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.
Category: mean phonesex
Roxxxy 1(844) 332-2639 Ext 414
Wedding season is upon us. So the bachelor parties have been picking up. So far, I’ve been hired to do a few over the next couple of months. Most of them hire two or three dancers. But last weekend I had a solo gig. It turned out to be the craziest bachelor party that I’ve ever done. And it made me wonder if I should ever do one alone again. When I arrived, the butler showed me to the elevator. He told me that the party awaits me in the basement. The elevator took me to the cold, dark underground floor. I stepped out into a dark hallway and heard a faint mumble. I followed the sound to a huge, heavy, wooden door at the end of the hall. When I pulled the door open, it was so loud inside. Music and belligerent men yelling and being rowdy pierced the air. I quickly realized that it was a sound proof basement. The guys were young, early twenties, pumped with adrenaline and testosterone. You know, spoiled rotten, entitled types. They’ve grown up with way too much money and think they can do whatever they want.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
They call me cruel. Heartless. Good. That’s where I want them. Shivering, exposed, stripped of illusion and power. Obedience is a language, after all. I don’t break men. That’s too soft a word. I refine them. But only if they survive the heat.
Last night, a new sub came to me. He was tall and tattooed. The kind of man who thinks his confidence is armor. “I want to be yours,” he said, with curiosity in his eyes. I stared at him and smiled, thinking oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’re offering.
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.
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?”
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.
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?
Continue reading “I didn’t start this whole findom goddess thing on purpose…”
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.
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.
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”