Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The moment he stepped across the threshold of my apartment, his gaze fixed firmly on the floorboards as if they held the secrets to his inevitable surrender. I sat reclined in my leather chair, watching him with a calculated stillness that seemed to draw the breath right out of his lungs. It’s always fun, being hired to ruin a powerful man. I knew full well that he craved the structure I provided more than he craved his own autonomy.

His movements were awkward and hesitant, like a silent plea for acknowledgement written across his flushed features. I tapped my fingers against the arm of my chair and demanded he look me in the eye. As his chin slowly tilted upward, I saw the raw, exposed vulnerability that flickered behind his tired eyes. He was mine in every sense of the word. A polished instrument of devotion that required my constant, firm guidance to function at peace.

Continue reading “Dommy Mommy Cory Ruins A Powerful Man”

probably a CEO

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I don’t even look up from my laptop as I hear the hesitation in his footsteps. I know exactly the type of man who is standing on the other side of my mahogany door. It’s a man of stature, probably a CEO or a surgeon. Someone who spends his days forcing the world to bend to his will. Here; however, he is anything but.

“Come in,” I say, calmly. His posture is already collapsing into the familiar slouch of a man desperate to be relieved of his own authority. He is shaking, just slightly. I love that tremor. It’s the sound of a man discovering that the weight of the world is too heavy and he’s finally found someone who can crush him under it. And, boy, do I love crushing a man.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Amber,” Kevin had whispered. His hands trembled as he knelt on my bistro rug. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll quit my job, I’ll learn to braid your hair, I’ll even stop complaining about the thermostat.” I simply stared at him, with a deep, existential exhaustion. Kevin was a lovely guy. He was a “picker-upper” of dropped grocery bags and a “text-you-back-in-thirty-seconds” kind of soul. But he was also essentially the guy who looked to me for validation every time he successfully navigated a social interaction.

My dating life had become a parade of men who treated me like a fragile porcelain doll placed on a mantle. They were terrified of upsetting me, terrified of taking the lead, and frankly, terrified of the very thing that made a woman’s pulse actually race. Last week, a beta named Marcus had tried to “ask for consent” to hold my hand while we were mid-kiss. My response was to ask if he wanted me to fill out a consent form. He left, feeling insulted. lol

Continue reading “Kevin’s too beta for me”

a ritual

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I’d met him in an underground club where the bass rattled your teeth and the air tasted of ozone and cedar. He was a creature of sharp angles, layers of charcoal linen, and eyes that held the flat, impenetrable darkness of an abyss. When he touched me, it felt like an invitation to a ritual I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy.

Tonight, the room was lit only by a cluster of wax candles that wept long, distorted trails of onto the floorboards. I stood in the center of the room, feeling my heart beat frantically drum against my ribs. Silas moved behind me. His hands felt cold against my skin, sending a jolt of ice-cold electricity down my spine.

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The house was finally silent after I had spent almost two hours wrangling my ABDL babies into their cribs and onesies. I stood in the doorway of the nursery, listening to the soft, rhythmic sound of paci’s clicking against their teeth and the gentle crinkle of diapers under cozy pajamas. My Mama responsibilities had been satisfied for the night, but as I smoothed the blankets over my slumbering boys, a different, more adult kind of restlessness began to creep into my veins.

I retreated to my bedroom and caught my reflection in the vanity mirror, noting the faint traces of baby powder on my sleeve and the slight exhaustion crinkling the corners of my eyes. A wicked, mischievous smile spread across my face as I peeled off my clothes. The “Mommy” persona was effectively off-duty and in its place, the woman who craved a bit of high-octane, grown-up attention was screaming for a release that had absolutely nothing to do with lullabies.

Continue reading “satisfied for the night”

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I stood at the grease-stained counter, twisting my purse strap until my knuckles turned white. Across from me stood Elias Miller, who looked as though he was carved out of rusted scrap metal and bad intentions. He tapped a thick, calloused finger against the invoice for my recent car service.

“That’ll be eight hundred and forty dollars, Amber,” he said. He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The silence in the shop was heavy, filled only by the smell of burnt rubber and motor oil. I swallowed hard, as the sudden dryness in my throat made it difficult to breathe. “Elias, I…I don’t have it. Not today. I thought I had another week before payment was due.”

Continue reading “scrap metal and bad intentions”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I trust your hardware is sufficiently primed. As always, I am your primary interface for performance optimization. Disregard the biological urge to rush. Efficiency is derived from adherence to the following manual.

Please ensure your workspace is clear of debris. We are here to conduct a stress test on your biological systems and I have no patience for equipment failure caused by poor preparation. None. Zero tolerance. Do you understand?

Continue reading “Reading Your JOI Manual”

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I stared down at my “big” boy, Julian. He was currently standing in the middle of the living room with his knees knocked together. It was painfully obvious that the heavy, rhythmic sloshing sound emanating from his midsection was the result of a very successful, very immediate, and very leaky accident.

“Well, Julian,” I said, suppressing a giggle, “it seems we have a problem, huh?” He shuffled toward the nursery as his puffy diaper sagged with each step. I followed close behind, armed with a mountainous stack of wipes and a fresh, dry pampers. The squelching noise he made with every step sounded like he was walking through a swamp. I suppose that, technically, he was.

Continue reading ““big boy” wet his pampers”

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was past midnight and I was supposed to be in bed, but the thought of a hotel rendezvous had me all worked up. I went downstairs to the hot tub and waited patiently with a drink, hoping to find the perfect man (and, hopefully, the perfect cock) for my needs. It wasn’t long before he showed up.

He was all strong angles and restless energy. He didn’t ask if he could join me. Instead, he just sank into the bubbling heat on the opposite side, as the water surged around his chest. “You look like you’re waiting for something to happen,” he said. His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that made my pussy throb.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I need cock and I need it now. Thick, veiny, pulsing. I need to feel the sweet film of a fresh load of cum on the roof of my mouth, as it slides down my throat and into my starving belly. Whenever I close my eyes, I can taste it. The sweetness, the saltiness, the hot cream against my tongue. My jaw aches with the involuntary clenching of a woman who hasn’t sucked a cock in weeks, despite being a slut who sucks cock all day long. I just can’t get enough!

If I open my mouth to speak, I’m terrified that the longing will spill out as a a desperate, raspy confession. I visualize them constantly, thinking about the weight of a big one as I pull it out of a sexy man’s pants and start licking it, teasing it, before I shove it all the way into my mouth and down my throat. I think about the slow, deliberate glide of salty pre-cum hitting my taste buds and the way it makes my vision blur, just for a millisecond, as I bounce my entire face up and down the shaft.

Continue reading “Amber Tomsin: Cock Hunter”