(F4A) It seemed like such a reasonable suggestion at the time, almost... educational. Mistress Elena, with her sharp features, raven hair pulled back severely, and commanding presence clad in tight black leather, had visited my chambers earlier. She spok nudes
(f4A) The mansion was eerily quiet, the polished wooden floors reflecting the light streaming through the tall, arched windows. The elder Mr. Davenport had left for a cruise, leaving his son in charge. At twenty, working as a maid for such an influential
[F4A] I want to be a babysitter which get tricked into some games that included getting her tied up. And now im just lying only in my panties hogtied and gagged. Looks like I was getting tortured a lot. There still a carrot in my butt held inside by my p
When we started the internship at the law firm, they told us only half of us would earn a job but the rest of would be ‘taken care of’, I just didn’t realize that would mean being forced to a submissive trophy wife for one of the winners
(F4A) I sat there, feeling the cool leather bite into my skin, slick with perspiration and anticipation—or was it fear? The room was dimly lit, the shadows from the flickering candlelight casting odd shapes across my body, my vulnerability stark agains
Daddy woke up in the middle of the night feeling insatiably hungry. His lust for my slutty pussy drove him to drag me to the basement like the little bitch I am, and tie me up real good - To show me who really is in charge here. I was such a dumb cunt to
(F4A) The heavy iron cuffs bit into my wrists, linked by a thick chain that felt like a lead weight dragging me down. My ankles were similarly bound, the cold metal a constant reminder of my helplessness. Twenty-six years old, and here I was, kneeling on
(F4A) As I slowly regained consciousness, the world around me came into focus, though it felt surreal and distorted. The last thing I remembered was the soothing sensation of warm oil being rubbed into my skin, the gentle pressure of skilled hands kneadi
(F4A) It was just… there. A big, plain brown box sitting on my doorstep when I got home from my part-time job. No return address, just my name and address printed clearly. Weird, but hey, maybe Mom ordered something? Still, curiosity gnawed at me. I’