Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Mistress Anna was throwing a lunch party and told her slave to dress up as a French maid. ‘’Please, Mistress Anna, this is so humiliating!’’ said the slave. But Mistress Anna wouldn’t have it. She ordered him to put it on and he obeyed: a French maid’s dress, fishnet stocking and high heels. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
The webcam light flickered to life, bathing my room in a cool, clinical blue glow. On the screen, Mark sat in his dimly lit office. A half-empty glass of liquid glinting beside his keyboard. He was a new acquisition, one who had paid a premium for my undivided attention, but he was already failing the test.
“Good evening, Mark,” I said. He looked at the screen. His pupils were dilated and his face flushed with the telltale heat of a drinking problem. “Stella,” he slurred. “You look…um, I…I want you to dominate me.” I didn’t smile. Instead, I let the silence stretch until the air in his room felt heavy enough to scare him a little. “Stop,” I commanded, as I watched him jack his cock under his desk.
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Miss Anna took a job as a stewardess. She figured she could make some extra money and travel for free. She would flirt with any hot passenger she could find, until one day she was paired up with a really hot pilot. He was young, handsome, and new at his job. She made sure to wink at him and brush up against him any chance she got.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
The first one caught my eye at 2 am. A tweet that read, “I’m lost. Need a hand to hold.” The author’s thin‑lined profile picture was of a man with a half‑smile, signed with his handle @MourningMoth. I replied, not with a greeting but with a command. “Close your eyes. Breathe. Count to three, then type ‘ready’.” The reply came instantly. They usually do.
From there, the dance began. I instructed him to write down his limits, his safe words, and the things that made the darkness feel comfortable. He obeyed and explained that each line he typed was a confession he could not make to anyone else. Of course it was! lol
Melanie 1-844-33-CANDY ext 463
Tony came over to my house on Easter weekend to catch up. It’s a time for rebirth and renewals, and this is just what I needed. He came into my house and walked up to my room like he already knew the place. When he came upstairs, he found me in a purple satin and lace babydoll nighty. I was ready for some loving.
He came up behind me and started kissing on my neck and I could feel his hard on poking me in the back. He reached around and started groping my tits and pinching my nipples right as I reach around behind me so I could help him stroke his cock.
He was stroking lightly and slow, edging himself, but I wanted more from him. I told him to come around to my front so I could watch him stroke and guide him along. I put him down on his knees and guided him along. I told him to stroke faster and harder until he was on the edge of cumming and then demanded that he stop.
Melanie 1-844-33-CANDY ext 463
Marty called me to ask if I could do a last-minute session with him. He was begging me, telling me he really needed to see me. I thought he was being pathetic, but I told him if he came over tomorrow night, I could squeeze him in for a three-day session.
Friday rolled around and Marty showed up two hours early; boy was he desperate! I led him downstairs to my dungeon of fun and let him set up. That included stripping him of all his clothing and I put him in the corner cage until I was ready for him. What he didn’t know was that I wouldn’t be ready for him until Sunday!
Hours passed by and poor little Marty was waiting, wondering when I’d be back for him. The night turned into day, and Saturday was here before we knew it. He heard the sounds of my stiletto heels coming down the basement stairs. What surprised him the most was the hunk of man I brought down with me.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
The only light in my apartment is a single bulb swinging from a loose cord. Puppet, my nickname for the man who walks the line between devotion and dread, is already waiting in my living room with his shoulders hunched as if he’s bracing for a storm he cannot see. His eyes remain fixed on the floorboards and I can hear his breath. It sounds shallow, like the rhythm of a heart that beats faster when it knows it is being watched.
“Stella,” he whispers, trembling. I smile and he flinches. The movement is tiny, but enough to tell me he is listening. The rules between us are more of a contract that’s etched in ink and fear. Obey, or the consequences will be more than a bruised ego. He knows the price of disobedience. Exile, humiliation, the kind of silence that follows you into the night.
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Mistress Anna was waitressing at the casino again, when she noticed a weak, fragile soul. He was sitting by the bar looking fragile. She crept up to him and tippy toed her fingers alongside his back, startling him.
Trans Goddess Alexus 1844-332-2639 Ext 349
I strut around the two-foot-tall cage in the middle of my room. The farel beast inside has only enough room to turn around on its knees. I grin down at it as its hungry gaze follows me when I go around. It’s drooling, mouth just watering for a taste of my cock. “Are you hungry, you filthy pet?” It grunts and nods.
Its grubby fingers wrap around the cage bars and rattles the thing as if in an attempt to escape. “Mmm, you aren’t going anywhere till you break,” I remind the beast and get close enough for a string of precum to drip from the head of my cock, down between the bars, where it splatters on my pet’s waiting tongue. “You’ll be good this time?”
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
James waited in the doorway with his shoulders hunched and his eyes flickering between curiosity and dread. I could feel the hum of his anticipation vibrating through the hallway, like a low drone that matched the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. James was not only my sub, he was my pawn and my modest bank account…and he was about to be summoned into a scene he could not decline.
I slipped my corset on with the same reverence I reserve for a ritual. The ivory boning pressed against my ribs, pulling my breath into a tight, disciplined rhythm. My skirt was a cascade of black taffeta that fell to the floor in a perfect, measured pleat.