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Some of my favorite calls are my spanking phone sex calls.   I had an especially good spanking call with my slut Phyllis last night.   Phyllis was long overdue for a good ass warming and I watched her on cam so I could make sure she used the paddle as hard as I would have done myself.  It took 80 swats before her ass was red enough to satisfy me.  She was whimpering by then and begging for mercy but when I made her turn around, it was obvious from the bulge in front of her panties, that the pain didn’t interfere with her getting very excited.  So I made the little slut spank herself hard with the paddle while she played with herself with the other hand until she came.

Not sitty too comfortably today, are you, Phyllis?

If you’re an unruly male in need of some disciplinary attention, call me and I’ll show you why I’m the top rated Domme in Niteflirt’s spanking phone sex category.

Like my call with John, who thought he’d give me a call from his office to say a quick hello before going home for the night but then found himself bent over his desk being violated with a minature novelty baseball bat.

Or my Sissy Crissy, who was so excited about being feminized and dressed up like a girly slut but was then manuevered into some unexpectedly intense humiliation.

And Thomas, who celebrated his birthday with me by — among other things — doing push ups that repeatedly dipped his clothespin-covered cock and balls into a bowl of ice water and then riding a large dildo attached to a sawhorse.

There are a few others who also pushed themselves to the limit to please and entertain me but they’re going to have to tell me if they want themselves to be “outted” on here.

And if you want to hear about my kinky adventures outside of phone sex domination, ask me about the r/t session I did recently teasing, tormenting and punishing a brand new submissive pain slut — a female submissive pain slut.  But you’ll have to call me if you want to know more about that.

But if you do call to hear those details and then find yourself in some expected predicament, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. 

 He heard her coming down the stairs but didn’t dare turn his head to look. She stepped up behind him, her stocking clad legs brushing against his arms as she rested her hands on his shoulders. Leaning over, she slid her hands down his chest and began gently raking his nipples with her long red nails. Her long hair caressed his neck as she spoke softly in his ear, “So are you ready to serve me? Or should I just release you and you can leave?”

“Oh no, Mistress”, came the almost frantic reply. “I want to stay. Please?”

 ”Good”, she told him as she stepped around to stand in front of him. She was dressed in only a black corset, stockings,  and 4 inch stiletto heels and it was all he could do to keep from drooling. Moving closer she grasped the back of his head and pressed his face against her. His forehead pressed against between her legs, his face against her thighs, the delicious scent of her filled his nostrils and prompted a soft muffled moan. “Oh. You like it there?” He answered with a nod, rubbing the soft skin of her thighs  with his face.

“Would you like to kiss me there?” Another nod, and “Oh yes! Please, Mistress”.

“Perhaps,” she told him. “But you’ll have to earn it.  You’ll have to practice.” She let go and turned around. Resting her hands on the table she leaned over and backed up until she felt her cheeks touch his face. “And you’re going to start with my ass. . . . “

I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling a little.  “You did read my listing, didn’t you? Because if you did, I think you already KNOW what I’d like to do to you.  Do you have a dildo there with you?”

I make no secret of the fact that I love all kinds of anal play and strap on domination play. I love slow sensual strap on seduction scenes.  And I especially like guiding first timers through their first experience with a dildo.  But I also enjoy those aggressive, intense, pin-you-down-and-make-you-take-it sessions that a lot of you sluts need.  Luckily for me, it seems that my strap on domination fetish is shared by many more men than most people would think.  From the calls I get, it sometimes seems to me that at least half the men in America have a dildo and are more than happy to put it where their phone sex Mistress tells them to.

As my new caller did the other night.

I’ve been promising my domestic discipline and spanking fetish callers that I’d make a spanking MP3 for a long time and it’s available now.  Five minutes of domestic discipline style scolding and hard spanking to fuel your femdom fantasies.

You know you need a good spanking, so go grab the wooden hairbrush, drop your pants, bend over and listen.

$9.99

My slut Brian called me from his office this week desperate for a phone domination session. His wife had been blathering on about Thanksgiving obligations and he was feeling the pressure. And he’d just gotten the 9-inch dildo that we’d shopped for together online the previous week and he couldn’t hide how eager he was to try it out.

I usually lead into my phone domination sessions in a leisurely manner; a good bitch must earn his reward. But Brian sounded so pathetically horny that I found myself wanting to bend him over and pound him rather quickly. And the fact that he made a very nice tribute immediately before our call certainly encouraged my indulgence.

Then he told me that under his suit, he was wearing his wife’s most expensive silk lingerie. I tingled at the thought of that slick 9-inch dildo rubbing against his wife’s delicate panties so I insisted he turn on his cam so I could watch. After he took off his suit, I made him kneel in his bra and panties and properly worship his new dildo with his mouth. He gave it a very thorough blow job too, but I knew where he really wanted that dildo to be.

Eventually I told him to lube up the dildo and push it slowly into his ass, but the horny slut swallowed up the entire length faster than I would have thought possible. I made him pump it in and out steadily for about 15 minutes as I watched. I wanted to be sure that his aching slut hole would remember that session for a couple of days.  Then when he finally released, I made him smear his cum on his lingerie and swear to return both items to his wife’s dresser without washing them.

He’s already started begging for another session of holiday stress phone domination. He even included a note with a tribute yesterday saying he’s so obsessed with his dildo training that he’s losing interest in his wife’s requests for sex. What a good strap on bitch you’re becoming, aren’t you, Brian?

The first thing I thought when I read this story was that they didn’t mention what sex the doll was. 

Seriously guys, have fun but play safe out there.

I tormented him on the phone for over an hour. I made him gag on a dildo, stroke himself off to a ruined orgasm and smear his cum on his face, spank himself with a belt, and heat up his ass by inserting a piece of fresh peeled ginger.  But what he spent most of that hour doing was fucking his mouth and ass under my direction — with his fingers, with the dildo, with a toilet plunger handle, and even a male blow up doll.  At one point, I had him humiliatingly reaming his ass with the plunger handle while he gagged on the blow up doll’s cock for me. And he obediently kept his mouth stuffed with cock as he followed my orders to beg me to use him hard and continue to ream his ass.

And I did.

Here for your entertainment are a couple snap shots from the day.

I was up before dawn, perhaps around the time that you were signing off from your prior night’s endeavors. My intent was to get any shopping out of the way early. I stopped into a grocery store to pick up a couple of items, including, rather peculiarly, pink nail polish. Moving up the aisle with cosmetics, I had the now familiar raised pulse and slight light-headedness that goes with shopping for such items. Guilty pleasures as you call them.  Although the store was sparsely occupied there was a Spanish speaking couple in the aisle. I bided my time waiting for them to move on, catching a couple furtive glances at the rows of polish and other cosmetics. After settling on an effervescent fuschia over one of the paler shades, I moved to a self check out line. You may appreciate that when I went to ring my items up, the computerized check out line lady-voice advised that I needed assistance with the three avocados I had grabbed. The lane light started flashing yellow. Really. So much for being incognito. I looked around and quickly scanned and bagged a couple more items including the polish. No one ever posted to assist.

I left without the avocados.

The next stop was back home. I was headed to the office but had promised you that I would do my nails early.  I painted them once, had breakfast, and then re-did them.  This was only the second time I have ever done my toenails.

I was dressed casually for the office, and was getting set to leave, but it hit me that it would probably be acceptable to you and in keeping with the theme to do more. Before leaving, I changed, putting on my pink thong and pink bra. More ridiculously I put my forms in my bag.

I work in a small office, and with the summer expected limited attendance. Behind the locked main door and my locked office door, I took off my shoes, then later my shirt, and eventually my shorts too, putting the forms in the bra. I was able to get a fair amount done during the day, although as I suggested to you, I paid more attention to my feet than ever in my life.  I have worn lingerie under regular clothes before. I cannot remember ever having stripped down outside of home like that before.

I returned home, dined, had a nice long bath and a long cocktail to relax.  With the pending call, I grew rather nervous.  A good anticipation, but nervous nonetheless.  I believe before the bath, I painted my fingernails, too.  I re-did the toenails.  The act of bringing up foot and trying to paint the nail and not the toe or the surrounding room is quite the challenge.  Odd to think how hard I concentrated on getting it right – or at least as best that I could.

I seem to recall that we started leisurely on the call, which was really fine.  A couple topics, and not the weather among them, so a bit of substance to the call. At some point you asked if you would be having the pleasure of dressing me.

The make-up undertaking followed.  Sort of like trying to swat a fly with a hammer.  I am less than elegant.  Although I do try my best.

New for me was the pink eye shadow.  I usually will tart up in a blue or something equally outrageous.  I liked the pink, though, and it was a bit of a theme for the night. And it was a bit more provocative than I thought  it would be.

One of your good lines, paraphrased –

Mistress Edenn, “So how do you look?”

Moi, “Well, let’s just say that guys won’t be walking past you to get to me.”

Mistress Edenn, “Some guys would.”

Funny.  Never thought of it that way.

After that came the clothes.  I am still amazed how certain actions yield certain results.  Rolling up a pair of stockings.  Attaching garters.  Like stepping down a path toward an erotic pool. I had not worn garters in a while, and it was a treat.

You quipped that every girl has a little short black skirt.  The irony was not missed. 

And the shoes.  I could wax poetic about heels.

Then came, for lack of a better term, a bit of branding. Or maybe advertising. Writing the word (referring to my instruction to write “SLUT” across his chest in lipstick) and seeing it in the mirror on my chest was a strangely powerful experience, Mistress.  But I guess you knew that.  After that, I was pretty much yours, if I was not already.  A bit of a warm feeling from attaching the garters to the stockings, but I recall a rush of emotion when I marked myself as a slut.  I recall that that was the first time during that call that I broke down and sobbed a bit. By the way, my pink bra is permanently marked with the deeper shade of red lipstick.

And then the spanking. I thought that you had forgotten about the wooden spoon. Really I did.  And that would have been perfectly ok with me.

I have spanked myself in play before. You had me do it on another call once. But never like that. Here is how I remember it.

The instruction was 15 strokes. Sounded like a chore, but you had me in the mood with the labeling.  I counted off the first several. I was concentrating and making sure that I did not miss.  Although in thong, there are still parts of the anatomy that do not enjoy being introduced to swinging lumber. At 6 or 7 or so, I miscounted, I think. I really did lose track.  I asked you for the count.

“Seven”

Swat, swat. Two strokes. I counted ,”Eight.” You counted, “Eight.”

Smack, smack smack  “How many, please? Eight or nine,” I asked.

“Nine.”

At this point I had pretty much surrendered the counting.  My bottom was already stinging.

Swat, swat, swat, swat, swat.

“How many, please?”

“Eleven.”

“When I get to fifteen, I can stop right?”

Very evenly you said, “Maybe.”

I believe that I may have been crying a bit.  Another ten or so strokes.

“How many, please.”

“Fourteen.”

A long pause. Another half dozen or so.

“Will you tell me when I get to fifteen?”

Silence. Some swats.

“I must be on the Mistress Edenn ignore line.”

Laughter.  “I am not ignoring you, I am enjoying hearing your bottom being reddened.”

A couple strokes.

“Fifteen.”

Deep breath.

“How is your bottom?”

“Red, Mistress. Hot and red.”

“Can you make it hotter and more red for me, barbi?”

Pause. Deep breath. Sort of a sobbing sigh.  I was pretty far gone.

“Yes Mistress.”

“You want to do that for me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

And we started again. Until you stopped me.

During the first set, at some point, after a particularly sharp smack, I cried, “Stop it.” I remember your reply, which was, “I can’t stop it, sweetheart.”  An interesting statement, that.

True – in a real sense, in that circumstance, you, can’t, only I can as I am holding the weapon. But also true, I think that you can’t because it is what you do.  Talking folks to new places. And maybe you like it just a bit and were indeed enjoying it.

And “sweetheart.”  You understand and communicate that when on the call, we are in this together.  Obviously, you are in charge, but there is a give and take.  In some sense, only we could stop it, and you knew when to do that.  I trusted you to stop it at a proper point.

A day or so later after the call,  had a scratchy bottom. I wondered whether I had a rash or something Not until I checked in the mirror did I see bruises moving their way out. Only then did I realize how hard I had been hit.  Bruises were another first.And I could go on.

There was a bit of comic relief when I explained to you about the vibrator with the bad switch that wanted to keep running.

“Usually, the problem is that they shut down at the wrong time,” you said.  Funny line.

And bouncing. I remember bouncing. For some reason whether the heels, the angle of the vibrator, my general wantonness, whatever it was I really needed it and it felt good. Bouncing like that was a first.

The little details.  Lying back.

“Should I take my skirt off?’

“Do sluts take their skirts off? Tell, me what do sluts do?”

And there followed a description of what sluts do.  What I wanted to do.  And I had to look no further than to see my skirt hiked up around my waist, hungry to be filled and hungry too for your voice.