Category: phone sex losers

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.” →

findom

Cory 1-877-332-2639 ext 407

I’m a woman with a penchant for Prada and a talent for turning pitiful, low-status men into personal ATMs. My specialty? Convincing pathetic loser betas to drain their meager savings so I can buy another designer handbag or book a spontaneous trip to Bali. It’s not just about the money, though. It’s about power. The sweet, syrupy kind that comes when a man with a Netflix-and-chill résumé hands me his Black Card like it’s a sacred offering.

The process is almost artful. I spot them before the see me. Shiftless guys in ill-fitting suits, with confidence levels lower than the tips some of you leave at brunch. I approach with a smile that could thaw the Arctic and a voice that purrs like a V8 engine. Then I start complimenting their “untapped potential,” pretending to be “starving artist” or “aspiring entrepreneur” (code for “I need money but also validation”). By the third round of $25 drinks, they’re confessing their deepest insecurities while I nonchalantly swipe their credit card for a “gift” that costs $300. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an investment in my affections.

Continue reading “They’re just my personal ATMs” →

Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

Loser #114 called again. He was just as pathetic as all of the previous times. I can’t believe how he is so easily controlled and manipulated by a nineteen year old bratty teen tease. All I have to do is tell him what a fucking loser he is and he starts oinking and throwing money at me. I just giggle and say “$cha$ching” over and over again. And he just keeps oinking and throwing money. He really is a total fucking loser. I decided to see what all I could get him to pay me for. So I made him suck on a dildo and tell me what a fucking loser he is while he was gagging on it. That turned him on so much that he begged me to drain his wallet. So I did just that while I took the dildo and shoved it up his ass and fucked him with it. He oinked the whole time. So I took it out of his ass and made him lick it clean. That made the pathetic little loser’s dick hard. It was time to take it to the next level.

Continue reading “Loser #114” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Another one. Always the same hopeful, pathetic look in their eyes. As if I would be anything more than a fleeting fantasy for their miserable lives. “Bonjour, Monsieur,” I purred, my voice dripping with an accent thicker than the Parisian fog. He flinched, already knowing what was coming. Good. Fear is the first step to understanding your place.

He mumbled a greeting, as his gaze darted around my dimly lit salon. The velvet curtains, the antique furniture, the subtle scent of expensive perfume…it was all designed to overwhelm. To make them feel small. And it worked. Every time. “You are late,” I stated, not as a question, but as a cold, hard fact. They call me a bitch. Bien sûr. What did they expect? A gentle caress? A whispered endearment? Ridicule.

Continue reading “Pathetic” →

slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The message from Puppet always started the same way: a desperate plea. He called it a “hang out,” but I knew what he really meant. “She’s in the other room,” he whispered, his voice thin and shaky as he called. “Just…just come. Please, Stella. I need you to see me.”

See him. He always wanted me to see him. It was a game, a twisted reflection of his own pathetic cravings. I felt nothing but a cold amusement. He was a puppet, all right, and I held the strings. The back door creaked as he let me in, his eyes darting to the hallway, then back to me, wide with a mixture of fear and desperate excitement.

Continue reading “Pathetic Puppet” →

sph

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was a typical Friday evening, and I was lounging on my couch, scrolling through my phone when Max’s name popped up on my screen. I hadn’t heard from him in years, not since our ill-fated relationship ended abruptly. My curiosity piqued, I answered the call. “Hey, Max,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Hey, babe,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “I just wanted to apologize for what happened between us. I know I messed up, and I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” “Max, we both know why we broke up. I just couldn’t deal with your…” I paused for dramatic effect, “micro cock.” Max sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “I know, I know. But I’ve been working on myself, and I’ve been doing a lot of research on how to please a woman. I promise things will be different this time.”

Continue reading “The Tale of Max’s Minuscule Member” →

domme blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I’m a domme who loves to punish men who drool over me. I don’t like them, I like that they pay me. Today, I’ve got a new client, a man named Jack. He’s a regular caller, but this is our first time talking. I answer the call with a sultry “Oui Bonjour, Jack.” He stammers, “H-hi, Stella.” I can hear the nervousness in his voice, and it makes my pussy tingle. I love the power I have over these men. “So, Jack, tell me, what do you want to talk about today?” I ask, my voice dripping with seduction. He hesitates then says, “I…I want to talk about…you.”

I laugh, a deep, throaty sound. “Oh, Jack, you’re a naughty boy, aren’t you? You want to talk about me? Well, let’s talk about my body, then.” I describe my curves, my small but full breasts, my tight ass, and my wet pussy. I can hear his breathing quicken, and I know he’s touching his cock. They all sound the same when they touch it. I smile, knowing I have him under my control. “Imagine my hands on your dick, Jack.

Continue reading “I like that they pay me” →

blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I glanced at the screen, and a name I hadn’t seen in over a year popped up: Scott. My ex-boyfriend, Scott. I stared for a second, wondering if it was some kind of mistake. Then the text itself loaded: ‘Hey, it’s Scott. Got a new phone, wanted to make sure you had my number.’ Um, why? Seriously. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but a reply felt unnecessary. What could he possibly want? And why now, after all this time? It’s been a full year since we spoke, since he walked in on me and Greg, since our whole world imploded.

I mean, ‘imploded’ sounds dramatic, but for me, it was more like a necessary demolition. Scott had become a lump. When he lost his job, I tried to be supportive, I really did. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and he just moped around the apartment, expecting me to pick up all the slack. Rent, groceries, bills – it all fell on my shoulders. It was overwhelming, frustrating, and frankly, I was drowning. I just needed an escape, you know? Something, anything, to make me feel alive again.

Continue reading “a name I hadn’t seen in over a year” →

Body Envy

Robotic Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

Oh, you have a bad case of body envy! I mean, it reeks. Most men look me over with sexual desire, but the green-eyed monster shines through your gaze. You don’t want to fuck my face or impregnate me. No, you want to be me. It’s obvious; I don’t understand how you’ve managed to hide your secrets from your wife for so long.

Is she just stupid, or does she not care about you at all? All the signs are there. Why can’t she see how badly you want to be a woman?

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Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

Hello, you horny old perverts. It’s me again, the delicious 20-year-old pussy you lust after so much. I know how badly you wish you could get a taste of my tight young holes. How you dream of ramming your wrinkled old cocks deep inside me. How much you ache to make me yours and teach this bratty little slut a lesson she’ll never forget.

Well, too fucking bad. You’ll never get to experience the exquisite pleasure of being covered in my juices as I ride you into oblivion. Never get to smack my round ass and leave your handprint on my smooth cheeks. Never feel my hot mouth wrapped around your throbbing dick, sucking you dry until you’re completely spent.

Continue reading “Cry About It” →