EllaFord
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Nov 6, 2016
- Posts
- 184
Such a cutie ... I just can't stop staring at those sexy pantyhose too! I think I might have a fetish for young toes like them!
Welcome to my world, honey. Would you like a foot rub?
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Such a cutie ... I just can't stop staring at those sexy pantyhose too! I think I might have a fetish for young toes like them!
Welcome to my world, honey. Would you like a foot rub?
She fell silent and gazed at the floor. It was now or never, fifty fifty.
"Yes. Yes, I want that."
As if there'd been any doubt!
She looked like an angel, an avatar of perfect innocence. Every part of her was perfect, unsullied, unspoiled. I felt a tremendous urge to mother her, even though I knew she was a woman grown. I wanted to shield her from the darkness of the world, to protect her, to delight her...
But there was another part of me, the dark part, the part that I knew would win out in the end. It always did. It was the part of me that could only corrupt, the part that knew only submission and domination, the part that wanted this delicate flower to do unspeakable things, to me, to herself, to others. The part that wanted to hear her beg for more and beg for mercy in a single breath.
It was this part of me that the girl had come looking for, the part that she herself craved.
After all, where was the fun in being good?
I collected girls and Lacy was my latest acquisition. She just didn't realize it yet.
"I came like you asked me to," she said, perching on the side of the bed. "I wore the clothes you sent."
"Do you like them?" I asked.
"I suppose," she said. "They're not what I would normally wear."
"You look very nice," I said with a friendly smile, hiding the burning ache between my legs and the dark desires that rippled through my body.
"Thank you," she said, blushing. "But, don't you think it's a little... revealing?"
"Not at all," I purred. "A girl like you should always show off your legs, especially your legs in nylons. I'm going to dress you like this a lot from now on."
She blinked and frowned, parsing the words slowly. "What... what do you mean?"
"About what?"
"You said... you said you were going to dress me... I thought, I thought you just wanted to have sex with me."
"Lacy, honey, I do want to have sex with you and I am going to do that more than you can possibly imagine." I spoke my words carefully, studying her reaction. This phase of the collection process was the part where it was most likely to go wrong. I didn't want to overplay my hand. My particular hobby was one that it paid not to attract too much attention to. "But I want you for much more than just sex."
She sighed and chewed on her lower lip, tapping her high heeled shoes together. "Then... what do you want me for?" she asked, almost as if she was afraid to ask.
"I want to own you like a doll. I want to possess your body and use it however I want. I want to dress you and pose you, sometimes with other girls."
"Other... girls?"
"Yes, the other girls in my collection."
"Collection..." she sighed. It wasn't a question, more an acceptance.
"You will become an obedient mannequin for me. And, if you wanted, we can explore ways of making you more like a mannequin than you can possibly imagine."
"Oh...?" she said, sounding both terrified and intrigued.
"Suggestion, trance, some call it hypnosis. I can turn you into a lifeless statue, unable to do anything but obey. You'd be completely mindless, blank, utterly under my control. But you'll remember the things I do to you, the things I have other girls do to you..."
She sighed and closed her eyes. I could tell she was on the verge of panic. This was the point of no return, the point where I could no longer laugh off my shocking suggestion as a joke or a goof. This is where it got deadly serious.
"Lacy, I need to hear you say it before I take you down to my collection room. Do you consent to becoming a part of my collection and give yourself to me, body and mind, surrendering all agency to me to do all the things I've described and more besides?"
She fell silent and gazed at the floor. It was now or never, fifty fifty.
"Yes. Yes, I want that."
As if there'd been any doubt!
She looked like an angel, an avatar of perfect innocence. Every part of her was perfect, unsullied, unspoiled. I felt a tremendous urge to mother her, even though I knew she was a woman grown. I wanted to shield her from the darkness of the world, to protect her, to delight her...
But there was another part of me, the dark part, the part that I knew would win out in the end. It always did. It was the part of me that could only corrupt, the part that knew only submission and domination, the part that wanted this delicate flower to do unspeakable things, to me, to herself, to others. The part that wanted to hear her beg for more and beg for mercy in a single breath.
It was this part of me that the girl had come looking for, the part that she herself craved.
After all, where was the fun in being good?
The paradox of being tied was that it made her feel free. Deprived of the ability to move, she found herself released from the burden of decision and the possibility of mistake. When all you can do is nothing, there is no wrong answer to give. All that remained was to wait.
The paradox of being tied was that it made her feel free. Deprived of the ability to move, she found herself released from the burden of decision and the possibility of mistake. When all you can do is nothing, there is no wrong answer to give. All that remained was to wait.
so true for me. the more that is decided, the better
I feel you! Even thinking about being bounded like that in such position for a dominant mistress makes me so wet
What is it they say about boiling a frog? If you put them in cold water and gently raise the temperature, they don't even realize what's happening till it's too late.
It was the same with Kendra, my new assistant. Oh, I didn't boil her alive, if that's what you're thinking... but her world did heat up considerably after coming to work for me.
It started with simple compliments about how she looked, how she acted. But I soon started making requests, simple changes that she accepted without question. Changing how she dressed, how she spoke, the way she walked, the way she sat. I moulded her slowly over a period of months, creating the girl I wanted her to be. Docile, soft, classically feminine, always wearing nylons and heels, skirts not slacks, make-up that was more than an afterthought.
I'd ask her to get me things from the bottom drawer, over and over, studying her body as she bent down, letting her know that I was looking at her without a hint of self-conscious. In time, she started to perform for me, relishing my appreciation, craving every sordid look, flashing ever more thigh or popping her heels to show me her soles.
At that point, I knew then that my assistant was ready. It was time to complete Kendra's transformation and claim my prize.
And when I offered my pussy to her, she didn't even blink. She simply dropped to her knees and gave me everything I asked for and more besides.
My little frog, you might say, was boiled.
A nice picture I've had for some time.
this is one of the hottest threads I've ever seen
So hot!
INCREDIBLE! Simply wonderful. It amazes me how you can picture the deepest darkest layers of a slave or domme's personality, thoughts and opinions so beautiful and turn them to words. If a crap like "50 shades of grey" sold that many, a single short story like this must sell billions! you are wonderful Ella!
this is one of the hottest threads I've ever seen
she quieted Lara's fractured mind, allowing her to surrender to the persuasion of desire.
When Lara finally realized what was happening, it was far too late. Her corruption was complete, her betrayal of decency and family the twin reminders of her downfall. An owned girl, she became Aunt Karen's plaything, her toy, her amusement, slave to her whims and the anticipation of more. Passed between Aunt Karen's friends, a constant high of pleasure and pain, of need and hunger and overwhelming sensation.
And, as the older woman undressed her once more, leading her anew down a path that was by now so familiar and intoxicating, Lara knew only one thing. Thanksgiving dinner would never be the same again.