Ezada Sinn

I want to own this chattel, his mind, body, orgasms, everything. I tell My chattel that I will milk him and brand him with a burn next to his heart the moment he ejaculates. he is so afraid of the burning cigarette that he completely loses his erection. Even so, I continue the rubbing until he is very close to ejaculation. his balls remained full, but I still burned him with My cigarette, and in the end, this is the only thing that matters; he is there to please Me even if he is an impotent loser.

I am on a city break with My chattel and I have just returned to the hotel room after a long day. Eleven thousand steps, wrapped in glossy Wolford nylons and encased in My stunning leather boots. And inside? I’m very wet. Wolfords never lie; they tell on you with every drop of sweat. And that’s exactly why My chattel is kneeling here before Me now.

his task? Simple. No hands. Just teeth. he will unlace My boots, one by one, exposing My soaked, scent-rich nylons, darkened by sweat, marked by the leather. Very sweaty, very smelly, perfect for him.

Once My tired feet are freed from those boots, the real worship begins. I’ll be relaxing on the sofa while he takes whatever position necessary to get his face to My feet. Sniffing is just the start. I want him to taste the sweat. To feel it inside him.

With his mouth open, I shove My foot between his lips, pantyhose and all — gagging him on My scent. I want more. I want his tongue on Me, licking every drop of sweat from My soles. I want him sucking on My toes, cleaning them completely.

My chattel doi has been locked in chastity for eleven long weeks. Every day under My control, teased by My images and the tasks for My amusement, and still aching to be allowed even the idea of release. And now he is finally back at the House of Sinn to serve Me.

As it is a special occasion, I dressed in something that I knew would really arouse and excite him. The tight leggings, the spiky leather corset, and My spiky leather boots, all to make him very aroused in his chastity cage. I want him very aroused. Not just horny, desperate. So desperate he’ll beg for anything.

I step on his caged little dicklet, grinding the sharp heel into the metal until he gasps, it’s only the beginning. his eyes never leave My ass, and for that, I reward him: face buried between My cheeks, aching, grateful. But the reward always comes with a price, the pain of My spiky boots on his caged dicklet.

The noises he makes aren’t appreciative enough. So now he’ll kiss My spiked boots, again and again, until I believe he truly adores them.

But I’m far from done with him. I know how much he would love to feel My body pressed against his in a tight hug. And that is just what he will get, from My spiked corset. I press against him, the spikes from My corset pushing into his chest, My spiky boots grinding into his thighs, turning his arousal into raw, focused pain.

I can see from his dripping chastity how horny he is, and I may allow him a release when I am satisfied with the teasing. But what he deserves now is more pain from My heavy whip. his exposed chest is the perfect target for My whip kisses, and I love to hear his moans of pain.

he’s still feeling the first arse fucking; My strap-on deep in his ass while his cock stayed locked, untouched.

But I’m not done using him. I feel his hands on Me, stroking My ass, full of need. he’s been a good, devoted hubby. So I give him what he thinks he wants. I unlock the cage.

And replace it with a vicious spiked ring.

Now every throb brings pain. And still, I demand more. I want him on his knees behind Me, face buried in My ass, tongue worshipping every inch of Me. he knows what that means, pleasure for Me, suffering for him.

he tries to stay soft. he fails.

And I moan when he moans. his pain feeds My lust.

When I finally release him from the Kalis Teeth, the marks are perfect. But he doesn’t get relief, he gets My cock.

Bent over the chair, I make him watch in the mirror as I fuck him again, deeper this time. his ass stretches open, My strap-on pushing to the hilt.

Mistress Bella has the House of Sinn’s chattel exactly where We like him: bound, exposed, utterly helpless. his legs are raised, arms secured to the throne, displayed like the obedient toy he is. his laughter echoes through the halls, shrill and pathetic, as Me and Giada descend the stairs.

What do We find? Bella is toying with him, tickling him into breathless hysteria. The scene is delightful chaos. Mistress Ayn appears from another room, curious about the noise, Her curiosity met with laughter and squirming limbs.

But his noise interrupted My pleasure with Giada. So I silence him in the most fitting way: I lower Myself onto his face. Just like that, the room quiets. Now his laughter is muffled beneath My arse, and We can enjoy torment him. Every tremor of his body beneath Me is delicious, the way he vibrates from the relentless tickling only makes My seat all the more pleasing.

This isn’t about his enjoyment. It’s about Ours. And We will tickle, tease, and torment him until his laughter turns into begging, until breath itself becomes a challenge. That’s the beauty of a truly sensitive chattel: every reaction is a gift for Us, not for him.

The chattel locked in the black box is disturbing Us, his whining echoes from within, begging for a drop of mercy. Giada opens the door, inspecting the scene as Domina Snow, Domina Rei, and Goddess Scarlett Lush arrive beside Her, equally unimpressed. his complaints after mere hours? Pathetic.

I explain that he hasn't eaten in 48 hours, he shows no signs of true weakness, but We decide to be generous. If he’s so parched, then We’ll quench him, but only on Our terms.

We let him drink, not from a cup, but from Us, drop by drop, the taste of spit his only relief. he thanks Us, desperate and trembling, as We continue the slow, deliberate humiliation. We know he’s starving too. So We feed him. Not only with food, but also degradation, chewed food and spit, trampled under Our boots.

he swallows it all, exactly how We demand.

But I’ve prepared a special treat: a thick, warm dessert, sealed in rubber, freshly taken from another chattel. We make him lie in position, pour it slowly over the chattels locked dicklet and into his mouth, and watch as he gratefully receives it.

Naked and blindfolded, Giada is completely vulnerable, exactly as I want her, helpless and utterly at My mercy. I can feel how wet she is, how much it arouses her to be nothing but Mine, to surrender completely to My will. But her pleasure is irrelevant. Only My pleasure matters.

I drag My silk scarf over her trembling body, teasing her, heightening her anticipation. She squirms, needy, desperate for more. But I am in no hurry. With slow, deliberate movements, I tie her hands behind her back, securing her in her rightful place: bound, submissive, waiting. The scarf that once caressed her now becomes My tool of punishment, lashing against her skin as a reminder of who she belongs to.

But tonight, she will receive an even greater lesson in submission. Tonight, it is not just Me she will serve. hubby joins us.

I know how much Giada detests the thought of sucking a cock, how the mere idea repulses her. But that does not matter. She is Mine, and she will do whatever I command. And tonight, I want to see her not just taking hubby’s cock: I want to see her worshipping it.

She will stroke it, lick it, take it deep into her mouth: all for My pleasure. To make sure she does not resist, I tie her to his balls, making her keep her lips wrapped around his cock as I continue to whip her.

But mere obedience is not enough. I want to see her eager, devoted, desperate to please. And she does not disappoint. Look at her, taking it so well, as if she were made for this. Perhaps she loves sucking cock after all.

But I am not done. I want more. I want to see her mouth filled with hubby’s cum, to watch her take the degradation without hesitation. A mouthful of cum: not for her pleasure, not for his, but as the ultimate proof of My complete and total ownership.

he crawls behind Me on all fours, obedient, collared, and full of desperate arousal. I know how much he loves to look at Me in nylons and leather, and I know the sight of My perfect, round arse hugged by the sheer pantyhose makes his chastity very tight. he dreams of burying his face between My cheeks, of inhaling My scent, of being permitted even the slightest touch.

But such an honour is never freely given. If he wants to worship, he must do something truly extraordinary, and I have just the thing.

While he is distracted by the sight of My arse I take up the perfect tool: a huge dildo, far bigger than anything he’s taken before. I want to see him stretch for Me. I want to see him suffer for Me. Only then, maybe, he will earn a taste of what he so desperately craves.

I am generous and lube the gigantic cock before settling comfortably to watch as he begins to lower himself onto it. Slowly. Shakily. I ordered him to face so that I could see the struggle in his eyes. But I know this chattel is a huge slut and soon he is impaled.

As I walk around to inspect, I am pleased, but I want it deeper. Placing My arse on his shoulder I use My weight to push him down harder, bouncing him slowly but relentlessly on the monstrous cock. The deeper it goes, the closer his reward. I pull his leash, guiding his face between My cheeks, letting him taste the scent of My arousal, feel the heat of My skin.

he has made progress today, but he’s not done. I leave him straining, stretched, and desperate while I go to pleasure Myself, wet from the sight of My chattel trying so hard to earn My perfection.

I return home from the office, still handling an important call, when My devoted husband greets Me, naked and eager, lips pressed to My feet. But mere adoration is not enough: his purpose is to serve, to ease My transition from business to pleasure without disturbing My conversation.

With practiced precision, he undresses Me, careful not to interrupt as I command attention on the phone. Every movement is seamless, every touch reverent. When I am finally free from My work attire, I settle onto the most comfortable throne, his face. When the work is completed his eager tongue will be put to its proper use, worshipping Me exactly as I deserve.

I recently redecorated My office, adding a delightful new ornament, one that breathes a little too loudly for My liking. The glossy black latex of the Inflatable Radical Hood by Libidex transforms My chattel into a perfect, motionless statue. Or at least, that was the expectation. Yet, as I settle into My work, his heavy, needy breathing disturbs My focus. How inconsiderate.

Since he so desperately craves My attention, I decide to indulge him. My meeting can wait: his punishment cannot. All he had to do was remain still and silent, but his arousal betrays him. The moment I encased him in latex, his breathing was calm, but now? Now I can hear the pathetic quickening of his breath, his useless cock straining against its cage. Disgusting. The mere sound of My heels on the floor, the rhythmic tapping of My nails against the keyboard, and the scent of My presence are enough to drive him mad with lust. How weak.

his feeble attempts to pleasure himself in his rubber mittens are laughable. he knows it’s impossible. It has been months since his last release, and yet, even ignored, he is on the edge of ecstasy. How amusing. Perhaps I will grant him some relief, but on My terms, of course. his cock will be freed from its prison, but his torment will only intensify. Bound, helpless, and utterly at My mercy, he will feel every teasing touch, every stroke from an object of My choosing: something mundane, something humiliating. I will empty his pathetic balls, ruined orgasm after ruined orgasm, until he is utterly spent and broken.

And then, silence. Finally, the peace I require. If not? Well, I have ways to ensure absolute silence. That breathing hole is easily covered.

Tonight I am in the mood to make love to My sissy bitch. I'm excited about the touch of his soft pink skin, wet pink lips, and tight pink ass. I'm going to show him My love, shoved deep up his man pussy. Yes, I'm going to fuck him so hard! I just love seeing him kneel in front of Me with his mouth open and tongue out, ready to moisten up My big black strap-on cock. I want My slave to look up at Me while I fuck his mouth, to see the passion and love for Me in his eyes. I get so aroused using him in this way that it doesn't take long before I want to invade and destroy his tight pink man-pussy. This is how I like to make love with My sissy bitch: deep inside him, My cock riding in and out. Oh, I want to cum like this, fucking him for My pleasure, fucking him really deep. he will feel loved down to his core.

Trapped like a lowly beast, hogtied and hanged like a pig, this slave is ready for Me to use. Luckily for him, today everything will start with Me giving him a kiss. A Domina kiss, of course; his lips will never touch Mine, they are meant to touch only the lower part of My body: to worship My perfectly arched feet and My voluptuous round ass. And even for that pleasure he will have to pay by taking pain, these two come together. Double pleasure for Me: to be worshiped and to make him suffer.

You know how much I adore leather, especially when it is soft, supple, and gleaming with perfection. Like these exquisite leather gloves, sliding sensually onto My arms, embracing My skin like a second layer. The sensation is arousing, an extension of My power, a reminder of what true devotion looks like.

But leather must be cherished, worshipped, and cared for, and that is why I have My chattels. their purpose is not only to maintain My precious attire but to serve in ways that arouse Me. their submission, their touch: every act must be performed with reverence.

Before Me kneels a desperate chattel, aching for the privilege of service. I have a pair of divine, knee-high leather boots waiting to be placed upon My feet. As he carries out this ritual, I feel the rush of dominance, the sensual pleasure of being worshipped. Once dressed in My perfect leather, I sit upon My throne, and his task continues. he will polish My boots, My gloves, My dress, his hands gliding over My curves, his servitude deepening with every stroke of the cloth.

Today, I will take complete control over hubby’s body, and I will not be allowing him to see Me. These bandages are perfect to take away his sight, wrapping his head slowly, layer by layer, until his world fades to darkness. he can hear Me, he can feel Me, but he cannot see what I will do to him. That uncertainty, that loss of control, only makes him more desperate.

Guided by the leash, he finds his place at My boots, pressing reverent kisses to the leather. But simple submission is not enough. I crave more, more bondage, more restriction, more helplessness. With him lying on his back, I fold his arms and legs, securing them tightly with more bandages until he is completely immobile. his cock and balls will not be spared either, I bind them, wrapping them tightly so he feels My control with every pulse of his pathetic arousal. The final touch: his hands and feet encased, leaving him truly powerless.

Now, My toy is ready to play with. his exposed hole invites My attention, and I indulge Myself by sliding a thick toy inside. he cannot see as I strip down to My lingerie, but he can feel My arousal as I lower Myself onto his face, pressing My weight down, taking what I want while the toy pushes deeper inside him. he writhes, overwhelmed by the teasing of My hand and the vibrations inside him, but his pleasure does not matter, only Mine does.

Soon, the intensity becomes too much, and his erection begins to falter. There is only one solution for a weak, overstimulated chattel like him: strict chastity and no release for a month. his suffering will continue, and I will revel in every moment of it.

Today is My birthday, I turn 39 years old. I wanted a big party, so last Saturday, for the weekly live-stream on My fan page, I invited all My devotees to celebrate it live with Me and My two live-in chattels: hubby and sit. Despite the pandemic and subsequent distancing, it was an amazing party that I want to share with those who were unable to attend (or who want to relive the event). Get yourself a cake and/or a drink, we are going to celebrate together. Get horny watching Me using My boys and cum for Me at My countdown after singing "La Multi Ani! ".

After the live-stream party for My birthday, I continue the play in a more intimate setting, with My boys naked while I remain dressed in full leather. I was in such a good mood, that I decide everybody deserves to cum tonight, but each in a different way, as they deserve. This is one of the most sexual moments between Me and My live-in boys ever released and includes sit's first cum in mouth.

Me and Mistress Alexandra Balance left Our pantyhose bitch exactly where he belongs: trapped, helpless, encased in a nylon body bag while We enjoyed a decadent night at a fetish party. We danced, We played, We indulged Ourselves, all while he lay there, desperate, aching, knowing this world of pleasure is forever beyond his reach.
Now, as We return and settle into Our comfortable chairs, he remains at Our feet, squirming under Our boots, desperate for a taste of the nylons he worships so obsessively. But he is not worthy: not yet. For now, he will lick nothing but leather, the smooth soles of Our boots pressing into his face.
I watch the hunger in his eyes as I begin to unzip My boots, his anticipation palpable. he knows what’s coming: the reward and the torment. After an entire night of dancing, teasing, and playing, My nylons are soaked in sweat, the scent of My pleasure infused into every fibre. Exactly what a pathetic pantyhose bitch craves.
As Our feet smother his face, making him inhale deeply, the noises he makes betray his overwhelming arousal. But his useless, locked dicklet is of no concern to Us. he will suffer in his chastity, aching, frustrated, and denied.
And then, the final humiliation. Some of the Ladies at the party, generous as they are, gifted Us their old, torn, well-used nylons, covered in who-knows-what. And these? These are all his.
he moans in gratitude as We toss the crumpled nylons onto his face, making him breathe in the scent of Women far above him. he will spend the night with his only company: the discarded, sweaty nylons of powerful Women who don’t even acknowledge his existence.
Tell Me, would you be so desperate to worship Me that you’d accept whatever I decide you’re worth?

This pathetic sissy maid has failed Me. A maid’s duty is to ensure everything is perfect, yet this useless creature stands before Me in a room that is far from acceptable. And worse—instead of fixing his mistake, he dares to look at Me when I ordered him to focus on the mess. Such disobedience will not go unpunished.

A humiliating, over-the-knee spanking is exactly what he needs. But before I begin, I change into My beautiful leather gloves, savoring the power they hold. As I inspect his locked chastity, I see how aroused he is by his own disgrace. Pathetic. His pleasure is of no concern to Me—it is time to teach him discipline.

With his panties pulled down, his bare, exposed ass is Mine to punish. Sharp slaps in perfect rhythm, My leather-covered hand leaving beautiful red marks on his skin. But I am far from done. I command him to stand before the mirror, to watch himself as I punish his failure. A whip replaces My hand, its lashes making his sensitive skin even more raw, his humiliation complete.

And this is not the end. From now on, every single day, he will be spanked—a painful, inescapable reminder of his place beneath Me.

This chattel came here for one purpose: to serve Me and Mistress Bella. his dream is to be used without question, moulded by Our desires, and shaped by Our will. After 11 years, I know exactly what makes him tick. he craves traditional domination, but today, he deserves something else. he will not be granted the luxury of his preferences; instead, he will be exactly where he belongs, beneath Us, reduced to nothing more than a tool for Our amusement.

Blindfolded and helpless, he is denied even the privilege of sight. he is not here to look, only to endure. As We stand above him, the weight of Our presence alone is enough to remind him of his place. Our shoes press down on his body, heels digging into his skin, a sharp and undeniable declaration of control. Every shift of Our stance, every calculated step, reinforces his purpose: he exists for Us, for Our pleasure, for Our whims.

Mistress Bella watches with interest as I demonstrate just how well-trained he is in suffering. his body, vulnerable and exposed, is Ours to test, Ours to use. I know he is proud of his stupid, ugly dicklet, but for Me this is just another way to make him suffer. I must admit, he is actually quite good at taking kicks to his silly balls. he longed to serve Us, and this is how he will: by enduring, by submitting, by proving his devotion through the language of pain. Every kick, every slap to the balls is a testament to Our power over him; every cry is a symphony to Our ears. There is no hesitation, no protest. Only acceptance. Only submission. Only the fulfilment of his true purpose.

I am dressed in a very sexy short blue leather dress, shiny pantyhose and black high heeled boots and I am tickling My tied up and locked in chastity slave. Seeing him suffer without causing any actual pain is just marvelous!

Leather and fur: such an arousing combination. The touch, the scent, the power it radiates. Today, you will be immersed in the ultimate Venus in Fur fantasy: a beautiful, dominant Woman who knows precisely what She wants and how to make you serve. I see the way you hunger for Me, powerless against My allure. you cannot resist.

This House of Sinn chattel is already bound, reduced to nothing but an object for My pleasure, denied even the privilege of looking at Me until I allow it. The gag strapped tightly in place ensures that his mouth serves only My desires. Objects don’t speak; they obey. And today, I intend to use him well.

I recline seductively on My couch, draped in the richness of fur, the gleam of leather hugging My curves, indulging in the sensual pleasure of My cigarette. he kneels, awaiting My will, his mouth kept open, ready to receive whatever I choose to give him. Imagine yourself in his place: helpless, captivated, your will dissolving under My gaze.

I know exactly what you’re thinking as you watch Me smoke, how inevitable it is that your mouth will become My ashtray, your purpose reduced to nothing more than receiving My discarded ash and, eventually, the final reward: My extinguished cigarette butt resting on your tongue.

So tell Me, can you be the perfect object I demand?