Roxy 1(844) 332-2639 Ext 414

There’s just somethin’ ‘bout a cowboy that makes me weak in the knees. And I met a truly genuine one at the rodeo. He looked so fucking sexy roping the bulls in his wranglers, cowboy hat and boots, and leather chaps. Mmmmm… that smell of leather gets me so wet. With the way all of the girls were fawning over him, he had to know how good lookin’ he is. But I caught his eye.  One thing led to another, and he asked me out for dinner. What I hadn’t anticipated was how dressed up he was. He looked so handsome in his black felt cowboy hat and sports coat. And he brought me a dozen pink roses. He informed me that he’d made reservations at an upscale steak house, so I hurriedly slipped into a little black dress. And we were off. I had really misjudged him. That’s what I get for judging a book by it’s cover. The way he smirked at all of his little groupies led me to believe that he was just a pretty boy player. But he was actually quite the gentleman.

Continue reading “There’s Somethin’ ‘Bout A Cowboy Part 3”

big tits

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

There was a time when I’d try to wear loose-fitting clothes to minimize the attention, but it seemed like the more I tried to hide them, the more my giant tits seemed to, well, bulge out. I’d get comments from strangers, some of whom would be kind enough to offer me “helpful” advice on how to reduce their size (and others who, um, offered to test their firmness as if I couldn’t see their boners growing in their pants).

One of the most memorable experiences I had was during a family vacation to the beach. I opted for a bright pink bikini with a built-in bra, which seemed like a good idea at the time (spoiler alert: it wasn’t). As I was applying sunscreen, I noticed a group of guys staring at me from a nearby beach umbrella. That was when my quick-witted brother jumped in and started doing a play-by-play commentary of the scene, complete with over-the-top sports announcer voice and ridiculous sound effects.

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Heartless

mean domme

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.

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slut

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As my friends and I walked down the street, laughing and chatting, we were suddenly stopped by the host of “SilverFox Express.” The show was notorious for its raunchy content, where Max, a man in his 50s, would take a younger woman on a series of sexual adventures and callers would bid on what they’d do next. It was all about shock value and pushing boundaries. My friends all pussied out, but I was so ready to get started! Max sure was a hottie after all and I couldn’t wait to get down n’ dirty with him.

Max was charming and flirtatious. I found myself easily playing along, laughing and teasing him in front of the camera, while he told viewers about how much he liked my perky tits and ass. I was determined to be the best guest the show had ever had. After a few minutes of flirty, sexy banter, the bids started rolling in. “Remember, folks. Amber gets to keep whatever you bid, so make sure to pay the lady well for her efforts! I can already tell that she’s got some tricks up her sleeve!”

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potty abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days. THREE DAYS. He claimed he was “saving up for a big one.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but let’s just say I know now. And I’d rather not discuss it over dinner. When I finally cornered him in the living room, surrounded by crumpled diapers like a hoarder’s confession, he gave me those big eyes and whispered “I wike diapers, Cory.” Try as I might, he really didn’t want to use the potty.

Changing him was always a challenge. Last time, he flopped dramatically onto the changing mat I laid out and whined that the powder irritated his “tushie sensors.” I’m not kidding. Actual phrase. I tried to stay professional, like a diaper-disposal Navy SEAL, but then he giggled and let one rip simultaneously while I had his legs in the air, and I lost it. I mean, I didn’t get angry or anything. Instead, I laughed like a maniac, which only encouraged him to do it again. Sigh.

Continue reading “Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days.”

The Bellagio

vegas

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The other day, Ethan called via video chat. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said with a grin. “I’m at the Bellagio. You have time for some fun?” Behind him, the iconic fountains erupted in perfect, choreographed chaos. “Did you seriously just call me from Vegas?” I laughed, “You KNOW how badly I wanna go!”

He tilted his phone, giving me a panoramic view of the fountains. Then, without a word, he shifted the camera. The fountain’s roar faded into a soft, low hum as the focus snapped to him. He was standing in a plush, midnight‑blue suit, with the jacket unbuttoned just enough to reveal the crisp line of his chest.

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cuck

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I took control over the man who once was my English teacher. He was tall with a deep voice deep and in class he always said “Read the text, feel the words.” I was shy back then (hard to believe, I know) and I liked the way he looked at me when I answered a question. He never knew how much I wanted his approval.

After school I left town. I studied, I travelled, I learned about power and desire. I learned the word “domme.” A woman who leads, who decides, who owns the scene. I liked the idea of being the one who tells a man what to do. One night, after my return to “la belle province” for a holiday visit, I went to a bar in the city. I was wearing a black leather jacket, black boots and a silver ring on my finger. I felt strong. Confident.

Continue reading “Hot For Teacher”

Daddy, No!

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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hypnotherapy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

From the moment Daniel sat down, the silver wedding band on his finger seemed to mock me. He’d come to me for anxiety, but as I looked into his worried eyes, I saw a much deeper, more potent need. I  saw a craving for release and surrender that married life could never possibly provide. I offered him my most reassuring, professional smile, all while concocting a plan to make him forget all about the woman waiting for him at home.

Initially, I convinced myself this was a form of radical therapy. A way to unlock the part of him he kept chained away by duty and expectation. After all, wasn’t my job to guide my clients to their truest desires? I certainly saw it that way! As I began the induction, and my voice dropped to that low and melodic cadence that had crumbled so many wills before his, I knew I was doing him a service. I was liberating him.

Continue reading “Curing Daniel’s Anxiety With Hypnosis”

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.

Continue reading “younger than usual”