jailbait

(844-332-2639) ext 398

First thing in the morning, Daddy wakes up with a hard cock. Good thing he has little princess to help. He tells my mom he’s waking me up for school, but he has something way more naughty in mind. He tip toes through the halls and peeks through the door to make sure I’m still sleeping. Little does he know, I’ve always just been playing pretend. I kick off my covers and make sure I’m laying in the perfect position for him in just my panties. Then, I wait for him to come into the room and close the door behind him.

 

Continue reading “Jailbait Stepdaughter Drains Your Cock in Her Sleep”

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a reputation for turning ordinary holidays into theatrical catastrophes. St. Patrick’s Day was no exception. The idea sprang from a brainstorming session with my best friend, Tayla, who declared, “You should do a striptease, Amber! Call it the Shamrock Shake!” I laughed, I blushed, and then I Googled “how to make a striptease sound Irish.” The results were…well…unhelpful, which only made the plan more appealing.

The venue was O’Malley’s, a dive bar that smelled like fried onions, stale pretzels, and optimism. The owners, two Irish twins with beards that could double as mop heads, had a St. Pat’s special. A free “Irish coffee” for anyone who could “out‑shine the leprechauns.” Tayla, ever the opportunist, whispered that the bar was desperate for a headline act that night. The twins thankfully agreed to let me headline.

Continue reading “St. Patrick’s Day Striptease”

Christine 1844-332-2639 ext 468

There’s a certain kind of energy that fills a room when control and confidence meets curiosity. It’s quiet at first—just a glance, a smirk, the subtle understanding that tonight might be a little more exciting than usual.

Continue reading “Control, Confidence, and the Thrill of the Game”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

A leprechaun, of all things. He was no taller than my forearm, with a mischievous glint in his eyes and hair the color of a freshly sprouted leaf. His beard smelled faintly of earth after rain. My first reaction was an involuntary chuckle, then a shiver of something else. He introduced himself simply as Finn and his voice was a low trill that seemed to echo from the hollow of a forest.

We met in my basement. A room I’d painstakingly transformed into a sanctuary of shadows. Blackened velvet draped the walls, iron chains lay coiled on the table and a single, dim bulb hung from the ceiling, throwing a jaundiced glow over the concrete floor. I wore my usual leather corset, with the buckle fastened just tight enough that my breathing hitched with each inhale. My eyes, dark with anticipation, met his. Bright emeralds flickering with hunger.

Continue reading “The Leprechaun”

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I still remember the exact moment I first saw HeyZeus across the desert. Being a whore, especially back then, I could feel the magnetic pull of his curiosity. Despite the general consensus that girls like me were dirty. There was something deeply attractive about the way his eyes flickered between intrigue and caution whenever he looked at me. I knew that it would be nearly impossible for him to ignore the growing, inevitable need to explore his desires. It was springtime in the desert, after all.

HeyZeus spoke in hushed tones of the towering expectations his father. More specifically, the insistence that HeyZeus (and everyone else in his village)’s first sexual experience should be sealed within the sanctity of marriage. His father was mighty and powerful, among other things, and had a very strong pull on the entire world’s day to day thoughts and behaviors.

Continue reading “The Whore of Nazareth”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I pause at the entrance of the little bar I keep for my “sessions.” It’s a dimly lit back room behind a row of forgotten bottles. Inside, the air smells of cheap drinks and old carpet, and the low hum of a jukebox plays a blues riff that feels like a warning. Not for me, of course. For him.

He’s already there, perched on a cracked leather chair, with his eyes fixed on the floor. He’s a regular. We’ll call him Aaron, though we never use names that aren’t given. Tonight, his limits are a blank page and our job is to write the story together. “Stella,” he says, as his voice trembles with a mixture of anticipation and fear. I offer him a smile that’s half invitation, half challenge. I step closer, as the click of my stilettos punctuate the silence.

Continue reading “No Taboo Sessions”

Avery 1-844-332-2639 ext. 228

Teen tease and please Avery should really be my name. Because honestly I think I was born to be a cock tease. I’ve always been a natural tease and I’m very proud of that fact. Daddy used to tell me that I could get any man to do anything I wanted, just with right look and my cute as little giggles.

We both know that you’re going to call me and before you know it, you’re going to be wrapped around my finger. And if you play your cards right, you naughty boy, my delectable pussy and mouth will be wrapped around your cock.

Continue reading “I Want To Tease And Please You”

sissy blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He is my sissy. My apprentice. The canvas on which I will paint obedience. But he doesn’t quite know it yet. He stands in the hallway, trembling, clutching the thin, pastel cardigan I chose for him. His hair is slicked back in an artificial bob with the ends dyed a pastel pink that catches the light like bruised roses. He looks at me with a mixture of awe and terror, before his eyes dart to the leather cuffs hanging on the coat rack and the polished wooden bench where I will have him sit.

“Welcome, Alex,” I say, edged with authority. I watch the subtle shiver that ripples through his shoulders. He nods and whispers, “Yes, Mistress.” I guide him inside my apartment. The bench is already prepared. An ornate iron frame draped with a black silk sheet and a small brass bowl bearing a single, polished ruby at its center. I instruct him to strip. His hands trembled as he removes each piece of clothing until he stands there completely naked. I hand him a pair of thin lace panties and he looks at me, puzzled. “Put them on,” I say, calmly. “You’re a girl now.”

Continue reading “The canvas on which I will paint obedience.”

 

Women's Clothing

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639

Skirts, bras, panties, stockings… high heels. It’s time you stopped thinking of these things as “Women’s clothing.” They are for you, too. I mean, they come in your size and look so good on your body. If wearing panties under your work clothing makes you happy, why shouldn’t you wear them?

Don’t you feel more confident when soft, nylon stockings hug your every curve under a pair of your boring jeans?

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Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

Now the fun in the playroom had spiked! Sluterella seemed to be getting more and more comfortable (and mouthy) the more we passed her around. She was getting hornier and hornier, tasting more of her precum for each PSO who took ownership over her.

I watched, while setting up other calls, as Amber used the black whore and passed her to Anna. By the time Anna was finished putting the little bitch on her knees, she was back in my DM’s begging to cum. “Please, Ma’am. I did my job, I got passed around, may I cum?” I smirked into my screen and told her she’d have to wait till my current call was finished. Denying desperate cocks always makes my own panties wet. Plus, I was anxious to see that fucking cock again!  Continue reading “Passing Around Sluterella Part Three”