Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Little Anna was playing with her big Cousin. They were playing with his toy cars and race track. She kept whining that he wouldn’t give her a turn on the track, but the truth was, he was scared she might break it.
Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453
Every year I enter all of my Christmas goodies into the bake sale. Because all proceeds go towards buying gifts for kids that wouldn’t otherwise be receiving gifts during the holiday season. So I spent the weekend busy baking. The house was permeated with the sexy aroma of cinnamon. Cinnamon is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was starting to get a throbbing sensation along with a gush of wetness. I had an hour before the pumpkin spice bread was going to be done. So I decided to have some self care time if you know what I mean. Maybe self pleasure is a more accurate description. And that’s exactly what I was doing when I heard a knock. When I opened the door, I must have looked flushed. It was a delivery driver and he needed my signature. But he looked at me and grinned as if he could tell what I had been doing. Or maybe I was just feeling self conscious. Either way, I know I turned bright red. And I’m positive that I was acting guilty and embarrassed. But what made it so much worse it that he was so sexy and I was so horny.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
It all started with a hopeful “I want to help, Mommy!” This year, Timmy begged to bake Christmas cookies, promising to be “extra good” and “follow the recipe like a big boy.” I caved, of course, because what ABDL mother says no to his twinkling eyes right before Christmas?
Big mistake. Within ten minutes, flour was airborne like a blizzard, egg whites were splattered on the ceiling fan (yes, really), and the kitchen resembled a combat zone where sugar and chaos had declared a truce. I stood there, flour-dusted and blinking, as Timmy beamed. He was soooo proud of himself.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
They sit on the floor. Backs straight, eyes down. The room is dim. My heels click once as I cross my legs. I wear black silk, with gloves up to my elbows. Hair slicked back. I do not smile. They do not speak unless I say.
Jean trembles. I see it in his hands, folded in his lap. Luc breathes too loud. They wait for me. But I am not in a hurry. We have all night. I open a small box. Inside, there is a silver toy. Jean lifts his eyes just a little. I snap my fingers.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
I have a particular method of enforcement that is both swift and merciless. Whenever one of my subs disobeys or falls short of my expectations, they are subject to a punishment that is as humiliating as it is physically uncomfortable. With a mere glance, I can command them to slap, flick, or otherwise torment their own cock while I cackle with glee. The act is a clear and honest reminder that their body is mine to control.
The first time it happens, they are often taken aback by how much it stings. But as the instances pile up, and the slaps and flicks become more frequent, they begin to break. Their ego falters, their pride cracks, and their tears start to flow like a waterfall. And all they can say in the moment is “ow” or (my favorite) “yes, Mistress Amber.” Like the pathetic bitches they are.
Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457
He came into work. I saw him point to me. He wanted to sit in my section. I had never seen him before. But he was loud, blunt and to the point. He ordered a big mug of beer. Then he proceeded to tell me that he’s a paypig. The more he drank, the louder he got. They finally asked him to leave but he was oinking for me all the way out the door. I couldn’t stop thinking about him all night long. Finally when my shift was over, I headed out to my car. As I approached it, I heard him oinking at me. Then he came over to me on all fours. He literally started throwing money at me. And kept telling me how pathetic he is and what a loser he is. All I could do was giggle. He kept asking me how old I was. Every time I said nineteen, his boner started dripping and he started throwing more money at me. I had never seen anything like it. Then he started saying that he wants to suck and fuck cock. Every time a man would walk by, he would start panting and throwing money.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
Chris was a lanky, 23-year-old man with a longstanding habit of dramatically sighing whenever I produced his diaper from my sleeve. Like a magician with big tits. “Cory,” he’d say, his eyes rolling toward the cosmos, “must you always do the dramatic crinkle thing?”
I couldn’t help it! The crinkle was my love language. One particularly memorable Tuesday, as I prepared to unleash the crinkle on his post-chili-calamity mess, I realized I’d accidentally bought the “super-squishy, ultra-quiet” eco-diapers. Panic set in faster than Chris could say “I’m totally fine, really.”
*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221
If you live within the kink community that means you know a slutty sissy. I bet you’re one too, aren’t you? We both know that a cock loving sissy like yourself is always ready for a load. So, why would the holiday season be any different?
You want a cock to either suck on or sit on 24/7, and it really doesn’t matter whose cock it is. And I also know your little secret my slutty sissy. I’ve heard all about what you like to do this time of year to a special jolly old man.
☏ Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403 ☏ ☏ Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203 ☏
Mommy Anna was wrapping presents and asked little sister Zoey and Big brother Ronnie to help. They formed a production line where one person would cut the wrapping paper, the other would wrap and the third would tape it up. It was quite a good system, until Mommy Anna’s lover called.
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
I love Christmas at Grandma’s house. It’s often the only time I get to see my family and cousins who live across the country. Her house is always full of sweet smells and so much warmth. The few days we spend packed in there are usually full of love and laughter.
This year, however, something is… different. Maybe it’s the way my breasts fill out this too-small dress I had no choice but to change into when Kelly-Ann spilled Grandma’s Christmas pudding all over my regular clothing. I guess I left this dress here a few years ago, and it’s much too tight now. It cinches in my waist and barely covers my buttcheeks. Or maybe it’s the way my older cousin can’t keep his eyes off me.