Tag: phone sex

findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was already kneeling when I walked into the living room, a soft, almost imperceptible tremor running through his body. He was dressed precisely as I’d instructed: an old, faded t-shirt that was clearly too small for him, barely covering the lacy bra I’d made him wear underneath. His hair, usually neatly styled, was a mess, indicating he’d spent the morning cleaning my apartment, just as I’d ordered.

“Good morning, little piggy,” I purred, settling onto the plush velvet armchair opposite him. He swallowed hard, his eyes – wide and pleading – fixed on my designer slippers. “Good morning, Mistress.” His voice was raspy, laced with a familiar mix of shame and fervent eagerness. It was a sound I’d grown to enjoy, the sound of a man willingly surrendering his power, his dignity, his very livelihood. “Such a compliant sissyboy, aren’t you?” I let the words hang in the air, watching him flinch slightly, then visibly melt into the humiliation. “Have you been a good little finsub and followed my instructions to the letter?”

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butt

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Some guys just really like my butt. I know, I know. It’s a common thing, maybe even a cliché, BUTT…there are levels to it, aren’t there? And then there was him. HIM. Most guys, they like the curve, the shape, the way it looks in a tight pair of jeans or a silk dress. Standard appreciation. But this one? He was an ass man with a very particular vision.

He wanted me to dress up. Not for a party, not for a night out. Just for him, and for the specific fantasy he’d crafted in his mind. A patent black catsuit. Gleaming. And patent black stiletto boots, so high they practically dared me to fall. My nails, already long, were sharpened and painted a deep, dangerous crimson. When I looked in the mirror, I wasn’t just a woman in an outfit; I was a creature. A typical superhero villainess, absolutely, from the sharp lines of the suit to the predacious gleam in my own eyes. And I felt like one, too. Powerful. Unattainable. Menacing, even.

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Lingerie Night

Posted 1 week ago by Rachel

Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

It was lingerie night at work. When I first started, my lingerie was more modest than the other girls. I couldn’t believe how little they wore. Some literally wear the skimpiest bras and g-strings. But now I’m basically the same. On this particular night I wore a red bra, and a red g-string with a fitted, stretchy, red lace little dress over them. It barely covered my butt. But you could see everything right through it anyway. And I wore red fishnet thigh high stockings that had red bows on them. I kept catching everyone starring at my ass. It was so busy. I was just trying to keep up with my tables. Then all of a sudden, I noticed that one of my dad’s best friends was there. I wanted to run to the back and hide. But it was too late. He had already seen me. I was mortified. That was exactly what I was afraid of happening. He went to church with us all of my life. He’s married with kids that are now grown. I just knew he was going to be disappointed in me and go tell my dad. But why was he here?

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gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was on the laptop in lingerie, as usual. Today’s appointment had just logged on. He wasn’t anything special, not like some of the others who tried to project an air of mystery or charm. This one was just average. Beige. The kind of man you’d pass on the street and forget instantly. He called himself “Braveheart’ in the chat, which felt ironic given how timid his actual keystrokes felt. He wasn’t a high roller, but consistent. Enough to make the time worthwhile. He didn’t want much in terms of conversation, and the pictures he requested were merely a precursor, an hors d’oeuvre to the real meal.

What he truly craved, what he paid for, were the words. Not just any words, but those specific phrases, strung together just so, meticulously crafted and delivered with a precise cadence. The ones that unlocked something in him, a sort of mental key turning in a lock. “Get worse, loser.” I’d type them out because I didn’t need to see his face to know what was happening on his end. The slight delays in his replies,

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loser

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My phone buzzed on the counter, startling me out of my morning scroll. “Hey, it’s Scott. Got a new phone and wanted you to have my number.” Scott…SCOTT?! My mind did a full-body cringe. “Um, why?” I muttered to the empty kitchen. Not just why send it, but why bother letting me know? The memory of why we weren’t together ambushed me, as it always did, though the sharp edges had dulled to a dull ache of annoyance.

Scott had lost his job early last year. Not that he was fired, not that he quit for something better, he just floundered. And then he spent MONTHS moping around our apartment, turning into this hollow shell of a man, expecting me to magically fix everything and support us both. UGH, it was overwhelming. And so, so frustrating. Every day was a weight, an anchor dragging me down. I just needed an escape, you know? A breath. A moment where I wasn’t carrying the entire world on my shoulders.

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Hot and Wet

Posted 2 weeks ago by Diana

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

It’s a scorching summer day and I’m feeling so hot and bothered, I can hardly bear it. The temperature has been climbing all week, topping 90 degrees for days on end. There’s no relief from the oppressive heat. I’m sweating everywhere, my clothes clinging to my damp skin as I walk outside.

I long for a cool breeze to caress my flushed cheeks and quench my parched throat. But it’s just me against the thick, muggy air. I arrive home from my errands, wilted and weary. The moment I walk in, I strip off my sundress, eager to feel some relief.

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pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had just gotten home from a long day at work, and as I settled into my favorite armchair, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. “Hello?” I answered, a bit hesitant. “Hi, is this Cory Dae?” a soft, timid voice inquired. “Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?” “This is Emily. We met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop near your office. You were kind enough to help me when I accidentally spilled my coffee.”

I vaguely remembered the incident, but I couldn’t recall much about her other than she was a sissy. “Oh, yes. Emily. How can I help you?” “Well, Miss, I need your help again. I’m afraid I had an accident today, and I’m embarrassed to say that I wet myself in public.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “That’s quite alright, Emily. It happens to the best of us. Are you okay now?”

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findom

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I reclined on my velvet chaise lounge, my ruby-red dress hugging my curves just right. My lips, painted the same shade of red as my dress, curled into a wicked grin as I watched Tobias. He stood before me, his eyes filled with desire and longing, his chiseled body tensed with anticipation. He thought I liked him, but oh, how wrong he was. I liked that he paid me. Tobias was a man of wealth, and I was a woman of power. He was my plaything, my puppet, my pet. Our one rule was that he could pump, he could stroke, but never ever would he be allowed to cum. He couldn’t touch me, but I could touch him. I was his goddess, his queen, his mistress. He was my submissive, my slave, my whore.

“Take off your clothes, Tobias,” I commanded, my voice as smooth as silk. He obeyed without question, shedding his designer suit piece by piece until he stood before me in all his naked glory. His cock was already hard, twitching with need. I

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pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Daniel wasn’t my usual type. I usually went for the brooding artist, all messy hair and existential angst. Daniel was corporate. Crisp suit, perfectly coiffed hair, the kind of guy who probably knew the exact Dow Jones closing number. But he’d been clear in his profile – and even clearer in our messages. He wanted to be pegged. And honestly? After a string of disastrous dates with said brooding artists, the clarity was refreshing.

“So,” I said, as I opened the door to my apartment. He stood on my welcome mat, looking slightly awkward, holding a bottle. “You brought drinks. How traditional.” He blushed, a surprisingly endearing look on his meticulously groomed face. “Is that okay? I wasn’t sure…” “Perfectly fine,” I reassured him, taking the bottle. “Come on in. Drinks first, or straight to business?” I winked, trying to gauge his reaction. His blush deepened. “Maybe drinks first? Ease into things?”

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Sweet Tooth

Posted 4 weeks ago by Amber

ruined orgasm

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I’ve had my fair share of unusual requests, but none quite like Axel’s. He had a sweet tooth, a vivid imagination, and a love of ruin. Our conversations were never dull, but this one took an interesting turn. “Amber…Let’s put honey in the back of your pants and lay down,” he said, his voice low and sultry. I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his request. “And then what?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“Then, I want you to grab some caramel sauce and drizzle it down the front of your pants,” he replied. I bit my lip, considering his words. I followed his instructions, giggling the entire time. The honey was sticky and sweet against my skin, and the caramel sauce was warm and inviting. I could feel my heart racing as I laid down on my bed, waiting for Axel’s next command. “Now, Amber, I want you to rub your clit for me,” he said, his voice husky. I did as he asked, letting out a moan that I hoped would satisfy him. I could hear the pleasure in his voice as he told me not to cum…Not yet, anyway.

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