My breeding table will force you to orgasm for hours.
The straps will ensure you don’t escape.
The machine will pump the dildo in your pussy.
The milking machine will suck and stretch your tits.
As you orgasm, I’ll gag and blindfold you, and enjoy your cries.
Touch-starved autist who doesn’t know how to stop being touch-starved because it feels like asking for physical affection would be creepy and therefore get them not only abandoned by their existing people, but also badmouthed to sabotage the possibility of any new connections
I don’t care if you claim to be submissive or call yourself a slut.
What will set you apart from the hundreds of whores who talk to me every day is you showing me that you are truly submissive.
It’s about you humbling, exposing, and degrading yourself to earn my attention.
It's day 20. You're so horny and desperate that you find yourself humping the mattress again.
This time it was different.
It started with a drop and then it all came rushing out. You finally came. You shuddered with each hump.
Your needed that so badly.
Want to learn how to use the new DG Labs Civet Edging Sensor with the Opossum Vibrator? Then watch this video with @Rubberfanatic and myself as we go through a quick start type guide to get you up and running in 6 minutes.
Get your DG Labs setup over on https://t.co/GnQyMGrVw4
Is feminization always about humiliation?
When a man asks to wear lingerie or a dress during a BDSM session, people often assume he wants to be ridiculed. In my experience as a dominatrix, the desire can mean something very different. A thread🧵
1/6
I think the internet has boiled my brain because now when I have even an inkling of romantic interest in someone, the first thing I feel is this intense wave of guilt that I might impose some sort of social/emotional burden on them by expressing interest in them. Less than ideal!
My girlfriend and I were already in bed when she said it.
“I want you to tie my hands,” she said quietly.
“So I can’t stop you… from doing anything you want.”
I studied her face for a moment. She wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were steady, open, trusting.
I got up, found one of my soft ties, and came back to her.
She raised her wrists without being asked.
I bound them together carefully, then secured them to the headboard.
Not tight enough to hurt just enough that she couldn’t pull free.
When I finished, she tested the hold once, then let her arms relax above her head.
“Okay,” she whispered.
I took my time.
I kissed her slowly at first, then lower, exploring every place that usually made her react.
Because she couldn’t touch me or guide me, every response was pure. The way her breath caught.
The way her hips lifted. The soft sounds she tried to hold back.
I learned her all over again without her hands interfering.
Whenever she got close, I slowed down or stopped completely, waiting until her breathing steadied before starting again.
I did this more than once. Each time her body strained against the tie, but she never asked me to free her.
After a long while I moved over her and pushed into her deeply.
She let out a shaky breath and turned her face into her arm.
I held her hips and moved in long, controlled strokes, watching every expression that crossed her face.