Category: mean phonesex

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Most of the people in this house look at my curled chestnut hair and oversized emerald eyes, and they see a sweet little thing. But the truth is, I like breaking rules. Especially Daddy’s rules. Especially because Daddy thinks he’s a warden in a very expensive, marble floored detention center. He keeps me locked in ivory towers (aka my room, when I’ve been naughty), dresses me in cashmere, and expects me to speak in a soft, polite whisper. But I’m fundamentally and deliciously rotten.

Right now, I’m sitting on the Persian rug in the center of the study. My knees are smeared with garden mud, and are red from where I scraped myself while climbing the forbidden ivy trellis in the yard. I hear heavy footsteps echo in the hall. Suddenly, the door flies open and there’s Daddy. He doesn’t shout, though. Daddy never shouts. That’s his favorite trick. He just looks at me.

Continue reading “Breaking Daddy’s Rules” →

Discipline

Posted 1 week ago by Cory

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Mark was late for our scheduled evening review by exactly four minutes. In my world, tardiness was an unacceptable lapse in discipline. “You understand why punctuality matters to me, don’t you, Mark?” I asked. My voice was purposely devoid of warmth, serving as a reminder that my patience was not an infinite resource. His eyes darted away for a split second before I tightened my grip on his chin. Just enough to demand his absolute, undivided attention.

I’d built my reputation on precision and absolute obedience, and I certainly wasn’t going to tolerate sloppy habits from anyone, especially not from Mark. “Good,” I said, while letting go of his face and stepping back slightly. “Kneel.” It wasn’t a request, nor was it phrased as a question. He dropped and his knees hitting the floor with a dull thud that echoed softly in the quiet room. I looked down at him and slowly adjusted my cuffs as I let the silence stretch out, forcing him to marinate in the consequences of his careless mistake.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My sub usually understood the boundaries of our dynamic, but halfway through our session he had stupidly forgotten his place. It’s as if his teeny, tiny man brain needed a thorough, ruthless scrubbing to remind him of his place when he’s in my presence. I didn’t see the point in continuing with our usual type of degradation if he was just going to be a brat, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“Knees,” I commanded, in that cold, flat tone he hated. He dropped to his knees instantly and looked up at me with those eager, pathetic eyes. “Mistress, I…”

Continue reading “Lesson fucking learned.” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Mark sat with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes fixed on the floor. Kayla sat to my left. She held Mark’s gold card between two of her perfectly manicured fingers, while admiring it like a trophy. “Stella, darling, shall we see how much he’s willing to sacrifice for our entertainment?” she asked, with a wink.

“Let’s!” I said, while watching the subtle tremor in his shoulders. “You know the rules, Mark. Four digits. If we guess correctly, the balance is ours. If we miss…well, the penalty for wasting our time is exactly the same.”

Continue reading “The PIN to Mark’s Gold Card” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Joseph knew the rules about keeping his play area tidy after quiet time, yet the room looked as though a tornado had spontaneously passed through it. As soon as he saw me standing in the doorway, Joseph huddled in the corner with his hands crossed over his thick, crinkly diaper. It appeared as if he was trying to summon a look of false indifference, but we both knew he couldn’t fool Mama Cory.

Disciplinarian was never a role that I enjoyed, but it was an essential tether to the boundaries that kept Joseph and my other ABDL’s feeling safe and structured within their sessions. As I knelt down to his level, I could see his pulse in his throat, which was a clear indication that the initial bravado of his rebellion was rapidly fading into the realization of the consequences that were about to inevitably follow his actions.

Continue reading “Joseph knew the rules” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My collection of toys is a gallery of exquisite agony and, to be entirely honest with you, I love it. Each object holds its own place in my heart; however, there are two in particular that I love the most. There’s a heavy, weighted flogger constructed from braided leather that feels like a conversation with gravity every time I use it. I’ve also recently acquired a set of glass blown dilators that shimmer like trapped lightning under the dim glow of my crystal chandelier.

When I’m here in my dungeon, I’m not Stella the accountant, or Stella the daughter, or Stella the woman who worries about the passage of time. I’m only known as Mistress Stella, the creator of sensations. I love the way the room seems to inhale when I’m ready to play. There’s a specific kind of power in being the stillness at the heart of the storm, and I relish every moment of it. I pick up a single, slender crop, testing the weight of it against my palm. The leather is supple, worn smooth by years of practiced intent.

Continue reading “My collection of toys” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My roster of submissive men is long. Most thrive under the weight of my boot. Most find peace in the surrender. But then there is Elias. He’s…a bit of a glitch in my system. He doesn’t want simple obedience, he wants to see how far he can push me. Elias is the type of guy who treats my boundaries like suggestions and my commands like challenges to his own crumbling ego.

Last night, for example, he smirked when I told him to kneel. Just as I was about to correct him, his eyes darted to my face with that infuriating, inquisitive glimmer. He wasn’t looking for release, he was looking for a crack in my composure. Instead, he found the cold, clinical end of my patience.

Continue reading “Breaking Elias’ Ego” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Puppet is here, just as he always is. He is kneeling on the bare hardwood with his spine straight and his hands tucked neatly behind his back. He doesn’t speak unless I grant him permission and he doesn’t move unless I tell him to. His name really does suit him.

“Look up,” I say, quietly. My voice barely rises above the hum of the air conditioner. Instantly, his head tilts back. His eyes are wide and glassy with a desperate, frantic devotion that borders on worship. He is a masterpiece of my own making, stripped of his autonomy until he is nothing more than a vessel for my whims.

Continue reading “Pathetic Puppet” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Victor was the golden boy of the firm, wearing perfectly tailored suits, a charming, self-assured smile, and a professional mask that I itched to dismantle. Our flirting had become a ritual of microscopic transgressions. A lingering touch when I handed him a file, a double-entendre whispered during a budget meeting, the way he would lean in just a fraction too close, and how his pupils would dilate when I caught his eye. He thought he was the hunter, but he had no idea he was walking straight into a web.

Last Friday, I finally dropped the bait. I left a small, cream-colored envelope on his desk with nothing but my home address, a time (9:00 PM) and a lipstick print in my signature shade of red. He had commented on it the week before, saying it was “Beautiful,” so I knew he would recognize that the note was from me.

Continue reading “Femdom Vs the golden boy” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The moment he stepped across the threshold of my apartment, his gaze fixed firmly on the floorboards as if they held the secrets to his inevitable surrender. I sat reclined in my leather chair, watching him with a calculated stillness that seemed to draw the breath right out of his lungs. It’s always fun, being hired to ruin a powerful man. I knew full well that he craved the structure I provided more than he craved his own autonomy.

His movements were awkward and hesitant, like a silent plea for acknowledgement written across his flushed features. I tapped my fingers against the arm of my chair and demanded he look me in the eye. As his chin slowly tilted upward, I saw the raw, exposed vulnerability that flickered behind his tired eyes. He was mine in every sense of the word. A polished instrument of devotion that required my constant, firm guidance to function at peace.

Continue reading “Dommy Mommy Cory Ruins A Powerful Man” →