The Predator

Dressed in a tight, little, black dress, my long, blonde hair cascades freely down my shoulders accentuating my sweet face and red lips. But it’s my eyes framed in a black masquerade mask that have demanded your attention and rendered you speechless. Within my eyes you see confidence, demanding dominance and you are drawn to it. In among the crowd at the fetish club this evening, you watch my body move gracefully in its predatory prowl. Somewhere deep inside you fighting to surface is the longing to be my prey. I’ve seen you watching me, staring at me. You haven’t been able to take your eyes off me all night. Are you starting to blush because I caught you? Don’t be coy. Don’t be embarrassed because recognize your lustful infatuation. I get this all the time. Look at you, getting all flustered, now suggesting you buy me a drink. Are you really trying to pick me up? That’s ridiculous. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop thinking. Just stop. I will inform you of what’s going to happen next. Yes, we are going to spend the night together. Yes, this will be a one-night-stand. But no, we will not have sex. I will not be opening my legs for you tonight or any other night. You will be opening up for me. You will open your mind, your wallet, and your soul to me. I will take what I want and you will love it

 

Slave Abuse from Mistress B & Princess Lyne

During this double domme session, Princess Lyne and I provide my petulant slave with a wide variety of abuse; there really is a little something for everyone in this clip. We spit on him, laugh at him, kick him, mock him, slap him, degrade him, make him drink our piss, all the while laughing at the pathetic bitch. It really was great fun to film, and a wonderful way to get over our residual hang-over from partying in Vegas the night before. While I prefer the spray method, Princess Lyne could win spitting competitions with her dangle and drop approach; I was greatly impressed. And it was equally as amusing listening to the slave bitch wine, moan, then quickly resign to his fate and thank us for our abuse. To this day he has fond memories of the afternoon we spent working him over, and for months after this, those sweet memories were literally embedded into his chest in the shape of pointed heels.