Category: roleplay phone sex

Holiday Sub

Posted 3 days ago by Stella

kinky

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My darling sub was kneeling on the cold floor, exactly where I told him to wait. I had added a little touch for the holiday season…two tiny silver bells attached near the buckle. Every small movement he made gave a soft, delightful jingle. Ting. Ting. It was the sound of my ownership.

He kept his head bowed and his body tense. He knew the rules. I walked around him slowly as my heels clicked on the hardwood. I didn’t need rope tonight, I needed presentation. “Look up, Darling,” I commanded. His eyes met mine.

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nipple play Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Liam was frantic when he finally showed up for our play date. He was always a little sweaty, but this time he was breathing hard. When I asked, he said it was because he ran all the way to my house, but I like to think it was really just a mix of adrenaline and paranoia from sneaking around. He was, after all, my best friend’s brother.

“I only have forty minutes, Amber. Seriously,” he whispered, backing me against the door and already burying his face in my neck. “Forty minutes is plenty for the main event,” I purred, pushing him back slightly so I could appreciate the view. Liam is a bit of a walking contradiction. He’s a quiet, bookish engineer by day, and a total submission demon by night.

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naughty neighbor

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My new neighbor moved in the other day. I watched him struggle with a massive sectional sofa for an embarrassing amount of time before approaching him. I wanted him sweaty and a little out of breath. My initial move was classic because it’s always effective: the overly dramatic “lost valuable” scam. For the purposes of “research” (research, being specifically for my wet, throbbing pussy of course), I dramatically misplaced my favorite, irreplaceable, and currently non-existent diamond earring somewhere near his threshold.

“Oh, sir! I’m so dreadfully sorry, but I think the heirloom my great-grandmother gifted me has rolled under your welcome mat!” He immediately stopped struggling with the sofa and scrambled to help me search, completely missing the fact that my entire body language was screaming, “Forget the the diamond, let’s just make poor choices immediately with our clothes off.”

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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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Spanksgiving

Posted 2 weeks ago by Amber

spanking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

This is the story about the origin of Spanksgiving. The kitchen was thick with steam that smelled overwhelmingly of simmering basil and crushed tomatoes. Thanksgiving wasn’t complete without Mommy Anna’s infamous Neapolitan sugo, and Ronnie was slumped over the heavy cast iron pot.

“Don’t stop stirring, Ronnie,” Mommy Anna had warned. “We have company coming and this sugo cannot stick. Keep that heat low and that spoon moving!” I slipped into the kitchen hoping for a leftover cookie, but stopped in my tracks when I saw my brother. “Ronnie, you won’t believe it,” I whispered, leaning close to the stove.

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diaper boy

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I still remember the day I met Mark. Tall, dark, and diaper-clad. His pants were noticeably puffy in the crotch, and a wry smile played on his face as he introduced himself. As we struck up a conversation, the puff in his pants grew, revealing a telltale outline. Mark casually mentioned his “accidents” and how they’d been an issue his whole life. He explained that he wears diapers when he’s away from home as a “safety net” in case he wets himself. I was taken aback, but his charming self-assurance put me at ease.

Fast forward a few months, and there I was, the girl who carried diapers in her purse, because you never know when Mark might have an “oops” moment. We’d become quite the pair, giggling through public mishaps and turning nighttime wetting into a playful routine. After Mark’s morning shower, we’d drape him in a fresh diaper, then I’d stroke his cock as he came to the crinkly sound of my hand moving up and down his shaft inside his clean pampers.

Continue reading “Tall, dark, and diaper-clad.” →

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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groupie

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

I leaned back against the peeling faux-leather sofa, nursing a flat ginger ale. My eyes weren’t fixed on any one person; they were sweeping, taking inventory of the faces that mattered. The ones leaning over the mixing board, the ones holding the actual contracts. My gaze skipped past the girlfriends, the wives, the stable ones. They were wallpaper.

I live for the proximity. I don’t care about the music, not really. When you’re standing next to someone who is currently being applauded, some of that heat spills onto you. I care about the glow. For a few hours, I’m not just so-and-so from nowhere; I’m Jamie who was with HIM. It’s a borrowed shine, and I’m addicted to the reflection.

Continue reading “I Only Have Eyes For Him…Until I Don’t.” →

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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military man

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My friend Heather cornered me the moment she heard her brother, Henry, was back in the city. “Amber,” she’d whispered, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m throwing him a welcome home party and need you to be there! He’s been gone for so long, and you know…you know how I feel about you and him. Just…take care of him for me, okay?”

Henry was a ruggedly handsome military man, fresh from some top-secret Pentagon assignment. He was the kind of man who made you forget your own name, especially when he was wearing that crisp uniform. I wandered into Heather’s living room and there he was, looking as fine as ever, surrounded by friends and relatives. The air crackled when he looked in my direction. Heather had given me the go-ahead, a playful shove towards destiny, and my heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

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