blowjob

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

A good blowjob is more than just an act; it’s a performance, a communion, a journey to be guided through. From the moment the decision is made, a subtle shift happens. My focus narrows, all senses sharpen. There’s a delicious anticipation that builds, a silent understanding passing between us.

I love the ritual of it. Dropping to my knees, the soft thud of fabric on the floor, the shift in power dynamics as I meet his gaze from below. Reaching out, my fingers are already tingling, ready to receive. The first touch is always ginger, a gentle coaxing as I carefully free his cock from the constraints of his pants…shorts…underwear. He’s usually warm, already eager, and the sight of that dick standing at attention, ready and waiting, sends a little pulse of excitement through me.

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abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

When most folks hear “massage parlor,” they think hot stones and essential oils. And we have those, of course. My hands are good, trained to ease knots you didn’t even know you carried. But it was never quite enough, not for me, and certainly not for some of my more adventurous clients. I noticed a pattern. A look in their eyes, a certain aspect of their tension that a standard massage just couldn’t quite smooth away. They craved a different kind of release, a deeper surrender.

That’s where the “add-on” came in. It started subtly, a suggestion here, a whispered request there. Soon enough, it became my signature service, the one that keeps my regulars coming back, often with that eager, almost wonderous glint in their eyes. After a thorough, tension-melting massage, when their muscles are liquid and their minds are drifting, I offer it. “How about something truly liberating today?” I’d purr, my voice effortlessly reassuring. Many already know what I mean. For those who don’t, I explain: a comfortable, absorbent diaper, snugged just right, a return to a state of complete, unburdened freedom.

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findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was always so eager. It was almost endearing. But then, softness wasn’t what he paid for, was it? He paid for the sharpest edge of my expectations, the cold precision of my demands, and the delicious humiliation that bloomed in his chest with every transaction. “Are you ready, sissy?” I typed, watching the ‘typing…’ indicator flicker on our private chat. A beat of silence, then his reply: “Yes, Mistress. Always ready.”

I smiled, a slow, controlled thing. He called himself a finsub, but to me, he was just Corey, my little piggy bank dressed in a perpetually apologetic expression, even through text. And a sissyboy, of course. That was the real fun of it. “Good. My new Louboutins are calling to me. They’re a rather fetching shade of scarlet, don’t you think?” I sent him a picture I’d pulled from the designer’s website – the most impractical, yet undeniably beautiful, pair of stilettos. “I think they would look perfect on me. Don’t you agree?”

Continue reading “softness wasn’t what he paid for”

gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Across the digital ether, I was spending my day with a loser. We all know the type. He wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary, just your average gooner who’d found my corner of the internet. He paid me for my time, of course. What he bought, primarily, was attention. Curated, commodified attention. Sometimes a few pics—nothing too wild, just enough to keep the illusion alive. But what he really wanted, what he truly craved above all else, were those trigger words.

You know the ones I mean. Those exact phrases, spoken or typed, that would unravel some tightly wound spring inside him. Words that would trigger him to stroke and edge himself stupid, lost in his own private loop of self-abasement and gratification. I, the puppeteer, tugging on invisible strings with carefully chosen syllables. He, the puppet, dancing to a rhythm only he could hear.

Continue reading “spending my day with a loser”

sissy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It started a few months ago when Violet, my beautiful, curvy sissy, had a little accident in public. She had been holding it in for hours, but the pressure became too much, and she couldn’t help but let go. She called me in a panic, ashamed and embarrassed, and I could hear the tears in her voice. I knew exactly what she needed. I calmly instructed her to go to the nearest public restroom and wait for me.

When I arrived, I saw her standing there, red-faced and trembling, her eyes filled with fear and anticipation. I didn’t waste any time. As punishment, I made her get on her knees, pull up her skirt, and lick my feet clean. The humiliation of the situation sent shivers down her spine, and I could see her body trembling with a mixture of shame and excitement.

Continue reading “Violet had an accident…again”

pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Daniel had been hinting for weeks. Little comments about my strength, lingering eye contact that held a shade too much heat. I’m not blind. And honestly? I was curious. We were finishing up his last session when he dropped the bomb. “So, Cory,” he said, winded after I finally let him cum, “I was wondering…you ever, uh…you know…” He trailed off, a blush creeping up his neck. I smirked. “Peg someone?” I finished for him. He nearly spit out his water.

“I…well, yes. I’ve always been curious about what that would feel like.” Daniel was a handsome guy, all sculpted muscle and nervous energy. The thought of taking control and ass fucking him was more than appealing. “I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to explore that one together,” I admitted, figuring honesty was the best policy. His eyes widened. “Really?”

Continue reading “hinting for weeks”

abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

James was one of my regulars. He was a successful architect, intelligent and articulate in his professional life, but beneath the veneer of competence was a deep-seated need for comfort and discipline. The contrast was often poignant. He stood on the porch, clutching a worn teddy, his eyes wide and a little anxious. “Cory,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Hey, sweetie,” I replied, opening the door wider. “Come on in. It’s chilly out.”

He shuffled inside, immediately drawn to the cozy warmth of my living room. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, the soft lighting casting a comforting glow. A playpen sat discreetly in the corner, surrounded by toys and plush blankets. It was a sanctuary. “Rough day?” I asked, gesturing towards the plush armchair. He nodded, burying his face in the teddy. “Mr. Henderson keeps micromanaging everything.” I knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Sounds stressful, honey. Did you remember to wear your pull-up today?” He nodded again, a small blush creeping up his neck. “Yes, Mama.” “Good boy,” I praised, my voice soft but firm. “Did you have any accidents?”

Continue reading “James Needs A Break”

julio

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve known Julio since college. We bonded over bad cafeteria food and worse poetry. He was always a bit intense. He felt things deeply, maybe too deeply. So, when he called me, his voice laced with a melange of excitement and shame, I should have been less surprised. “Cory,” he started, the word almost a gasp, “I need to tell you something. Something kinda fucked up.” I braced myself. With Julio, it could be anything from accidentally setting his apartment on fire while trying to flambé bananas to getting into a philosophical argument with an inanimate object.

This was different, though. I could hear it in his voice, that ragged edge of genuine distress. He told me about the photos. An old shoebox he’d found while helping his mother sort through her attic. Candid shots from her twenties, a lifetime ago. She was beautiful, vibrant, radiating a joy that Julio confessed he’d never really seen in her. And, yes, she was with other people. Arms around her waist, laughter on their faces, in various states of undress and even sexual positions, all moments of intimacy frozen in time.

Continue reading “He was always a bit intense”

Cory

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Mr. Harrison, a client I’d only heard whispers about, watched me with an unnerving intensity. He was older, distinguished, with eyes that held a mixture of boredom and simmering amusement. This was my first session with him, and already, I felt like I’d stepped into a different dimension.

“Honey,” he’d instructed, his voice a low rumble. “Something undeniably, gloriously sticky.” My pantry offered few options at that hour. I grabbed the honey, the golden liquid thick and viscous in the bottle. Its sweetness suddenly felt cloying, almost threatening. The air in the room crackled with anticipation. Another woman, Julie, stood across from me, her face a mask of professional detachment. “Mr. Harrison has a challenge for you, Julie,” he announced, his gaze shifting between us.

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orgy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I stood in the plush hotel room, my heart pounding in my chest. Reed was seated in a chair, his eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Of course, I was dressed to the nines. My curves were accentuated by a form-fitting dress that hugged me in all the right places. The scent of my perfume filled the room, a subtle hint of seduction that hung in the air. My stilettos clicked rhythmically against the floor as I walked towards a chair, inviting Reed to strip down and have a seat.

A sudden knock echoed through the room, and I winked at Reed. I opened the door, and there they were – four strapping, brawny men, each one more enticing than the last. They stood before us, clad only in their underwear, their muscles rippling beneath their tanned skin. “Have mercy,” I thought to myself, as a wicked grin spread across my face.

Continue reading “Reed Gets Pounded”