Category: humiliation

Dumb Little Butthole Slut

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

Once upon a time, Nicki was a cool boy. Popular with the ladies because of his charming smile and giant dick, but then he met Mama Felicity and made a stupid wish. “I want to be a humiliated, diapered, bimbo buttslut.” And like the phone sex genie I am...

I made all of Nicki’s wishes come true. Now, the blonde bimbo not only has a prescription for diapers (wearing 24/7 will ruin any control you think you have) but she pays her rent by slutting out her butthole for real men while she’s caged and denied any pleasure.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Marcus was a man whose net worth was etched into the nervous, hungry way he adjusted his cufflinks. He was waiting for me to validate him. He was waiting for me to tell him he was the powerful provider he desperately wanted to be.

Instead, I took a slow sip of my drink, while keeping my eyes locked on his. “You know, Marcus,” I said, “it’s pathetic how hard you’re trying. You think buying me this vintage bottle makes you a player, but it doesn’t. You’re just another beta, sweating under the lights, hoping a girl like me will finally give you a sense of purpose.”

Continue reading “Beta Bitch” →

red

Anna 1-844-332-2639 EXT 203

Mommy Anna loved painting her nails red. She had all different shades, and some had glitter or shimmer.
But they were all blue-reds. Not corals, not burgundys, not maroons. Nice Firetruck reds. The type of red that would catch any naughty boy’s eye.

Continue reading “Don’t touch Mommy Anna’s Stuff!” →

Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

During the summer months when I have some extra time, I like to pick up babysitting and house sitting jobs to make a little extra cash. So when I saw an ad for a babysitter in the neighborhood app, I responded. It sounded like easy money to me. Luckily it was an older boy. They didn’t care if I took him to run errands with me or whatever I wanted to do for the day. Just as long as he was being watched and wasn’t alone. So it was perfect. I did have errands to run. And I needed to go by the mall for some shoes to go with the vintage dress that I’m wearing to my friend’s bohemian themed wedding. 

So we set off on our journey. Jeremy was really shy and quiet. I tried to chit chat with him. But he didn’t say much. We spent the morning running errands then it was finally time to hit the mall. But I was starving so I knew he had to be too. So we headed towards the food court.

Continue reading “Babysitting On Wet Wednesday” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I curate a lifestyle for men who have forgotten how to be small. My roster is a collection of gray suits and tired eyes who come to my door seeking the relief of total surrender. They want to be hollowed out. They pay for the privilege of letting me hold the map to their sanity. But then there is Jonathan.

Jonathan is a paradox. He’s a high-stakes litigator by day, weaving verbal traps and shaping reality so it bends to his will. He treats our sessions like a debate, pushing back against my boundaries with a smug, calculated charm. Jonathan treats my authority as a collaborative suggestion rather than a divine law. Which, let’s be honest, is quite a stupid choice for such an intelligent man.

Continue reading “Surrender to Miss Stella” →

paddle

Anna 1-844-332-2639 EXT 203

Mommy Anna’s Lover had sent her a gift for Mother’s day: a brand spanking new paddle. It was all leather, and just the right size for boys Ronnie’s age. Mommy Anna was so delighted when she opened the gift, she could barely contain her self or wait to have the opportunity to use it.

Continue reading “Mommy Anna’s New Toy” →

Permission

Posted on by Cory

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

“What if I don’t want to?” The moment those words left his lips, they shattered the careful dynamic of our session. My gaze became icy and fixed, watching the way he instinctively shrank as his eyes widened in fear. He knew better than to speak without my permission, yet his tongue had proven unruly.

I circled him, savoring the onset of a hunt, with my hands clasped firmly behind my back as I surveyed the pathetic tension radiating from his naked body. When I finally stopped directly in front of him, I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. I simply tilted my head, looking down at his bowed crown with a mixture of disappointment and calculated authority. “Do you truly think your opinion is something I require, especially when it is offered so carelessly?” I asked, calmly.

Continue reading “Permission” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He arrived at ten sharp, wearing an expensive suit and a Rolex that could’ve funded a small country. He smiled in a fake and predacious way when he saw me. “Stella,” he said, “I hear you’re an experience worth every penny.” He placed his leather briefcase on the mahogany desk and opened it, revealing a thick envelope full of cash, a stack of credit cards, and a signed contract. The initial request was that he wanted a session, but I wanted his ego. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Take a seat,” I said, gesturing to the leather chair across from me. The leather squeaked as he obliged, as his posture already flattened under his own weight. I let him linger a moment, watching his eyes dart to the sleek Manhattan skyline through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that he thought he owned everything that lay beyond that glass.

Continue reading “worth every penny” →

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Mistress Anna had taken on a new lover.  he was quite the bull and not only did he look the part but he fucked the part as well. He was tall muscular covered in tattoos and could intimidate any man or woman just with one look. They did everything together.  Everything kinky, filthy  or deviant that one could dream up or think of.

Continue reading “Cuck by coincidence” →

mechanic roleplay

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As I stood at the grease-stained counter of Miller’s Auto, I knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go as planned. “Three hundred and forty dollars,” Dave said, not looking up from his ledger. He was a man composed entirely of callouses and indifference. “New alternator, labor, plus the diagnostic fee…tax…”

I looked at the counter, then at my hands. Three hundred and forty dollars was a fantasy. My bank account was a haunting echo of two-digit numbers and my rent was looming like a storm cloud. I thought about the rusted sedan in the bay behind him. It was my only tether to a job that was already dangling by a thread. Without that car, I was nothing. Without that car, I was back on the street.

Continue reading “Miller’s Auto Shop” →