Category: sexual fetish

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.” →

Boy

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna was walking home from the bodega with her arms full of bags. She balanced herself well in her heels still strutting down the sidewalk. Just as she almost reached home, one of her bags ripped, and her items spilled all onto the concrete.

Continue reading “Miss Anna and the Sissy Boy next door” →

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” →

slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

His name is Mark. He is tall, dark‑haired, and he wears a suit that looks like it was made for him. I felt a strange heat in my chest when I saw him. I told myself it was just nerves because I really needed the merger to go through.

We sat across a long table. Papers were spread out, charts on the screen, coffee steaming in the corners. I asked about his company’s goals. He answered with a calm voice that made my thoughts drift. I could see his eyes flicker to my lips when I spoke.

Continue reading “I Wanted To Rip The Suit Right Off Of Him” →

abdl humil

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Melanie handed me the mug. “He’s yours for a while,” she whispered. “Then it’s my turn.” Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. He’d been grinning all night at the party upstairs, leering at us like we were prizes. By 10:47pm, I made sure he’d downed three drinks, all of which contained chamomile and a splash of something far more calm-inducing. He slumped against the couch shortly after he finished the third drink. What a dummy. He should have known not to accept a drink from a near-stranger.

“Let’s move him,” I said. Melanie smirked. “I bet he never suspected this would happen when he chose to go to the party.” We carried him down like a ragdoll. His protests dissolved into snores by the third step. The diaper we put him in was size XXL, which was a mocking fit for his bulky frame. Melanie held him still while I snapped the tabs. Ethan twitched once, as if he was dreaming of escape. If only he knew. lol I reached for the laxative, sweetened to taste like vanilla. He gulped it down in a bottle, oblivious to his current reality.

Continue reading “Ethan didn’t suspect a thing.” →

Gifts

Posted on by Cory

breasts

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve had these, ahem, “gifts” since I was a teen. It’s like I had a magnetic field around me, drawing in every male eye within a 10-foot radius. It was both flattering and terrifying at the same time. I’d try to wear loose-fitting clothes to downplay them, but let’s be real, there’s only so much you can do to hide a pair of double-Ds from all of the neighborhood pervs.

The comments started early, too. Everything from “Wow, you must be cold!” to “Do you have trouble finding bras that fit?” But as I got older, the attention only intensified. I’d go to the grocery store and some guy would inevitably stare as if he’d never seen breasts before.

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doctor fetish

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Under the sterile clinic lights, wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake. “Amber?” A nurse called from the doorway, with a clipboard in her hand. Her smile was tight, but professional. “Dr. Lorne will see you now.”

I followed, as my heels tapped too loud against the linoleum. The exam room was cold. Paper-covered table, stirrups gleaming like instruments of some forgotten ritual. Then he walked in. Dr. Lorne. Tall. Calm. Silver watch on his left wrist…the kind that ticks just loud enough to sync with your pulse if you’re listening. He didn’t look at my chart. He looked at me. Not in a leering way. Worse. Like he already knew things.

Continue reading “wearing my favorite red dress felt like a mistake” →

sissy task

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

“I can’t. Please, don’t make me.” Aaron whimpered as we walked through the mall towards the lingerie store. I inhaled deeply, annoyed by the whining. He’s been begging for a sissy task for so long. Claiming he’d do anything I asked of him, so … here we are.

My hand slipped into my pocket and rubbed the remote tucked inside. The remote in my hand controlled the G-spot toy plugged into his ass. My thumb turned the dial, making the plug hum inside of him. His knees buckled, and he grabbed my arm for support. “Oh, Goddess Rita, please. I changed my mind.” I brushed his hands off of me and nodded towards the bubble gum pink store. The look in my eyes was more than enough. Aaron straightened himself and walked in.

Continue reading “Sissy Task” →

cuck therapist

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.”

Continue reading “Cucking David’s Wife” →

Bombaclot!

 ☏ 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!’’

Continue reading “Ronnie don’t say that word!” →