It's only been a month since I moved in and I swear someone is watching me. I know it may sound paranoid as a statement, but ever since I moved to this small neighbourhood where everyone looks the same and people are replaced by robots or actors like in 'The Truman Show', I am quite convinced that someone is watching me at night when I undress.I moved for work and honestly that's all I care about. I don't have much time to waste with a weak little man who doesn’t have the confidence to face me. Besides, virile men, I don’t like them as well, they are overconfident, insecure and patriarchal. I like men who are tender, who rely on you, whom you can dominate, whom you trust to be faithful or else they will be punished. That sort of thing. Anyway, the other day, someone was watching me. I was sure of it. I was in my underwear and I turned around

He says, “Alexander” in a voice so deep it seems to come from hell“It turns me on if you tell me what you're doing” I continue torturing him asking him for more.“What? Ahhhh… He replies that he is touching his balls.“I wanna kiss you. On the forehead. Good boy, be this obedient. You turn me on, little man. I want you to lick my mouth. I want you to bite my lips. I'm not touching you, but you close your eyes and imagine...as if I were touching you. I have a velvety hand. A soft hand that takes it in slowly, my fingers warm, my nails cool, sharp, caressing you. Then, I lower myself. And I make you feel my lips. As I get closer you feel the warmth of my mouth. Then, at a certain point, you feel warm...and then Warmer. Hotter. And then your sex is in my mouth. I like it beca

He begs as I move his finger relentlessly across that erogenous zone, which I know drives men beyond crazy. Those bundles of live nerves guarantee unforgettable pleasure and pain.He abandons himself entirely in my hands. He knows that I am wise in my gestures, that there is no deliberate cruelty in my movements, that every detail is designed to give him pleasure. Even the lashes, I tell him, have been served to excite him, so that he gets used to not feeling pain but pleasure when his Mistress acts. To trust her. And soon enough, the throes of passion make their way through his limbs.At that point, I approach him, kiss and ask if he's okay. He replies in the affirmative. That he wants to fuck. I slap him and go back to put a collar on his neck. I fill a bowl with milk, put it on the table, he instantly sits awaiting my orders while I keep him on a leash. I ob

I discovered sex when I was in college. One day I was at college during the afternoon break when I was 16. There was a handsome boy who was always around me. A couple of talks, a walk in the campus corridors while the rest of the class was having a lesson, and before I knew it I was sneaking into a toilet with him and he was slipping it to me. Let’s just say that at the time I understood why he has been called ‘The Boss’ in the entire college. He had what even I knew at the time was an enormous penis.I didn't come from a rich family at that time so, growing up, I got used to always thinking about money. Money and sex. Those are two of the things that have made me the girl I am today. Two life experiences: the lack of money, and the abundance of horny men. Either way, I was trying to make a little extra money, just to get some quick cash.I'm Camilla, almost 21 years old now, still a bit naïve though. I had to face troubling situations in my young life and I have always tried to stay

I take in a few deep breaths, swallow my anger and softly but firmly reply, “Yes.” My answer had an air of confidence and pride that appeared full of gumption. He smiles looks at the ceiling and makes a gesture with his hand as if to say that it is irrelevant. That he is not interested, asserting, “I'm rather sorry for what that man did to you, what I did was nothing to be so grateful for. I helped you because you seemed to be in a difficult moment, it's normal to be of help to someone in times of their needs in life.” “Right. Thank you. I knew you were a good boss.” I claim to smile, heaving a sigh of relief. “A boss, so you say?” He teases my mind to think and analyze so many exciting possibilities. Could he be anything more than a boss? Oh, how I wished! “A benefactor maybe?” I reply, teasing him right back. I loved it when he smiled, and the way those deep cute dimples appeared on his cheeks. He laughs heartily as if I had amused him somehow. “A saint then?” I conclude He lau