Author: Amber

cheater

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Today is February 13th. The eve of the great lie. And that, my darlings, is why you must spoil me. First, the obvious. Spoil me to prove you can. The florist delivers on Valentine’s Day. The cliché. But a bouquet of black calla lilies arriving today, a day early, at my door, not hers? That’s a secret. That’s power. It whispers, “I am thinking of you while I am picking out the safe, red roses for my boring wife.”

Spoil me for the silence I keep. Your wife asks how your day was and you say, “Fine. I had a long budget meeting.” You weren’t in a meeting. You were here, with the curtains drawn, tasting the expensive caviar you told her you were saving for a “special occasion with the guys.” I am the living, breathing secret you tuck into your suit pocket. Simply put, I don’t call. I don’t text at inopportune times, either. My discretion is an art form and good art is never cheap.

Continue reading “The eve of the great lie.” →

abdl humil

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Melanie handed me the mug. “He’s yours for a while,” she whispered. “Then it’s my turn.” Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. He’d been grinning all night at the party upstairs, leering at us like we were prizes. By 10:47pm, I made sure he’d downed three drinks, all of which contained chamomile and a splash of something far more calm-inducing. He slumped against the couch shortly after he finished the third drink. What a dummy. He should have known not to accept a drink from a near-stranger.

“Let’s move him,” I said. Melanie smirked. “I bet he never suspected this would happen when he chose to go to the party.” We carried him down like a ragdoll. His protests dissolved into snores by the third step. The diaper we put him in was size XXL, which was a mocking fit for his bulky frame. Melanie held him still while I snapped the tabs. Ethan twitched once, as if he was dreaming of escape. If only he knew. lol I reached for the laxative, sweetened to taste like vanilla. He gulped it down in a bottle, oblivious to his current reality.

Continue reading “Ethan didn’t suspect a thing.” →

doctor fetish

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Under the sterile clinic lights, wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake. “Amber?” A nurse called from the doorway, with a clipboard in her hand. Her smile was tight, but professional. “Dr. Lorne will see you now.”

I followed, as my heels tapped too loud against the linoleum. The exam room was cold. Paper-covered table, stirrups gleaming like instruments of some forgotten ritual. Then he walked in. Dr. Lorne. Tall. Calm. Silver watch on his left wrist…the kind that ticks just loud enough to sync with your pulse if you’re listening. He didn’t look at my chart. He looked at me. Not in a leering way. Worse. Like he already knew things.

Continue reading “wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake” →

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” →