These are old archived diary entries from MY earliest years of a Life of FemDom.
Dear Diary,
I’ve decided I’m not going to call my worshipping throng of male devotees a “stable” like the other dominas. Stable? That brings visions of sturdy, noble looking horses, proud Arabians galloping around tails high and the tickle-my-nose scent of fresh hay, grain and molasses. Hardly suitable for the dung-brained, penis-slapping perverts that serve me. I’m thinking on the lines of “sty”, den of dummies, harems of fools or something of the like.
Dear Diary,
I got 5 envelopes in my PO BOX and all had money in them! I hate when they send those long, gushing, boring I-Love-You-So-Much-Princess-But-I-Didn’t-Send-A-Prezzie letters
Dear Diary,
Today I had an especially eventful live session. I invited Chloe over to watch. It’s always much more fun having her over to laugh at the pathetic acts my pigdroppings perform. I sent said pig to get take-out at my favorite Chinese restaurant. He got to eat the occasional morsel of chewed-up sesame chicken spat on the floor before him. He was also allowed to lick my plate clean and of course rub that funny looking red pepper Chloe found in her Kung-pao in his widdle pissy-hole. He wept a bit and that became boresome after awhile, so we decided to play a little game between Chloe and Who could think of the most ingenuitive or wacky thing to stick in said pig’s pookyhole. Oh, there were a few uncooked asparagus, a toilet brush handle, we even meditated over a slowly burning incense stick, Chloe cleverly poked in his out-of-shape rear end. Nonetheless, I won the contest as usual with a PeachesNCream Barbie, placed feet first in his male 3rd Eye. Poor Barbie, hands over her head, didn’t seem to be enjoying her stay at Hotel HamHole. Chloe and I laughed so hard we nearly wee-wee’d in our panties. (Should have, I would have gotten at least a $100 a pair for each of them.)
Dear Diary,
We brought a big full-length poster of Tom Cruise over and put one of those suction cup dildos on his crotch and made Slave Gump suck off a celebrity. Afterwards, he was allowed to tongue-wash my been-in-the-hamper-for-too-long panties, followed by hand scrubbing them in the sink–the height of his life’s sexual experiences, I’m sure.
Dear Diary,
Hmm…Chloe and I had another session this Tuesday. First, Miss Piggy had to go to Victoria’s Secrets to pick out his pink negligee…(my favorite color) We put him in some brassy red lipstick and he danced around like a fairy to ABBA’s Dancing Queen. I stuck a rolled up dollar bill in his sissyhole–so I guess he saved a dollar on his session. Chloe and I took turns spitting in the mouth and face of this girlie little piglet. I was particularly envious of a big loogy Chloe spat right across his silly mug–it sort of dripped off his right cheek for awhile and pooled under his ear. Im chewing a bunch of gum next time so I am prepared. We took snapshots, drew a sad face on his balls, he ate Chloe’s tinkled-on toilet paper. (I was raggin’, and I didn’t think that would be kosher on a first date.) For a grand finale he whacked his slim peewee into his face. He was a bit younger than most of the piggy’s I have had recently. He shot quite the load of sillysauce into his mouth. As he did this, I made him announce what a stud he was while we howled in laughter. Afterwards, he laid on the rug…basking in that post-orgasmic shame piggies often get.
Dear Diary,
I had a no-show today. Stupid sow. He sent his $100 deposit, he called earlier in the day…but still no show. Piggies are sooo dense. I even bought him a pink shower-cap to wear when we photographed him peeing on himself–legs up over his head in the shower, perhaps clutching a rubber ducky.
Dear Diary,
I had a phone session with one of my little piggies. For fun, we super-glued pennies to his nuts.
Dear Diary,
I had one of those wonderful shopping-spree- sessions..if only all my oinkers had this fetish…I gave him a pair of my sacred dirty panties to help motivate him for those “larger purchases.” By the end of the day..after we had gone through 2 creditcards and he started to look a bit distressed, I would stick the panties over his nose in the checkout line and and instruct “breathe…breathe, deeply.” I’d tell the cashier not to worry, he was having an assmunch-attack and needed his inhaler. At one point, he questioned me about a purchase..he commented that there were a pair of silver earrings that resembled closely the one’s I had chosen, hanging nearby in the clearance rack. The nerve! I fullhand smacked him across the chops and proclaimed, “I don’t buy things with orange stickers and who asked you anyway?” A few customers looked around, he stammered an apology and I got a lovely pair of new earrings. In the food-court he was allowed to sit on the floor near my feet and eat the tomatoes I threw out of my sandwich…yuck tomatoes. I emerged from the ladies rest room with his glass of lemonade and he got an instant erection. How tragic for him. In this state, it was quite easy to induce him into a stupor and incite him to follow me to the ATM machine. I, gently swaying my hips, then standing pertly next to the money-machine, slipped my foot out of my shoe, looked back, smiled and demanded..”I want your money.” He had 3 cards he could access at ATM’s…each had a $400 a day maximum. Any way..back in the parking garage, he was allowed to hurriedly whack off in his lemonade glass, while I recited the items listed on my receipts. If he stroked too leisurely, I would smack his little wiggler with my hairbrush and instruct, “Get it in gear..you know this part is SOOO boring.” I pulled his cherished panties over his head and demanded he drink his sillysauce. :::yawn:::::Oh what a day. I’m just pooped.
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“All Hail the QUEENS!” |
Dear Diary,
In honor of my and all other Women’s sacred menstrual cycle I made a phonepig dig in his wife’s bathroom trash and nurse her tampon. Ain’t that grodiest? I laughed so hard, I forgot about my cramps. I think it’s wrong to find this amusing….should I be concerned? HAHA.
Dear Diary,
I went out tonight, drank, boogied and wrinkled my nose up at all the loser males. I ran into phoneslut SlaveSelfSuck, a local pussyboy who has the inclination to suck his own cock. The first time he ran into me unexpectedly at a club, he wrote a long, driveling entry in my guestbook raving about my exquisite beauty and natural domineering aura. Twice in a month and he runs into the “Goddess of His Dreams”…needless to say, he was beside himself. He had his girlfriend with him. I just had this terrible urge to procure his beerbottle, tinkle in it and make him continue visiting with his date and sip his beer. But, I controlled my urges and decided to let him enjoy his drink unfettered. One thing led to another and his girlfriend ended up storming out when she noticed him ogling me with dreamy eyed piggy obsession. Really..men are such major pigs..I hate upsetting a woman…(she should just go home and stomp on his dick or something)..but the entire time I thought how fun it would be to pull out one of his pictures of him slurping his almighty schlong and thoughtfully study it and flicker it their way. Not where she could see it…just where he would piss his pants. I know..without a doubt that I could have told him to open his mouth for my ashings anytime..right in front of his girlfriend and he would have obeyed. THAT my little pigs, is the thrill of my job, that which makes me damp, my high, my religion, my truth, my “OHYEAHBABY”. My POWER…my absolute power over man. It has nothing to do with your weenie, your cum, your desire, your freakyass fetish, it’s all about ME and MY Power. So I guess it’s safe to say. That I, am my only turn on. Oh, my writings are making me sentimental and introspective just hate when that happens.
Dear Diary,
“Do you hate all men, Sierra? Will you ever love a man?” Oh I have known love for a man..it’s the same love you had for your first automobile. It was dependable, got you where you wanted, you and your friends used it a lot and had lots of fun times with it, but best of all–it was all yours. There comes a time in every Princess’ life where she looks at her “man” and says, “He’s a lemon..he’s always leaking fluids, a complete piece of shit, he doesn’t have AC but he has an ashtray, a beverage holder and a lot of miles left on him. If he doesn’t run good for me I just kick him a couple times and he works just fine–But best of all– I OWN him, I drive him around, I got the pinkslip in MY hand. He’s not worth anything but HELL, he runs. I have a car-lot of used clunkers. They know I can turn them all in whenever I get sick of riding them around–get newer models with better options, sleeker exterior and more change in the cushions. But they are MY putters and though I drive him too hard, use them too much and throw tacobellwrappers all over them–it’s all worth it ..just having me sit on their seat, watch me reapply my lipstick in the rearview mirror, slam my pretty foot on their pedals, push them into a few wrong gears, holler “GO!” and drive them the wrong way in a ONE-way street. If that’s not love…I guess they don’t what it is.
Dear Diary,
Today Chloe and I had a session with a new piggy–G.Q. Bunny. It’s about time we got a semi-attractive one. I welcomed him at the door with my bag of icky kitty-litter and told him to dump it. When he returned from the dumpster, I smeared some fuchsia lipstick on his prettyboy mouth and instructed him to run down to the UDF and get us some ice-cream. “BOING” little sissycamacho spontaneously sprung a stiffy. Afterwards we dressed the little bo-hunk sissyworm in white, frilly panties and bra (the greedy bitch bought a 40-D) and little fuzzywuzzy bunny ears and tail. He wiggled and danced for us and did the bunnyboy chacha. He was a delightful worm, behaved wonderfully- the same kind of slavie I would consider having for my own..(if he made bookoo bucks). A virgin to both ashings and piss–he is now learned in the ways of wimpdom. I even allowed him to lick an entire ashtray clean with his tongue until it turned black. .oh his face turned several pasty shades of grey..but he meekly mewed a “Thankyou Goddess” and earned the privilege of wearing a pair of my worn panties over his head while he molested his own muffin-hole with this wacky looking buttprobe-thing he brought. We strapped a strap-on to a chair and let the widdle wascly wabbit wide the lovewagon for a while. And could this sub beg! He was the BEST whiner..pathetic…yet passionate…grovelling yet afflicted with true wanton worship. He said what he was told to say, did what I demanded, he drank my piss from a dogbowl with a straw…didn’t complain or stop sipping until instructed, he didn’t ask questions, he Obeyed. Hell! he even crawled down the stairs hands first and when I spoke to him when he had a mouthful of my dirty toilet paper he mumbled and garbled “yes Princess.” and didn’t remove the tissue without permission. In short, he was a perfect, behaved pigdropping. There were no arguments, no demands, no limits, no expectations on his part. He existed to please Me and make Me giggle. The proof of his worth was most apparent AFTER he had cum. Still, he was the humbled and trembling pig he was before orgasm. There were no unsightly testosterone surges. He conducted himself as respectfully and submissively as he did before spurting–a true mark of a useful subpig. I’ve decided Im going to go on a public outing with this one, next visit. Nothing is more fun than hauling some handsome little mutt around in public..smacking him in front of people, snapping my fingers when I want something, making him call me “Princess Perfect” in front of the bartender and kiss my ass good-bye when I run to the ladies’ room. I could stomp over to some girls’ table and ask them if I could exchange my clean ashtray for their dirty one, then bring the ashings to my honeybunny, dump them over his dinner, fork him up a bite and say, “Eat the nice girls’ ciggies, dear.” Heehee. As soon as all you pig-poops understand that Domination is for ME…you are inconsequential..we will get along much better. Let this cotton-tailed-bunny-boy teach you all a lesson. For a few hours.he was a worthwhile human-being because he made me giggle, worshipped me like the GODDESS I am, and kowtowed to my whims regardless. A man can measure his worth by the happiness he brings his GODDESS. Slaves like Desiree and G.Q. Bunny are worthwhile shits. Strive to be worthwhile shits and you might not have to spend so many lonely nights with your nose in a LEATHERBOOBYBITCHES magazine. nightnight
Dear Diary,
I went to Lady Cheyenne’s party last night. I had gobs of fun. Usually, I hate BDSM parties because of all the skanky male doms running around. Why do all male doms have big asses and wear velcro tennis?–I’d like to know. I also become ill-tempered seeing herds of weekend-wankersubs all eyeing the Dommes in that piggy pickup-sort of way. True subs do not look at Women in that way. They look at a Woman in a humbled, adoring fashion..like they are admiring art, been touched by god’s finger or beholding Royalty for the first time. Bad slaves look at Dommes in that “singles-bar”, what-can-I-get-from-her, check-out-em-legs disgusting manner. I can not TOLERATE this. But at this party, I didn’t notice any male doms and the piggy part-time-subs kept their annoyances to a minimum. I, of course, was a fetching Beauty Pageant Bitch in my tiara and highheel shoes that put me up to around 6’4. I visited with several of the dommes. Cheyenne looked stunning and was as cool as ever. I met Mistress Aelectra, a FABULOUSLY funny Mistress from Dayton. Chloe Dearest accompanied me and beat the hell out of some pig with her belt, then toodled down stairs to spank some sissy with a wirehanger. I could hear her hollering “NO More WireHangers!” all the way from the upstairs. I decided not to waste my energies paddling the unworthy. I did spoon-feed Ashtray-Joe tuna-flavored catfood and graciously allowed two severely obedient footslaves to admire my lovely feet, ashed in several dozen dumbshit’s mouths, checked out all of Cheyenne’s neatO equipment and just sat there and looked far too cute for my own good.
Dear Diary,
Ugh…I actually had some creepazoid call for information, asking if I would make audio tapes. When I asked what sort? He said, “ones of you saying you would give me a footjob and rub your feet all over my penis.” AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Are you guys COMPLETE idiots?? I about lost my lunch. Isn’t it obvious by my enlightened writings that I am THE last WOMAN to EVER lovingly touch your monstrosity!!! I would rather breastfeed baby piranhas!! Sooner, eat glass than let my lovely tootsies touch your putrid blob…YUCK..it just gives me the heebiejeebies just thinking about his pervy voice. I even get pissed thinking about him looking at the lovely images of my divine peds on the screen and thinking about sullying them so. Fetch me a basin! Then to top if off, I have THE worse session with THE biggest dumbass. He saw me off some print add–guys off print ads are always the biggest hillbillies. He had an intense nylon fetish. He wasn’t a good sub…all he cared about was having his little fetish catered to. He will never do another session with me! I think from now on..Im going to get mugshots of annoying peons who I get stuck doing sessions with who misbehave or bother me…and line them up on some page warning all Mistresses of their vile ways. Oh if only some piggy, longing for a heavy crotch-kneeing would have happened in for a live session today–that would have cheered me up.
Dear Diary,
I took a hiatus from worms for a few days. I did have a little meeting with sissybitch Desiree. I put a sign around his neck that read BLOWJOB QUEEN, put him in full drag, dropped him outside a gaybar in a cruisey parking-lot, handed him a polaroid camera and told him he wasn’t getting a ride home until he sucked cock and got proof (a Kodak Memory). I was ragging and misery loves company, so I told him he could play it safe and wear a SUPERPLUS tampon. If the boys bugged him for anal sex, he could just show him his dangling string and tell them, “sorry, Im on my period.” Desiree has also been ordered to fork over his paychecks and I will pay him an “allowance” to take care of his bare essentials and bills. Then the rest will go to MOI. We plan to open a joint account. so I will have a stronger hold on his finances. About my period. I think Im going to start posting when I start my period and force all my little cyberwankers to wear tampons the entire time…I kind of like the idea of thousands of little morons across the nation simultaneously wearing tampons at the exact same time, in honor of my MAGICAL MENSTRUATION. Too many men have a fear of female menstruation–I make sure my peons face this fear, holding my period in laud. Tampon-tea is one of my many menstrual-rituals for the bleeding-heart adorer. Period-panties prove to be one of the most precious relics to my favorites addicts.
Dear Diary,
Well, I’m now pimping poor little Desiree out. I see all these HOTSHEMALEHOOKER phonesex lines–so I decided to start Desiree out doing phonesex. I made him/her get a second line, post her phone# on the web, stockpile her toys and BRING MacDaddyPrincess some ho-dough. Haha..I think I’m going to get a little feather to wear in my tiara and a white leisure jacket. SO boys, if you want HOTSteamyPhoneTALK with a HOTLittleT.V.Hooker –you know who to call. HAHA!
Dear Diary,
UGH..what’s with these DORKS?? First, I’ve been getting hate E-mails out of the ass, from all these sad little NONsub dunces. It’s either…”Fuck you, Bitch..what?? can’t you get laid?? My BIG 10 inch Dick would make you less Bitchy..” yawn…. or “What man has hurt you? I could show you the wonders of sex…” oh yawn again…Truely men are the most insecure creatures. THEN I get this lame-O calling me who wants to do a LIVE session TONIGHT. Like I work on short notice. He continues to tell me how much he wants to drink my piss, how much he longs for a Golden Shower, but he WONT do ashtray servitude (that’s a turn-off for him) and he desires to lick my armpits.. WHAT THE FUCK??? You think this is drive-thru Dominatrix?? ” Yes, I’d like a side order of armpit, a large SIERRA’sPISSMEGA-GULP ..hmmm..SuperSize that please.. And 1 HUMILIATIONSpermBurger but hold the ASHES???. THAT ISN’T HOW IT WORKS…I don’t cater to your DESIRES…I don’t give a shit about your TURN-offs..actually…I enjoy turning you OFF. I don’t offer ANY services..you guys are merely paying to hang out with me and talk to me..you accept my abuse if you want to be blessed with my presence. Needless to say, I hung up on the cretin.
Dear Diary,
Now that Desiree is phone-whore galore…I’ve decided I’m going to use her as a punishment for my phone slaves. “If you don’t do what you are told, you’re going to have to have phonesex with the T.V.SUPERSlut, little man.” I went over my site and writings again, today..and personally…I amaze ME.
LETTERS NOT TO SEND THE PRINCESS. Even more than I loathe he “some-time sub”, I despise the repulsive bully-a-Chick-to-dom-you sub” Here is a stupid letter I got from an unworthy and truly loathsome man. I do not tolerate this sort of attitude with my subs, nor do I respond to such ignorant drivel. It’s culls men like this that reaffirm my PHILOSOPHY on male inferiority.
You are undoubtedly beautiful, and talk a good game. However, no woman will ever do what you claim to do, to a man, unless she can physically dominate him. Judging by your pictures, you may have such qualities you are big enough to at least intimidate some men, your face is very pretty, your hands seem to be perfect enough, and you have the right attitude. But can you dominate me? Can you squeeze my bicep into submission while I attempt to do the same to yours? Probably so, but that’s the challenge! No one will accept you as you now present yourself, unless you can first demonstrate physical superiority! Laugh all you want–I’ll never eat your garbage until you “make” me do it. Then, I’ll gladly do it and give you all the worship you can handle! Don’t expect me to surrender to you without a fight, but WHEN I lose that fight, I’m yours for life! FIGHT ME FOR REAL AND YOU’VE GOT ME FOREVER!! I DARE YOU!!!!!! ARE YOU WOMAN ENOUGH TO ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE? Let’s squeeze each others’ biceps until one of us gives! You’re bigger than me, what do you have to lose? I gain nothing if I win, YOU have me, and whatever honor I have, if I lose!
LET ME KNOW YOUR DECISION, MY HONOR, AND THE HONOR OF YOUR GENDER, IS AT STAKE!!!! I’M CONFIDENT YOU WILL NOT LET ME DOWN!!
Dear Diary,
Chloe and I went out of town for the Labor Day Weekend. I left an answering machine message which said: I’m off on vacation, but I am going to give you the chance, the OPPORTUNITY to serve me while Im gallivanting across the countryside. Leave a message with your name, address, CreditCard, and expiration date followed by this plea, “Please Princess charge $50 on my creditcard for giving me absolutely NOTHING.” I was absent for 2 1/2 days and made $350 but I had 61 calls on my answering machine. You hogs are such a disappointment. Those of you who appeared on my caller I.D. without leaving this message, prepare to suffer the consequences of my wrath. You will all be masturbating, using tabasco sauce as your lube AND none will be allowed to cum. FURTHERMORE, sissy-john where in the HELL is my chocolate CANDY?? I am making a new page of banished, revolting pigs that have fallen from my graces and you’re going to end up on it if I’m not chowing down on some fine milk chocolate by TOMORROW! After viewing the SACRILEGE CHEAPNESS of my slavies, I was in a vile mood. I had a live session penciled in for late Tuesday night, think of suffering that poor pig had to endure because of your folly.
Dear Diary,
Tiffy Tampon, one of my monthy-tribute paying piggies, should be receiving a little box from ME in the mail shortly. Won’t he be surprised when a brand new slut-maid outfit, lacy stockings, new nightie and a pair of pink, high-heeled fuzzy bedroom slippers all arrive at his front door? Moreso, won’t he be happy to know that I charged it ALL to his very own creditcard PLUS several little things for ME? For MYSELF, piggy bought, (unbeknownst to himself) a matching panty and bra set, a pair of red high-heeled bedroom slippers and a little nightie. I thought it would be cute to buy us both HER&it’s matching nighties. Ms. Tampon is arranging to get one creditcard with a vast credit-line which will be used for NOTHING but payments to ME, presents for ME and the occasional slut-garb I graciously allow him charge for himself. Sissy Tommy, one of not-so-important-because-he-hasn’t-joined-my-fan-club-slaves, will be receiving a pink bunny cocktail costume shortly, in case you’re reading this. Ms. Tampon will be enjoying a pair of Princess’s own $70 smelly, used panties as well–a privilege only members of my fan-club enjoy. I have also instructed several of my most promising sissies to purchase QuickCams. Of course, this will provide me with all kinds of funny material for my site. I also thought, I would make all my sissies meet in one of the ISeeU-USeeMe sort of rooms and we could have a piggy-peep-show. You know, all my piggies all competing to send me the most interesting video coverage of all. Then, maybe I will allow them to have cyber-sex with each other, all positioning their little fairy-holes at their cam-lens, pulling up their skirts and molesting their favorite dildo. Best of all, they get to see my lovely, laughing face in their monitors, inspiring them as they degrade themselves.
Dear Diary,
I got this new phone piggy, that we are training for a future live session. He’s a fat pig and he enjoys being forced to go to All-You-Can-Eat Buffets and chow down buckets of food, while everyone ogles him. HA! The things that turn you dumb-asses on. But HEY! Sounds like fun to ME. So we are sort of fattening this little sow up for butcher, we are hoping to get him over the 400lb mark by the middle of 1999. Man, this little sow can eat! He sits there for 3 FUCKIN’ hours piggin’ out! I’m going to make him bring his own lobster-bib next time he’s goes to Lin’sLin’s Buffet and wear it the entire time–even when he’s serving himself at the buffet-table. HA! We are putting him on a strict diet–TUESDAYS he goes to Kentucky Fried Chicken and orders a bucket of ExtraCrispy and several FamilySized Sides and gobbles it ALL in the dining area. WEDNESDAY he’s goes to one of those morbid country-buffets, THURSDAY’S a pizza Buffet and so on. He’s been instructed to eat a cube of butter a day! HAHA! He will also be sending me photos of his vile, swollen belly and wide lard ass. Maybe, I will post his progress somewhere on my site. This particular piggy’s fetish has made me think about several possible business ventures I might consider. Perhaps the PRINCESS Work-Out Video where I force several of my most corpulent piggies to exercise while eating chicken I made them baste with their own piss. I’d be in my little aerobic out fit, swatting their hammy asses with a crop, chanting “1 and 2, and bounce those bellies 3 and 4, and girls, you can do it.”
Dear Diary,
I decided I am starting a tiara collection. My favorite tiara lost a rhinestone. When I checked online and found this fabulous TIARA page–I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. I want ALL of them. So..I expect you pigs to order ME them.
Dear Diary,
Jeff the Mutt is suppose to be getting his chastity device finished sometime this week. He will be sending me the ONLY key. I send it to him if and when I decide I will allow him spewage. I’ve been so busy with phone training this week, I have hardly anytime for REAL ones:(. Someone stole my BIKE! Which one of you bozos are going to send me a BIG gift-certificate from SportsMart so I can get another?? My diaries have been lacking lately. I’ve been putting all my spare time in developing a ENORMOUS wishlist. At least, we know where My priorities are.
Dear Diary,
Now this is a good letter.
To: GirlyDom@aol.com
Princess Perfect: I want to be able to recite my prayers successfully over the phone. I think you can help me. The next time I am kneeling and reciting to you, if I stumble or make a mistake, you will tell me to begin again. If I stumble three times, hang up. That call will cost me $50.00. I will continue calling (usually the next week) until I say my prayers completely without errors. A completed prayer without errors will cost me $100.00. After that anytime you want $100.00 all you have to say–sometime during the conversation –it’s PRAYER TIME. I will fall to my knees and recite my prayer. When I am finished or whenever I stumble, hang up on me and collect your money. Think about it. Anytime you’re talking to me and become bored, shout PRAYER TIME into my ear and after about 5 minutes or whenever I stumble, you are $100 richer.
I have written the following lines 1000 times: “Please don’t dismissme, Mistress. I am so fucking stupid.” This took me 7.5 hours. Please give me permission to Express mail this punishment to you. You may laugh at my humble attempt. Afterall, my sole purpose is to provide you with money and entertainment. Taffy, Even though I use a female name, I am still a dumb male.
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I had a most delightful session with slave phlegm-the-cigarette-freak. My friend Pamela dropped in to watch this one in action. She isn’t even in the business and she came up with a doozie of a degradation. Her and Chloe are smoke-a-holics. I’m one of those social smokers or smokes-when-there-is-a-fun-pig-ashtray-around smokers. Chloe had this filthy ashtray filled up with gobs of butts and a thick layer of ashing. Pamela decided to have phlegm pick all the butts out with his mouth and set them aside for later dining. Then she poured a bit of her piss into the ashings, got a toothbrush and mixed this nasty looking paste out of it. She proceeded in brushing his teeth with this tooth-piss-paste. With rubber gloves (the sort you wear to scour pots or pull crud out of sink in the kitchen) she put a really skinny cigarette into the hole of his vile man-thing and lit it. Chloe and Pamela started to feed the butts to man-scum one by one. I’m talking 25-30 butts. We flipped over this now green-in-the-face wanker, and took turns paddling his ass. Now paddling, takes on an entire new meaning when there are 3 laughing Women, secretly competing to produce the loudest yelp. We would comment on each other’s swings. “Good one, Sierra! Look at him squirm.” “Give the little shit , another!” slave-phegm started making a racket, crying out, “Please stop! I never got a safe-word! Oh ouch! Somebody help!” Come on…a paddling?? He’s going to cry that much over a stupid paddling? A dirty sock with just a teaspoon of Palmolive soap and a few swatches of duct tape made a wonderful gag on this now handcuffed and paddled pansy. I pulled up a stool sat right in front of him, adjusted his gagged and weeping face so it faced right at ME, lit a cigarette, kissed him on the forehead and puckered my lips and slowly blew little smoke-clouds in his face. I smiled at him tauntingly while the girls squealed in laughter and paddled his swollen naked ass and I whispered to him, “really…I feel your pain.” HA!
Dear Diary,
Im thinking about setting up a TWISTER in the sissy Rosebud Room. Then I can make 2 naked sissyboys play twister with each other. I’ve been hanging out on these damned bulletin boards, reading the crapola these deluded subs write. They actually have the nerve to rate SUPERIOR Dommes, complain about their “service.” HAHAHA! Oh that’s a joke. I even invented the Perfect Domme for these “consumer” subs. Needless, to say. I crack myself up. Some of the lines are directly related to different postings on these boards. For instance, Dommes were complaining about disgusting slaves grody penises leaking on them. One slave thought it was appropriate that a Domme talk to him for free, at least 40 minutes on the phone before he decided to session with her. These men were also pointing out who were “top-shelf-Dommes” and who were not. The entire thing is quite hysterical. My subs would NEVER even consider rating a WOMAN.
Dear Diary,
I’ve been working on MY Halloween Costume. WONDER WOMAN. Thanks for the RED BOOTS, rob the fingernail boy. I’m going to look like such a doll! I had sissy desiree, make the gold eagle on my shirt. It took him 3 hours of hard, diligent work.I’ll take pictures. I’ve been dreaming up some new Money-Making Schemes. I was thinking about Princess Cam! I can make you morons pay to watch ME answer MY email, create NEW pages and do phone sessions.
Dear Diary,
Chloe and I had a dreamy session today. Oh my gawd! It was one of My favorites in awhile. ashtray joe, renown for his ability to consume multitudes of cigarette butts, (both lit and unlit) proved to be a most amusing mutt to abuse. The session was pretty low-key, She and I laughed our asses off and video taped the entire 3 hour session. You don’t really have to get on joe’s case, because he does ANYTHING he’s told..and he does it like such a eager, panting little pooch. First, we had him bring us bags of taco bell and Pepsi. joe is a regular fart sniff and nothing gets a GIRL gassy as well as bean burritos, hot sauce and pintos and cheese. WE sat in our thrones and ate our Taco Bell taking turns spitting our chewed-up mouthfuls of food into his dog bowl and aiming the occasional munched on morsel into joe’s garbage-dumbster-mouth. Then WE enjoyed several cigarettes, adding the ashings to the Goddess Gruel in his bowl and his ever open, begging mouth. Chloe was kind enough to donate a some of HER Precious Piss which he sipped out of a Glass with Golden Letters reading VIP…Very Important Pee. This was the first time ashtray joe had ever enjoyed straight Goddess piss. The queasy look on his face brightened MY day. After spoon feeding lame ass joe his first course of half eaten Taco Bell garnished with piss and ashings, he was allowed to sup on his second course– a can of Kmart Brand canned kitty food. The smelly, seafood aroma brought him to near tears, but he stoically choked down the cat food after being promised some Bitch Spit. By this time, the Taco Bell had taken effect. Chloe and I took turns loudly ripping farts into a.j’s grateful face. We laughed and joked that he was going to make us rich..because We had never seen a video with two lovely Dommes gracing a moron’s face with so many reeking and loudly erupting toots. He thanked us in turns for our aromatic tokens, while WE giggled, high-fived each other and vied for the most resonant flatulation. a.j. complained that he needed to piss badly . We put him in an adult diaper and forced him to stand there and piss in his Depends. Afterwards, we pulled off his soggy Pamper and formed it into a turban for him to wear on his head. We dragged him in to his dog cage after thoroughly washing his vile mouth out with a bar of soap. Here’s a few shots of the dog’s adventures. This dog looked like he needed his rabies shots afterwards. In his cage, he was allowed to gnaw on his own smelly sock, while WE decorated the Rosebud If this video turns out after editing. It might be available for sale.
Dear Diary,
Man..talk about some weird little piggies…Chloe and I had a session with a pig who wanted to be cooked and cannibalized..well, not for real. Just because this scene was so weird and had comic potential, We took up this little pervert’s offer to have a PORK-LOIN barbecue. Sporting a pig nose, shower cap, and halloween mask Our little porker was hog-tied, slathered in sauces, and garnished in greens, peppers olives and tomatoes. (I can’t give out all the ingredients–it’s My Mama’s Special Recipe.) We looked so cute in Our little chef’s aprons. After thoroughly basting our main course, WE ordered our sissymaid, desiree, to tie the sow’s balls tightly. It looked like a lone potato surrounded by tender pork roast. We conversed amongst ourselves, nibbled on the olives and crackers and sort of mock-carved our little turkey up. He seemed to grow more excited when WE started fighting over the most tender cuts. “I want the flank!” “Im NOT eating that scary looking potato.” “Let’s just chop it off and boil it like a giblet and feed it to the cats.” you don’t know how tempting it was NOT to pop that little bundle off with a paring knife. It ruined Our entire layout. We had fun, especially smacking supper’s gonads with a spatula and squishing them with kitchen tongs. But lunch had NO pain tolerance and won’t be invited over for Our next smorgasbord until he toughens up.
Dear Diary,
For those of you who have phoned Me recently and keep getting MY answering machine–do not distress. This warm summer weather has put Me in a slack-off mood–I go through these spells where I feel less generous with MY time, leave My phones unmanned, My email unanswered, My letters unread. Like My many other mood spells, you’re just going to have to deal with it and wait it out. I did have an interesting humilitation session. Chloe and I decided we wanted to do some running around. I had already given My sissy instructions to go to one of those shirt-work Tshirt stores and get a little baby-T-shirt custom made. It was white with Pink cursive letters reading “SISSY”. We had also instructed him to bring a pair of pink spandex shorts a few pink hair berrettes and some flamingo pink lipstick with him. We sat in the air conditioned car, outside of a gas-station and rocked out to Our CD’s waiting for the prim little priss to exit the public restroom we had instructed him to dress in. We knew he was going to look like a total freak, so we told him not to come up to our car or act like he even remotely knew who we were. I was applying mascara in the rearview mirror when Chloe cackled, “oh MY gawd!!! Here it comes.” The beet-red sissy boy emerged from the outside restroom dressed in his cropped SISSY-T, white shortie socks, pink spandex shorts his running shoes and big stiffening knot in his shorts. We rolled down our windows and honked and whistled, “woohoo, baby! Come give mama some of that!” It is truly hysterical. Several of My sissiest prissy bitches have been cursed with these gigantic penises. The fact that these effeminate little ass-wigglers tote around 8-9 inches of sissy-schlong is almost ironic. It’s like dear Mother Goddesses was up in heavens playing pin-the tail on the donkey blindfolded and accidentally pinned the biggest tail on the fruitiest sissybitch. Hopefully there is some macho-pig-tractor-pull, NASCAR-shirt-wearing-idiot running around with the 3 inch nubby that was meant for the sissy. Sissy didn’t even look at US, eyes downcast, he shuffled into the gas-station like he had been instructed. he bought a Chippendale airfreshener, a WRANGLER BUTTS drive me NUTS! bumpersticker and 2 packages of licorice rope. Chloe and I laughed our asses off when we spied the 3 gas-station attendants pointing and laughing from the window. Sissy looked like he was about to cry as a carload of young teenaged girls drove up in their tacky neon Tracker. (Gawd, I hate those things.) 3 girls got out of the car and one little redheaded one in a halter top, actually turned around, stopped dead in her tracks and silently mouthed the words. “OH MY God!” hahaha!! oh I can just picture those belly-button girls in the gas-station. “Oh My god! Like Cheri, did you see that major freak in the spandex? That was like so To-tally disgusting. he was LIKE such a MAJOR faggot! Like gag Me with My real lame plastic purple tracker.” Our traumatized twit stoically placed his Wrangler Butt bumpersticker on his back bumper as ordered, draped his hunky air freshener from his rearview mirror, sexily placed his licorice rope in his mouth, started his car engine and looked over to Our car with the saddest sissy eyes I have ever seen. HAHA I really love looking in the eyes of a miserable man. This is your last free diary entry. Sucks to be you. If you want to find out the rest of this sissy saga..you’re going to have to pay.