Category: sexual fetish

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.

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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.”

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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!’’

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Melanie 1-844-33-CANDY ext 463

My ex, Jesse, and I broke up six months ago, but I was feeling weak one night and was craving a booty call. I called him up and invited him over. He got to my house by 1:30am. Jesse walked into my bedroom where I was standing to meet him, and he whipped me around against the door and started kissing me hard, as he ran his hands through my hair. My body, and especially my pussy, started tingling.

I pushed him off me so I could tell him we should head to the bed. I laid down on the bed and spread my legs open so he could eat me out. He bent down and pulled me close to his mouth and sucked and licked my pussy slit. Then he licked and flicked my clit. It felt so good and shocks went through my entire body and it tensed up. An orgasm was building up in my body.

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sluts

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.

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Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403

It’s time for me to make my New Year’s resolution!  This year I resolve to be less of a slut.  I had about 670 sexual encounters last year.  I’m so ashamed of myself.  I promise that I’ll be pure and platonic this year.  No more fucking behind the stairs at the bar.  I resolve to refrain from fucking strangers in the back seat of my car.  I’ll be squeaky clean and well behaved for 2026.

Oh, who am I kidding?!?  You know I’m fucking with you.  My REAL resolution for 2026 is to be an even BIGGER slut than I managed to be in 2025!

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Christmas

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Santa’s workshop buzzed with the manic energy of Christmas. While other elves dangled dolls and wind-up trains from the ceiling like we were in a Christmas ornament factory, my job as Quality Control Manager was to test the sexy toys that would be left for adults under trees all over the world this year.

Today’s project involved Aaron, a twitchy new elf whose enthusiasm could’ve powered the North Pole’s entire workshop. He’d just unveiled his “ethically sourced” antler cock ring. “Structural integrity is paramount,” he’d said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Let’s test it,” I said professionally, while adjusting my candy-cane apron. Elf Academy didn’t cover this part in their “Sleighing the Holidays” curriculum, so it was my responsibility to train new hires on protocol.

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Shackled Parade

Rita 844-33-CANDY Ext 413

The holiday season always brings so many parades. Light parades, float parades, Grinch parades! I mean, every weekend in December, you can find somewhere to watch a beautiful display. It gave me an idea! I called up each of the Candy girls and invited them to what I’d call my Shackled Parade. Each of us would bring and dress up a sissy doll to parade in front of the other girls.

Only, as the name suggests, each sissy would have shackles around their hands and ankles. The girls were giddy and accepted excitedly! I knew exactly how I’d dress my slut!

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domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He bowed his head as I circled him. Slowly. Deliberately. He didn’t move. He was a perfect statue of obedience. “It is the season for giving, isn’t it, pet?” I whispered. He shivered. “But you know I don’t give things away. I take them. And you are mine to take.”

I picked up the items I had laid out on the high table. First, the ribbon. Not the flimsy kind, but thick, expensive satin. I used it to bind his wrists behind his back, pulling the knot hard until I heard a faint, satisfying moan. I tied his ankles together next, ensuring he couldn’t even shift his weight without fighting the slippery silk. He was perfectly secured, kneeling like a forgotten ornament.

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nipple

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My best friend thinks my Friday nights are a delightful mix of artisanal cheese, documentaries, and early bedtimes. Oh, if only she knew the reality of what I get up to with her brother, Liam! Our secret, kinky rendezvous are the spice of my existence, and the highlight is always the grand reveal of my ever-growing collection of nipple clamps.

Tonight was a Christmas affair, naturally. Liam, bless his unsuspecting sister’s heart, strode into my apartment looking impossibly handsome, with a casual smirk already playing on his lips. He knew the drill. We naturally skipped the small talk, the Netflix suggestions, and the pretense of anything remotely platonic. His eyes immediately darted to the small velvet pouch I held in my hand.

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