Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I call it my gallery, though most would call it a dungeon. People focus too much on the wreckage of souls left behind in my wake, but never enough on the tools that craft such transformations. I walk the length of the room, as my heels click against the polished floor. To my left, the rack of whips perfectly catches the dim light. They are my finest instruments, with each one balanced to a fraction of an ounce. I use them frequently and adoringly.

Further down the wall, protected behind glass, lies my collection of heavy iron toys. These are for when I require total stillness. The weighted spreaders, the chrome-plated clamps, and the intricate, velvet lined locks all look so pretty in their perfect places. Each piece is a masterpiece of cold, unyielding geometry. I love the way they look…clean, clinical, and utterly indifferent to the humanity they are meant to restrain.

Continue reading “dungeon tools” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449

His hands were trapped beneath my own, pinned gently but firmly against the mattress. His breath came in ragged, uneven shallow puffs, his eyes wide and dark with a desperate, beautiful focus.

“Please,” he whispered, the syllable catching in his throat.

“Not yet,” I replied, my voice a low, teasing thread in the quiet room.

I leaned down, tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of my tongue. Deliberate and slow. Every movement I made was a calculated exercise in restraint. I dragged my fingertips down his chest, barely skimming the surface of his skin. Watching the way his muscles jumped in response to the agonizingly light touch. He arched into it, searching for the deep, heavy friction he craved. I shifted my weight just out of reach, denying him release.

Keeping someone on the precipice is a delicate art. It requires reading the exact moment the tension becomes too much to bear, and then pulling back just a fraction of an inch.

I hovered over him, letting my hair brush against his skin. I pressed against him, offering an agonizingly fleeting, brief taste of full contact. Then slowing the rhythm down to a tortuous crawl. He let… Continue reading “The Edge of Pleasure” →

spank

Anna 1-844-332-2639 EXT 203

onnie became very fascinated with the neighborhood animals, and the nature channel recently. Mommy Anna tried to shield
his eyes any time two of them were getting it on, but it was too late, his mind was already corrupted. She worried that
this would lead to other things, and it was bad enough that he was always getting into trouble in and out of school.

Continue reading “Mommy Anna always finds a reason to spank” →

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

It had been a long day of wine tasting and grape stomping on a warm summer day. We were absolutely exhausted and drained. Luckily the B&B owner offered to stick all of our grape stained clothing into the washer for us. We all crashed out for a couple of hours before our  massages. We were awakened by a knock at our doors by B&B room service. Cucumber water and a plate of fruit to enjoy before our massage therapists arrived. My friend hired each of us our own personal masseuse to give us full body massages in the comfort and privacy of our own rooms. I was so excited. After the day we had, it was perfect timing for a massage. It was going to feel so good.

Continue reading “Bachelorette Weekend Part 3” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Mark was huddled into a pathetic, trembling ball on the floor. He worshipped the ground I walked on, but the problem with worship is that it doesn’t fulfill needs. The problem with Mark was that he was soft, in every sense of the word. And when it came to fucking me, he was simply inadequate. He knew it, I knew it, and frankly, we both grew tired of the inevitable disappointment that followed his pathetic, brief attempts at trying to make me cum. So, I decided to give him exactly what we both needed – the chance to watch a real man take what he couldn’t.

I checked my watch. “Get up, Mark,” I said, excitedly. I was looking forward to seeing him realize his own inadequacy reflected in the eyes of a superior man. “Julian is coming over,” I announced, pouring myself a drink. I took a slow sip, while watching him. “You’re going to stay and you’re going to watch.”

Continue reading “Mark can’t make me cum” →

Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

After I transformed my friend Brady into Brandy, and got her deflowered, she promised to use me as her cosmetology school model. I couldn’t wait for her to practice on me. I was excited to be her test dummy. Not only did I get the treatments for free but I got to learn things like how to do my makeup. I’ve never been really good at doing my own hair and makeup. Plus, I could use a little pampering after the long summer hours working at the breastaurant. So when Brandy called me for my first gig, I was so excited. But then she told me not to be. She said this one wasn’t going to be pleasant or glamorous. Then she had to go without explaining any further. I was curious and suddenly hesitant. But I knew I couldn’t let her down. I had already promised to be her model for every exam. And there was no time left to find a fill in. So I braced myself for the worst and headed over there. But I had no idea what to expect. My mind was running wild all the way over there.

Continue reading “Brandy’s Model” →

Melanie 1-844-33-CANDY ext 463

We were wrestling around in the sheets, my legs wrapped around his body, and I started to get some ideas. My hair was put in pigtails the way he loved it, because he loved pulling my hair, and I loved pulling his in return. Grabbing a chunk of his hair, I guided his face between my legs to my sweet-smelling pussy. I could feel his nose touching my clit and he took in a big whiff.

I looked at him and said, “You like it when I pull your hair hard like that? You like it when I make you feel like that’s all your good for?” He looked up at me and started to say something, but all I wanted his tongue to do was lick my clit and suck up the sweet juices that he made me produce.

Continue reading “Hair Pulling Gets You Hard” →

Sawyer 1844-332-2639 Ext 455

Being submissive isn’t always easy. You have to have the confidence, trust, and be so obsessed with me that if I say jump you ask me how high. So many men say that’s what they want. That’s the lifestyle they want to live, but when it comes down to it they don’t want to release full control. Being a

Submissive

isn’t just until you cum, its all day every day. 7 days a week. 365 days. If you agree to be my submissive I don’t want to hear excuses. If I tell you to get on your knees and suck on my strap on I expect it done. No “I don’t feel like it today” or “maybe tomorrow. If I speak you listen. I don’t want questions I want a yes ma’am.

 

I guess the point I’m trying to get across is this.. I don’t want a fake submissive and I don’t have times for games. I want you to be my little slut and listen to the rules. I’m your goddess and what I say goes. Being my submissive wont be easy but I promise it will be worth it. Now be my submissive. Get on your knees, eat my pussy, and say yes ma’am.

Sawyer1844-332-2639 Ext 455

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve pretty much always possessed an insatiable, almost legendary, craving for the most magnificent, oversized cocks I could find. It started during a summer trip to a local  beach, where I first laid eyes on a row of men sunning themselves in tight banana hammocks that left little to the imaginations. The sheer scale of their dicks was mesmerizing and I found myself unable to look away!

I meticulously inspected each one, then chose my favorite specimen. That cock was unbelievably succulent and firm, and there was something undeniably thrilling about handling a cock that felt so heavy in my grip. I’ll admit, I took my time with it and didn’t rush through the process because that cock was just too incredible to ignore.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The afternoon sun beat down on the crowded city park, and all my attention was focused on the few inches of shared space on our picnic blanket. Around us, distractions abounded; a group playing volleyball, dogs chasing frisbees. To anyone passing by, we were just two friends enjoying a lazy Sunday.

No one saw the way your bare knee was pressed firmly against mine; an unyielding point of contact that sent my groin throbbing.

You shifted closer, leaning back on one elbow under the shade of a massive tree. The movement caused your sunglasses to slide down the bridge of your nose, exposing intense eyes that locked onto mine. “It’s beautiful out here,” you murmured. Voice low enough that it was almost swallowed by the ambient chatter.

Your hand was doing the real talking.

With agonizing slowness, your fingers trailed up my calf, tracing along the edge of my clothes. My breath hitched, quiet intake that I forced myself to mask by taking a slow sip of my drink. The sheer thrill of the surrounding crowd made my skin prickle with electricity.

Continue reading “Playing In The Park” →