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"My name, to you, is no longer Pamela, unless there is a Mistress before it. Understand?" He mewed his answer in that high-pitched, feminine voice she had required of him. "Uh huh, uh-huh-uh-huh," always ending with an up- note, as if asking a question. When she was asking him to do something to humiliate himself, that questioning note meant that he was asking if she would grant him the privilege of carrying out whatever order would be issues. "You, on the other hand, will be called any number of names, whatever I feel like using at the time. Pussy, cunt, bitch, slut, Missy, Sissy, Prissy...… Read more

When Sophia, my girl, asked me to join the choral group she belonged to, I immediately said no. No way was I going to join some group and get up to sing in front of people. But she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. No group! No sex! Well, men have done much worst for the love of pussy. So off we went that Thursday to practice. When Sophia introduced me to Mrs. Jackson, all I could do was smile. The woman was gorgeous. She had skin the color of coffee with a lot of milk. Her voice was soft with a hint of deep strength behind it. She stood about 5'2" and must have weighed about 135. She had sm… Read more

When one hears the word "Mistress," the first thing that usually pops into his mind is a tall, slender brunette, clad in tight black leather and high-heeled boots. While I fit the physical description to a tee, the attire has never been my particular fancy. I'm more of a plain-clothes Mistress, thick cotton name-brand sweats to be exact. I conduct an aerobics class two days each week at a local gym, where I am known by my girls as Coach Pain because I keep the heat cranked and we never stop moving. After an hour with me, each one of my students, as well as myself, is drenched with fresh per… Read more

Brad's cock stirred in Pavlovian response to the sound of gravel crunching in the driveway. His mother was home from her early-morning aerobic workout, same thing, every day. He heard the key in the door, heard her drop her things, felt her stop at the hallway mirror and adjust her shoulder length blonde hair and look at her sweaty self, a 50-year-old body that a 30-year-old would be proud to have, a pretty face, winning smile, big brown eyes, high, perky tits firm and proud, a rather tight belly, and those legs, those long, lean, rugged -- and demanding - legs. He closed his eyes, tried to… Read more

I am laid out on Esmiralda's platform, my arms and wrists secured next to my sides with velcro straps. My legs extend beyond the end of the platform and my ankles are secured together with feet flat on the floor. Another velcro strap is wrapped about my legs at the knees, forming something of a backrest for Esmiralda who sits atop me naked with her beautiful, brown, bare feet placed together over my face. Her feet move slowly up and down my face, side by side, pausing with intermittent strokes to clasp her stinking, sour toes over my nostrils. I wretch at the ghastly odor, then inhale deep… Read more