This story is brought to you by the question: Why do Dommes Dom? Sponsored by I’m A Domme, And This Is How I Have Fun *** I had him washing my dishes. We had had tuna steak for dinner. I slipped on my harness and my blue cock before stepping up close behind him. His [...]
I just came home late last night from a week in beautiful North Dakota. I stayed with my slave on his old family farm surrounded by rolling prairies, old homesteads, cattle, and hay bales. No one for miles around and certainly not within ear shot I got to have a little taste of what could [...]
I promise you nothing other than I won’t be shooting or uploading videos of people/couples with little or no chemistry. My goal with the videos I’m shooting now is the same as the ones you’ve enjoyed of me in the past. Interesting visuals, fun play, and a great dynamic between the people playing- whatever that [...]
I found him online through one of those porn sites. He had a full-page ad and sparkling recommendations from a fair, but not obscene amount of women. With those thick, vein-y cords wrapping lazy circles up his shaft to an elegantly shaped mushroom head I knew I had to have him. When he arrived at [...]
Para clutched his hand to his stinging cheek and stared, slack jawed at the rabid squirrel that was staring him down. “I warned you about staring at other women’s chests right in front of me!” shrieked the squirrel. Sure, she had warned him before, but that usually meant she sulked for a day or two [...]
The room smells of dank stone. There is a steady dripping noise accompanied by a soft metallic hum and your obnoxious breathing. When you awake from the acrid scent of smelling salts you’ve been strung up by your arms, a hood over your head. As you come to your senses, you feel the burning strain in your arms and the lack of floor beneath your searching toes.
“Oh, my head.” I hear you murmur.
I sit silently and just watch you strung up before me. I smile to myself and take a deep drag off my cigarette as I watch your disoriented struggle. Exhaling, I drop my smoke onto the damp stone floor and snub it with the toe of my boot. I see that has garnered your attention with its familiar sound. I love watching your hooded head jerk from side to side as you search your surroundings blindly.
“Who’s there?” You demand. “Where am I? What am I doing here?”
Once upon a time, in a magical place called the Big Boy Nursery, there was an adult baby named paratoos who was very hungry. He sat in his crib and just cried and cried. Before long, as often happens in such cases, the other children started crying, too! (Don’t you just hate that!)
Wah, wah, wah paratoos.
After what seemed to little para to be ages, but in reality was only a few minutes, the Nanny Mistress burst through the door! Her frame filled the doorway while the room flooded with light once more.
“One, two, three… four… five… six, seven… eight, nine… ten… ”
By the count of four she couldn’t look away. My voice swept over her like the caress of gently lapping waves. Slowly wearing down her defenses, washing away her will, her doubt. By ten she was truly helpless to resist me.