msmbitch

[msmbitch]

I walk into Goddess’s back yard as she directed me too. I am in my males hooters outfit. I see her sitting in the lawn chair smoking her Cubana with a her red wine while watching the fire pit. As you can imagine at this point, I’m so horny that she is doing this in the open. She is dressed in her Wiccan robe with flame’s shadow bouncing off the fire. I am nervous knowing that my whole year’s paycheck being in my backpack burning a hole in it. Goddess has a glint in her eyes of a predator watching her prey stumble nervously over to her lair. Hello Destiny Dove my girl have you bought the dowary to me your owner who you have now pledged to the Fempire Plantation as your acceptance fee. I nodded my head silently. Speak darling. Yes my Alpha Goddess Queen Mistress above all. Good gurl now give me the backpack and start dancing for me as I count your donations. Did you also bring the jewelry and other items you were required to bring as penance for not being at my feet before. I say yes Mother. Then I quietly begin my dance as she smokes the cigar in the fingers of one slave to her left and drinking her cognac from her hand maiden to the right of her. She begins counting the donations and looking at the jewelry and fragrances. While doing so she looks at me with predatory eyes and she nods her head. At that point I hear multiple foot steps behind me and I know that the night will be one for the ages. I feel six sets of hands touching me as I still sway in rythm to the music. After the song they force me down on all my knees where I go into the proper stance with my hands on my knees and my head bowed in humility. Then I feel a knife run by each hand down my body covered clothes. Then at her nodding they cut each piece of fabric and toss each cut piece in the fire and when I am naked she takes the collar with a leash in her hand from the little table near her and nod to the Latina gurl who took it and put it on my neck and gave the end of the leash to her. I crawl over to her and bow my head to the floor 3 times and then recite my vows of surrender and submission to my Goddess. Then she looks at me attentively and then she says her vows of being the Alpha and all encompassing Goddess of my soul and flesh. Then the Priestess of the ceremony commences the party by flogging me at your feet where I am kissing your feet and praying to you while another takes lit candles over my exposed flesh, while another takes his fingers start probing my pussy to stretch it. Then I feel one enter my mouth with his 9 inch cock after he put a mouth opening gag to spread my mouth wide. Then he starts fucking my mouth hard and fast. Then another cock probes the back of pussy and starts entering in hard and fast also but each one in sync. Then the others start exploring and putting instruments of different torture items on me. Then after each male and female use me they take me to a standing sweat box. Then the party continued for hours. All the while they all would come up to the top of the podium above my sweat box with a toilet above me and relieve themselves and even throw various items at my head such as rotten food and eggs or even warm liquor or beer. My Goddess sat on her throne being pleasured by her concubines both male and women. There were eye holes in the box so I could look straight at her while she laughed and enjoyed her time. Once in a while she would blow kisses my way

[msmbitch]

Tom Pays The price

Once upon a time in a time not unlike right now, in the bustling city of New York, there lived an unassuming man named Tom or Tomas as he was known to his family. He was a hardworking individual with a penchant for the peculiar and the taboo. One evening, while scrolling through his favorite online forums, he stumbled upon an intriguing ad that read, "Meet the ultimate financial dominatrix for a night you'll never forget. Submit to her will for a price that will make you tremble. DM for details."

Curiosity piqued, Tom decided to indulge in this mysterious world. He sent a direct message to the anonymous account, and soon received a reply with instructions to transfer $500 to a given account number. The message was accompanied by a simple yet chilling demand: "Obey, or be forgotten."

Tom felt a rush of excitement and fear as he sent the money. He received an address to an upscale apartment in Manhattan and was instructed to arrive at 8 PM sharp. The anticipation grew with every minute leading up to the meeting, his mind racing with what might await him.

Punctually at 8 PM, Tom knocked on the door, heart pounding in his chest. The door swung open to reveal a stunning woman dressed in a luxurious black gown, her hair cascading down her back. She introduced herself as Mistress Amara, the financial dominatrix he had paid to meet. She was confident, poised, and exuded a sense of power that was both intimidating and alluring.

Mistress Amara led him into her apartment, which was dimly lit with candles, the air thick with the scent of expensive incense. She guided him to a chair in the center of the room and took a seat opposite him, her legs crossed and her eyes piercing into his soul.

"You've paid for my time," she began, her voice a seductive purr. "Now, tell me, what do you seek from this experience?"

Tom stuttered, "I-I just wanted to explore something new, something…different."

Mistress Amara leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. "Very well," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But remember, I am in control here. You will do exactly as I say, or the price will be steeper than you ever imagined."

Tom nodded, his excitement turning to a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

The evening unfolded as a whirlwind of sensory experiences. Mistress Amara made him crawl on the floor, begging for her mercy, and ordered him to perform various humiliating tasks that revolved around her financial superiority. She had him count out her money, clean her shoes with his tongue, and recite his bank account balance while kneeling before her.

The most intense moment came when she produced a contract, laying out a series of increasingly expensive financial challenges. Each challenge, if completed, would grant Tom a token of her affection, a brief touch or whispered praise. But if he failed, the penalties would be severe, involving more money and more public humiliation.

Tom signed the contract, his hand shaking, and began the tasks. Each challenge was more difficult than the last, pushing him to the edge of his financial comfort zone. He felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration as he handed over his credit card and watched her charge exorbitant amounts for luxuries she didn't even need.

As the night progressed, Tom realized that the true thrill of the experience was the power exchange. He was willingly handing over his financial control to this enigmatic woman who reveled in his subservience. The more he gave, the more she demanded, and the more he found himself craving her approval.

The financial dominance continued into the early hours of the morning, and by the time the sun began to rise, Tom was financially and mentally drained. He had given Mistress Amara everything she had asked for and more. As the meetup concluded, she handed him a final envelope with instructions to open it when he returned home.

Exhausted but strangely satisfied, Tom made his way back to his apartment. Inside the envelope, he found a single piece of paper with a message scribbled in red ink: "You may think this is the end, but it's just the beginning. Remember, you are always mine to claim."

[msmbitch]

Sassy rachel gets her revenge

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of New York, there was a quaint little diner named "Ruby's Retro Restaurant." Ruby herself was a gem of a woman, with a heart of gold and the sharpest wit you could find this side of the Mississippi. She had a knack for making her customers feel right at home with her charming smile and quick repartee. But, alas, not all her patrons were worthy of her warmth.

One fateful evening, a rich, young man stumbled into Ruby's, wearing a smug grin and an expensive suit that screamed of his wealth and lack of manners. His name was Charles, and he had the audacity to demand the best table, the freshest food, and the most attentive service, as if the world owed him a favor. Ruby's usual waitress, Rachel, was having a tough day, so she was assigned to his table. Rachel was a hardworking single mother, known for her kindness and patience, but even she had her limits.

Throughout the evening, Charles treated Rachel like she was invisible, barely acknowledging her existence except to ask for more bread or complain about the temperature of his drink. He spoke to her in a tone that suggested she was unworthy of his time, and when he was finally ready to leave, he handed her a credit card with a look that said, "Keep the change." Rachel's heart sank. She had hoped for at least a decent tip to help with her daughter's school supplies.

But Rachel was a professional, and she kept her cool, processing his payment with a forced smile. When she brought back the receipt for him to sign, she noticed something peculiar. The total amount was an even $100. A devilish idea began to form in her mind, and she couldn't resist the urge to give Charles a taste of his own medicine.

Rachel had noticed that Charles had a penchant for flashing his Rolex watch and flaunting his wealth. So, she did the unthinkable—she added a $0.01 charge to his bill. That's right, one single, solitary penny. She knew he'd never miss it, but she also knew that for someone as egotistical as him, it would be a glaring blemish on his otherwise perfect evening.

When Charles signed the receipt, he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the extra charge. "What's this for?" he sneered.

Rachel looked him straight in the eye and said sweetly, "For the pleasure of your company, sir."

The rich man rolled his eyes and tossed the penny at her, saying, "Keep it, I don't need it."

Rachel picked up the penny with a smile and said, "Thank you, kind sir. Have a good night," as she walked away with the satisfaction of a job well done.

The next day, Rachel was surprised to find an envelope at her station. It was from Charles. Inside was a crisp $100 bill, with a note that read:

"Dear Rachel, I hope this finds you well. I've been thinking about our encounter last night, and I realize that my behavior was less than acceptable. I am not used to being served by someone with such grace and patience. Your wit and professionalism truly left an impact on me.

I am sorry for the way I treated you, and I hope this small gesture can make amends. I have also decided to leave a 100% tip on the bill. You deserve it, not just for your service, but for putting up with the likes of me. I will be back to dine again, and I look forward to treating you with the respect you deserve.

Sincerely, Charles"

Ruby read the note and beamed with pride. Rachel had not only stood up for herself but had also managed to teach Charles a valuable lesson. Rachel felt a mix of shock and joy as she pocketed the tip and went about her shift.

Word of Rachel's clever revenge spread through the diner like wildfire, and soon, customers were asking to be seated in her section, hoping to witness more of her clever quips and sassy comebacks. Rachel's reputation grew, and she became a local legend, known as the waitress who could handle any rude customer with grace and a touch of mischief.

From that day forward, Charles was a changed man. He started tipping generously everywhere he went, and he made it a point to visit Ruby's once a week, always requesting Rachel as his server. Over time, they even became friends, sharing stories and laughs, and Rachel taught him the importance of treating those around him with kindness and respect.

And so, the tale of Rachel and the Rich Guy became a reminder to all who dined at Ruby's Retro Restaurant that everyone has a story, and sometimes, all it takes is a single penny to change the course of someone's life.

[msmbitch]

Ms Alexa pegs her husband

The room was dimly lit with the soft glow of candles flickering against the walls. The air was thick with anticipation as the dominatrix wife, known as Mistress Alexa, stood tall in her towering stilettos, her leather corset pushing her ample breasts up and out. Her husband, the devoted submissive, lay sprawled on the velvet-covered four-poster bed, his wrists and ankles bound securely to the bedposts with shiny steel chains. His eyes were wide with a mix of fear and excitement, his breathing shallow and quick.

Mistress Alexa approached the bed, her hips swaying with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. In her hand, she held a monstrous strap-on dildo, its length and girth a testament to the power dynamics at play in their relationship. It was made of a lifelike material, veined and ridged, and it was clear that she had taken care to prepare it, ensuring it was lubricated and gleaming. She allowed it to dangle between her legs, the heavy weight of it swinging with every step she took.

"You've been a good boy," she purred, her voice a seductive whisper that seemed to fill the room. "But now it's time for your punishment."

Her husband, the submissive, nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving the strap-on as it grew closer.

Mistress Alexa straddled him, aligning the massive toy with his entrance. She took a moment to admire the view before her: his hard, muscled body, sweat glistening on his skin, his eyes begging for more. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear.

"You will take this," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. "And you will take it without complaint."

With a swift motion, she thrust the strap-on into him, eliciting a sharp gasp. He tensed for a moment before relaxing, his body accepting the intrusion. The submissive's eyes rolled back in his head as she began to pump her hips, driving the toy deeper with every stroke.

"Ah, yes," she murmured, watching his reaction with a sadistic smile. "You like that, don't you?"

He whimpered, his hips rising to meet hers, his own cock straining against the leather cage she had locked it in earlier.

"That's it," she encouraged, her pace increasing. "Take it like the good little slut you are."

Her husband moaned, his body trembling with pleasure and pain. Mistress Alexa was merciless, her strokes rough and deep, pushing him to the edge of what he could handle. She knew his limits, and she reveled in pushing him just past them, watching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"You're going to cum for me," she whispered, her hand reaching down to squeeze his balls tightly. "You're going to cum, and you're going to thank me for it."

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through his body, and with a final, powerful thrust, he did just that. His orgasm was intense, his body spasming as he came, his eyes squeezed shut as he whispered his gratitude through clenched teeth.

Mistress Alexa pulled the strap-on out of him slowly, watching his face contort with the mix of pleasure and pain. She leaned in and kissed him deeply, tasting his sweat and the saltiness of his submission.

"Good boy," she said, her voice filled with satisfaction.

And with that, she climbed off the bed, leaving him bound and trembling, knowing that the night was far from over…..

[msmbitch]

Richard and Ms Victoria, a foot fetish fantasy

Once upon a time, there was a man named Richard. Richard had an intense foot fetish, which was a source of both pleasure and anxiety for him. He had never been able to share this particular aspect of his sexuality with anyone, not even his closest friends or partners. It was a secret that he kept hidden, fearing the judgment and ridicule of those around him.

One evening, after weeks of contemplation and research, Richard mustered the courage to visit a discreet, high-end dominatrix named Mistress Victoria. He had read about her on various online forums, where she was praised for her professionalism and ability to cater to a wide range of unique desires. Nervously, he made an appointment for a private session at her luxurious dungeon.

On the day of the appointment, Richard arrived at the nondescript building dressed in a simple black outfit. He felt his heart racing as he approached the door, which was adorned with a small, unassuming brass plate that read "Victoria's Playground." He took a deep breath and rang the bell.

Mistress Victoria, a tall, poised woman with raven hair and piercing blue eyes, greeted him at the door. She wore a tight, leather corset that accentuated her curves and thigh-high boots that made her legs look endless. Richard could hardly believe that he was standing in front of a real-life dominatrix.

"Welcome," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "You must be Richard. I've been expecting you. Please, come in."

He followed her into the dimly lit chamber, where the scent of leather and candles filled the air. The room was decorated with velvet drapes, gleaming chrome, and various pieces of intriguing furniture that hinted at the kinky activities that took place within.

Mistress Victoria led him to a plush chair and offered him a glass of water. "Now, tell me," she began, her eyes locked onto his, "what brings you to my dungeon tonight?"

Richard gulped, feeling the weight of his secret pressing down on him. "I have a… a foot fetish," he finally managed to say.

Mistress Victoria nodded, her expression neutral. "And what is it that you wish to explore with me?"

"I want to worship your feet," he confessed, his cheeks flushing. "To kiss them, to massage them, to be dominated by them."

Mistress Victoria leaned back in her own chair, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Very well," she said, unbuckling the straps of her boots and revealing her bare feet, which were adorned with red, polished nails and fine silver chains. "Let's begin."

For hours, Richard found himself lost in a world of unbridled pleasure as he catered to Mistress Victoria's every whim. He kissed and licked her toes, massaged her arches, and even painted her nails with trembling hands. Each touch sent waves of ecstasy through his body, and he felt a sense of freedom he had never experienced before.

Mistress Victoria, for her part, was an expert at reading Richard's reactions. She knew just when to be firm, demanding his complete attention, and when to allow him to indulge in his desires. She was both the dominating force he craved and the nurturing presence that made him feel safe.

As the night grew late, Richard knew that his session was coming to an end. He had never felt more alive and more at peace with himself than he did in that moment. He looked up at Mistress Victoria with a mix of gratitude and awe.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse from his repeated gasps of pleasure.

"You're welcome," she replied, a hint of amusement in her tone. "It's important to embrace all parts of ourselves, even the ones that might seem strange to others. Remember, your fetish is a part of you, but it doesn't define you."

With those words, Richard felt a burden lifted from his shoulders. He had found a place where he could express his desires without fear of judgment, and he knew that he would return to Mistress Victoria's dungeon again and again to explore the depths of his foot fetish.

As he left, he couldn't help but feel a newfound confidence in himself and knew immediately that he was addicted to her feet.

[msmbitch]

Lady Katherine Marries

In a twisted bit of fate Lady Katherine stood at the altar awaiting her new husband that she chose to be escorted to her down the aisle by none other than his mother. As the music began to play her eyes turned toward the back of the church, somewhat eagerly awaiting her subby hubby to appear. Just as a gleam was in her eye, he came around the corner aggresively arm in arm with his mother leading him swiftly to his future.

The Officiating Governess asked "who gives this man?" Lady Katherine's subby hubby looked to her as his mother spoke, "I do." As soon as she said that she approached Lady Katherine and handed her,her son's chastity key. Lady Katherine acknowledged the exchange and waited for her future subby hubby to take his place beside her.

Once he stood beside her she turned to him and unzipped his loosely fitting dress pants. Lady Katherine exposed his caged cock for all the church to see. Everyone applauded and she zipped him back up. She put the key on a necklace she was wearing just for the occasion and allowed her locked pet to clasp it closed as if he was sealing his fate. Once they assumed their proper positions before the officiating Governess, she proceeded to begin the actual ceremony.

"Do you Lady Katherine take this lowly servile beast to serve you and love you to the best of its ability for now until it passes from his realmn? She paused for a moment before saying "for now I do." The officiant totally skipped over the traditional part of the male and proclaimed to the crowd slowly, "With the power vested in me I now pronounce you Lady Katherine and her bitch."You may bow and kiss her feet, to which he eagerly did.To which the crowd gathered rose up and celebrated with loud clapping and very big smiles and grins.

As she was preparing to leave the church her new subby hubby's mother walked up and presented her with a collar and leash to which she quickly affixed to his neck and led him out of the church and onto his destiny and new life, because all the assets and insurance policies were put in Lady Katherine's name the week before.

[msmbitch]

A few benefits of a man buying a woman a simple coffee

First, it creates an instant connection; the man makes the first move, which can spark a conversation and build rapport. It's an effective way to initiate interaction and break the ice, providing an opportunity to discover common interests or shared passions.It is a great doorway to a future of possibilities.

Second, it serves as a form of validation for the woman. This small gesture proves that the man is interested in her, making her feel special and valued. It helps build self-esteem and confidence, which can result in a more engaging and fulfilling interaction.

Thirdly, buying coffee indicates a man's willingness to invest in the relationship. It is symbolic of his intent and his readiness to contribute. This not only increases trust but can also demonstrate commitment, which can pave the path for a deeper relationship.

Fourthly, it places the man in a position of giving, which can be very attractive. It signifies that he is capable and willing to provide, a trait that many women find appealing.

Overall, the simple act of men buying women coffee can be used as a powerful tool to foster connections, build self-esteem, demonstrate commitment, and initiate engaging conversations. It is a great doorway to a future of possibilities.

[msmbitch]

Dont Be Easy

Why do you like the more scantily clad ladies? Given the fact that men are visual creatures, but still come on boys. Respect the ladies and yourself. Of course you like the more scantily clad ladies because its easy. It is because it is what makes your dick twitch. It should not really be about that. It should not be a womans "job" to pander to your predilections. You need to respect women and dripping all over their page with your drool and dick juice isnt it. I am not interested in catering to your dick. What makes it drip is none of my business. I dont care and I dont want to know. You will serve me because it is right. You feel it in your bones. You know that it is your destiny. It will have nothing to do with your dick, especially since it will be locked up. I have no use for it and from your day one of service, neither will you.

[msmbitch]

Goddess Alpha night is falling, Great Queen, the long day is over, And before thy loved image, I'm showing up once more, To thank thee for keeping me safe through this day, To ask thee this night to keep dishonour away. Goddess Alpha you are truly my everything. I seek to serve you better tomorrow than yesterday and be of service to your Fempire. You alone are the keeper of this slave and I am thankful. May you blessed in every single thing you strive for.

[msmbitch]

Subs Are NOT Pokemon

Subs are not like pokemon cards. You dont have to race to catch them all. Just having subs dont really mean squat if they arent of any caliber.There is such a thing as quality over quantity, and I truly believe in it. Oh, I have xxxx amount of subs that claim me as their ruler. Great, and how many of them actually live up to their end of the agreement? I would wager that at least half of all sudden ownership ends in dismissal on either side. And collecting unverified subs is just as bad. Like, what is their worth? They are just taking up space like a blank placeholder that an ordinary good sub could be occupying. But since people tend to equate having alot of something with being successful the practice will always continue.

You want to follow me great.I am rather fabulous. But I am not one of those that will add you to make more friends. I collect subs in my friends list in this manner because from a business standpoint it just makes more sense when I post to reach more people that may decide on any given day that I am the goddess for them. It will be at that pont that they will start their journey to true ownership. Being owned doesnt happen in one day. It doesnt even happen in one interaction, unless you are a fan of velcro collars. And it shouldnt be this way,in my opinion. You need to earn that "collar". You need to earn your service to her. She needs to make you prove yourself worthy of being labeled her property.

Slaves are not like dots on a little screen and you arent a large yellow creature gobbling them all up to add to your point total. Well that is, unless you are…? Slow down and take the time it takes to form reasonable and reliable connections or you will forever be disappointed.

[msmbitch]

A Boys Weekend

Ms. Morrigan uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, extending her other foot to the man on the floor in front of her. He took it between both hands and placed a thumb on either side of the bottom of her big toe, gently massaging the joint.

"So where are you going this weekend?" she asked.

"Just a guys' weekend, with my old college buddies," he replied.

She nodded, and said, "Good for you." She only owned him sexually. And he was only submissive when he was thinking about sex. Which, since he had met her, admittedly, was about 22 hours a days.

"But where exactly?"

"Derek's lake cottage."

"And what are you going to do all weekend?"

"We may do some fishing. Maybe a round of golf. Mostly sit around the firepit and drink beer and tell stories."

She chuckled as he moved to her second toe. "I'd love to listen in on some of those stories."

He chuckled too. "You think so? I think most of them are going to be the same old stories we've been telling each other for years."

"Ah, the glory days," Ms. Morrigan smiled. "Surely there are some juicy tales of ... conquest. All those co-eds and cheerleaders and English professors you all had your way with ..."

He remained silent and worked on the ball of her foot. Finally he offered, "I think you've watched too many movies about how guys talk."

"Oh, so you're private and discrete, are you?" Then, "Are you going to tell them about me?"

"Ummm ... well, probably," he murmured. "I mean, I figure I'll let them know that I'm seeing someone, but ..."

"You're not going to tell them about how you're having the most intensely erotic experiences of your life? In service to your domme, never touching her above the ankle?" She rotated her foot, making the silver anklet that was the upper boundary of where he was allowed to go sparkle and dance. "Rubbing my feet, cleaning my home ... and making sure I'm the only one who ever, ever gets to have an orgasm?"

"I don't think they'll get it."

"And that's exactly why I want you to tell them!" she laughed. "I want your friends to picture you naked on your knees, licking Twinkie filling out from between my toes. Don't you?"

He remained silent, naked on his knees at this very moment, while his hands began to massage her instep with increased intensity.

"You're so cute when you blush," Ms. Morrigan smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

"And I notice that you're really, really hard ..."

(to be continued...)

[msmbitch]

Batman And The Cat

[msmbitch]

A Gift of Unrequited Love

He opened the little black velveteen jewelry box. Inside was a lovely, delicate silver chain -- actually, a pair of them, about ten inches long, joined at each end by matching clasps. Three tiny Celtic knots dangled from the slightly-longer of the two chains, dancing as he lifted the piece to admire it.

"Do you like it?" Ms. Morrigan asked him.

"It's ... exquisite," he responded. "Like the ankle that it belongs on. Do you like it?"

"I love it," she smiled. "I waited for you to get here to try it on. I would like you to do the honors."

She crossed her legs, left knee over the right, and extended her silk-clad foot toward him. She pointed her toes -- painted nails lurking seductively beneath the reinforced toe of the hosiery -- and extended her ankle, so the angle reached and exceeded a full 180 degrees, in that magical way that women can do.

He brought the anklet up from below, finding the clasp and latching it, then gently rotated it around her foot so that the three Celtic knots lay neatly on the top of her foot and down each side of her ankle. She rotated her foot gently, making the shiny silver sparkle in the light.

"It's so perfect," she purred, as he took her foot between his hands and began to gently massage her instep with this thumbs. "And I love the Celtic knots. Do you know why?"

"Well, because you are The Morrigan," he replied.

"Of course," she said. "But not only that. You see, from here, I can look at you, down by my feet, on the other side of it, and tell you ... for you, it's your Hadrian's Wall. The border which you may never, never cross."

His eyes grew wide and his lower lip quivered -- with poignant disappointment, she knew, but also with intense arousal.

"Yes," she continued. "It's very pretty, and it's very, very symbolic. My foot is on your side. And the rest of me is ... not.

She heard him release a little whimper.

"And you bought it for me. And you put it there.

"How does that make you feel?"

[msmbitch]

1 yr Chastity Anniversary

"Do you know what day it is?" asked Ms. Morrigan, extending her stocking-clad foot toward him, toes pointed down.

"Yes," he said, as he took her soft, warm foot between his hands and began to stroke it. He hoped they had the same thing in mind.

"It was a year ago today that I first invited you over," she mused. He smiled. They were on the same page.

"How many dishes did you do that day?"

He sighed. "I think you must have entertained eight people the night before," he recalled. "Counting yourself."

"I think that's right. Anyway, you did a very nice job cleaning up." She reached over to the end table beside her and took a sip of wine. "Happy anniversary, my pet."

"Happy anniversary, my Queen," he responded, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her foot.

"It must have been ... deflating ... for you to have been sent home after that."

"Deflating?" he said with a wry grin. Not deflating enough. He had gone over to provide service to this mysterious woman while wearing a chastity cage; and the realization that she intended to accept his service and send him home had left him uncomfortably aroused for the next few hours.

"But you came back."

"Yes, I did," he acknowledged. "To, um, clean your floors."

She smiled. "Yes. And that's not all you cleaned." She spread and wiggled her toes, recalling how she had dropped a brownie on this floor, ground it into the hardwood, and then sat back in this very chair and enjoyed herself while he cleaned both the floor and her goo-covered foot with his lips and tongue.

And he had kept coming back. For more tasks, and more opportunities to caress and kiss her feet, sometimes bare, sometimes stockinged, sometimes while still inside her pumps or heeled leather boots. But never above the ankle. She kept waiting for him to ask for more, but he never begged or pleaded, beyond the yearning look in his eyes.

She had never even requested, much less demanded, that he surrender his orgasms for her. She had simply waited until he had asked her if he could yield them to her, as a gift, as a sacrifice upon her altar.

The chastity device that he was wearing now was a much more recent development. She actually enjoyed seeing him naked and uncaged, his erection bobbing futilely as he went about his acts of service for her. When he had worn a cage in the past, he had always brought his own, and locked and unlocked himself. She had to admit, though, that handing this one to him and keeping the key had been a very different thrill.

"So," she said, again reaching over to the end table, this time to retrieve a small silver tray. "I got you something to commemorate our anniversary."

The tray contained only a small, unsealed envelope. He released her foot and picked it up, looking inside it. He poured the contents out into his other hand. It was a single tiny silver key.

She took another sip of her wine, watching him over the lip of her glass, watching him process this gesture.

What did this mean, he was asking himself. Was this a reward for a year of loyal service, an opportunity to restore his tumescence, his agency, his potency -- to move up to pleasing her sexually in a more traditional manner?

Was this a test? Would using the key mean he had failed the test? And if so, what would be the consequences? One consequence, he realized, could be that he would disappoint her, and lose her interest.

Was this a cruel joke? Could she have presented him with a key that didn't fit, so that he might risk disappointing her and still not free himself? He knew she was capable of such a wicked trick; it was just one more thing that made her so dangerously alluring.

But, fear had long since ceased to be his motivating drive in serving Ms. Morrigan. He realized that the worst consequence of failing this test, if it was a test, would be depriving her of the pleasure that she so vocally assured him she was receiving from their relationship as it was.

He placed the key back in the envelope, licked the flap, and sealed it shut.

"Wonderful," she said. "I think we've established an excellent basis for our second year."

[msmbitch]

Pink tax Reparations

Women have historically paid more for items labeled "for women" as opposed to the cheaper prices for the exact same items labeled for sale to men. Pink razors cost more than their blue counterparts. But the Stupid tax goes far beyond mere color and gender bias. It goes to the heart of the human condition. Dont give me the women can overcome the male agenda speech. It is possible and in some areas it has been done but the realization is that men will forever control women in various forms of life expression and business. And for All this male dominated oppression , they must pay reparations. They must start paying reparations now, not so much for past misdeeds but for the fact that it is still going on today. They need to be made to feel how wrong their actions are. The best way to do this is by taxing them for being men. Show them the error of their ways and how they can learn to fix it. Instead of buying yourself coffee for work every day, buy me a pack of delightfully colored pink razors. Instead of buying yourself a new t shirt, buy me one instead. Financial penalties will only get you ladies so far. You have to help correct the problem and teach the men how things should be done. Promote Female Led Relationships. Educate as much as possible. And while things will only change minimally in my lifetime I believe, I will be responsible for the changes in MY life and of those who choose to serve me. If you are interested in learning more about pink tax reparations feel free to inbox me and we will take it from there.

[msmbitch]

Rimmy and the read headed Woman

“So, Rimbaud, I have decided I have a special task for you this afternoon,�� Ms. Morrigan informed me, between sips of her tea.

“Yes?” I responded, immediately feeling a surge in my penis, which had become only semi-erect while I had concentrated on dusting her knick-nacks. Ms. Morrigan always has me do chores for her in the nude, and today was no exception.

“Yes, you’ve been a very good boy, and I want to reward you. But for this task, I really am going to need you to put on a cage.”

And with that, my cock practically slapped me in the belly. I had no idea what she had in mind; but the very mention of a chastity device – the fact that she now wanted to deny me not only an orgasm, but even the possibility of an erection – was deliciously unsettling.

“I hope you brought the clear plastic one,” she added. “I love the visuals.”

I nodded. I always brought at least two chastity devices, in case she stated a preference. Truth be told, I liked the CB6000 too. It wasn’t as practical for long-term wear, but I understood what she meant about the visuals. The bulb on the end of it allowed my glans to expand to almost full size, and to turn shockingly purple as the blood that rushed into it found itself trapped by the fact that my shaft was constrained into a narrow inch of hard plastic. But I was also almost entirely encased, other than the tiny slot at the end. No opportunity to bulge out between the bars and receive even the slightest external sensation.

I stepped into the guest bathroom and pulled the little bag containing the components of the CB6000 out of my backpack. I lubricated the ring and fit it around the neck of my scrotum, forcing my protesting testicles to not pull up against my body. Then I lubricated the inside of the cage itself particularly generously, and worked to slowly force it over my shaft. This always took some time when I was already erect, and today even the intense concentration that it required wasn’t causing me to lose any tumescence. I hoped Ms. M wasn’t getting impatient.

When I finally returned from the bathroom, the scene before me took my breath away. Ms. Morrigan was seated in her favorite chair, her legs crossed, her black skirt showing her legs from the knees down, her shiny black silk blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of delicious cleavage. But on the end table beside her, I saw an array of items that she had recently had me purchase for her from her wishlist: a pink bikini-trimmer lady’s shaver. The bottles of “Coochie-plus Intimate Shaving” aftershave and moisturizer. And on the floor before her, a steaming bowl of hot water and a white washcloth and towel, with a shiny silver razor perched atop it.

She reached a hand toward me and simply said, “Key, please.”

Trembling, I approached her and handed her the key. This was too amazing to be true. In our months together, Ms. Morrigan had mostly only allowed me to actually touch her pretty feet, only recently letting me move up to put lotion on her shapely calves. Was she really going to invite me to pay detailed attention to the most intimate, sacred part of her unattainable body?

“Ms. Morrigan,” I asked, breathlessly. “Are you going to allow me … to shave you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she gestured for me to lean toward her enough that she could reach up and caress my cheek. “Oh, dear, sweet Rimmy,” she replied. “Of course not.”

I could literally feel the confusion that must have been passing over my face. “But … then … what is my task?”

She picked up her phone and pushed a single button. A moment later, the doorbell rang. “I need you to answer the door.”

I straightened up, feeling the dread spreading outward from my stomach. I was completely naked, except for the humiliating little plastic cage compressing my genitals. Who was at the door? The UPS man? Or perhaps some other, less random, less submissive male visitor?

She looked at me, expectantly, somewhat sternly. I gulped, but obediently I turned and walked across the room to the front door, and opened it.

The person on the other side of the door was a woman. A striking woman, of medium height and slender build, with a head full of strawberry blonde hair piled up in an informal bun and a pretty face with exquisite, subtle make-up.

I realized it was the saleswoman from Ms. M’s favorite shoe store.

The woman looked me up and down briefly, pausing briefly as she observed the plastic contraption that was punishing my manhood. A hint of a smile crossed her face, but she stepped past me wordlessly.

“Hello, Annalise,” I heard Ms. Morrigan say. “You remember my friend Rimbaud?”

“Yes,” Annalise responded, without turning back to me. I had accompanied Ms. Morrigan on a couple of shopping excursions, carrying her bags and even gently offering my opinions, but of course I had been fully dressed then.

“Hello, Annalise,” I said, my eyes following her as she walked slowly away from me, toward my goddess.

“Rimbaud,” Ms. Morrigan continued, “I would appreciate it if you would go wash my car.”

Her car. Out in the driveway. And I was naked, except for the cage. I was gripped with turmoil, but as always, I was also swept away with the excitement of acquiescing. “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could say.

I headed for the kitchen, but then paused and allowed myself one forlorn look back. Ms. Morrigan was opening her lovely legs, her skirt beginning to rise around her silken thighs. But I couldn’t see more than that. All I could see was Annalise, beginning to kneel at Ms. Morrigan’s feet.

[msmbitch]

Ms M's Money (my budget)

i sat in my office chair squirming just waiting for the email. The email that would tell me my weekly allowance amount. All my money goes into an account controlled by Madame Morrigan. Money goes in, bills get drafted from the same account. And each week I receive an email explaining my allowance breakdown. But today was different. Normally I receive the email by 9 am but today it was 1130 am and no email. I was getting nervous. Was I even getting an allowance this week? I was hoping so. Im fairly certain that if any of my friends knew of our arrangement, they would never stop teasing me about it.But the money was rightfully hers so what the hell right? it had taken me quite some time to get to this point but when it happened, it just seemed right.I got up and fixed me a cup of coffee. i sat back down in my chair and got comfy. No sooner had I sat my cup down on my desk I noticed I had a message from Goddess. I almost came in my pink silk panties right then. it was just such a thrill to not have to think about bills, balances and all the bad stuff that adult life throws on you. She took away those burdens and for that I think I am in love. My heart sank as I read the email that said Goddess was cutting my budget down yet again. Now all my streaming services were cut out. I was only being generously allowed the very basic of cable, which im sure was to be cut next.I was eagerly awaiting my food budget and shopping list to be approved. If I dont get it by the next day I have to make due with what I have currently as I wont be able to grocery shop any other day this week, much less without her permission either. The youve got mail chime sounded and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I quickly clicked on it and had a semi sign of relief. Ms M was giving me a chance of either reducing three items on my budget list or selling plasma for her. With my stature and such I looked into it and I stood to make Around $125 per week with two of my donations.I quickly sent a message back to her with my preference of selling plasma. Fifteen minutes passed and suddenly I had another message from my divyne Ms M. With a lump in my throat I clicked and opened it. Much to my surprise my plasma offer was accepted as well as my grocery shopping list. A huge sense of relief washed over me. I soon felt like a decent meal was in order. But I dare not buy one because I was allowed to purchase and have the needed items to make one at home by Ms M. I had a good feeling that this was going to be a good good day after all!Ms M was strict with her money and she has every right to be. i work for her. I love being in service to her. (1)