Tag: phone sex

cuck

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I like a little spice, a little mystery, you know? But the guy I just moved in with seems to be settling into this domestic bliss routine, and I’m starting to get a little bored. So, I decided to inject a little excitement into our lives, a little spark. Nothing too drastic, of course. Just enough to keep him on his toes, enough to make him wonder if he’s losing his mind. And what better way to do that than with a little harmless flirting with his best friend?

It all started innocently enough. Just a lingering glance here, a suggestive text there. Nothing he could really point to, nothing that would obviously raise red flags. But it was enough to stir the pot, to plant a tiny seed of doubt in his mind. He started asking questions, subtle at first. “Did you hear from Mark today?” “Did you guys have a good time at the game?” I’d just smile and shrug, playing the doting girlfriend. Letting him stew in his own confusion was all part of the plan.

Continue reading “A Little Spice” →

butthole blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

So, you know how everyone has that one quirky thing that makes them unique? Like, maybe they organize their socks by color, or they insist on buttering their toast in a specific way? Yeah, well, my Daddy, he’s got a thing. A very specific thing. And frankly, I’ll tell you…it’s my butt. Or, more precisely, my slightly used, fresh-from-a-long-day, let’s-be-real-it’s-a-bit-“dirty” butthole. Daddy loves a dirty butthole! Especially mine.

It’s not like he’s a hygiene menace, and I’m definitely not walking around un-wiped. No, no, no. But for some reason, the moment I’ve been out all day…rushing around, hitting the gym, maybe even just living…and I finally collapse onto the sofa, he gets this twinkle in his eye. It’s like he can smell adventure. Or, you know, just me.

Continue reading “Daddy’s Got A Thing For My Butthole” →

vampire

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.

Continue reading “Vladimir’s Slutty Domme” →

abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve just had it with Vincent’s constant mischief! When I entrusted him with the responsibility to wear big boy underpants instead of his diapers, I was confident he could handle it. Boy, was I wrong. I walked into his room and the first thing I noticed was the mess of dirty underpants on the floor! They were literally filled to the brim! He knew better than to disobey me like this. So, it’s time to teach him a hard lesson.

With a stern expression, I call out to him, “Vincent, get over here now! We need to have a talk.” He casually strolls into the room, a smirk on his face that infuriates me even further. “I thought we had an understanding, young man,” I say, in my best ABDL Mommy voice. Vincent is older than me and holds a prestigious job at a law firm, but you’d never know it when we’re together. “No more soiled underpants. Do you remember our rules about using the big boy potty?”

Continue reading “I’ve Just Had It!” →

cock witch

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.

Continue reading “The Collector” →

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” →

family fun

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Jorge emerged into my life every so often, bringing with him a fetish that most would consider very taboo: his mother. You see, theirs is a relationship that simply doesn’t fit into any of the neat boxes society has constructed. It was during one of these calls that Jorge first spoke of the attic discovery, a trove of old photographs. He described finding pictures of his mother from a time long before he was even a twinkle in her eye.

These weren’t just any old family snapshots; they were stunning, provocative images of a woman in various states of alluring undress, capturing a bygone era’s essence of beauty and sensuality. I remembered the thrill of seeing them for the first time, a genuine appreciation for the artistry and the raw, uninhibited glamour she exuded, making her truly a regular pinup girl, a testament to timeless allure preserved on faded paper.

Continue reading “Jorge’s Taboo Family Fun” →

prissy sissy

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

They all want the same thing: to shed the heavy cloak of their ingrained manliness and embrace the exquisite lightness of a prissy sissy. To them, I am Mistress Amber, and that title is the first lesson. They come to me, not as men, but as puzzles. Rough, unrefined lumps of masculine expectation, yearning for the delicate touch of my chisel.

My studio is a sanctuary of silks and satins, of soft lighting and the sweet, cloying scent of powders and perfumes. It’s where I perform my artistry. I don’t just dress them in lace and satin, though that is a crucial step. The goal is to ultimately reshape them, from the inside out. Their posture, once broad and assertive, must become pliant, shoulders gently sloped, hands clasped demurely. Their voices, those booming declarations of male ego, must soften, rise, become breathy and almost apologetic.

Continue reading “Embrace Your Prissy Sissy Destiny” →

gang bang blog

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.

Continue reading “Hungry For Weiners” →

alien sex blog

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.

Continue reading “My little boudoir is more of an intergalactic pit stop” →