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This is Part Sixteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:
I gave Sara’s ass a good smack, then pushed her away from me.
I walked over to a nearby chair, making sure my strap-on wagged obscenely, and sat. I watched her right herself, wiping her husband’s cum off her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips were a bit puffy and swollen and her hair was a mess — she looked well-used and her eyes, oh her eyes smoldered with need. I could smell her arousal from where I sat.
“Strip,” I said to her.
“What?!” She looked incredulous.
“I said strip. All of it. I want you naked and kneeling at my feet within one minute, or” I hardened my voice and slapped my paddle lightly against my calf, “there will be consequences.”
She looked at me, frozen in astonishment, so I started counting. When I reached five, she began stripping. By the time I reached forty, her lush body was completely naked. I watched as she peeled her panties away from her cunt. They were positively soaked.
“Good girl,” I said approvingly, “Now… get on your knees here in front of me.”
Sara dropped to her knees and crawled toward me. When she came within reach, I grabbed her by the back of the head with one hand, and pointed my strap-on at her with the other.
“Suck my cock, slut!”
Sara looked from my face to my strap-on and back up to my face. A sensual blur was beginning to creep up over her, I could tell. I leaned forward and kissed her, hard at first, and then softly. When I broke the kiss, I kept my face near hers.
“Come, little Sara, my sweet little cocksucker, this is what you want. You want to kneel to me, you want to worship me, and be subjugated by me.” I half-whispered to her.
Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned.
“I’m going to take you, Sara, take you and make you mine, you and your husband, both, and you’re not going to do anything to stop me.”
And with that, I guided her toward my strap-on, which she took greedily into her mouth and started sucking with abandon.
To be continued…
I am waiting for you.
I’m wearing one of my little black dresses. It is a simple little black dress, elegant in its simplicity, and simply one of the sexiest things I wear — in public. It is a couture dress made for me by a local designer, and it clings lovingly to every curve of my body, as lovingly as the eyes of men and women cling to me whenever I wear it. Underneath, I’m wearing a corset of black satin, a corset that emphasizes my cleavage and nips my 22″ waist down to 20″. From it, the line of my hips curve with the luscious smoothness of ripe fruit, my belly slightly rounded above the bulge tucked away in my panties: the bulge of my strap-on. The creamy expanse of my thighs are interrupted by sheer black stockings that end a few inches above the knees. And then my feet, my pretty little size 5 feet tucked away in my Valentino ankle strap pumps with those hot 4″ stiletto heels. Men love to worship my feet.
I am waiting for you.
I am waiting for you to call me. I am waiting for you to cam for me.
I am waiting for you to strip off your clothes, waiting for you to strip yourself down, waiting for you to kneel naked before me and beg me to use you for my pleasure.
I want you to cam for me, boy. I want you to exhibit yourself to me, to cup your balls in your hand and offer them to me, your voice breathy proof of how light-headed you feel kneeling there, before me, aching to serve me, aching to stroke for me. Aching to cum for me.
Call for me. Cam for me. Cum for me.
Empress Pamela
800-601-6975
Mistress Pamela answers 10 recurring questions
Q1: What type of Mistress are you?
A1: I am sensual, playful, firm, and occasionally cruel. I tend to ask nicely and carry a big strap-on dick.
Q2: What is your schedule?
A2: I post my schedule on my blog and I use Twitter to broadcast my daily availability, moods, and interests. For my regular clients, I also take calls when I’m not publicly available.
Q3: What are your measurements?
A3: I’m 5’2″. I weigh about 105#. I’m 32C, 22 waist, 34 hips. I am told my bottom is an ass-worshiper’s wet dream. My looks and my taste in clothing were influenced by my maternal grandmother, who was Parisienne (a French woman from Paris) .
Q4: What are your limits?
A4: I don’t do scat, diapers or other potty play; under-age play; or hard-core humiliation.
Q5: What is your favorite form of Domination?
A5: I love to tie boys up, tease them, and threaten them with my strap-on. I enjoy watching guys on cam and telling them how to stroke for me. I love to fuck boys in drag. I really enjoy strap-on play — there is something about being fucked like a woman that really opens men up, and I like being a part of that. And a big favorite is couples domination.
Q6: What is couples domination?
A6: Playing with a couple, usually married, and dominating one or both of them. It can be very, very hot, and can play into cuckold fantasies, especially if I bring a Bull in to play.
Q7: Do you write the stuff on your blog yourself?
A7: Absolutely! I love to write and I want clients and potential clients to have a good sense of who I am, not just as a phone-sex Mistress, but as a person. It makes it easier to establish trust, I think, which is necessary for convincing and satisfying Dominance/submission sessions.
Q8: What do you do for fun?
A8: Phone sex! Really. It’s great fun. I also dance–I do bellydancing and bhangra dancing; I visit the local Dungeon a couple of times a month; I read–I usually have a few books going at a time; I ride (men, horses, and motorcycles); I travel–I’ve been to Hawaii, Japan, Las Vegas, Boston, Key West, Yosemite, and Napa in the past year; and so many other things, from painting and writing to paragliding and hiking the nature trails along the Pacific coast.
Q9: How did you get your start as a phone sex Mistress?
A9: Well, I’ve been aware of my power over males since I was a teenager. It is amazing how willing a man is to do the most humiliating things for my time and attention. And I realized the same thing about girls when I was in college. I’ve never been turned down by anyone — male or female — that I’ve wanted to be mine. When I left grad school, I sort of fell into being a ProDom for a couple of years. But then I recently moved back closer to my family — which is why I’m a phone-sex FemDom instead of a ProDom now.
Q10: You say you are a lifestyle dominant — do you have slaves, and if you do, what do they do for you?
A10: I am a dominant woman living with a dominant man–a woman like me can only really be happy with a man who matches her in every way. We both have extensive experience in the BDSM scene. That said, we neither of us has slaves–we find them too much work. However, we do have our submissive playthings, both together and separately. I have subs that do much of the house cleaning in their french maid uniforms and a couple of footboys who give me pedicures. I also have a wonderful couple who prepare sushi for us–she regularly acts as the platter for special events we hold at our house–and I often take a room at the local Dungeon and spend a few hours tormenting them. Until recently, I had a live-in domestic submissive, but I found her a worthy Master and sent her on her way.
(I’ll add more as I notice other recurring questions)
This is Part Fifteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. I was going to end with episode 14, but I heard from people asking me to continue, so here is the rest of their story:
Watching John blow his load in Sara’s mouth was intense. Underneath the lingerie and make-up was a man who bellowed when he climaxed. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and squirted on her face, and as he did so he verbally humiliated her, finally venting the months of frustration and agony he’d felt over being cuckolded. He needed that release, and I think that, ultimately, Sara needed to know that her husband was still a man. After marking her as his territory, it seemed to me she wouldn’t have any more doubts, even if her husband did like to wear dresses on occasion.
As she obediently kneeled for her facial, I slipped my hand between her legs. The space between her thighs radiated heat, and when my fingers touched the crotch of her pants, they found a slippery wetness. Sara was so aroused she’d soaked through her panties and her pants.
“My, my,” I drawled into her ear. “You’ve enjoyed being treated like a slut, haven’t you, Sara?”
Her only response was a shudder as my fingers pressed hard along the seam of her pants.
I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet, marching her into the nearby bathroom. I shoved her toward the large oval mirror, so she could see the globs of her husband’s cum on her face.
“You’re done, Sara. No more boy-toys. No more cock-locks.”
I gestured for John to come into the room and stand beside Sara before the mirror.
“See him?”
She closed her eyes in rejection of the sight of her husband. I tightened my hand in her hair and shook her.
“See him? He’s a man who likes to wear lingerie. So what? He’s got a cock that works and hands that know how to hold you. What’s your bitch, slut?”
(To be continued…)
Hello darlings,
Here are some free FemDom audio clips that I recently posted to the TeaseMania.com and GetGirlie.com forums.
1-Close your eyes. I’ll meet you there, in the darkness behind your eyes, and extend an invitation to you to explore your deepest, darkest fantasies.
http://eroticaudios.com/content/Pamela/imagination_invitation.mp3
2-What is it about you pantyboys and sissies that makes you think you’re the only one in your neighborhood who wears panties?
http://eroticaudios.com/content/Pamela/PantyBoys1.mp3
3-Just a little happy birthday ditty for our sweet little chrissy sissy, from her Empress Pamela.
http://eroticaudios.com/content/Pamela/happy_birthday_chrissy.mp3
4-I want you standing before me, stripping off your street clothes to reveal the girlie undies you’re wearing.
http://eroticaudios.com/content/Pamela/stripping_-sissy.mp3
There are more sexy audio clips on the GetGirlie and TeaseMania sites, as well as far more explicit and thrilling audios on the MistressAlwaysWins.com site, and I’ll be uploading new ones every few days.
Hopefully you enjoyed last month’s 14 part account of the Secret Life of John and Sara. If you missed it, you can find the first episode here. I had a lot of fun writing it and doling it out, as well as reading your feedback.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked for other photos, other more… revealing photos. Yes, there are other photos, darlings, but why should I show them to you? What makes you think that you deserve to see more skin, and what makes you think that a woman like me would publicly post revealing photos?
Why can’t you see more skin? Because I’ve got class, boys and gurls. I’m elegant, educated, and naturally dominant, and I want clients who are interested in me for those qualities, not for the size of my breasts or the cut of my bustier.
My photos are tasteful and suggestive for a reason. I’m not a silly little air-headed cum slut waiting for you to call her so she can giggle and ooh and ahh for you. The world is full of them. They outnumber me 20-to-1 and you can find them at any one of the hundreds of phone-sex companies out there.
But you don’t want a fluff-brained child-idiot on the phone with you, do you? Some of you might want a woman who can turn you into one, but you certainly don’t want to talk to one. No. What you want is that rarity of rarities, the full attention of a beautiful Dominant Female. When you call me you get a real woman, a sophisticated young Domme who knows her power, a woman from a privileged background with an ivy-league education and a powerful ability to crawl into the minds of men. I’ve got a voice that is so sensual, I can slip down into your lizard brain and hijack your genitals within a few sentences, and I’m articulate, oh yes, I’ve got a way with words, a way of planting little flags of arousal that keep unfurling long after our conversation has ended.
For some of you, I’m way out of your league, and that excites you. For others, well, you probably wish I was the socialite sitting across from you at some deadly-dull function, with my foot in your lap and my dark eyes twinkling. Regardless, what it comes down to is this–I’m the fucking Domme and my skin isn’t the skin that matters. Its yours that matters. Your skin, and what I choose to do to it and with it, whether it is stroking or flogging or pampering.
If there is going to be any more skin displayed, it is going to be yours, my pets.
Now if anyone wants to improve my mood, chocolate works – and the button for my wish list is right over there  —->
As you know, the only thing better than dark chocolate is a deep, dark fantasy–especially one that is shared with the right person. Let’s get started now!
So my lunch date has pushed back to afternoon tea and possibly dinner. I’m here most of the afternoon and then I might be back later in the evening. Catch me while you can!
This is Part Fourteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:
“I said SUCK IT!” My tone was forceful and demanding and brooked no argument.
Sara opened her lips, took John’s twitching sex into her mouth and started sucking. He groaned beautifully as his poor tortured cock–finally freed of its chastity device–grew in her mouth, a sound of mingled pain and pleasure. He grabbed for his wife’s head and I released her into his hands, watching as his long fingers bunched in her hair and buried her face against him. She gagged a bit and tried to pull back but I pressed my hand against the back of her head.
“Take it you little bitch. Suck that cock!” I pushed her head even farther down onto him, holding her there until she started to heave and press her hands frantically against his thighs.
We let her get some air, and then John shoved his cock back into her mouth, fucking her face in earnest. I was really enjoying the sight of a man dressed up in women’s lingerie fucking a woman’s face. There was something almost poetic about both the scene and the payback.
I got down on my knees beside her so I could whisper into her ear, and I untied my little leather paddle from my belt. I gathered her wrists up behind her with one hand and with the other, I held my paddle.
“You are such a good little cock-sucker, Sara. I always imagined you would be,” I said into her ear and signaled to her John. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and then I let my paddle fall against her ass. She jumped and cried out.
“Owww!”
I paddled her a few times in short succession. She struggled a bit, sawing her wrists, but seeing as she could have easily broken my hold, it was obviously a token resistence. She was softening up very nicely.
I pointed at Sara, then mimed slapping my own face. I looked up at John. He gave me a questioning look. I frowned at him.
He slapped her. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he said, “Bitch, get back to sucking my cock!”
Sara gasped. “What did you call me?”
“Bitch. I’m your husband. Now. Suck. My. Cock.” And with that little serving of humiliation, he grabbed the back of her head and shoved it toward him, toward his stockinged thighs and panty-lined balls.
As he pulled his wife onto his cock, I grinned at John. The man was learning fast that he could be every inch the man even wearing panties. A cross-dresser he might be, but a sissy he was not. And I had a feeling that it was going to be a long time before Sara thought about cuckolding him again. We’d both make sure of that….
THE END (Or rather, the intermission. If I get enough interest, I might continue on to the good parts, you know, strap-ons and bondage and all that  I DO SO LOVE COUPLES DOMINATION)
This is Part Thirteen of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:
I held my hand out toward John with an imperious gesture.
“The key.” I demanded.
He dropped it into my palm.
“Stand in front of your wife.”
He gave me a questioning look, but did as I said. He appeared to have some misgivings about how I was handling his wife. He had no idea that she was softening up rather nicely. Like taffy, she just needed to be pulled in two different directions at once in order to make her maleable.
I pulled sharply downward on Sara’s hair, forcing her head backward. I looked into her eyes for a long moment, enjoying what I saw there, enjoying the flow of power between us.
“You will remove the chastity device,” I said to her, and held the key over her face. She blinked rapidly a few times, then slowly lifted her hand to take the key from me.
I loosened my grip on her hair.
“Good girl,” I said warmly, aprovingly, and she gave a small sigh of relief.
I watched her lean toward her husband. It was an interesting juxtaposition, one that amused me greatly. There John was, standing over his wife in his lingerie, stockings and heels, while she knelt, fully clothed and obviously cowed, before him, her hands fumbling with the clear plastic chastity restraint she’d locked on him last month.
I could tell when it was removed by the huge sigh he gave. His big hand went down to where his cock and balls were hanging outside his panties and he touched himself with obvious relief. He started to move away but I gave my head a firm shake and gave him a stern look. I tightened my hand in Sara’s hair, and pushed her father forward, toward her husband’s satiny groin. She resisted, making me smile.
“I think you owe John a blow job, darling Sara,” I drawled. “I understand its been months since he had one.”
“No! Not while he’s dressed up like that!”
“Like what?” I asked
“He looks like a she-male slut!”
“Mmmmm…” I purred. “Doesn’t he though? That’s what makes it so delicious…” I let my words trail off. Then I gave her head a good shake by the hair again.
“Suck it!”
To be continued tomorrow…
This is Part Twelve of The Secret Life of John and Sara, started here.
The Secret Life of John and Sara is based on a true story. I’ve fictionalized it to protect the identities of my friends John and Sara, whose ‘secret life’ is secret for a very good reason. John is a Silicon Valley CEO, a sissy and a cuckold, and Sara is a 40-something nymphomaniac Nurse Administrator. Here is their story:
There was no doubt in my mind that Sara was innately submissive. Her attempts at turning her husband into a sissy cuckold hadn’t been signs of dominance so much as childish bitchiness. I took one of her nipples in one hand and tightened the other in her hair. I gave her nipple a firm tweak, then gave her head a shake. She moaned languidly and her eyes opened slowly.
“What’s this nonsense about putting John in chastity?” I asked her in a low, vicious voice.
Her eyes opened wider.
I gave her nipple another tweak, this one designed to zing along her nerve-endings with just enough pain to season the pleasure.
“Owww! …ah….” Her protest was cut short by my fingers tightening in her hair.
I dropped my hand from her nipple down to the crotch of her pants, my fingers cupping up into her and the heel pressing hard against her clit. Her body bucked a bit under me and I smiled into her eyes–smiled slowly, sensuously, and with just a hint of cruelty.
“Where is the key, little cat?”
“In–in my closet, hanging–” she swallowed “hanging from my belt rack.”
“Good girl,” I said to her. I looked over my shoulder at John. “Go get the key.”
She looked up at me with her hazel-gold eyes. Her expression seemed resigned.
“He told you,” she said, simply. And those simple words said everything.
“Yes,” I said, giving Sara’s pussy a squeeze. “He told me how naughty you’ve been, you slut.”
She hissed in her breath and moved under me, her inner thighs grinding my hand tighter against her pussy. “I just wanted my husband back,” she said, almost wistfully.
When John came back with the key he was still wearing his lingerie, and his heels clicked on the beeswax of the ancient oak flooring. I stood up and man-handled Sara onto her knees by the hair.
To be continued tomorrow…
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