Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Ronnie began using the phone to call his friends and talk. He was in that ‘’stage’’. Every time he would pick up the phone, Mommy Anna would hear the ‘’click’’ and yell from upstairs for him to hang up. She would even wait to hear him whining from downstairs stating ‘’it isn’t fair!’’ and him slamming the phone shut before she would continue as she didn’t want him to hear her talking dirty to her lover… or worse, how they would find excuses for her to spank Ronnie.
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.
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.”
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
When David, a well-groomed man in his early forties, walked into my office and confessed his desire to “escape the weight of his marriage,” I sensed an opportunity. “Let me show you what it means to truly let go,” I said, watching his eyes flicker with something between curiosity and surrender. At first, I told myself this was just another session, a therapeutic exercise in roleplay to ease his marital tension.
Shortly thereafter, David’s sessions became a ritual. I’d begun weaving subtle suggestions into our conversations, phrases meant to blur the lines between his identity as a husband and the version of himself that could dissolve into pleasure at my command. “Under my guidance, you’ll forget the expectations of others,” I murmured one day as his eyelids grew heavy. “You’ll remember only what it feels like to serve me.” His breathing hitched and, for a moment, I wondered if I’d gone too far…but then he smiled and whispered, “Yes, Cory. Only you.”
☏ Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203 ☏☏☏ Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403
Ronnie was riding his bike around the neighborhood, when he suddenly heard a bunch of grown men yell ‘’Bombaclot!’’ as they smacked the table while playing dominoes. Some laughed, some cussed some more. This intrigued him, so he decided to go another round around the block. Sure enough, just as he approached them he was met with yet another ‘’Bombaclot!’’
Isabelle 1844-33-candy Ext 464
Detention is where I am right now, and where I belong. Seated in my plaid skirt, I was innocently minding my own business, white shirt loosely unbuttoned to tempt Mr.Black, a plan I’d hatched with the intention of provoking a reaction. Suddenly, I saw Mr.Black look up from his desk. His eyes reflect a hungerthat immediately tightens my thighs.
He knew I was a bad girl, and I was desperate for him to teach me a lesson I wouldn’t forget. “Isabelle,” he growled, standing up and walking over to lock the classroom door. ” You’ve been distracting the entire class with your attitude. It’s time you learned your lesson.”
Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413
“I read your profile.” He whispered. “And that’s exactly what I want. Please, make me your sissy faggot.” I giggled and let my hand rub up my inner thigh. Nothing pleases me more than when little sissy dolls crawl to me willingly.
“How good of a faggot will you be?” I asked my new toy, and he moaned.
“So good for you, Goddess.” They always say that, but when I asked how he was dressed for me, I was pleasantly surprised to find this little faggot more than prepared to perform.
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.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I’d been called to the “fun house” on the edge of town to investigate what sounded like a paranormal situation. When I pushed open the creaky door, the smell hit me hard. It was a musty mix of wet carpet and baby powder. Weird combo, I thought. My eyes adjusted to the dim glow of a blinking Game Boy Color screen and there it was. A creature slinking in the corner. Its face was a smudge of a shadow and it had many (too many) teeth.
“Well,” I said, aloud, patting my hip where my “Mama Kit” (a custom duffel bag with a sippy cup, pacifier, and a vintage rattle) hung, “you’re not what I expected.” It hissed. I giggled. “Oh, you’re spicy. I like that.” Drawing on years of experience comforting mommy’s boys and toys, I waddled closer, patting the floor. “Here, let’s sit down like grown-ups.” I sat, crossing my legs. The creature paused, with its too-long fingers twitching. Casually, I pulled out the rattle and clicked it. “I bring treats,” I added, unzipping the duffel to reveal a stash of glow-in-the-dark lollipops (for emergencies).
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.