Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Not mine! She has, and is!

I believe her!

clingy submissive boys are such a treat. like you could just get up to get a snack and they’ll be in shambles, as if you’re suddenly gonna disappear and never come back. the adorable whine. the big eyes. “where are you going?” in a tiny voice and the precious little shirt grab they do? it’s so delicious. and then they follow you around like a lost puppy, if you don’t order them to stay. it’s so cute.

Contrasts story ©2024 Julanni O art Contrast ©2024 PrincessHinami

Indeed, the contrasts are startling.

But for your head, you are completely encased in skin-tight latex, all black to contrast the light reflecting off its gleaming surface. And by contrast, she wears no latex. In fact, her pale skin is completely on display; she is wearing nothing more than the smile upon her face, a smile that's meant to lull you into relaxing, thinking you might be safe with her. In fact, she smiles because she knows she has you under her control, and you, by contrast, have no control whatsoever.

Your freedom is a thing of the past, your latex-clad arms and hands are held helplessly behind you in sturdy leather cuffs, a chain tethering them up to the special rubber collar, preventing you from wiggling them around to any different position. By contrast, her hands are free, and she is completely free to do with them whatever she wants. And at this very moment, her fingers are playfully testing the elasticity of your snug synthetic second skin as she teases your breast with her touch and tenderly pinches the nipple beneath the shiny surface, smiling a bit more as you react with a moan, proving a certain level of effectiveness in her practically effortless actions.

Your mouth is filled with the last pair of panties you were allowed to wear, humiliating you with their presence and their flavor, while strips of adhesive tape seal your lips, preventing you from ejecting the offending undergarment and helping to rob you of your words, crippling your ability to communicate. There is no begging for mercy now. But by contrast, her lips are free, her mouth casually telling you how pleased she is to have you under her complete control, how pretty you are when you are so helpless and vulnerable, and she smiles more broadly as she whispers to you as one lover to another about the diabolical torments she has planned for you, and how, this time, you will find escape impossible.

Yes, I see all these contrasts, and I also know you have been unaware of my presence behind you. I have been enjoying how focused you are upon your blonde mistress as you are so highly concerned with your very near future. You notice the casually cruel woman glance over your shoulder, grin slightly wider, then look you in the eye again. That's when you get the idea the two of you might not be alone, and you turn your head, looking back to find me standing there, smiling and nodding at the bare skinned blonde. Not having formally met her, I don't know who she is, but I approve of how she handles you in this moment.

I smile at you, pointing out one last contrast. This is your castle, your property, the realm you own. And now, by contrast, it owns you, as you shall now be the imprisoned property of your own dungeon, your frustrated moans of sensual need now belonging to this blonde woman, as much as your screams of agony will be owned, entrapped behind the gag. I nod to her in approval, then turn to you again and smile that I will see you after her month of keeping you in her cruel care. Then it's my turn.

How many people will have their month of owning the now-powerless princess who so cruelly treated them in the past? How many months will bleed into the next, when you will be passed along to the next person seeking their retribution? As you think of all the people you have wronged, you worry this could take years. Perhaps, when you wore the crown, you should have planted seeds of kindness and empathy, and you would now be reaping a more pleasant harvest.

Isn't karma a bitch?