Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Dirty Auntie Anna decided to surprise her naughty nephew. She had missed playing with him and fucking him. She thought it would be fun to drop by unannounced, and so she left the bar she was at, slutty as ever and prowled her way to her nephew’s doorstep.
Continue reading “Dirty Auntie Anna, her Nephew and his Friend”
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
I checked my watch. Exactly 8:00 PM. No need for rushing. That is the first rule of control. A Domme never rushes. The air was cool. I like it that way; it makes the submissive shiver a little, even without fear. He was already kneeling on the thick, dark rug, waiting. He never looked up until I told him to.
Today, he was wearing the pale pink satin nightie I had selected, the cheap lace scratching his skin. His face was painted heavy, the makeup slightly smudged around the eyes from nervous anticipation. He was not a man now; he was my project. He was my sissy bitch.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
My basement isn’t for old boxes. It’s for pleasure. And this week, it held Jacques. The chains were thick but soft. Not to hurt him, just to hold him. He was stretched out on the cold stone floor, a thick mat beneath him, with his arms and legs secured. On the first day, he looked excited, but a little nervous too. I just smiled. “Welcome,” I whispered, and his whole body tensed.
I started slow. Just walking around him, my bare feet silent on the floor. I wore a thin robe, the silk brushing my skin. His eyes, usually so confident, were wide and fixed only on me. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch. I bent down, just out of his reach, letting my robe open a little, showing the curve of my thigh. He made a low sound, a guttural groan.
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Miss Anna had been assigned a new boss at work. She immediately couldn’t stand him at first sight. He seemed like a real prude. He would correct everything she did, and make her even re-do assignments over and over.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
He stood in the shadows, his eyes, like deep pools, watching me. Vladimir. Not the monster from old tales, but something more compelling. He was power, yes, but he also a deep, aching loneliness that immediately drew me in. His gaze did not leave mine. There was no fear in me, only a strange, dark hunger. I reached him, standing so close I could feel the cold radiating from his skin, a faint pulse beneath it.
“You look at me,” I said, “like you wonder what I will do.” He gave a small nod. “I wonder, Stella.” His voice was a rich hum, like a cello string. I lifted my hand, not to touch his face, but his chest, finding the hard muscle beneath his velvet coat. He did not flinch. “Tonight,” I whispered, my fingers pressing lightly, “you will let me wonder.” His eyes widened. I could feel the surprise, but also a hidden interest, a spark.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
They call me ‘The Collector.’ My coven might raise a brow at my methods, but they don’t understand the relentless ache, the void only true satisfaction can fill. I am predacious by nature, preying only on those submissive men who believe their shriveled cocks are enough. They read the runes, they sign the parchments, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and fervent hope. They know the terms: if they do not measure up, they become an offering. An ornament. A keepsake.
I had another one show up tonight. A nervous young man, all trembling anticipation, stood before my altar. The scent of black candles and patchouli filled the chamber. He stripped, his body a canvas for my scrutiny. I circled him, my gaze a physical weight, assessing. My eyes, usually a calming forest green, glowed with a faint, reddish heat.
Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461
I love weiners. It’s not a secret, not really. It’s more of an operating principle. A hunger. Tonight, the hunger felt particularly strong, mixed with something colder. It wasn’t about pleasure, not exactly, not tonight. Tonight it was about filling a void, a hollow place that echoed with every breath. Three of them were already there, sprawled on the floor, passing a bottle of something cheap and smelling of regret. Two more were on their way, or so I’d been told. Good. The more, the better. More bodies, more heat, more noise to block out the silence inside my own head.
I watched them roll their eyes over me, appraising. A part of me, a small, shriveled part, recoiled. But the larger part, the hungry one, just felt a numb sort of anticipation. It wasn’t about being wanted, it was about being consumed. About letting go of the reins and letting the current take me. The first one, a burly guy named Mick or Mark, I forget, pulled me down. His breath was sour with whatever he had been drinking. There was no tenderness, no soft words.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
My little boudoir, tucked away in the shadows of the Neo-Quebecois arcologies, is more of an intergalactic pit stop than a massage parlour. Earthlings? Pah! They are so predictable. Most prefer vanilla sex, some maybe throw in an interesting fetish or two every so often. But the extra-terrestrials? Give me a multi-limbed sentient cloud anytime. They know how to live!
It wasn’t always like this, of course. Back on old Earth, it was all just…well, skinflute city. I can’t count how many boring blowjobs I’ve dolled out over the years. Then the galactic gates opened, the tourists arrived, and suddenly, there was a whole new world of anatomy to explore. And let me tell you, when a Tralfamadorian senator offers triple credits just to have you gently hum while they regenerate their epidermal layer, you don’t say no. Especially when their epidermal layer looks like a shimmering, bioluminescent silk cocoon. It’s surprisingly peaceful, a bit like watching a very slow, very expensive lava lamp.
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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
I am a tramp. Or, as some like to say, une femme de la rue. I wake up wherever I fall asleep – sometimes under a bridge, sometimes in a park, sometimes with a very confused gentleman next to me. Life is an adventure, no?
I hear the whispers. “She sells herself for a few coins, you know.” “A lady of the night, that one.” They say it with a little shudder, a little sniff of disgust. They think I do not hear, but my ears, they are sharp like claws.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
It felt flattering at first, this intense desire to know me, every corner of my journey. He’d lean in, eyes wide and earnest, asking about the names and faces that came before him. “What was your first boyfriend’s name?” he’d ask, genuinely curious. “How old were you when you lost your virginity? What was that like?” He wanted details, not just broad strokes.
He wasn’t just curious about my experiences; it felt like he was studying them, absorbing every confession. When I mentioned I do phone sex, his interest spiked. “Why did you get into that? What was the wildest thing you ever did with a guy on a call? Or in real life?” His questions were relentless.