Category: mean phonesex

A Double Ruin

Posted 5 days ago by Alexus

A Double Ruin

Trans Goddess Alexus 1844-332-2639 Ext 349

Imagine your hands are tied above your head, and you lie before me completely naked with your legs spread wide. I’m sitting between your thighs in an open black robe. The swell of my tits teases your eyes, and my left leg is draped over your thigh, pinning your lower half in place.

My hand jerks your little dick mercilessly. No matter how you strain, you can’t escape the pending orgasm. Every stroke of my hand and wobble of my tits brings you closer and closer, and just as you can no longer hold it back, my hand lets go, and your orgasm is ruined. We both watch your pathetic cock spew its load in weak dribbles as you beg me to help finish it off. I don’t. The only thing I’ll help you with is a double ruin.

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Daddy, No!

Posted 2 weeks ago by Amber

spank

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Daddy is really strict when it comes to what I wear. Every day, he inspects my outfit and I can’t leave the house without his approval. The other day, I snuck out when he wasn’t home. I was wearing nothing more than a tight black tube top, a matching skirt that barely covered my ass, and sheer black thong. All was well until my idiot brother saw me with a much older guy and told Daddy about it.

Daddy was waiting for me when I got home. “It’s just an outfit, Dad.” I said, as I walked past him to get to my room. “Just an outfit?” He stated, furiously. “This isn’t a game, Amber. Stop being a little bitch.” I cackled and he grabbed my wrist, holding me back. “Turn around.” His face was stone cold as he said it. I hesitated. “What? Why?”

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domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Tonight’s client is younger than usual. He’s here for punishment, though he doesn’t yet know it. All the young ones start with that (stupid) hope in their chest, thinking they’ll be able to tame me. Yeah, right. Once they’re inside of my web, they quickly realize the error of their ways.

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” I purr. He shivers when I touch his chin, as my nails dig into his jaw. “You’re here to obey. N’est-ce pas?” He nods, swallowing hard. Good. They always think they can handle more than they can.

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findom goddess

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I didn’t start this whole findom goddess thing on purpose. It was more like a side hustle during my “career break” after years of being a “professional” babysitter. One day, I woke up after posting a cute selfie (in which you could see my feet) to the realization that I went viral.

Suddenly, my follower count was higher than my self-esteem and I was fielding requests from people who called themselves “Cory’s Losers,” which was a little creepy considering, but hey…who am I to argue with someone who wants to pay me for simply existing?

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domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Midnight is coming. So is he. Red light spills from the glass shelf. Candles, not for romance, but for control. For power. My mirror shows a woman in black. Tight dress, sharp collar, eyes lined with kohl. My hair is dark as the silence between commands.

His name is Daniel. He’s been mine for nearly a year. Polite. Obedient. Shakes when I raise my voice. I like that. Tonight isn’t about punishment. It’s about passage. A new year. A fresh leash.

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abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I came home to the scent of overcooked sugar and something suspiciously like chocolate melted on the stovetop. “Liam?” I called, dropping my keys with a clatter, already bracing myself. What I found in the kitchen stopped me mid-sigh. There was flour dusted on every surface like powdered snowfall, eggshells were floating in a bowl like tiny ceramic rafts, and my grown-up baby, wearing nothing but footed pajamas and a look of proud guilt, was standing knee-deep in spilled sprinkles.

He had clearly attempted to make Christmas cookies. It was a noble effort, really, but whatever recipe he used had devolved into what looked like a science experiment gone rogue. A lopsided dough monster clung to the counter, a measuring cup was stuck on his head like a helmet, and my (VERY EXPENSIVE) mixer lay on its side, still twitching with post-beating aftershocks.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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” →