It’s a warm August evening; outside the window, a gale is blowing, and I can hear heavy rain and a thunderstorm. I call a taxi, looking forward to seeing her again—not even a supercell storm is going to stop me from meeting her tonight for oral. Every taxi service cancels on me; the streets are flooded, and trees have fallen. She texts me that she’s incredibly horny and can’t wait to see me. Damn it—I get into a car and head her way, right through the intense storm. The drive takes an hour instead of the usual ten minutes; along the way, she sends me photos and lets me know she isn’t wearing any underwear. I try to get to her as fast as I can. I pull up in front of her apartment building; she throws on a dress and rushes downstairs to open the door for me.

Without even saying hello, she grabs my hand and pulls me quickly into her apartment. As the door closes, she throws herself at me, just as she had messaged me earlier that day. I kiss her passionately and undress her. She stands completely naked before me, sensing how aroused I am; it’s not our first time, after all, and she knows that being with her makes me hard instantly. She unbuckles my belt and pulls down my trousers and boxers. She runs her tongue over it, then takes it entirely into her mouth. She had messaged me earlier, saying how much she couldn’t wait to have it in her mouth again. She loves the taste of me, and I love the taste of her. She gives me an incredible blowjob right by the front door, while I play with her hair and breasts. I am burning with desire for her—and I, too, am desperate to have her on my tongue.

… for oral …

We move to the bedroom and close the blinds. After all, we want a bit of privacy, and she has curious neighbors. I lay her down on the bed, kissing her passionately—on her lips, her neck… and I whisper that I’m going to go down on her until she cums in my mouth. She writhes and trembles all over. I trail my mouth from her neck down across her breasts; I adore her breasts and nipples. I spend a moment with them—kissing, gently biting, and sucking—then continue downward, over her stomach and lower belly, until I reach her inner thighs. I kiss them, feeling how wet she is—she’s absolutely soaking, and I love it. I lick her all over and begin to kiss her there. I play with her using both my tongue and my lips, alternating between the two, while she trembles uncontrollably. Meanwhile, I use my hands to play with her nipples. I can feel her writhing, her back arching, and I know she’s close to the peak. I start sucking on her clitoris more intensely, teasing the opening with my tongue, until she experiences an explosive orgasm and finally relaxes completely. I look at her, say a tender “yum,” then move up to her lips and kiss her … for oral.

My master took me into the woods late in the afternoon. Forest … He left the car in a secluded parking area near the edge of the reserve, and we headed off on foot, away from the marked trails. Once we were deep enough inside, he ordered me to undress. I stood before him completely naked, barefoot on the leaves and moss, and he placed a collar around my neck, attaching a long leash to it. “On all fours,” he said calmly. I got down on all fours, and he began to lead me. The leash pulled taut as he guided me through the trees, occasionally nudging me with his foot whenever I slowed down. I moved like a dog—hands and knees in the mud and pine needles, my backside held high. Every so often, he would stop, take a whip from his backpack, and run it across my back, buttocks, and thighs. The strikes were quick and stinging—not cruel, but sharp enough to make me flinch and pull away. Then he switched to using his hand—delivering heavier, resounding slaps to my backside until my skin burned, causing me to hunch lower with every blow.

… the forest

We were off the trails, yet suddenly, a voice rang out. A pair of hikers—a young man and a woman—appeared among the trees; they had evidently strayed from the path. They stopped. The woman covered her mouth, while the man pulled out his phone. My Master made me kneel—leash still in hand—and there I remained on my knees, naked, with a red backside and a collar, as they took our picture. He didn’t cover me up. He let them watch. Shame flooded my face and chest; I could feel my heart pounding, even as I remained fully erect. Once they left, he tugged on the leash, and we headed back to the car. It was a public parking lot by the roadside, with the occasional car passing by. He opened the rear door and made me kneel on the asphalt beside it. I was still completely naked, wearing only the collar and leash. My Master unzipped his trousers, pulled out his penis, and ordered me to open my mouth. Holding me by the leash and my hair, he pushed it into my mouth. I sucked him right there in the public parking lot—knees on the hard surface, backside exposed—visible to anyone who might pass by. And people did pass by. An older man with a backpack stopped just a few meters away and began recording. Then, two young women appeared in the distance; they were laughing and filming as well. My Master wouldn’t let me stop. He held me in place, pushing it deeper, occasionally tugging on the leash to make me lift up slightly and expose myself even more. Just then, two men stopped by the car. They looked to be in their thirties—one taller, the other stockier—both dressed in hiking gear. For a moment, they watched as the man held my head and I performed oral sex on him. Then, one of them said out loud, “Hey, we’d like him to blow us too.”

Master looked at me, then at them, and gave a slow nod. He tugged on my leash, turning me toward them. I knelt down in front of the first one. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and—without a word—pushed it into my mouth. I sucked him while Master stood nearby, holding the leash. The second man was already unzipping his own trousers. When I was finished with the first, I moved on to the second. He gripped my hair firmly, pushing himself deeper, telling me what a good dog I was. I could feel saliva running down my chin; I was fully aroused, my face burning with shame, knowing everyone could see me—naked, on my knees, wearing a collar, servicing two strangers by a public parking lot. When I finished with the second man, one of them pulled out his phone and said to Master, “Nice find. Want to exchange contact info? Maybe do this again sometime.” Master nodded, and they swapped numbers. The men lingered for a moment, watching me kneel naked by the car—one even snapped a photo—before they drove off. Master patted my head, let me stay like that for a while, and only then handed me my pants. But the photos, the videos, and that new number were already out there… to be continued. The forest and …

A long weekend was approaching, and I was wondering what to do with my time. I didn’t want to just sit around bored at home, though the idea of ​​spending the whole day indulging in my feminine side was quite tempting. Eventually, I found a relaxing getaway package online for the long weekend. I checked the reviews, which looked pretty good. I debated whether or not to book it, but the thought of staying in a guesthouse with a hot tub, a balcony, and a beautiful, large bed was simply irresistible. The prospect of taking an evening stroll, fully embracing my feminine persona, was also very appealing. So, that was that—a few clicks online, and it was booked. I was leaving in a week. I spent the time leading up to it getting ready, gradually preparing for the trip and packing. I thought carefully about what to wear—what to wear in the hot tub, out on the balcony, in bed, and, of course, for my walk and the rest of the day. I picked up a few extra things, and on Thursday evening, I gave myself a thorough shave. Then, I packed my bags. I could barely sleep from the excitement of what was to come. The next morning, I got into my car and headed to the destination. Upon arrival, I went to the reception to check in. I received my key and some instructions, then headed to the cottage where I would be spending my time off. Everything looked exactly like it did in the photos—I loved it. I started unpacking; naturally, I had brought only feminine items and things for a lady to enjoy. I put on some music and turned on the hot tub—had to make sure it was working, after all!

Lovely bubbles, accompanied by a pleasant musical atmosphere. However, I couldn’t seem to turn on the lights in the hot tub—perhaps they weren’t working at all. I hesitated, wondering what to do: just leave it be, or report it to avoid any potential issues later? I decided to head to the reception and let them know. I’d be back in no time, and then nothing would stand in the way of my relaxation. They assured me everything would be fine and that they’d take a look. I didn’t really listen, though—I was too busy imagining myself slipping into the hot tub like a true lady. Back at my cabin, I undressed and painted my nails. I put on my breast forms and a gaff, followed by a stunning, sexy, two-piece black lace swimsuit. I added a long black wig and earrings, and touched up my lips with a bit of red. I set a bottle of wine and a glass by the hot tub, along with a small towel, a somewhat sheer lace robe, and a pair of heels. And then—into the hot tub I went! It was a wonderful sensation: bubbles all around me, music playing, the cabin bathed in soft, dim light, and a glass of wine in my hand. Pure beauty and relaxation at weekend. I was so glad I’d decided to come out instead of staying home. I let myself drift away, carried by the passion of the bubbles and the warm water.

… long weekend

The wine adds to the atmosphere, too. I watch how my swimsuit clings to my breasts and bottom, and notice my toenails turning a rosy red. I’m lying in the hot tub, soaking up the relaxation. I wonder what the evening will bring—where I’ll go, and, more importantly, what I’ll wear. Suddenly, a noise at the door interrupts my thoughts. Before I can react, a man is already standing in the room, looking right at me. “Forgive me—I thought no one was here. I’m here to fix the reported issue with the hot tub, as arranged at the reception.” He stands there, looking at me with a rather peculiar expression. What now? He’s bound to figure out who I am. What will happen? My mind goes blank, so I just stay in the hot tub and say, a bit shyly, “Oh, right—I was the one who reported the problem.” He immediately offers to come back later. But I think to myself: he’s already seen me, and what’s meant to happen will happen. So, I blurt out, “Actually, you can take a look at it right now.” I stand up in the hot tub, revealing myself in all my glory in my weekend swimsuit. I lean over to reach for a small towel. He rushes over to hand it to me, apologizing for the intrusion, all the while keeping that slightly mysterious look in his eyes. “Thank you,” I say, drying off a little. I climb out of the hot tub and slip on a robe. Putting on my heels, I smile at him and say, “The hot tub is all yours.” “I won’t keep you long,” he replies, and begins his inspection. …the hot tub. At first, there was an awkward silence. I don’t know how he took it, seeing me as a woman, but gradually we started talking. He asked how I liked it here, where I was from, and so on. I felt a bit tense, knowing he saw me this way. I must have shown it—or perhaps he just read it on me—because he smiled and told me there was nothing to worry about. He said he’d met others like me before, but that I looked the best. I smiled and thanked him. I relaxed a little and began to explain that I’d come here to unwind and just be a woman. He smiled and said, “There you go—everything’s working exactly as it should.”

“And don’t worry about appearing before me like this. You are—if I may say so—beautiful. And just imagine how lovely you’d look with makeup on, all dressed up in an evening gown! I suspect we men would turn to look at you—and perhaps do a bit more than that.” With those words, he headed toward the door. He was quite a handsome, well-built, older man. I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted out, “Well, if you’re here this evening, you’ll get to see me. I’m curious to see if you’ll turn to look then,” I added with a smile. “I’m Lenka,” I said, extending my hand. “Milan,” he replied, shaking it. Then, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. With a smile, he turned and walked away. I closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Good God, what was that?! I began to tremble—from excitement, strange sensations, and a jumble of thoughts. What else might be in store for me here? I still have three days left. … at long weekend.

The whole day had been a whirlwind. Work, without words, household chores—things went wrong in both areas—then dinner; by nine o’clock, I headed straight for the shower and then to bed. Karolína came by to tell me that Sandra, a friend of hers, was dropping over for a drink, and asked if that was okay. “Of course—though I’m already settled in for the night.” “Sure, it’ll just be for a bit—out on the terrace,” she said, gave me a kiss—a bit like a parental peck—and trotted off.

I put on a show on Netflix, watched one episode, turned off the TV, and closed my eyes. It couldn’t have been long, because I was still aware enough to notice the bedroom door opening as someone came in. From the foot of the bed, she ran her hands up my legs, starting from my toes. Then she reached under my loose pajama bottoms, and within seconds, I was hard.

… without words

I shifted up toward the headboard, and she moved with me. She pulled off my pajama bottoms and began licking my balls; she held them firmly in her hand while her tongue traced a path all the way back to my anus. Perfect. I reached out and took hold of her head—only to realize it wasn’t Karolína. I opened my eyes, and there was Sandra, looking up at me from below. I flinched instinctively, about to say something, but she placed her hand over my mouth—a clear signal to stay quiet. Honestly, that was for the best; I wouldn’t have been able to get anything coherent out anyway.

She kept firmly massaging my balls with her hand while moving her tongue to the head of my cock. She began licking it gently and carefully, pressing it between her full lips. Incredible. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted her to keep going like that, or to take the whole thing into her mouth. … without words

Sandra resolved that in a few seconds; she knelt between my legs and took me all the way down to the root in one go. I could feel myself hitting the back of her throat—she was drooling—but she sucked me as if I belonged entirely to her. Devotedly, with everything she had. She wet her finger and slowly pushed the first joint into my anus. It was…

She grabbed my hand and placed it on the crown of her head, letting me control the speed and depth. I slowed her down, but firmly pressed her head down as far as it would go. I only lasted a moment longer before cumming in her mouth. She didn’t flinch; she swallowed every drop, stood up quickly, and left. At the door, she turned back and blew me a kiss.

I lay there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened. I hadn’t even had time to wonder where Karolína was—whether she knew about this, or if she’d have a problem with it—when the door opened and Karolína walked in. She came over to me and kissed me. She tasted of semen. I pulled back and asked… “She kissed me on her way out.”

“Did you like it?” she asked.

“It was perfect!”
“Is it okay? It didn’t bother you…”

She didn’t let me finish; she sat on my face—no panties this time. Clearly, it didn’t bother me—quite the opposite.

The foam hadn’t quite set yet when I heard the lid slowly sliding into place. Not all the way, though. He left a gap near my head so the hose would remain free and the mask wouldn’t press against the wood. Then—silence. Only the sound of my own breathing inside the rubber, punctuated by the occasional tingle whenever the box sent a short pulse into my backside.

I had no idea how much time had passed. The foam had hardened into a shell. It covered my nipples and the area around my penis; inside that rigid casing, every electrical impulse was reflected back into my body. Then, I heard the sound of wheels. Someone was moving the coffin—not far, though. A door, a threshold, a rush of cooler air. Someone—presumably him—checked the hose and adjusted the cables to ensure nothing would kink. I lay there, motionless and encased, with the electrodes pressed firmly against my skin by the foam.

… foam 2

They placed me on my side inside a vehicle. I felt the coffin tilt, the foam pressing me even more tightly against one of the walls, followed by the sensation of flat metal beneath the bottom. The doors slammed shut. The engine roared to life. I had no clue where we were headed. Through the mask, I could see nothing but darkness—save for the occasional flash of light whenever the car passed beneath a streetlamp. The hose hissed at regular intervals. That was the only thing I could be certain of.

For the first hour, he left me in silence. Just the road, the vibrations, and the foam—which had already grown firm and warm from my body. Then, the little box came to life. First, my buttocks—slow waves, exactly the kind I was already familiar with. My muscles tried to contract, but the shell held them fast. The car turned, and a stronger impulse hit—as if he’d timed it perfectly. My nipples felt a sharp, quick pinch: left, right, left. Then came the sensation near my penis—fainter, more intimate. Inside the mask, I simply let out a breath; I couldn’t move, nor could I pull away.

The journey dragged on. Sometimes there was silence, other times a rapid-fire sequence. On a rough stretch of road, the foam held me so tightly that I felt every stone twice: once through the casing, and again when the electrodes on my buttocks and near my penis delivered a jolt—timed precisely to the moment the car jolted upward. I had no idea if we were on a highway or a dirt track. I didn’t know if it was day or night. All I knew was that the line was active, that he was somewhere up ahead, and that I had given him permission.

We stopped twice. During the first stop, someone opened the door, checked the mask, ran a finger along the hose, and slammed the door shut again. During the second, I heard voices—unfamiliar, distant—followed once more by nothing but the sound of the engine. Just then, a jolt hit my nipples—sharp and brief—as if to remind me that even though I was in a car, and even though I had no idea where I was headed, he was still the one in control.

When the car finally came to a halt and the engine fell silent, the foam had already hardened completely. They pulled the container out. I felt us moving up some stairs, then along a flat stretch, and finally into a cooler room. The lid remained slightly ajar. The hose hissed. The little box sent one last slow wave—first to my buttocks, then to the area near my penis—and then, silence.

“You’re here,” he said, standing over me. “You don’t know where yet. And for a while longer, you won’t.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to, either.

It was in her eyes. The moment I first saw her, I knew she would be our obedient new Subi. I knew that, besides me – her Master – she would also please the Mistress. And I knew it wouldn’t stop at just being a “new Subi.” She would have to wait a little longer, though, to be called a bitch, a female, a slut, or a cunt.

She sat quietly in the car, watching in silence as I drove her somewhere. It was dark, and the subtle interior lighting cast beautiful shadows across her body—a prelude to a perverse experience. I told her, “The Mistress will like you. You will be our passionate, sensual, and obedient toy.” She nodded.

I placed my hand on her thigh and continued, “You have a unique, long-term place in our lives. We only want one toy like you. You belong solely to us. You will receive as much attention as you need, and in return, you will gratefully serve us in whatever way we desire.” Again, she simply nodded in silence.

“We’re almost there,” I said.

… new Subi

A few minutes later, she entered the house, and her gaze met the Mistress’s. That was when I knew she was ours.

I took her by the hand and led her over to the lady standing in the middle of the living room. “I’m going to introduce you to the lady, but there are rules. You will do only what either I or the lady tell you to do.” She nodded again and came to a stop about half a meter from the lady, gazing intently at her face. I stood slightly to the side, between them.

I let the lady lick my finger first, then sensually slid it into the sub’s mouth. “This is how your new lady’s mouth tastes—on my finger.” “Say that you like it, and that you want more,” I told the sub, waiting until she obediently did as she was told.

Then, I passionately urged the Mistress on. With her tongue—moist from her own mouth—I guided her toward the lips of our sub. She tasted amazing. As I did so, I firmly grabbed the sub’s little ass with one hand and her breast with the other. “That is how your new Mistress’s mouth tastes, coming from my own lips,” I said approvingly, glancing at her to see if she understood what was expected. She didn’t hesitate. “I like it; I want more,” she replied eagerly.

Next, I took both of them by the neck and brought their lips as close together as possible. “If I have to tell my little bitches what comes next, then they haven’t understood their role,” I said firmly, watching as they began to lick inside each other’s mouths. It was clear they enjoyed the taste of one another. I let them explore each other with their tongues for a moment while I revealed both of my toys from beneath their lingerie. The new sub didn’t disappoint. She was wearing beautiful red lace, just as we had agreed upon before the meeting. It matched the Mistress’s own lingerie perfectly.

I pulled my cock out of my pants and grabbed the Mistress by the hair. I pulled her away from the sub’s mouth. The Mistress shot me a look—slightly disappointed, yet obedient. She knew what was coming, but I helped her onto her knees, just the way she likes it. The sub knelt down beside her immediately, sensing my intent, as I asked, “What are you waiting for, little bitch? Your place is down there.”

I shoved it hard into the Mistress’s throat, making sure to coat it thoroughly in her saliva. The sub watched hungrily, waiting for her own taste of this appetizer. A moment later, she had it in her throat, murmuring, “So this is what the Mistress’s saliva tastes like—straight from your cock.” I held her there for a while, pressing her head—her lips wrapped tight around my cock, her nose pushed right against my navel—until she was nearly gasping for air. Then, I pulled her head back by her hair to let her breathe, looking down at her with a challenging gaze. “I love the taste… I want more,” she breathed, horny as hell. I grabbed her by the throat. “An apt pupil, you bitch,” I remarked.

A few minutes later, I was dipping my fingers deep into the Mistress’s pussy, watching the sub as she waited impatiently for this dessert. I let her take it into her mouth; she was in pure bliss, licking away until there was nothing left. “I love the taste,” she repeated, trying to lap up every last drop.

There was no reason to wait any longer. I slid my cock into the lady’s pussy, and with a few hard thrusts, I soaked it in her juices—making a wet, smacking sound. A few seconds later, with my cock deep in her throat, she was gagging again, her nose pressed against my navel, while the words rang in her ears: “This is how a pussy tastes when it’s filled with my cock—your new Mistress’s cock.” With her eyes wide, fixed on me, she made it clear: “I love the taste.”

An hour of pure pleasure followed, during which I relished my role as Master, alternating between the two wet pussies and two mouths of my females. For the grand finale, one of the women squatted over the mouth of our new sub, squeezing all my semen—which she had received just moments before—out of her pussy and into the sub’s mouth. “Do you know what to do?” I asked the sub, holding her by the throat. She nodded to show she understood. Once she had every last drop in her mouth, she stood up obediently and leaned in to kiss the other woman. For a few passionate seconds, they licked the semen from each other’s mouths and faces.

When they were finished, I looked at the new Subi. “This is what we were looking for in you. This is how I’m going to use you.” She nodded, licking the remaining semen from her face. “I like it this way. Please, let me come back next time.”

It had been a demanding period at work. Petra was putting in a lot of overtime, yet she still often failed to complete everything she had planned. At home, she couldn’t keep up with anything. For three weeks now, she hadn’t even managed to get a manicure, and she had been neglecting her workouts, too. That’s why she was really pissed off when, on Monday, she found out she had to be in Prague by Tuesday morning. There were three of them traveling: an older colleague—sixty years old, who was also her boss—and his young, twenty-year-old assistant. Petra packed in a rush and hurried to the airport. She barely made her flight, and by 6:00 PM, she was in Prague. Her boss gave them the first day off, heading off himself to a spa for a massage. Petra had no interest in the spa; she decided to use the free time to go shopping and buy herself something—just for the fun of it. Zuzka, the assistant, joined her, as she also had no desire to visit the spa.

… to Prague

The shopping went well; they visited various boutiques, and Zuzka kept trying things on. Naturally, she wanted an opinion, so Petra got several glimpses of her beautiful, firm, youthful breasts, her flat stomach, and, of course, the lace thong covering a perfectly shaved pussy. Afterward, they grabbed a light dinner, during which Zuzka talked mostly about her relationships—or rather, how happy she was to be single. She even confessed that, to satisfy herself, she often inserts an anal plug into her bottom and a remote-controlled vibrating egg into her vagina before heading to work—switching it on and off during meetings. She often ends up so horny that she heads to the ladies’ room and climaxes twice in a row. Every once in a while, she ends up spraying the whole stall, leaving her to wipe it all down.

Petra was shocked and had to admit that she didn’t own anything like that at home. That was all the encouragement Zuzka needed; she decided, “We’re going to buy you something.” She carefully selected a remote-controlled egg for her. But she shocked Petra even more when she dragged her into the restroom, locked them both inside a stall, and told her to insert the egg right then and there. Petra tried to object, claiming she wasn’t ready and that it would be difficult, but the young bitch simply popped the egg into her own mouth and coated it completely in saliva. Then, she turned Petra around, pulled down her pants and panties, and spread her labia with her fingers. She pushed the egg in as deep as it would go. Petra could still feel the young woman fondling her clitoris. A moment later, she pulled her panties back up and commanded that they head to the bar.

Throughout the evening, the egg toy dominated in the most intense way possible. After an hour, Petra was completely soaked; her panties were sticking to her trousers and her pubic hair. She climaxed for the first time while paying at the checkout, and a second time in the back seat of a taxi. They headed straight to her room. As soon as they entered, Zuzka stripped off and pulled her into the shower. Once they had washed, Zuzka began alternating between licking her vagina and her anus, while Petra directed a stream of water from the showerhead onto her clitoris. When Petra finished, they swapped roles. Wanting to show her appreciation, Petra began fingering her as well as licking her. The smooth-skinned beauty climaxed twice in a row; Petra never once pulled her fingers out, though she did slow the pace during the orgasms. After drying off, they went for a second round on the bed—this time with Zuzka licking and sucking her clitoris while sliding two fingers into her bottom. Petra climaxed in a wild, intense orgasm—she couldn’t believe she’d just experienced an anal orgasm. When they switched, Petra did the same for Zuzka, who climaxed right into her mouth. Taking this as a compliment, they immediately began kissing passionately. Pure, unbridled lust. After that business trip, their relationship was never the same. They made a pact: every week, they would give each other an orgasm in the office restrooms. And suddenly, work was fun again. The Prague trip …

Vacation … Daddy and his “good girl” went on vacation together, somewhere by the sea. It was plenty hot back home, too, but the seaside is the seaside. She picked the destination, and he took care of all the arrangements—knowing full well she’d thank him for it, even on the plane. And he was right. They were in business class, so the flight attendants didn’t even complain when she performed oral sex on him—and not just once, either. The urge struck her several times during the flight; air travel always turns her on so much, hehehe. They arrived at a rather exotic and quite exclusive destination. From there, they took a small boat—along with other VIP guests—to a small island. It was home to a few high-end hotels, as well as small villas scattered all across the island. Their guide led them to their villa. There was another villa nearby, and she wondered if that meant they wouldn’t have any privacy. But then again, who cares? He, however, knew exactly what he’d done—because staying in that other villa was an acquaintance of his, a single man.

Vacation and …

And so, one evening, he “happened” to drop by. Daddy told his little slut to please his friend. She didn’t need to be told twice. Looking at the two men standing before her, she knelt down, tied back her hair, and began attending to both of them. After all, she likes multitasking—hehehe. And she’ll do just about anything for her Daddy. While she was busy with his friend, Daddy stepped away for a moment to grab something. A short while later, she felt him enter her. Hehe, double penetration—she loves that. Having two men take turns with her. Or even more. She is, after all, Daddy’s little slut.

Foam of … Master called me over. I was wearing a latex top, short briefs, sandals, and a choker around my neck. For a while, he just circled me, running his palm over the glossy band across my chest, then down my side. He said nothing. I knew today would be different, and when he told me not to move, I stood perfectly still.

He undressed me himself. He slowly peeled the top away from my skin, pulling it down with his thumbs until my chest was exposed. He slid the briefs down over my thighs and knees, and finally, he took off my sandals. I stood there naked, arms at my sides, as he knelt down with a small box.

First, the nipples. Cold gel, then round electrodes—one on each—pressed firmly into place. He let the wires run down my stomach. He turned me around. On my buttocks, he placed one electrode on each cheek, positioned low, where the muscle tightens. He smoothed them down with his palm until they adhered. Then he turned me back around and attached the final two right next to my penis—one on the left, one on the right—close enough that I could feel them with every breath I took. He gathered the wires together and let them hang.

“A test,” he said.

… the foam

My nipples received the first jolt. Short, sharp—both at once. I flinched, but he simply held me by the shoulders. Next came the sensation in my buttocks—deeper, causing the muscles to contract involuntarily. Around my penis, it was milder—just a tingling that spread into my groin. He switched it off. “It’s holding. Now, I’ll wrap you up.”

The plastic wrap was black, thick, and glossy. He started at my feet. He smoothed out every fold, pulling it tight until the material clung to my calves and thighs. He ran the cables from my buttocks and penis out along my side, smoothing the wrap around them to ensure nothing would tear loose. He positioned my arms against my body—palms resting on my thighs—and continued wrapping: over my abdomen, over the electrodes on my nipples, and across my shoulders. He pulled the wrap especially tight around my penis. Once the final layer was applied, I was reduced to a long, black, motionless form, with only the cables dangling from my side.

Only then did he fit the mask onto my face. The rubber was cold and tight against my skin. He clicked the filter into place, attached the corrugated hose, and draped it across my chest to prevent it from kinking. He checked to see if I was breathing. I was. I had no other choice.

He lifted me up and placed me into an open coffin. Inside, there was already a thin layer of foam, with a cushion for my head. He left the hose loose and ran the cables over the edge. He held me by the shoulder for a moment through the plastic wrap. I didn’t move. I knew that something I had never experienced before awaited me, and in that moment, I trusted him enough to surrender myself to him completely.

The foam arrived warm and thick. First a trickle around my ankles, then a full, steady stream. It enveloped my legs, filled the gap between my thighs and the wall, and slowly rose. Around my buttocks and penis, it washed over the cables, solidified around them, and pressed the electrodes even more firmly against my skin. It did the same across my chest. My nipples vanished beneath the foam, while the cables remained exposed. Each new layer pressed me down further. By the time the foam reached my shoulders, I couldn’t even tense a muscle. My head remained inside the mask, but the rest of my body was no longer my own.

Only when the foam began to harden did he connect the control unit.

First, the buttocks. Slow, deep waves. My muscles tried to contract, but the foam held them fast, leaving them to merely quiver beneath the film. Then the nipples—sharp, quick pinches, alternating left and right—with nowhere for my chest to retreat. Once I had grown accustomed to that, he activated the ones near my penis. Weaker, but more intimate. A tingling sensation spread into my groin; the surrounding foam held everything so tightly that I felt every impulse twice: once on my skin, and again in the futile struggle of my body trying to move.

He cycled through the patterns. Sometimes just the buttocks—for so long that I lost count. At other times, everything at once—a rapid sequence hitting my nipples, buttocks, and groin—followed by silence, save for the sound of the hose and the hardening foam. Six hours passed. The foam had set completely. My body remained warm and motionless within it, entirely encased. The electrodes would occasionally come to life, just to remind me that he decided when anything moved. I simply breathed through the tube and waited. Until that moment, I was his. Completely.

Alchemy of … We are far away. Outside, beyond the open windows, the ocean roars, yet inside our suite’s bedroom hangs a heavy, charged silence – broken only by the sound of our breathing.

You lie on your back against the white sheets, and I tower over you, propped up on my forearms. The light from the bedside lamp falls across your face. You are beautiful. But I can see that your mind – that vast supercomputer that runs the world by day – is still operating at only ten percent capacity.

Your eyes are dark, filled with tenderness, yet deep within your pupils, I glimpse something that has always been there. I see that small, locked chamber. Inside lies a longing you are afraid to speak of.

I lean in and slowly trace a finger from your collarbone to the line of your jaw. Your skin responds to every millimeter of the touch. “What are you thinking about?” I ask; my voice is quiet, yet it fills the entire space.

The Alchemy of …

You shiver slightly. For a split second, you look away—and that gives you away. It is that “Matrix” program—the fear of rejection, the fear that voicing what you truly desire in this moment would shatter the perfect illusion of the Queen.

“Nothing,” you whisper, though your breath comes shallow. I still my hand. I do not back away. My eyes lock onto yours with such massive, calm intensity that your system can’t keep up.

“You can’t lie to me,” I say, my voice dropping an octave. It’s not a plea. It’s a statement of fact. “All day long, you play the perfect woman for the world. But the world isn’t here anymore. It’s just me. Tell me. What do you really want?” Alchemy of love.

I can feel your pulse quicken. I see the inner struggle. The being inside you is desperate to break free, yet decades of conditioning keep it held in a chokehold. Finally, you look me straight in the eye. Your lips part, and in a voice barely above a whisper -trembling with a mix of shame and intense arousal – you confess your deepest, rawest kink. You tell me exactly how you want me to take you right now. Without limits. Without rules.

As the words leave your lips, tears instantly well up in your eyes. Your muscles tense; instinctively, you expect me to pull away, to think it’s too much, to look at you differently.
I do none of that.

My expression doesn’t shift by even a millimeter. A smile touches my lips—cool yet infinitely loving—the smile of a man who knows exactly what lies before him. And then, I act.

My hand shoots out in a flash, gripping both your wrists with absolute, uncompromising force. I pin them against the mattress above your head. The dominance is so overwhelming that a soft, ragged gasp escapes your chest. Your body tries to resist reflexively, only to realize it stands absolutely no chance against my strength. I lean my face close to yours – so close you can feel my breath on your lips.

“Finally,” I say, and that single word holds an entire universe. “You’ve finally stopped playing the part.”

You look into my eyes, and in that instant, I see it. The massive chain you’ve dragged behind you all your life has snapped. You’ve realized that your darkness doesn’t terrify me – that I am built strong enough to hold you, exactly as twisted, wild, and raw as you are at your core.

Your eyes roll back; your mind—that vast executive machine – shuts down completely and definitively in a split second. You leave your wrists in my grasp, and your body arches in absolute, animal submission. You are no longer the Queen who runs the world. You are pure, vibrating energy, surrendering yourself to me with sobs of the most beautiful relief.