Phone Domination

09099 722 962

Your femdom phone sex mistress commands you to call her now for
BDSM chat, humiliation and
orgasm denial phone sex live!

Phone Sex Mistress

At last! I thought the phone would never ring!

I've been sitting here for at least half an hour, willing you to call. You're in my control, remember? You do exactly as I say. That means you call when I tell you to!

"Where the hell have you been?" I demand.

"Couldn't get away from the wife," a feeble voice replies. "She wanted to discuss a family party we're having at the weekend."

"I don't give a fuck about your family or your parties," I reply, angry that he's kept me waiting. Me! Madam Scarlet Rose! How dare he!!

"I'm sorry, madam." I can hear from his voice that he's scared he'll be punished, but he knows damned well he deserves whatever he gets.

"Get your clothes off, Henry, and lay on the floor," I say, making it clear from my tone that I'm not about to take any arguments. "And make sure you have a hairbrush close by."

"A hairbrush?" he queries, but I soon let him know that he has no right to ask questions. He's to do as he's told, plain and simple.

I'm a dominatrix to be reckoned with, not one of these half-hearted softies who play at being a madam but have no idea how to control a man. No. That's not me at all. My men do exactly what they're told or they'll regret ever having met me! Control is important to me, even when I'm on the end of a phone line. Men are mere underlings.

Henry soon has his clothes off and informs me that he's laying flat out on the floor, a hairbrush is on the chair next to him.

"What kind of bristles does it have?" I ask. I'm told they're hard and black and feel spiky when he presses his palm down on them.

"Does it hurt?" I want to know. It does. Not a lot but enough.

"Well it's going to hurt a whole lot more. Spread your legs, Henry, and push the handle of the hairbrush up your arse."

Henry doesn't want to. He doesn't like having anything inserted into his back passage. That's his tough luck, though. He's to do as I tell him or else!

"Do you want me to put this phone down, Henry?" I ask. "Do you want me to ignore your calls from now on? Do you want to have to find another madam to take care of you? It won't be easy, you know. Any decent madam will demand one hundred percent obedience, and as long as you're not giving that, you'll never be properly cared for."

Henry doesn't want to lose me so he pushes the handle as far up into his arse hole as possible. I hear him grunting and know that it's partly due to pleasure as well as the embarrassment of having to abuse himself.

"You're enjoying that, aren't you?"

"No, madam," he insists. "I'm not. I hate doing this. I only do it to please you."

I don't believe him but I let it pass. I want more from Henry.

"Now make sure that the bristles are facing upwards," I tell him. He says they are. "Now push your bollocks down onto the bristles as hard as you can."

Henry begs me not to make him do this. He doesn't want to hurt himself that much.

"Please, madam. I'll do anything. I'll lick your shoes clean. I'll suck the crotch of your panties clean. I'll lick your arse clean. I'll do anything if you don't make me do this."

"DO IT, HENRY!!" I'm losing patience with him. Who does he think he is? If I wanted my shoes cleaned I'd damned well tell him to lick them!

I hear him cry as he pushes his sensitive balls down onto the hard, sharp bristles.

"Harder, Henry" I tell him. "Much harder."

His cries turn into sobs. Long, heaving sobs filled with both pain and delight. Delight in pleasing me.

When I believe he's had enough, I tell him to stop. I hear a sign of relief slither through the telephone line.

"I'm so sorry, Madam," he says, tears still catching in his throat. "I promise I'll never be late calling you again. Please let me pleasure you now."

"Pleasure me?" My tone's mocking. "How the hell do you imagine a weak cocked half-wit like you could possibly pleasure me?"

"I can, Madam. Just give me a chance to prove it to you."

"No, Henry. You were late calling me. You have no right to ask anything of me. You're to call me again tomorrow at eight o'clock and maybe, just maybe, I'll allow you to pleasure me then. But if you're late, you know what you can expect."

I slam the phone down on him and smile. I have him in the palm of my hand. He wants to pleasure me but I don't need him. Oh, no. I've had my fingers inside my pussy for the duration of the call and I'm about to cum. I had to get rid of him. I would never live it down if he knew that his suffering had led me to my feeling sexually gratified.

Contributed by: Sadie 10/08/2006

Also by Sadie: