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Mistress Una

You will learn to serve her properly or else….

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Now Booking Sessions: Mistress Nikki

Mistress Nikki

This beautiful  petite Mistress will tease and torment you.

nikki march edit 5


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Now Booking Sessions: Kat Is Back To Play

Mistress Kat
She will tease and torment you.

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Letter to Mistress Mia

Dear Mistress Mia

Hopes of shaping our next session to maximize my degradation , while encouraging your enjoyment and ideally your benefit.  I am enchanted with your demeanor, confidence, and the way you make me feel wanted and special while simultaneously still miles beneath you.  You seem amused if not apologetic for my awkward enthusiasm for degradation and my afinity for the disgusting.  You possess an intoxicating mixture of intrigue and desire that I have fantasized about as long as I can remember.

 I sit in silent compliance, begging you with the softest breath for acknowlegement.  I feel pangs of excitement as you torment me, using my own words agsinst me, sharing my admiration with your followers and exposing my shame.  I must thank you.  Never have I felt so insecure and miniscule, yet the acknowlegement gives me a sense of pride that I’ve somehow pleased you with my adoring words.

I kneel to write this, for no ones benefit but my own…. compelled by a desire to beg, to plead with you for a response.  Please share with me your thoughts on my pitiful desires.  Please tell me our desires are one in the same and that I was meant to long for that which you discard and grovel for moments of your attention.  Please tell me my fantasies are pathetic and you will exploit the desires which make me weak. Please tease me for wanting this, for begging you to ignore me to the point I can no longer take.  Please mock me for sending you money with hopes you will reply, tell me how stupid I must be for sending you money for an email, and laugh at me knowing that even after you mock me, I will do it again.

Please at least acknowlege my plea and say that you are enjoying my suffering… that this is your game and you are laughing at my willingness to play.

Please know that I kneel here tormented by you each day, refreshing my inbox with hopes of a reply, growing more disappointed each time, but never losing patience.  Never losing the understanding of my place as an inferior person, and embracing that feeling and treating it as a gift from You.

Thank you for making me feel small, but hopeful.

– Slave M


A story from Nina Mar

It was another tedious laundry day for Dahlia. She was disappointed that a beautiful sunny afternoon was going to be wasted on annoying chores.  “I shouldn’t have to do my own laundry!” she thought, as she slipped her flip flops on and grabbed her laundry basket. She admired her own fresh pedicure as she took the elevator down to basement.

She was startled to see another person in the usually empty Laundry Room. Kyle- the weird boy from one of the apartments on her floor – was standing by the dryers. He looked at her. Her green eyes met his, and she followed his gaze as it moved towards her feet. 

He was fixated on her cute, cobalt blue toes. 

“I like your pedicure Dahlia. Your feet look beautiful.” He said.

Dahlia’s eyebrows narrowed and lips smirked. “Weirdo!”, she huffed. She pranced passed him, her hair bouncing to the only nearest free washing machine. She loaded her laundry in, added soap, and, ignoring Kyle entirely, headed back upstairs to her apartment.

Dahlia gave her pedicure another hour to dry. Looking out the window, she thought it a perfect day to go for a long run. She quickly changed into a black workout tank top and matching  leggings, along with her favorite black running sneakers. She loved wearing all black. On her way out she stopped at the laundry room to move her clothes to the dryer. Kyle was nowhere to be seen. 

As she was moving her clothes, she noticed some of her socks were missing. 

“That’s strange,” she thought. “I’m usually very good at keeping my socks together. I guess I’ll find them later.” She headed out for her run.

The weather was warmer than it seemed. She was sweating more than usual, – especially her feet. She could not wait to shower and change into clean clothes. Her plan was to relax for the rest of the day. She stopped back in the laundry room on the way back upstairs. The door was closed. She opened it slowly… and was shocked to see Kyle kneeling in front of the dryer with her missing socks pressed against his face. 

He was breathing heavily, obviously enjoying her scent.

“Oh- this is going to be fun.” she said loudly. Kyle nearly fell over from shock. “What are you doing with my socks?”

The boy stammered and stuttered, but didn’t make any sense. 

 Dahlia put her hands on her hips and said,  “Well, you’re clearly sniffing them, and who knows what else while I was away. What do you think I should do with you? Should I tell everyone in the building that you’re a sock thief?! A foot freak?”

 “No! Please don’t.” he begged. “I’m sorry it won’t happen again”. 

“We’ll see about that!” Dahlia barked. She loved how scared he was. “Here”, she slid her laundry basket to him. “Take my clothes out of the dryer and put them in my basket. One way or another I’m going to make you pay for touching my socks and screwing up my day.” He hesitated. “Let’s go!” she nearly shouted. “I’m making you take the laundry up the stairs, no elevator for you. Move!”

Kyle scrambled up the stairs as Dahlia loomed behind him. She loved every second of this. He was skittish and scared. It was so amusing. 

Dahlia opened the door to her apartment and pointed into her living room. ““Get in there! Put the basket down and get on your knees. Faster!” He did as she instructed. “Good boy!” she mocked him. She sat down on her favorite chair, directly in front of him. 

Kyle was a trembling mess and Dahlia was in her element.

“Tell me, what do you think I should do with you?” she asked. 

Still on his knees,  he replied slowly. “I don’t know, you should do whatever you think I deserve.” 

Dahlia crossed her legs, and pointed at her sneaker. “Untie my shoe using only your mouth. You have 30 seconds.”  Kyle leaned his face into her shoe, grabbing the laces with his teeth. He began to tug on them as fast as he could. “Seven, six, five, four…” Within those last moments he was able to tug them loose. His heart was racing … and his penis was throbbing. He was humiliated – and turned on. He could not believe he was in Dahlia’s apartment doing this. He had fantasized about her since she moved in a year ago.

 “Congratulations, I’m impressed. Now you can take my sneaker off and smell my socks….that’s what you want isn’t it?” It was clearly all the boy ever wanted. He was so hard he thought he was going to cum just touching her sneakers as he pulled them off. His face was so close to her foot he could feel the heat from them. His face was centimeters from her warm sweaty socks. “Go on, smell them! Now!” she commanded. Kyle grabbed her foot and pressed his face against the sole of her foot, sniffing her sock as hard as he could. He was transported to another world. But Dahlia was still present. “Good boy! Now you can take off the other shoe. Do it the same way.” Kyle did it better this time. He loved the humiliating task as much as Dahlia loved assigning it to him. “We have to keep things even, go on, smell this one too.” The smell of her sweaty socks made Kyle tremble. “Good job, now take off my sock.” 

He went to use his hands but Dahlia stopped him. “No. You have to use only your mouth.”

Kyle wrapped is head the best he could around her ankle and gently grabbed the top of her sock with his teeth. It took seconds but he slowly managed to pull it down and off. Dahlia’s bare foot was directly in his face now. He could feel the heat of her skin. Each toe was perfectly rounded, and her blue nail polish turned him on even more. 

“This is what you’re going to do; starting with my big toe you’re going to kiss and suck each individual toe until I tell you to stop.” Kyle’s head and mouth dove into action. He did just as she told him, planting kisses on each before suckling each one. He loved how pretty and warm her feet were. He couldn’t believe his fantasy was coming true. He was so turned on he thought he might cum in his pants. 

“I’m pleasantly surprised at how well you’re doing, Kyle. Now I want to see how well you can clean my foot using only your tongue. You can start by licking the bottom.” Kyle went right to work, his penis pounding and head spinning,  He started at her flawlessly round heel which was slightly salty from her run. He hoped he was doing a good job and pleasing her. Then he moved up the bottom of her and cleaned her high arches. While Kyle was working his way up towards the toes, Dahlia smiled at him. She pressed the ball of her foot into his face and leaned in. “Now lick underneath and in between each toe.” She ordered.

Kyle did exactly as he was told. He loved the way her toes felt in his mouth and how they tasted on this tongue. He could not believe how turned on he was. It was getting painful for him. Dahlia had noticed his raging boner when they first entered her apartment. But she was waiting for the right moment to let him release. 

She wanted to wait until his boner was a source of pain.

Dahlia looked at the watch she wasn’t wearing, pretending to be annoyed that her time was wasted. “Since you did such a good job following my instructions and it appears you have also done a decent job cleaning my foot, I suppose I will allow you orgasm. Take off your pants.” Kyle frantically unbuttoned his pants and his pants and boxers down to his knees. Dahlia laughed. “Hey! Wait! I didn’t say go yet.” She grabbed Kyle by the chin, looking directly into his eyes.  “I am allowing you to release yourself, but you better ask permission to cum or you’re not going to like what I have in store for you”.

Eager to cum, Kyle nodded to show his understanding. 

“Okay, go on, do it. Stroke for me.” She commanded. Kyle grabbed his painfully hard penis and started to stroke it. He’d been turned on since before she walked in on him, and was beyond excited. After barely 10 strokes he came uncontrollably, all over Dahlia’s floor. 

He did not ask permission. 

“Oh, Kyle! Not only did you fail to ask permission to cum, but you also made a mess on my beautiful hardwood floors.” Dahlia was more amused than displeased. “This is what you’re going to do. You’re not going to like it. Put your hands behind your back and lick up the mess you made.” 

 “Okay.” was all Kyle could say. He was ready to accept his humiliating punishment. He loved the way Dahlia bossed him around and got him to do things he didn’t know he liked. He put his hands behind his back and started cleaning up his mess. 

As he was cleaning, Dahlia pressed her feet on top of his head and said, “I’m disappointed in you, however I suppose it’s not entirely your fault. What you need is more training. Here’s what you’re going to do. From now you’re going to do my laundry every week. I will train you how to serve me properly and worship my feet. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Kyle said from the floor.

“And you’re going to continue to eat your own cum until you learn to control your orgasms. Is this also understood?”

“Yes.” Kyle continued from the floor.

“From now on it’s ‘Yes, Mistress!’” She admonished him.

“Yes Mistress!”

The Physical – A Story by Nina Mar

It was time for Chuck’s physical. He was well overdue.

He was a bundle of nerves when he entered the waiting room and greeted the receptionist. “Good afternoon”, she said. “Have a seat and fill out this form. The doctor will see you shortly.” She smiled. “Unfortunately Dr. Green won’t be in today, we recently hired a new physician with excellent reviews – fresh-faced and eager to treat patients. She’s very pretty too. Are you okay with having your physical with Dr. Charlie?”

Chuck was suddenly aroused… and nervous about the prospect of an attractive young female doctor performing his physical. But he was overdue, and so he happily agreed to go along with it. He filled out nearly 20 pages of paperwork, then handed the receptionist her clipboard. 

That’s when he noticed the number of attractive women swarming around the office. The girl filing papers in the back with immaculate black hair caught his eye. He found himself hardening. 

The receptionist, named Margaret he saw from her tag, also had dark hair and eyes with a broad smile.  Chuck’s growing erection throbbed in his pants.  He changed his focus to his old male doctors to help ease the blood flow to his penis. It seemed to be working.

Then Margaret called Chuck: “We’re ready for you. I’m going to set you up in the examination room and take your vitals. Dr. Charlie will be performing the full examination, as soon as she’s done with her other patients.”

They moved into the exam room. Chuck enjoyed watching her long legs along the way. He sat down on the table as she indicated.

“Lets take your temperature first.”

Chuck could not keep his eyes off of Margaret. She was beautiful.  The way she stared at the thermometer turned him on . When she moved the thermometer into the light to read it, he noticed her perfectly round breasts. 

His erection was getting in the danger zone. He could feel it pulse against his pants.

“Normal. Time to take your blood pressure and check your weight.”

Chuck had begun to sweat. “Okay” he said.

Margaret took his blood pressure with serious eyes that for a moment he thought possessed the intent to inflict pain. At first, the pressure on his arm was normal, but thenit got  tighter and tighter. Her eyes became narrower and she looked at him.

“It is suppose to feel this tight and painful” Chuck asked, his erection growing with each pump.

Margaret looked straight into his eyes. “This is how we do things in our office.”

Which each pump around his arm, Chuck felt his penis twitch. Margaret noticed this predicament and gave him a sadistic, thin-lipped smile. She finished dragged him to the scale next. 

“You’ve put on some weight since your last visit, Chuck. Dr. Charlie takes these issues very seriously. She does not tolerate high BMI’s.”

Margaret ordered him back into the examination chair. He was nervous now… because he knew he wasn’t the picture of health.  

He watched her without blinking as she checked his reflexives. “Luckily for you, your reflexes are fine.” Margaret leered at him for a moment, writing notes, then left the room.

“Who is this Dr. Charlie?” Chuck thought. 

The more he wondered about her the more his penis pressed against his pants.

Chuck had been waiting perhaps 5 minutes when Margaret came back in.  “Ok, Chuck, Dr. Charlie will be with you shortly.  Be completely obedient . And put this medical gown on. Take everything else off.”

He did it. Then settled in to wait.

As the minutes ticked, his  uncomfortable erection created a teepee in the gown that he could not hide. He finalized realized: this was not a routine check-up. Something was happening.

He tried to think of an old male doctor, but it was too late. There was nothing he could do except sit there with his cock exposed as Dr. Charlie knocked briefly, then entered. 

Chucks’ entire body shivered.

“Hello Chuck”, said a spectacularly attractive woman in a white lab coat. “I’m Dr. Charlie and I will be performing your annual check-up today.” She continued talking but all Chuck could focus on was her perfect blue eyes and 6’3 stature, straight, shiny blonde hair and some devious plan hiding behind bright blue eyes.

“Have you had any health issues besides your obvious obesity?” Charlie asked.

Shamed, Chuck replied, “I’m not happy about my weight situation, but I’m working in it. I swear!”

Dr. Charlie smiled, “I have the perfect treatment for you, but we’ll get back to that later. I know Margaret took your temperature already but I prefer the more precise form of taking temperatures via the rectum. Get up, hands-on head, bend over… and don’t complain.”

Chuck couldn’t resist submitting to her inappropriate commands. Her beauty, intelligence and poise left him entirely to her mercy.

Dr. Charlie quickly became sterner. “Move, Chuck. Spread your legs more. You’re getting another rectal thermometer. A larger, more accurate one. It needs to stay in for 10 minutes and you are not to move an inch.” She paused. “Keep your hands on your head. I didn’t say you could relax them.”

The suspense tortured and aroused Chuck. He hated it … and loved it, too. 

Watching Dr. Charlie put on latex gloves with a crisp snap sent another surge to Chuck’s penis. 

“98.6, you’re lucky, if the thermometer read anything higher or lower I would have punished you for that.” Chuck could not believe his ears. His cock throbbed.

Dr. Charlie lowered her voice, emphasizing how serious she was. “I’m going to give you an enema now. And it’s going to be painful. But it will be more painful if you make a mess of my office. Do you understand?”

Chuck nodded.

“Bend over further please.” Dr. Charlie preceded to insert a large tube into Chuck’s ass. A moment later he felt water flood into him. She did this several times. Chuck’s guts began to churn, and he felt intense pressure. 

His cock was beyond hard. He thought he might cum at any moment.

Her voice was suddenly calm, almost clinical. “I set my timer for 15 minutes … pray that one drop doesn’t soil my floor. Hands-on your head and keep them there.”

Chuck gave Dr. Charlie a look, but said nothing.

“Fine”, she said, “20 minutes.”

Chuck suffered… he tried to retain his enema and keep his hands on his head. The pressure mounted. “What kind of clinic is this?” he wondered? And why was he so aroused? Would he really get in trouble if he couldn’t hold it? His mind raced.

For the next 20 minutes Dr. Charlie starred directly into Chuck’s eyes – making it hard for him to concentrate. He knew he wasn’t going to make it. He began to blubber at her…  

“What’s going to happen if I soil the floor Dr. Charlie?  Dr. Charlie, I don’t know if  I can retain it any longer and my arms hurts!!”

She laughed… “You have 5 more minutes, don’t you dare disappoint me.” He bore down and somehow made it. When she told him time was up, he almost danced into the bathroom.

He was still aroused. He loved it and he hated it still.

“I’m waiting! Are you done in there?!” yelled Dr. Charlie. 

Chuck emerged from the toilet, Dr. Charlie pointed to the examination table. Chuck knew none of this was right … but he didn’t want it to stop. He lay down and stared up into her sparking blue eyes.

“I expect all my patients to be as healthy as possible. You sir are a fat failure. However, I have a way of fixing unhealthy lifestyles. You’re not going to like it. I’m going to restrain and torture you for 3 minutes. No safe word. Two nipple piercings and 5 cane strokes to each hand will set you straight.”

Chuck was ready for his punishment; he wanted to please Dr. Charlie. He would have taken 10 strokes on each hand for her.

“Let’s start with the hands, with every stroke you are to count and say thank you.”

Dr. Charlie strikes the right hand first. Chuck wails. It hurt. So good.  He counted carefully. “One, thank you! Two, thank you! Three, thank you!” And so on. Then Dr. Charlie beat his left hand. He counted again, carefully, sobbing when she finished.

“Very good” Dr. Charlie said calmly. Too calm.

“Now, I have saved the best for last. I’m piercing both your nipples. While I do that, I will need you to release your tiny penis. I need a semen sample to send to the lab.”

Chuck was scared by this – but eager to please, and almost desperate to masturbate. He watched Dr. Charlie prepare her needles, staring at her stoic face. She was exciting and terrifying. 

“Take a deep breath”, she said, then pierced his right nipple. He grunted. It hurt, but was over quickly. She gently touched the nipple, reassuring him. 

Then she pierced the right one. He grunted again, louder this time.

“Good… now, I’m not removing these needledsuntil I get a semen sample. You have one minute to release yourself or else you’re going home with pierced nipples. And don’t forget to ask permission to cum!”

Dr. Charlie crossed her arms as Chuck began stroking his cock as fast as he could. She gave him a 15 second warning … and Chuck finally felt close, and pleaded for permission to come.

“Yes you may”, said Dr. Charlie, making a final note in his file.

Date Night

A story from one of our clients! Feel free to send us stories to post.

I so enjoyed shaving Mads’ ball sac, just before one of his and Claire’s date nights. Of course I dressed the part: mauve woman’s tee, black slacks, shiny mauve lipstick and matching eyeshadow, heavy mascara, earrings, open-toed mules with a 2-inch wedge heel. I put a light coating of foam over those little darlings, then did a gentle scrape-scrape-scrape with the razor, pinching the sac gently with two fingers to pull the skin tight in order to get the hair out of every sluice and cranny.

As they settled down to watch a chick flick of her choosing, I was in the kitchen preparing yummy snacks. As the movie progressed, I sat at Mads’ feet and gave him a foot rub so that he didn’t fall asleep. Then back to the kitchen to browse the latest issue of “Good Housekeeping” (Mumsy bought me a subscription), while waiting for either of them to beckon for another drink.

As the flick entered its final act, I went to the bedroom to prepare it for their lovemaking. I imagined them joined in carnal bliss, and images came to mind of gods on Mount Olympus—such beauty, such nobility, such heights of passion and depths of pleasure. I reviewed the checklist Claire had given me and made the adjustments per her exact specifications. I especially enjoyed preparing the bowl of condoms with cute sayings: “Hang in there, baby, Friday’s coming”; “My girlfriend went to Florida and all I got was this lousy condom”; and the classic “I’m with stupid” (arrow pointing back toward the boy). Having lit the candles, I quietly padded back to my kitchen niche.

When I heard they had retired to the bedroom, I made my way to the living room and tidied up. Electronica powered down, dishes and glasses washed, room dusted, floor swept. Then I made my way down to their bedroom door, where Mads left his underpants for me to tend to.

As I filled the sink with warm soapy water, I held the briefs up to my nose and inhaled the male scents Mads imprinted onto the fabric, his meaty boy smell ringed by the tang of urine. I set to work cleaning the fabric that had encased his sex, and would do so again.

Boy briefs hung up to dry, I returned to the kitchen and “Good Housekeeping”. While engrossed in the cover story on Julie Walters, I heard Claire softly call, “Stessie?” I nervously jumped up and grabbed my tube of Binaca. Taking two blasts, I made my way to the bedroom for my next duty. 

Swirling the Binaca spray around my mouth so that my tongue was all a-tingle, I padded on nylon-stockinged feet to the lovers’ bedroom. Claire was standing in the doorway in a gorgeous robe, lit from behind by the glow of candles. The robe was discreetly tied at the waist—she was always scrupulously modest around me, and I so admired her for that.

“Stessie, Mads is a bit tired, would you help him out? I’ll be right here checking my phone.”

I nodded nervously and entered the room. Mads was on the bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. He was stunning, with the face of a schoolboy, supple skin, a tall slim body curved in the right places, and an exquisite physical beauty. His sex hung down between his thighs long and thick, framed on each side by big round testicles. I amused myself by thinking there should be a sign on the door: “Vegans Not Welcome”.

“My fluffernutter,” he said, his voice dripping with entitlement. Claire went to a corner chair, crossed her legs at the thigh, and started checking her phone. Her face illuminated by its light, she looked to have zero interest in what would transpire between Mads and me.

I gently lowered myself onto the bed, moving my heavily made-up face towards Mads’ sex. I purred “meow,” since I felt like a cat moving toward a pot of warm cream.

I put my face close to Mads’ manhood, lit by flickering candlelight, and marveled again at its formidable size. How difficult it must be for him to go through life with such a package between his legs. Poor Mads! My heart swelled in sympathy and I planted a light kiss at the base of his cock. I gave a prayer of thanks for being born a girl, everything down there tucked in nicely. Of course I had had to deal with periods in my pre-menopausal life, and boobs were a hassle, but I was blessed to be on the flat-chested side, more streamlined than most women.

I placed another kiss on Mads’ cock, this one more ardent, and exhaled fully so that a current of warm air enveloped his sex. “Check the window, I feel a draft,” said Lord Mads. I giggled lightly and wished I could plant a big open-mouthed kiss on his sensual mouth, but that was a no-no. I wanted to peel off my mauve tee and slacks to show him my dusty, frilly thrift store finds, but that was a no-no too. Too bad, because I was sporting a “flesh”-colored bra and satiny gold Vanity Fairs I had picked up yesterday; the thrift store had given them to me for free, probably out of pity. Those Vanity Fairs were now very damp with excitement, and I wished I could hover my pantied crotch over Mads’ face as I sucked his cock. Alas, the dreams of a submissive little house slave are far different from her realities.

I began work on Mads’ scrotum, gently lifting it and licking the underside of that salty nutsack in long, slow upward strokes, starting down at the perineum. The groove between the two balls was like the crevice between labia majora, and Mads’ pole began to quiver. “Looks like Stessie found the sweet spot,” said His Majesty, and I felt so happy at having pleased him that I lapped deeper, increasing the length of my licks starting further down toward his anus. At this he said no words, but emitted a moan of pleasure, which made my heart flutter and my thrift store panties wetter. 

I then decided to teabag him, slipping the big sac into my mouth and sucking on it gently. “Tea time,” said Mads in a mock British accent, his pole now at quarter-mast and fencing with my nose. En garde! It was Mads’ jian sword vs. my gweilo nose, in a fencing match to the death. Of course there was no competition, the match was over as soon as it started, but instead of waving my gold panties on a stick as a flag of surrender, I sucked harder on his balls and tongued them more vigorously. “Is Stess gonna make a mess?” he asked, and I thought I could feel Claire look over. I was supposed to get Mads hard, not bring him off. But he was still at half-mast, not yet close to a full extension.

I let the balls fall out of my mouth, and saw them glisten with my saliva in the candlelight. I swallowed the juices in my mouth and wished I could freshen up my lipstick. I thought of the power of lipstick, and how it emboldened and imparted glamour. I remembered the excerpt I had memorized from the diary of British Lieut. Col. Mervyn Willett Gonin, Royal Army Medical Corps, who was assigned to Bergen-Belsen concentration camp after the end of WWII:

“It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don’t know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for those internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the post mortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tattooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity.”

Alas, I had no lipstick to give me back my humanity, so I pulled up my big girl panties and took his cock into my mouth. Well— part of his cock. It was so huge and thick that only the top one-third or so could get in comfortably. So I worked with what I had in my mouth, moving my tongue around, gently slurping, and trying to bob down further.

Mads was responding, his sex getting thicker and longer, and I was now very horny too. My panties were soaked with vaginal juices, and I was sweating under my clothes. I wanted so badly to take them all off and ride Mads’ beautiful cock myself, but Claire was just a few feet away.

Now I was pushing my head down further so that Mads’ cock was thrusting into my throat, and I started to make some gagging sounds. “Choking on the chicken?” said Mr. Sensitivity, and started making clucking noises. I heard Claire rise, and felt her tap me lightly on the shoulder..

“Thanks, treasure,” she said, “I’ll take it from here.”

I hesitated a second, not wanting to go, and continued trying to get Mads’ entire length into my throat without gagging.

“Out! Get back to the kitchen and await your next command!” I released the erect cock from my mouth, and Mads laughed at my plight, saying, “See ya!”

I rose to go, and as I did, Claire moved on top of the bed and dropped the robe from her body in one deft motion. In a fleeting glance, I saw her beautiful naked back and buttocks as she mounted Mads’ erect cock.

I returned to the kitchen and my issue of “Good Housekeeping”, trying to read the article about Julie Walters’ success in finding late-life romance, but I couldn’t get the thought of Mads’ glorious cock out of my mind. As I heard Claire’s cries of passion coming from their bedroom, I did the only thing a frustrated little submissive house slave could do: I cried, weeping copious drops of salty self-pity onto the glossy pages of the magazine.

Different Strokes

A Short Story from Mistress Nina Mar

Do you know why I summoned you into my office today?No?  I’m surprised that you don’t have any clue. Well, that’s rather interesting, because I just happen have right here, on my desk, your quarterly review. Suffice it to say, I’m less than pleased with your recent performance. We have had this conversation before, and I was under the impression that you had learned your lesson the first time. What kind of a business do you think I am running here? How can I expect to make money when I have lazy slackers like you scrolling through social media and watching cat videos all day long? There are also rumors circulating that you spend a significant amount of time rubbing yourself under your desk. There is no use in your attempting to deny it. A short time ago, unbeknownst to you, I had undertaken to place a hidden camera under your desk. Would you like to see what the camera recorded? I would normally offer someone a chance to confess for your poor performance and inappropriate behavior, but unfortunately for you, that opportunity is now long gone.

I did a little research and I discovered that you desperately need this job. It appears that you have a family to support and as well as a mortgage to pay. Although I happen to be well known for my cruel tendencies, I certainly would not want to see a family living in destitute, nor see them out on the streets. Here, in my hand, I have two envelopes. I’ll slide them across the table to you. One of these envelopes contains your letter of termination, all you have to do is to sign it.  The other is an opportunity for you to keep your job here, and thereby maintain your livelihood. However, I must warn you, if you choose Option 2 then you will be subjected to some extremely painful and humiliating punishment. Here is some good news, if I’m pleased with your ability to undergo this punishment and take the pain, you can keep your job. The other good news is that, in doing so, you will also become intimately familiar with my more sadistic side, which will now be keeping you in line for the future.

That was very brave of you to choose the envelope of opportunity instead of resignation. Now please stand up and remove your trousers and expose your buttocks.  I’m sorry, did you say “Excuse me”? You forgot to say “Yes Mistress”. Much better. Now get over my lap. You should really be thanking me for this warm-up, because it’s only going to get worse for you. You are to count to 50, and if you lose count, we start over from zero. Start counting now. Good, your ass is getting nice and red. The warm-up will soon be over and then the real punishment shall begin. Now, please stand up, move in front of my desk,and lean over my desk with your forearms flat on the desk and your chest on the desktop. I don’t want the other employees to hear, so open your mouth so I can stuff my panties in your mouth. Now, let’s recap why you’re being punished. You’ve been wasting time on social media, which is affecting production here. You’re also being punished for touching yourself while at the office. You deserve to be punished, don’t you?. If I don’t punish you then you’re never going to learn how to behave appropriately in the office.

Now, are you going to behave, or am I going to have to restrain you? Good boy, I have faith that you will be able to hold still for this. Now, stay in this position while I get my cane. Now, the question is, how many cane strokes do you think that you deserve? Unfortunately, you don’t get to decide that. I make the decisions around here. For each of your infractions, you will be getting 50 strokes.

My Crossdressing Fetish-Got the OK from My Wife

Crossdressing fetish at nyc dungeon
My Crossdressing Fetish.

I dream all day about my crossdressing fetish and always can’t wait t get home from work to get it on so you can imagine my surprise when I walked into the bedroom and immediately saw a pair of pink satin panties and a matching pink camisole neatly laid out on the bed. There was a note next to them, my wife’s beautiful handwriting obvious from across the room.

“Trevor My Love,

I finally feel like I know my husband. You’ve kept your secret from me for far too long, but now I know your kinky fetish. I’ve seen the stories and websites on your computer. I know you yearn to be feminine, to dress in girl’s clothes, to feel soft and loved like a girl does. I love you and want to help you. If you want that too then please put on the camisole and panties and join me in the living room. If it’s too scary or you’re not sure this is what you want, simply put them back in the drawer and throw this note away and we’ll never talk about your crossdressing fetish again.

This is your chance to embrace your true desires,

Your loving wife,


As I put the note down and my fingers gently caressed the soft pink satin of the lingerie she had left out for me, my heart pumped hard in my chest. My mind raced with questions as my loins stirred to life at the thought of dressing like a girl for my wife and to fully realize my crossdressing fetish. I had made quite an effort to cover his tracks, so how had she found all that stuff on my computer? Was she being (more…)

Mistress Dahlia will…

Mistress Dahlia will leave you breathless.

Call 212-242-4577 to schedule an appointment.

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