Author: Amber

vegas

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Derek knew I wanted to go to Las Vegas. As soon as I answered his video call, he panned the camera outward. The Bellagio fountains erupted behind him, with water arcing under the cold platinum glare of floodlights. “Surprise, my little New York raindrop,” he said. His voice rumbled so low I could feel in my bones. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Think of how you looked when you came the last time I touched you.”

I didn’t close my eyes. Instead, I let the image of him fade as the fountains crescendoed, their mechanical thrum syncing with the pulse in my dripping wet pussy. When I looked back, the screen showed not his face, but his body. Drenched in sweat, naked except for the sheen of the Vegas night. His hands slowly traced the curve of his ribs, as if he were sculpting himself out of muscle and clay.

Continue reading “Derek knew I wanted to go to Las Vegas.” →

spanking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It wasn’t that short, I told myself. Just daring. Besides, it’s my favorite skirt. There’s no harm in wearing it! Boy, was I ever wrong. Daddy found me by the front door just as I was about to leave for school. “Amber. Dorothy. Tomsin.” He reserved stating my full name for only two reasons, one of which was when he wanted the room to chill.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he said, as he gestured to the skirt. “You think dressing like a whore is armor? It makes you a target.” I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. “It’s my body, Daddy!” He sighed. “That’s what they all say.” I looked directly at him, feeling the anger building inside of me. “Haven’t I outgrown your hemline lectures by now?” Daddy’s eyes, tired and grim, locked with mine. “Get upstairs.”

Continue reading “my favorite skirt” →

pussy eating

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“You’re not like the others, Amber.” He’s a lot older than I am and I probably should’ve run for the hills as soon as he said that, but I didn’t. I couldn’t help but desire him, even though I knew he was trouble. His hands were cold when he cupped my face, as his thumbs brushed my lips. I tilted my head back, as he murmured, “Spread them.” It wasn’t a request.

My fingers trembled, parting my pussy lips to reveal the ripe, aching fruit between us. The next thing I knew, he was devouring the flesh. MY flesh. I moaned, thinking it was passion, until his teeth grazed my clit and sent a joly of electricity through my entire body.

Continue reading ““You’re not like the others, Amber.”” →

sluts

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The rain hammered against the pavement as Zoey and I huddled under the awning of the laundromat, with our work panties clinging to our skin. Twelve-hour shifts at the brothel left us reeking of sweat and cum, and our pussies were chafed raw. “Remember the ad we posted?” Zoey whispered, her breath fogging in the cold. “Seeking detail-oriented individual for personal cleaning duties. Must be hygienic, patient, and open-minded.”

Hugo answered within the hour. He arrived in a hoodie two sizes too big with eyes the color of storm clouds. “You wanted someone for cleaning services?” he’d asked, staring at our soiled panties. We’d nodded, leading him to the laundromat’s back room. It was nohing more than a narrow closet with a rusted sink. “It’s a ritual,” I said, stripping out of my panties. “We need someone clean to do it.” His hesitation lasted three seconds. “I’m good with details,” he mumbled.

Continue reading “Dirty Panties, Dirty Pussies” →

Edging

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Good morning, Mommy” Davey chirps. His voice sounds high and eager. His cheeks are rosy, his dark hair is messily tousled, and I know exactly what’s coming. I crouch in front of him, resting my hands on his knees. “Good morning, my sweet boy,” I say, smiling. Immediately, his pupils dilate. He loves this. “Good boy…good boy…good boy.” It’s the phrase that sends him spiraling.

“Oh, Mother,” he whispers, tugging at his onesie. “Please?” I feign innocence. “Please what, darling? You know I can’t help you unless you’re a very good boy and say the magic words that every Mommy wants to hear.” His giggle is breathless and I see the telltale tent forming in his onesie. He edges like a pro, so I already know this is gonna be good. “I…um, Mommy, I want to make you proud,” he says, as his voice trembles. “Can we do family fun together, Mother?”

Continue reading ““Good morning, Mommy”” →

domme

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.

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Christmas

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Santa’s workshop buzzed with the manic energy of Christmas. While other elves dangled dolls and wind-up trains from the ceiling like we were in a Christmas ornament factory, my job as Quality Control Manager was to test the sexy toys that would be left for adults under trees all over the world this year.

Today’s project involved Aaron, a twitchy new elf whose enthusiasm could’ve powered the North Pole’s entire workshop. He’d just unveiled his “ethically sourced” antler cock ring. “Structural integrity is paramount,” he’d said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Let’s test it,” I said professionally, while adjusting my candy-cane apron. Elf Academy didn’t cover this part in their “Sleighing the Holidays” curriculum, so it was my responsibility to train new hires on protocol.

Continue reading “Christmas Quality Control at the North Pole” →

nipple

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My best friend thinks my Friday nights are a delightful mix of artisanal cheese, documentaries, and early bedtimes. Oh, if only she knew the reality of what I get up to with her brother, Liam! Our secret, kinky rendezvous are the spice of my existence, and the highlight is always the grand reveal of my ever-growing collection of nipple clamps.

Tonight was a Christmas affair, naturally. Liam, bless his unsuspecting sister’s heart, strode into my apartment looking impossibly handsome, with a casual smirk already playing on his lips. He knew the drill. We naturally skipped the small talk, the Netflix suggestions, and the pretense of anything remotely platonic. His eyes immediately darted to the small velvet pouch I held in my hand.

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spanking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

We were in the artisanal coffee shop downtown. Michael was staring intensely at a pastry tower, when his lower lip starting to tremble. “No, Michael,” I whispered, grabbing his arm so tightly I risked interrupting his circulatory system. “We are having a pleasant afternoon. We agreed on no more sweets because they make you too hyper.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he decided to stomp and scream as he always does whenever he doesn’t get his own way. Especially when we’re surrounded by people who might judge my parenting skills—or lack thereof. And then, like clockwork, he did it. There was a faint, yet unmistakable, shhhht sound, followed by the specific, horrible squish that only a fully saturated, cotton adult diaper can produce.

Continue reading ““Michael, we’ve discussed this at length!”” →

pantyhose

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a serious thing for pantyhose. Not just an ‘Oh, these look nice with my skirt’ kind of thing. More like ‘If I could wallpaper my apartment with nude sheers, I absolutely would’ kind of thing. It’s an obsession, a fixation, a silky, glorious addiction. It started innocently enough. I had a preference for smooth legs under dresses. But then it escalated.

Now, the mere sight of a freshly opened packet of control tops sends a little shiver down my spine. The satisfying rustle as I pull them up, the way they hug every curve, the subtle sheen catching the light…it’s pure, unadulterated joy. I have an entire chest of drawers dedicated to my collection. Fishnets, opaques, sheers, shinies, matte, reinforced toe, open toe…you name it, I’ve got it, probably in three different colors.

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