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
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.
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.
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Mistress Anna hired a new secretary. He was overqualified, and very capable, but most of all he wanted to work for Mistress Anna more than anything in the world. She said she expected him to act, work, and dress a certain way. Without even asking, he agreed to all the terms.
Continue reading “Mistress Anna and her Secretary Slut Slave”
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
The first time a client walked through the door of my studio, it was a late night in March and he was trembling. He introduced himself as Michael, a name he’d chosen for the night, and handed me a thick, handwritten contract. I read each clause, the limits, the safe words, the aftercare provisions, and signing it felt more like a promise than a signature.
When the lights dimmed, the room became a sanctuary of shadows. My hand brushed his cheek and I whispered, “You’re here because you want to be seen, to be felt, to surrender.” He nodded. We began with a simple rope. Four meters of hemp, stripped smooth by years of practice. I looped it around his wrists, tight enough to speak, loose enough to trust. As the knots settled into their places, I watched his muscles tense and then relax. The rope sang against his skin. Continue reading “The first time a client walked through the door”
Mama Felicity 1844-332-2693 Ext 270
“Have you put him in the wheelbarrow position?” I asked Mary, who was complaining that her adult baby wasn’t responding to her punishment techniques. Debbie nodded and pointed at me.
“That’s a great suggestion. I bet the little wise ass would smarten up then!” We laughed, but Mary shrugged, a little defeated by how bad her baby was. I’m sure she hated how we all knew it, too.
“I don’t even know what that position is.” There was a sadness in her voice that made me put my arm around her and pull her in close. As her best Mommy friend, I’d be sure to show her how to get that boy in line!
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
He came in to my studio under the guise of a “creative consultation,” which was a vague term that meant nothing more than “I want you to see what I’m not allowed to touch.” He’d been a lawyer, a man steeped in contracts and clauses, but his eyes betrayed the yearning for something raw, unfiled.
I learned early on that the word “taboo” is a suggestion, not a law. It’s a whisper that shivers down a willing spine. And, of course, I love to make that whisper roar. So, I offered him a chair. Not the comfortable kind. The useful kind. “Stella,” he whispered, “I’ve read the rules. I’ve signed the consent forms. I’m yours, for as long as you want.”
Continue reading “Creative Consultation Dominatrix Phonesex”
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
He’s a man I’ve never met. An anonymous figure with a number for a name. paypig‑247. He found me through a thread of desperation and desire. A place where the lonely and the willing collide. He sends me a DM and offers his payment info immediately. I process it and click “reply.”
“Money is the first offering. Show me you understand your place.” A few moments later, I see a notification on my screen. He extends our session by another hour. I feel a slight tremor of satisfaction. A dark delight that comes not from the cash itself but from the submission it represents. He probably watches a flickering TV, waiting for his next command. He thinks he’s safe behind a screen, but I can feel how nervous he is.
Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208
Aaron was supposed to be home hours ago. He had promised to take me to a special Valentine’s Day dinner, and instead I am sitting on the couch, all dressed up and alone. I keep checking my watch and my phone. No text, no call, just radio silence from my dumb bitch of a boyfriend.
As I’m stewing, a thunderously obnoxious noise rattles my windows as a lifted truck comes barreling up the road. I can only imagine how small that dudes penis is. It’s so loud I have to press my hands to my ears till the engine shuts off. Only, It sounded like it shut off in front of my house. I stand up to look out the window, and sure enough. Fucking Aaron is jumping out of the shiny, new, expensive-looking truck.