Miss Alexis DiPaulo

[F/f] [lezdom] [pet play] [worship] [bondage] [whipping]

Continued from: Pedal to Submission

The sheer audacity of this night—me, on all fours in the heart of my own boudoir, the diffusers still weaving their sultry spell through the air, that soft jazz crooning like a conspirator in the background. Alexis clips a sleek black leash to the rose gold O-ring on my collar with a definitive click that sends a shiver down my spine, giving it a playful yet insistent tug. 

“Come on, pet—lead me to your bed, show me where we're gonna fuck.” 

Her voice drips with that bratty command I’ve come to find so enchantingly irresistible, her strappy stilettos planted wide as she looms over me, her mini dress riding scandalously high on those toned olive thighs, teasing glimpses of what lies beneath. I crawl forward obediently, my knees sinking into the plush Persian rug that usually cushions my subs’ pleas, the off-shoulder sweater dress bunching awkwardly around my hips and riding up to expose the lace-trimmed luxurious black panties. Every deliberate movement grinds the jeweled plug deeper inside me, a relentless, teasing pressure that sparks little fires in my core, while the leash pulls taut, guiding me like I’m her most prized, pampered possession. God, the humiliation of it all burns so sweetly—crawling in attire that’s meant to scream dominance, my high pony swaying with each shift, boots scraping softly against the floor as I navigate the short but eternally drawn-out path to the bed. Enchanted doesn’t even cover it; this little firecracker has me spellbound, surrendering in waves that shock and thrill me in equal measure.

I reach the foot of the bed at last—that sprawling king-sized sanctuary draped in silk sheets the color of midnight and piled with luxurious fur throws that have witnessed countless scenes of my orchestration. I pause there, head bowed low in submission, the collar’s weight a constant reminder of my temporary fall from grace, waiting for her next whim. Alexis doesn’t hesitate, her energy all youthful impatience and commanding poise; she wastes no time in tugging me up to my knees with the leash for better access.  Her fingers hook into the neckline of my sweater dress, sliding it slowly over my head in one fluid, deliberate motion, my arms lifting obediently to assist. The cool air of the room kisses my newly exposed skin, nipples hardening instantly under her appraising gaze, leaving me in nothing but the collar, my bra and panty set, and those over-the-knee stiletto boots that now feel like ironic symbols of my surrendered power. She smirks, her nail tracing a lazy circle around the rose gold lock at my throat. “Look at you—collared, ass plugged, all dressed down just for me. Doesn’t it feel delicious to let go?”

She lounges back onto the bed then, propping herself up on a mound of pillows, her legs spreading in lazy invitation, the leash still loosely draped in her hand. “Go down on me now, pet. Make me cum hard—if you do it well, I’ll remove that plug that’s been teasing your ass all evening.”

Her tone is demanding, but threaded with that playful sparkle that enchants me so thoroughly, making the surrender feel less like defeat and more like a thrilling game. 

I comply with a degrading, "yes, Miss DiPaulo," crawling up between her thighs on the silk sheets, the leash trailing behind me like a tether to my role. Gently, I peel aside those flimsy string panties, inhaling her intoxicating scent—youthful and sweet, a heady mix that draws me in. My tongue dives into the task with practiced, devoted precision, lapping and circling her most sensitive spots while my fingers join the rhythm, thrusting gently but insistently, building her pleasure in escalating waves. Her moans fill the room, hands fisting into my high pony for leverage, her body arching off the bed as the orgasm builds and finally crashes over her—shuddering waves that leave her gasping, spent, and glowing. “Fuck, yes—such a good pet,” she breathes, reaching around with a satisfied grin to ease the plug out with a slow, deliberate pop that leaves me feeling deliciously empty and aching, but profoundly rewarded in my submission.

But Alexis isn’t one to linger in afterglow; her bratty energy surges back almost immediately. She stands, pulling me to my feet by the leash with a tug that’s equal parts gentle and insistent. “Arms up, pet—time to punish you for not making me cum sooner.” I raise them without protest, and she binds my wrists to the ornate ceiling hook overhead—with those soft, unyielding cuffs that cinch shut in a familiar embrace. Stretched tall now, my body on full display, boots planted wide for balance with the help of a spreader-bar she found and figured out how to use. 

I’m utterly vulnerable, the collar pulling slightly with the extension. She selects a flogger from the nearby wall rack—one of my favorites, with soft leather tendrils that can kiss or bite depending on the wielder—and steps back, eyeing me with that mischievous curiosity. In her hands, though, it’s tentative at first—swings light and a bit awkward, the lashes landing in uneven stripes across my back and ass, stinging but not delving into the deep, rhythmic torment I’m so adept at delivering. 

She doesn’t quite have the technique yet, the build-up of intensity that turns pain into art; it’s more a playful exploration than a full scene, lasting only a few minutes before she drops it with a light laugh, tossing it aside. “Not my forte—yet,” she admits, tracing a finger over one of the faint pink marks. “But god, you look so pretty marked up like this, all flushed and mine.”

Undeterred, she rummages through my well-stocked toy drawer with the glee of a kid in a candy store, emerging triumphant with a realistic strap-on harness—flesh-toned silicone jutting out lifelike and ready. She buckles it around her hips with focused determination, the straps cinching tight against her skin, while adding some other leather accessories to complete her dommey look.

She thrusts from behind me with youthful vigor, a good, hard fucking that pounds rhythmically—no frills or finesse, just raw, building intensity that edges me relentlessly but denies release, the collar tugging with each commanding pull of my leash. She reaches her peak first, buried deep inside me, her cries echoing as she shudders through it, finally pulling out and leaving me aching, edged, and profoundly under her spell.

The scene eventually shifts languidly to my regal bathroom—the little brat brazenly wants to use my private soaker tub! Alexis lounges in the bubbles, her dark waves piled loosely atop her head, the gold cross half-submerged in the froth, her body relaxed and radiant in the warm water. I’m stationed at attention beside her, head bowed submissively, holding a fluffy white towel draped over my arms like a devoted attendant, the collar still a firm embrace around my throat.

“Champagne, pet—I’m parched,” she says lazily, waving a hand dismissively. I scurry off—still clad only in boots and collar, the leash unclipped but my role unbroken—to fetch a chilled bottle from the mini-fridge in the adjacent lounge, popping the cork with a soft hiss and pouring a flute with hands that tremble just slightly from the night’s exertions. Returning, I present it on a silver tray, kneeling to offer it at her level. 

She takes it with a wink, sipping slowly, savoring the bubbles. “Now, kneel properly and suck my toes while I relax.” I drop fully to my knees on the cool marble floor, the surface unforgiving against my skin, and take her bold red-painted toes into my mouth one by one—sucking gently, tonguing the arches, water dripping from her foot as she moans softly in approval, her free hand reaching down to play with her pussy below the water. The act is humiliating in its simplicity, yet that enchantment persists, her control a drug I can’t resist, the denial from earlier still throbbing as a sweet ache.

After the bath, she steps out gracefully, allowing me to wrap her in the towel before borrowing one of my satin robes—a darling pink number that slips over her curves like liquid silk, the belt tied loosely as if she’s claiming my wardrobe along with everything else. “I want to fuck again before bedtime,” she declares with that strict masquerade, making me crawl back to the bed by a casual tug on the leash. 

We tangle ourselves in a mutual 69, bodies pressing close in a generic but intensely intimate exploration—tongues and fingers dancing in synchronized rhythm, building the pleasure layer by layer until it crests in a powerful mutual orgasm that leaves us both gasping, limbs entwined, utterly spent and glowing in the aftermath.

Finally, as the jazz fades to silence and the room settles into quiet, she fishes the key from her clutch on the nightstand, unlocking my collar with a soft click. The leather falls away, leaving my neck bare and strangely light, the spell lifting just enough for equilibrium. We strip down fully then—naked and equal at last, no barriers between us as I "address" the elephant in the room. Hehe! 

There she is, my enchanting little firecracker, face down and snuggled deep into my chest, her warm breaths hitching softly against my skin. That pert bum of hers glows a fierce, fresh red—the heat still radiating from addressing the roles, setting them firmly back in place. No displeasure on my part, though; quite the opposite. Her sudden, bold switch—topping me so brazenly and suddenly in my own domain—impressed me deeply, a delightful spark of audacity that turned the night into something wonderfully erotic and pleasurable for us both. The surrender had been intoxicating, the reversal electric, every command and caress a shared thrill that left us tangled and breathless.

Now, with the power dynamic restored, I'm the one cooing softly, patting her sore bottom with gentle, rhythmic strokes, furs enveloping us, heels kicked off haphazardly, the whips, handcuffs and ball gag scattered across the bed like a crime scene. 

I tilt her chin up gently, wiping a stray tear away from her cheek with my thumb, a fond smile playing on my lips. "Want a job? Join me at the Facility, turn those bratty streaks of yours into paychecks."

Her giggle turns into a full, delighted laugh, cheeks flushing pinker than her ass. "Fuck, yes!"

And just like that, darlings, allow me to introduce the newest dominatrix in my empire of exquisite torments: Miss Alexis DiPaulo. 

The Facility just got a whole lot more interesting!

STATS:

Name: Alexis Gianna DiPaulo

Age: 24

Rank: "Miss" (apprentice)

Formal Session Honorific: Miss DiPaulo

Chastity Keys Held: 0

Specialization: Brat Princess 

She is actively accepting new clients of her own. Tell her what scene you'd like to see and in what setting. And whatever you do, remember your safeword!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Disclaimer: All text prompts going into A.I. systems to create some of the content of this blog along with requests for A.I. images appearing in this blog, clearly state that everyone involved is an ADULT, above the legal age of consent.