Continue reading “Don’t Confuse This – Findom Phonesex” →

breeding kink

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Mr. Sterling was from out of town, his accent a low, rumbling melody that hinted at old money and even older secrets. I’d been working on the Harrington merger for months, flying back and forth, enduring endless conference calls with Mr. Sterling and his team. And, today, we’d finally sealed the deal.

“Stella,” he’d said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “a deal this significant deserves a proper celebration. I’d be honored if you’d join me for dinner.” I hesitated for a split second, the professional in me battling the flicker of intrigue. But the thrill of closing such a massive deal, coupled with his undeniable charisma, won out. “I’d love to, Mr. Sterling.”

Continue reading “Doing Business With Mr. Sterling” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He was already there, kneeling in the center of the dark space. His back was too straight, his assigned sissy maid uniform too soft, too pink. This submissive, this sissy bitch, was waiting for me. I liked that I could feel his fear, even from across the floor. It was a good scent.

My heels clicked sharp and slow on the cement tiles. I walked a full circle around him, never touching, just watching the subtle way his whole body tensed and trembled. He kept his eyes locked on the floor, afraid to look at his mistress. Bon. Good manners are everything.

Continue reading “Sissy Bitch Maid” →

motorcycle slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

A black leather jacket, worn just right, hugged his wide shoulders. Dark jeans, heavy boots. His hair was long, pulled back in a knot, and he had a look in his eyes that said he knew things I didn’t. A scar cut a thin line through his eyebrow. He was a bad man, I thought. And my stomach twisted with a strange, dark excitement.

He didn’t look at anyone else. His eyes, dark like midnight, found mine across the room. A slow, knowing smile reached his lips. My heart, which had been so bored just moments ago, started to beat against my ribs. I didn’t smile back, just held his gaze like a silent dare.

Continue reading “Fucking Me In Leather On His Motorcycle” →