Category: Mistress phonesex

Sissy Slut Bob's Holiday Shopping Spree

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

My Boyfriend, Bob, isn’t good at anything but taking cock. Once I started slutting him out, our relationship really turned around. Since it’s the holiday season, and giving back is essential to me, I told my little Sissy slut Faggot that we were going to the Mall for a bit of charity work. Bob complained at first, ya know, because he is so lazy and selfish. However, when I told him that I wanted him to dress like the Talent Show scene in Mean Girls and pleasure all of the Husbands who’d been dragged to the Mall for last-minute Christmas shopping, his tune sure changed.

I dressed up my sissy slut faggot in white fishnets, tall white thigh-high heeled boots, and a red velvet skirt with fuzzy white trim. The tiny crop top that matched the skirt showed off Bob’s sexy abs and did nothing to hide his excitement. “Should you cage my sissy clit?” He asked me as he painted his lips Candycane red.

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Santa’s Domme

Posted 5 days ago by Stella

Santa domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

One day, I got a special client. It was Santa Claus. I couldn’t believe it. Santa, the man who gives presents to everyone, wanted to be dominated by me. I was excited and a little nervous because I had never dominated someone so famous before. I prepared my room, putting out all my toys and tools. When Santa arrived, I could see the excitement in his eyes. He was a big man with a round belly and a white beard. He looked like he hadn’t been dominated in a long time.

“Hello, Santa,” I said, trying to sound strong. “I am Stella, your dominatrix for today. You will call me Mistress Stella.” “Hello, Mistress Stella,” Santa said. His voice was jolly, but shaking a little. “I am ready to obey your orders.” “First, take off your clothes,” I said. Santa quickly removed his red suit.

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Long Leg Fetish

Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208

When I was growing up, my aunt used to tell me how lucky I was to be a ‘leggy blonde.’ It didn’t make sense to me until I was much older, when I realized all the benefits of being precisely what she said. “Leggy.” These long, smooth stems lure boys like the flame calls to the moth.

They flutter forward, hoping for warmth and protection, and then find themselves aflame. While the lust for my legs burns just as hot as the moth’s flickering flame, it’s only half as dangerous. My victims often escape with their lives and a recurring lust for my long legs.

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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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findom

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Attention is currency, and mine is priced high for a reason. Don’t confuse this with being a kind soul, mon chéri. I don’t waste time on ghosts who confuse feelings with transactions. My only rule is etched in the ice of a Montreal winter: I only talk to losers who send me money.

And they are, universally, losers. Not in the theatrical sense, but in the sad, damp reality of their lives. They are the men who linger on the edges of crowds, who treat their pathetic lives like a tragedy requiring an audience. They try to send poems, long screeds about their mothers, or worse, unsolicited pictures of their sad little faces or their sad little neglected cocks.

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car

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Mommy was taking Tami on a special car ride. She told Tami to behave and got her dressed in a beautiful pink frilly sissy dress, with her pwastic pants underneath, and little ankle socks, mary janes, and a beautiful pink sissy bow. Mommy Anna brought Tami over to the car and tried to shove her baby girl in her car seat but Tami began to kick, kick, kick profusely. That’s when Mommy gave Tami her final warning.

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Sissy Slut Bob Pays The Rent

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

I told my useless faggot boyfriend that if he didn’t start helping with the bills by getting a job, I’d find a way to make him pay. His lazy, good-for-nothing ass STILL didn’t look for a job after I dressed him in lingerie and invited six men over to gangbang him. I thought the idea of getting fucked for money would make him straighten up. However, the fucking cock lover has actually gotten lazier, if that’s even possible.

It’s clear he wants his holes getting stretched out and getting his face full of cum to be the only way he helps me out with the expenses around here. I came home to find him playing his video games again, and I threw the bag of slutty lingerie at his chest. “What’s this, baby?” He barely even looked away from the screen to check the bag.

“It’s the lingerie your sissy, slut ass is going to be wearing when you make our rent money tonight.” There was a spark of excitement in his gaze when he looked at me, and I sighed. Of course, there was no trepidation or fear. He loves being a cock sucking faggot.

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The Casino

Posted 3 months ago by Anna

finally

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna got a gig at a local Casino as a Cocktail waitress. She prowled around every night amongst high rollers and whores looking for someone to play with. Finally, she stumbled upon a kind gentleman. She offered him a drink, and he obliged.

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