Tag: #yesmistressamber

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Marcus was a man whose net worth was etched into the nervous, hungry way he adjusted his cufflinks. He was waiting for me to validate him. He was waiting for me to tell him he was the powerful provider he desperately wanted to be.

Instead, I took a slow sip of my drink, while keeping my eyes locked on his. “You know, Marcus,” I said, “it’s pathetic how hard you’re trying. You think buying me this vintage bottle makes you a player, but it doesn’t. You’re just another beta, sweating under the lights, hoping a girl like me will finally give you a sense of purpose.”

Continue reading “Beta Bitch” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The neon lights of the midway glittered from above as I stood by the games of chance, watching the desperate losers toss rings at glass bottles. That was when I saw him. He was leaning against the rusted railing of the Tilt-A-Whirl. He didn’t look like the rest of the pack-mentality boys who were roaming the park, he looked bored. When he caught my eye, he didn’t smile…he just tilted his head, like he was more curious than anything.

My sneakers crunched on discarded popcorn kernels as I walked toward him. Up close, he was even more striking. He had that jagged, restless energy that usually signaled trouble, and a smudge of grease on his jawline that made my pulse jump. “You look like you’re waiting for something to break,” I said, with a smirk. “I’m Amber, by the way.”

Continue reading “Midway Handjob” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The floor of my dungeon is cold, but Puppet doesn’t seem to notice. He hasn’t moved for twenty minutes, the poor thing. His knees are pressed firmly into the hardwood and his head is bowed so his chin brushes his chest. Here, he exists in that perfect, vacant space between my commands, like a human instrument waiting for the hand that plays him.

I lean back in my red velvet armchair and savor the view. To anyone else, he might be a man, but to me he is exactly what I named him. “Pussy-Free Puppet Plaything.” And he knows it. “Look up,” I say. My voice is low and doesn’t quite sound the way it does in my everyday life. Puppet obeys instantly. His eyes, usually clouded with the chaotic noise of his own thoughts, are now hollow, stripped of everything but the singular need to serve. He is nothing if not for my direction.

Continue reading “Pussy-Free Puppet Plaything” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“It’s going to pour,” he said. His voice was gravelly, like a low rumble that settled deep in my chest. “I don’t mind the rain,” I replied, with a wink. The sky opened up a second later and turned the street into a blur of grey and flashing light. I didn’t run. Neither did he. Instead, he reached out, wrapping his hand firmly around mine, and pulling me into the shadows of the alley.

His movements were frantic, as he pressed me against the cold, damp brick. His hands roamed over my tits, while I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer into a kiss. I reached down and he let out a sharp, ragged breath against my throat as I unzipped his pants and found his cock.

Continue reading “I don’t mind the rain” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My inbox looks like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July…if every firework were a marriage proposal from a loser who still thinks “pizza delivery” is a legitimate job. First there was Kevin, the “nice guy” from my yoga class. He offered me a ring and a guarantee that I’d never have to argue about the thermostat again (I’m almost always too cold!). I politely declined, telling him I “didn’t want to be tied down,” but the real reason is because his cock is too small.

Then came Derek. He showed up with a fresh‑baked batch of cookies and a Spotify playlist titled “Songs to Sweep Her Off Her Feet (and the Floor).” I laughed, because the only thing he’s ever swept me off my feet is when his Roomba bumps into me and I fall flat on my perfect little ass! He wasn’t impressed, to say the least.

Continue reading “loser proposals” →

mechanic roleplay

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As I stood at the grease-stained counter of Miller’s Auto, I knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go as planned. “Three hundred and forty dollars,” Dave said, not looking up from his ledger. He was a man composed entirely of callouses and indifference. “New alternator, labor, plus the diagnostic fee…tax…”

I looked at the counter, then at my hands. Three hundred and forty dollars was a fantasy. My bank account was a haunting echo of two-digit numbers and my rent was looming like a storm cloud. I thought about the rusted sedan in the bay behind him. It was my only tether to a job that was already dangling by a thread. Without that car, I was nothing. Without that car, I was back on the street.

Continue reading “Miller’s Auto Shop” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

His name was Julian. I didn’t know his last name and, honestly, I didn’t care. I had met him at the hotel lobby bar only two hours prior. He didn’t talk much, which was a relief. In a place where you don’t exactly belong, silence is the only honest currency.

The hotel’s hot tub was tucked into a secluded corner of the terrace, shielded by heavy, dripping ferns. The chlorine smell stung my nostrils and mixed with the faint, expensive scent of his cologne. When he pulled me into the water, the heat was abrasive, bordering on painful. The thing is, I kinda liked it.

Continue reading “the hotel lobby bar” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Guys, I’m starving. No, not for proteins or fiber or the sensible things people eat to keep their hearts beating. I’m starving for the velvet texture of a hot load of cum against the roof of my mouth. It’s not like I don’t get enough cock or anything. I mean, we all know I’m a certified whore! lol But the reality of my world is that I took this job because I’m a cumslut and simply can’t get enough cum (or cock) to satisfy my cravings!

I can taste it even now, a phantom saltiness, sometimes slightly bitter, sometimes slightly sweet. My jaw aches to be stretched wide enough to take a thick, long, juicy cock balls deep down my throat. It’s a physical hunger that can’t be silenced.

Continue reading “I’m Craving Your Cock” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I stood in front of Mr. Henderson’s mahogany desk, clutching a stack of files like a shield. My crime? I had accidentally redirected the annual budget report to the entire company’s Slack channel instead of just the accounting department. “Amber,” Mr. Henderson said, as he adjusted his silk tie. His eyes were locked on mine. “Do you have any idea how bad this is? I’ve fired people for less!”

I winced. “I thought I was just sharing the link to the sign-in spreadsheet, sir. It was a slip of the touchpad…an honest mistake!” He leaned back, as his chair creaked ominously. “A slip. Right. You’ve been a liability lately, Amber. I should let you go.” My stomach did a slow, painful somersault. I had a car payment, an apartment, and an absolute inability to function in any other work environment. I needed to fix this. Fast.

Continue reading “I’ve fired people for less!” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The first meme I sent was a screenshot of a badly drawn superhero. “SIMP MAN” soaring over a city of unpaid bills, in a cape stitched with the word “beta.” “Enjoy your new alter ego, loser 🤡,” I typed. He messaged back instantly, “You’re so cruel.” My fingers hovered over the keypad, as I cackled. The more I called him the names he despised…“loser,” “beta,” “perv”…the faster his replies came in.

A notification pinged and I looked at my phone to find $150.00 transferred. Then another. And another. His account was draining like a faucet on full blast. The more I teased, the more he sent. “Thanks for the drink. Now, fuck off. There’s a hot guy over there…” was a risky one, but it sent him right over an edge, resulting in not only more cash in my pocket, but also a plea for me to stay. “Please, Amber…don’t go…”

Continue reading ““SIMP MAN”” →