Baby Domme Diaries pt 2

at by Anonymous

PRINCESS SIERRA  The Birth of Femdom.  The early years

Note:  These diaries are from My baby Domme days.  I was in MY early 20’s. I used to party a lot more, smoke cigarettes, eat fast food, drink Pepsi, do live sessions and torture every man in sight! This was before I made MY fortune brainwashing men on the internet. Some things have changed, but still many things never do.  🙂  Many of you have been with ME from the beginning…..

stomp2

Dear Diary,
FootFreakGalore. He was insane for my tootsies. He used that little footbuffer thingie on my soles, clipped my toenails, applied 3 layers of color polished and a clear gloss to my toenails and blew each toe dry. For additional treat, he got to.suck my clippings while I splashed around in the bathtub…of course he sat OUTSIDE the bathroom, while I noisily batted my footsies in the water and shouted things like, “ooooh hope I don’t cut my little pussylips when I shave them.” HAHA. Poor little subbie, handcuffed to the outside of my bathroom door unable to stroke his sausage-pole. I exited the steamy bathroom in my fuzzy robe, spied his erect little “icky” and decided it was time to make a few easy bucks. After selling my pubeclippings and pubeclipping-razor as a separate package, he was allowed to lick my tubring clean for NO ADDITIONAL FEE. Call me charitable. Finally, I shooed the pigslave down the stairs and allowed him to serve as a footstool for a few minutes. I reapplied my make up and balanced my checkbook while he “punched his clown” with my feet resting on his face. I unlocked his clothing out of my trunk and instructed him to drive back to Alabama sucking my sock the entire way. Happy Trails, Toeboy.

Dear Diary,
I’ve been laying off the sessions this week–there’s been too much pork in my diet lately. I did have one little shit head slave–brand new–and annoying. He kept begging to kiss my ass and lick my sacred pookie. PleeEaze, he was the grodiest..nose-hairs, pot-bellied and scads of zits on his furry ass. I mean really..men like him should be happy to “look” at me, to be allowed in the same room with me, to share oxygen with me…but kiss my lovely peaches? I think not. But I decided to let him “think” he was getting the chance to frenchkiss my beauteous bootie-button..I let him put his nose right up to my lovely pantied-ass and….ppttttt…”pardon moi, I think I had TacoBell for lunch.” “Phew…what’s that smell? Could it be that fartcloud in front of you? Teehee . I just blew you a kiss.” Truly. I’m a spectacular Woman.

Dear Diary,
Well, I had one immensely interesting moron this week. First, I made him tinkle in his pants and sent him shopping with a big wet stain on his dockers. Then when he got back, Chloe and I decided to have a tugO’war. This little shit4brains begged for CBT and heavy trampling…can we say STOOOOpid? We forced him to tie a string around each nut and Chloe and I held on to our respective nard-nooses and yanked in rhythm to some disco tunes.. I put on the tune TheseBootsWereMadeForWalkin’, donned my little metal-tipped B.Z. heels, steadied myself on Chloe’s arm and the counter and made swiss cheese out of his bozo-balloons. I bounced, and jogged in place while he moaned in pain and complained that he had changed his mind…TOO LATE. I sang outloud with Nancy, my own twisted rendition of the song. “You keep telling me that you want to be stomped on. But I’m not done stomping on you, yet. If I happen to bust one of your testes, you still have the other…so don’t fret. This boots were made for walkin’ that’s just what I’ll do..my, weren’t you stupid to pay for me to walk all over you?!

Dear Diary,
Boohoo. What a hysterical sissy fluff I had today. I made him do my grocery shopping with a buzzing vibrator-super-schlong in his ass. Chloe and I went and pretended like we didn’t know him, walked by him in front of some girls and said, “sir, your pants are humming.” Then we made him buy these funky little butterfly-comb-clips for his hair, smeared some lipstick on his mouth, put him in some Lady’s Flats and made him go to EasyRiderHarleyStore and buy us ZippoLighters. Heehee..When we got home we put him in higher shoes, tied his ankles together and made him bunny hop around for a good 30 minutes. Afterwards we put him in 40 gallon trashcan and made TV dinners–by cleaning my refrigerator out on his head.

Dear Diary,
It’s been Forever since I wrote in MY diary…I’ve been such a busy BITCH.  St. Chloe and I have been working on our TEMPLE.  We almost have the Rosebud Room completed.  It’s so pink, it gives ME a migraine.  We had a session yesterday though, where we chained the little mutt up, spread eagle, standing up and took turns beating his so-icky with cockwhips, paddles, crops and anything else WE could get our paws on.  Chloe does this little thing where WE make him stand there clenching an ice cube in his ass, if he drops it, we punish him by paddling the hell out of his sissy-pole, if his dick leaks, we paddle the hell out of his sissypole, if he manages to clench his ice cube prior to it melting, we paddle the hell out of his sissypole.  We also have these big candles and we placed them between his legs and watched the hair curl up and sizzle away until the stench of burning hair gave us a tummyache.  We put him in this ridiculous, fuzzy NewYears paper tiara for the extent of the session.  He looked ridiculous.  As a refreshment, I had prepared, PrincessPissPopcicles.  I am such a good little Hostess.  By the way, that fat pig, I’ve been fattening up.has gained 40 lbs in LESS than 2 short months.  Ain’t that something.  Yesterday, before ME and one of My girlfriends went out, we forced him to eat 4 boxes of mac and cheese, an entire cheesecake, 3 cubes of butter and 2 mayonnaise and chocolate syrup sandwiches  Ain’t that something?.

Dear Diary,
Oh I’ve been busy working on several different pages, arguing on some inane forums, adding on to My long wishlist and doing My holiday shopping.  Live sessions usually slowdown a bit before the holidays, I suppose the worms are saving up for Christmas. My friend and I, kidnapped slavie-poo, desiree and threw him in the back of Her trunk for a road trip.  We gagged the worm, pulled his pants around his ankles and tied a noose around his nuts.  The long cord reached all the way to the front seat, so We could yank merrily in rhythm with tunes playing.  We went all the way to Chicago, so it was a long, unpleasant ride for the little sissy.  After several hours of shopping, We headed back home…sissy had a little less room back there with all our shopping bag stuffed in with him.  We stopped at desiree’s place and rifled through his house, to make sure he was carefully doing everything I had instructed.  I thought that maybe, by surprising him and just showing up, I would find out that he was slacking.    Luckily for him, desiree had carefully obeyed all MY orders.  his little shrine to Me with My pictures and personal gifts was all set up.  his toes were brightly painted.  his underwear drawer was full of panties.  We then ordered take-out, arranged  a table cloth over sissy and had dinner by candlelight.

Dear Diary,
I’ve  been getting cigarette-freaks by the bucket load.  I even added my cigarette to entice these little cigarette-butt-sluts.  I enjoy tormenting them.   ash-hole is what I named this one.   This boy, would work himself into a slathering idiot, just watching Me smoke.  I would hold him tightly by the chin and just slowly inhale, letting  the smoke cloud out slowly…and schwiiiiiing!  Instant dip-stick-erection.  The further intoxicated by the fumes and the little red lipstick marks left on the butts, the higher his pain tolerance got.  I would puff thick clouds of smoke into his mouth and cover it with one hand, then burn his weenie with the cigarette, singe the hair off his ass and even put out the cigarette out on his nasty nards.  I also pushed one of those skinny Capris in his dickhole and watched  Mr. Stiffy smoke the stogie.  I would force him to smoke 3-5 cigarettes at one time…some in his mouth, some in his nostrils..it was like one of those Bugs Bunny commercials.  The whole time,  he would watched ME, transfixed on the cigarette bobbing on My lips as I spoke.  I would laugh as I exhaled, making the smoke come out in little jerky puffs..for some ungodly reason, this turned him on fiercely…the moron actually started moaning in ecstasy when I did this.   I beat the hell out of his dick and balls with a crop and dickwhip, left several cigarette burns on his tongue and nuts..and all in all had a pretty NeatO time.  This butt-slut was camera shy.  The pictures on the Eat My Butt page…are of desi..he’ll do anything he’s told.

Dear Diary,
My..my…my.  These worms just get more tragic as the days go by. ron the john was his name…he’s an aspiring toilet.  I dressed him in the normal pig outfit, forced him to fuck himself with an enormous cucumber, then to slice it up and eat it in front of Me…eeewwww…..  For his reward, he got to wear a pair of MY used panties atop his head.  Then he started begging..”please…pee on ME Goddess…give ME your Golden stream….I must have your piss.” etc.etc.etc…. Really..how much fun is it to piss on someone who loves it?  I much prefer when he’s like, “oh Goddess, nooo…I’m scared…I do this because I adore you.”  It was evident to ME, that this lowly pig , didn’t deserve MY piss..but I didn’t let him know this until later.  I tied him on the floor…hands over his head, legs secured.  I’m such a little thespian acted like this pig was going to be blessed with My OWN Golden Shower.  I stood over him, coyly fanned My skirt a bit, cooed how much I would enjoy drenching his sorry face with My hot, sweet piss.  he got an instant erection which I swatted mercilessly with My crop and kicked with My highheel periodically.  ron squirmed, whined, writhed like some disgusting animal in heat.  I stood directly over his face, sort of paused, and grunted…he moaned…”oh Goddess piss on ME..pleeeeaze I want it sooo bad.”  ***he wants??  Oh I care sooo much what he wants.***  I looked down at him…”you want piss sooo bad don’t you?”  I glanced  over at sissy-desiree who was serving as a DietPepsi-coaster the entire session.  I motioned desiree to put down the soft-drink and come to ME.  I ordered desiree to flip up his skirt and show ME his penis trapped in it’s chastity device.  john started to look a little bewildered and nervous.  “desiree,” I chirped, “john wants a golden shower, and I’m plumb pissed out.”  heehee…Oh it was pure fucking HEAVEN watching john squirm and try to break free from his bondage.  “I thinketh, this isn’t ron-the-john’s kinketh.” I quipped.

I have to say, the sheer terror and ill-ease in ron’s eyes made MY panties damp, but the fuckhead, kept interrupting MY reverie by screaming some shit about going too far.

Thank Goddess for duct-tape.  I placed one shoe firmly on the john’s forehead and barked, “move and I will kick your nards to Tahiti.”  john stopped fighting his restraints..and laid there…such perfect, docile submission, that I presented him the greatest reward of all.  Squatted over his face, and let him have ONE long, fulfilling whiff of MY divine pantied crotch.  I stood up, positioned My foot  between his lax legs, balanced one heel softly on his left nut and instructed desiree to piss on his face.  AND piss desiree did.  Heck, that little tramp whizzed on him for what seemed like an eternity.  desiree wiggled his disgusting shriveled weenie off and removed the tape when I commanded it.  I leaned over john’s head and asked, “what do you have to say for yourself?”    This humble commode answered, “I LOVE YOU, PRINCESS.”  After hosing the john off with cold water, desiree mopped up the mess as I allowed this perfect potty to kiss and worship My legs and feet.

GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO OBEY ME THOROUGHLY.

Being, the sweet and generous Bitch that I am, I gave ron the john a mineral bottle of My Golden Goddess Juice to enjoy on the long ride home.  This session had turned out to be a LOT more enjoyable than I had anticipated.  ron the john sent Me an email this morning, thanking Me profusely for humiliating him and allowing him such wonderful privileges.

note:  Hey!! My first diary about deryck!
Dear Diary,
I’ve been too busy to add much on My journals…I got this real wierdO from the UK.  he loves to be financially
exploited–and Goddess knows, I just WUV financially exploiting them…Get this–this dumbfuck pays $1000 for
phone calls in ONE DAY, buys ME a exercise bike, a $700 leather dress, 2 leather coats, 2 pairs of boots, 3 latex
outfits, a VCR. a POCKET-emailer  and the best part is…He’s paying Me $300 to post his name!!!   Deryck S.
Thake of Cambridge, UK.  Wanna Email him and tell him what a piece of shit he is??? Here’s his
Email…[email protected]  Write him and cheer him on, tell him to keep spending.  he just added Me on as a signer on his new creditcard, maybe I will send him a breathmint I sucked on partially to show him MY gratitude.
Here he is!!!  Ain’t he tragic??

Dearest Diary,
It comes to MY attention that this foul little dog-breathed cocksucker- in-the-closet is also tramping himself to other Mistresses..he even begged for her to post HER lootings on Her site as well.  Now I am all keen on the fact of another SUPERIOR Women financially profiting off this vile turd’s perversion, but promising BOTH of us the same thing–and not truthfully reporting his disloyalty??? That I will NOT stand for.  Now that he has been found-out he is even more willing to apply for creditcards, take out loans, and cash in his BONDS.  Get ready to stand in the soup-line, piss-guzzler.  he has given ME written authorization to use all 4 of his creditcard anyway I see fit.   I found a $1400 couch I like….I think I will order that today….hohum….decisions…decisions….deryck,  cash in the damned bond like I instructed…I want MY JEEP!

Dear Diary,
Oh, a Bitch’s work is never done.  I’ve been sooo busy.  I’m trying to put together the I-Don’t-Care package for one of My long distance morons.  I make him take wine-enemas until he is pretty toasted and do dumb things to himself.  (He’s the one I made superglue pennies to his balls.)  What this package consists of is little containers of things that I make him eat, gargle with or apply to his person.  The packages will be marked in code…so only I will know the contents.  I think I’m going to fill one bottle with that tanning bronzer for people with REAL dark skin…heehee…I wonder how he will explain his suddenly very blotchy tan to his fellow employees?  I think I might surprise him with a salt and tobasco spritzer and maybe a MANIC-PANIC-PURPLE-PASSION hair rinse.  The possibilities are endless.

Dear Diary,
Holy Goddess!  I have sissy bitches out the ass!  I had two girlie-men visit Me today. Why waste My time playing dress-up with two little pansy-asses separately when I can do them both at ONE time and get paid the same price??  We had a sissyboy slumber party!!  I made both of the sissies play spin the bottle.  Oh it was so cute.  If the sissy spun the bottle and it landed on ME–they got to kiss whatever I specified..My shoe, My ass, My ankle, My ashtray…etc.etc.etc.  If the sissy landed on the other sissy, it was time for SISSY-KISSY!  These two hot-lipped hussies were mortified and not especially romantically inclined towards each other–that’s what made it sooo fun!  When I spun the bottle I would punish or humiliate the little floozy anyway I felt fit.  I tried out all My new paddles on their fannies, made Susie-Sandwich belly-dance and Polly-Panty-Lines sing LUCKY STAR  wearing 5-inch heels.  They cha’d-cha’d, pirouetted, curtsied and posed.  It was like Sissy Star Search!  When I tired of their performances, I found a dirty pair of My panties and let them share them–noses pressed together like two little sissy-seals, their lips only separated by the sheer fabric of My undies, these sissies were a site to behold.  The greedy little eski-hoes rubbed their little noses together and sniffed and sniffed.  In sort of a “Quasi-Biblical ritual,” I cut My panties into two halves and sent them home with a half a crotch each. HAHA

Dear Diary,

Ain’t GQ-bunny precious??  The funny part about GQ bunny is that he is such a little fratboy looking thing.  The kind of guy girls go gaga over.  Look what Chloe and I have reduced him to!  he’s a natural.  he walks in heels a helluva lot better than I do, and for a completely “straight” boy he sure got a woody in his g-string when We started slapping him across the chops with a dildo named “daddy.”  See that thingie in his ass?  he brought Me a fuck-stick because he knows I loathe strap-ons because that entails viewing his hiney-hole at very close proximity…….ewwww.  This way I can sit at My throne and fuck his ass from 7 feet away and when My arm gets tired, pass it over to Chloe.  We fucked him with our new toy for awhile and made him talk dirty to “daddy.”  “Oh daddy fuck Me harder…yess daddy…oooh daddy…mmm”
Chloe and I always enjoy our sessions with GQ-bunny because he is such a submissive little dummy.  I think this bitch must have broken a record for piss-drinking.  We could have checked his blood-sugar level by making him suck on litmus paper.  Both Chloe and I relieved ourselves FULLY into a pitcher.  After serving him several large glasses of piss in his dogbowl we tied him by his wrists on his knees and took turns spanking his fanny.  Although this little bunny-bitch follows orders –his pain-tolerance is ZERO…after just a few wacks with a paddle he was screaming like a banshee.  To remedy this, We stuck one of those cock-gags in his mouth and continued our paddling. Then We decided We wanted to watch bunny pee in his own pretty face.  he tried and tried but to no avail.  Fine…no self-golden-shower–no sploogy for the stoogy.  Of course, the little wanker was willing to do just about anything to release.  We forced him to drink the rest of the huge pitcher of piss and about 2 gallons water.  Poor little bloated bunny, endured several dozen sharp face-slappings as I berated him and reminded him that I really wanted to see this display.  We dumped cold pitchers of cold water on him and forced him to dunk his prick into icy water.  EUREKA.  We found the “Sissy Fountain of Ewwww.”  sissy stood up, pointed his pathetic pee-wee north, faced down and proceeded to piss, it sprung up like a geyser–a glorious yellow fount that was quite breathtaking to behold.  The part that I liked the best, is that the sissy had to intentionally hold his face in the cascading golden stream.   Chloe and I leaped around, and clapped our hands and squealed in glee.  I once read a review about a ProDomme on a forum where the worthless male cooed about how hospitable the Domme was–how she had a nice hot shower for the sub to shower in–and plenty of warm fuzzy towels and mouth wash.   I too tried to live up to this standard.  We hosed GQ-bunny off with a cold water and handed him one solitary paper towel to dry off with. After gooing, in a glass we emptied the contents of the glass onto his face and told him to get lost.

Dear Diary,
Last night Chloe and I went to Cheyenne’s party.  Unfortunately, due to the weather, there wasn’t much of a showing.  However, I brought desiree and GQ-bunny to the function–both dressed like cute little cheerleaders in matching pink sweaters, pleated skirts and pompons.  We even had a little rehearsed cheer for them to do at the party.  S-I-S-S-Y-  B-O-Y!!   (what’s that spell?? SISSYBOY!!  (louder!)  SISSYBOY.  I stuff MY bra and douche MY ass.  Dress in drag and never pass!  Sissyboy–etc, etc, etc.  I brought pompons and little tennies too, so I could cheer for Myself as I did a public ballkicking session.  Mistress Aelectra joined in with ME.  We strapped little desiree to the X, spread eagle and proceeded in doing a VERY extreme ballbusting scene.  I’m talking big time.  Both of us were doing full kicks!  I was bouncing around to the music and doing cheerleading kicks that landed straight into his crotch.  Aelectra booted him in the nards and laughed HER ass off.   Several little fearful onlooking subs said that that was the most prolific ballkicking they had ever witnessed–even from videos.  During the ball-bash, I stopped long enough to whisper in desi’s ear, “you are being such a good little sissy.  if you get through this without passing out, I will give you the dirtiest pair of panties in My hamper.”  Despite, the excruciating pain that burned in his little abused balls–desiree gave Me a love-sick smile as I continued MY highstepping ball massacre and sunk a couple hard kneeings into his loins.  When We looked around and asked who was going next–all We got was a bunch of hastily shook heads.  Oh well…..  I also visited with the wonderful Mistress Kaitlin at the party and rolled our eyes over the several footslaves vying for HER footie attention.  I met Mistress Rebecca for the first time.  The Woman made Me feel like a dwarf!  For all of you wimpazoids who dig on VERY TALL Dommes–She’s the tallest I know.  She says She’s 6’1 in barefeet…but I would guess at least 6’2 or 6’3…she is very sleek and trim in Her very high-heeled shoes –She looked over 6’10!!!  She was very impressive.  Chloe looked beautiful in My latex military dress and accidentally broke a wooden paddle over some subs hiney….whoops.  We instructed the slave to take the paddle to Mistress Amanda and apologize for the fact that his ass broke the paddle and that He would happily replace it.  Mistress Amanda graciously laughed it off and the sissy got off scot-free.

Dear Diary,
I’m going to get one of those electronic, dog-barking trainers.  I think it would be fun to force one of the wankers to wear one…or maybe blind fold him and sneak it onto his neck.  Start with a CBT session.  Everytime he hollers he gets shocked like a yipping mutt.  I know this would inspire Me to abuse him even worse and it would also train My little pups to keep their yaps shut.  I’ve been immensely grouchy lately.  I think I threw My back out a bit in this new KickBoxing Aerobic class I joined.  I’m so use to slapping, smacking, and kicking men in sessions and personal life–I am amazed when they deem it unacceptable in the social arena.  you guys into women abusing men OUT of session that don’t ask for it–would have had a perpetual woody if you saw what happened with me and some little loser at the local lesbian bar lastnight.  I went out for a couple of hours with a beautiful girlfriend of Mine.  Well, we ordered beers and they forgot to open her bottle up.  Yeah it’s a twist cap–and those little nubbies always hurt My hands to twist it open.  So I take Her bottle and step off for a bit to find a bartender or a big butch to open it.  I turn around to ask Her something else, when some lombarding, drunk straight male-who shouldn’t be there in the first place…who’s ENTIRE scope of sexual activity is hanging over the banister ogling Women that would rather eat glass than spend a second with him–approaches My beautiful date.  I tell him to get his fat ass down-stairs.  he looks up at Me, with the most vile, disgusting, loathesome, cocky look on his face.  This putrid looking, foul little man (he looked like the fat cop on NYPD Blue–but uglier) dares look into the eyes of a Goddess and say, “oh, I’m going to have wetdreams all night and you two are starring in them.”  My blood boiled.  I have a HOT temper when crossed.  I am appalled how these UNWORTHY, shitpiles we call nonsub-men ever get the nerve to speak so disrespectfully to SUPERIOR WOMEN.  I take that, still-unopened beerbottle and knock him right across the balls.  It didn’t break and I kept swinging.  I knocked him in the crotch probably 5 or 6 times.  until several security Women hauled his ass out.  That’s the beauty about Wallstreet.  When a man and woman get into a brawl..the man  is always at fault.. I got him pretty good.  he was moaning and making those I-think-I’m-Going-To-Throw-Up noises. This is no exaggeration.  My date looked a bit bewildered and told Me I couldn’t go around beating up guys all the time–this wasn’t a session.  MY philosophy is ..IF women beat your asses in more often; you wouldn’t be such belligerent, dumb fucks.

Dear Diary,
Today, I got one of those KICK-my-ass-in, GODDESS sessions.  These are pretty much no-brainers.  he signed
the consent form–he begged for HEAVY facekicking, extreme faceslapping and backhanding–the dumbfuck even
brought boxing gloves for Me and Chloe to wear.  HA!  what a damned glutton for punishment…Who dropped all
you baby boys on your heads???  he wanted his nose bloodied.  “First, I needed real motivation.  Something, besides the fact that he was a homely, penis-toting, hairy-assed good for nothin’  blob of nauseating male flesh.  So I had him read some crappy emails some hilljack sent ME, preaching that FEMINISM is a “social disease.” Cigarette dangling from MY perfect lips, I listened as the blithering idiot murmured…”Feminism is also a form of violence and should be categorized with a Hate Crimes.  Feminism is financial violence against men.  Men need good jobs to support families and feminism is depriving many men of good paying jobs.”  POW!  I kicked lame-lenny square in the mouth.  he was kneeling in front of us hands chained above his head, knees spread with a spreader-bar–his miserable mounds of manhood exposed.   “Ever since feminism started the morality of society has been getting worse and worse and the prison populations are skyrocketing.  Many men commit crimes to acquire more money to attract women.  Feminism is a social-disease and the #1 enemy of society.”  Chloe rolled Her eyes and said, “The Sons of Male Hierarchy aren’t exactly GLIB little fellers are they?”  Chloe landed a precise kick under the chin, his head snapped back and he yelped.  I leaned over and started bitch-slapping lame-lenny, slap after slap after slap, grabbed him by the nose, pulled open his yap and pushed some VERY icky toiletpaper down his throat.  “Chew !!you sack of shit!!  That’s a Damned precious commodity!!”  Doubling My fist up, I swung backwards…sort of a backhand punch and pummeled him with MY fists a bit, screaming at him to finish his Charmen.  Chloe laughingly starts moaning, “Yo Adrian….Yo Adrian!” pulls on Her boxing gloves and does a couple bobs and weaves.  She practices Her uppercut, rightcross, jab, and hooks while I repeatedly kicked lenny in the belly, face and chest.  I grab him by the head and he looks up at ME and moans, “beat Me…beat Me..make Me hurt.”  I put MY finger to MY temple and make a cuckoo-cuckoo motion to Chloe.  She of course, laughs heartily.  I grab lenny by the back of his head and start kneeing him in the face, yowling “that’s for that disgusting fatass who works at BlockBuster who stares at Me every fucking time I go in there!!  This is for all those deadbeat dad’s out there spending their child support on titty bars!”  I just kept kneeing him and kneeing him, My adrenaline was pumping through MY pretty veins–and I told lenny that I wanted the toothfairy to bring ME something–but I needed a tooth to put under MY pillow.  Well, kick, punch, flail, bludgeon as I may (heck I even cracked him across the face with a wooden paddle a couple times) his GODDAMNED teeth all stayed intact!:<  he did get his nose bloodied, and all the black and blue bruises he had begged for..We had to gag him during the second half of the session–he was starting to make a rumpus.  Finally, the little wanker’s dreams all came true.  he broke down and cried.  I ripped the duct tape off his face, blew the biggest HubbaBubble-gum bubble known to man, popped it, peeled it off My face, stuck it on his nose and pronounced “My work here is done.”  I seated My Royal Ass on My throne, began filing My chipped nail…and watched as this MAJOR moron finished himself off into the front of his pants he had removed (I thought that would be a special touch) while excitedly inspecting his battered face in the mirror.   What motivates you hogs to such complete idiocy eludes ME…but whatever it is..it sure can make things FUN.

Dear Diary,
I’ve got some SICK phone freaks.  Two of My favorite are doodie-boy and slave rob.  They are utterly disgusting,
but it cracks ME up.  There’s nothing too gross for these pukes too accomplish and they will go to ANY length to
make Me giggle.  Last summer, I had a pig I made be a pooper-scooper.  GET THIS…We go to MY friend’s
neighbors’ house in the late evening with this little dogboy dressed in his dog-collar, leash and tail and make him
pick up dried dogturds on the lawn with his mouth and spit them into a plastic container.  We didn’t look very
Dommely, just wearing combat boots and shorts, jumping around with our hands over our mouths, stifling Our
disgust and laughter, whispering in the darkness, “oh gaaaawd….I can’t believe he’s doing it…oh My lord ..these
men are FREAKS!!”  This kind of thing is like horror films, they churn your stomach but you keep watching
them, and you like watching them.  Anyway, Me and Morgan started getting nervous that someone would catch us running around with some half-naked man crawling around reeking of canine-crap,  so We forced him to eat an
entire still-moist dog-turd, chained him to a fence behind some big bushes, padlocked it and skipped off giggling and whistling the Andy Griffith song.  We walked down to the corner convenient store, bought some dog treats,
chocolate milk and cigarettes.  It was fun to sneak up on our little cowering shit mutt, who was nearly
hyperventilating and on the brink of tears.  What made Me go down memory lane???  oh yeah…any way..I
instructed the 2 phone freaks (bob and doodie-boy)  to both collect several dogturds and call Me for their next
session.  I just got off the phone with one.  he sputtered and spattered as he sucked some doggydoodle while I
guessed what breed of dogturd he was fellating.

Dear Diary,
Several of My subs are on MY sexual-conditioning program–that is, I condition My mutts to sexualize the things I
want them to sexualize and to actually become impotent when faced with regular heterosexual activity.   I think I
should write some sort of manual for Women who want to learn this very HELPFUL training practice.  This can be
done by several training methods.  One is dick behavior modification by heavy object.  Make him study a
disgusting, pornie magazine.  As he ogles the gaping vaginas of the oppressed porn-stars, beat his dick repeatedly
with some blunt object. Repeat things like, “THIS MAN IS NOT WORTHY OF PUSSY  No PUSSY wants this
dick!   Why get turned on by something you aren’t even allowed to be near???”  VERBALLY beat this into his head while you beat his other head with the object.  MAKE sure you beat that dick DOWN!!  Make that little fucker AFRAID to get up. Smack those balls around.   Electric torture works wonders as well.  Psychologists have even used smelling salts to chase away erections in pedophiles. YOU can utilize this trick as well.  When he gets hard looking at LEGTEASE make him sniff a smelling salt.  Then again …then again.  Soon he will learn NOT to get hard.  Make that dick cower in the face of femininity.  Afterwards, find the object you wish him to sexualize–be it pantyhose, farts, penises, or blow-up sheep. Fart in his face and force him to stroke off to the aroma…make him sniff some icky doodoo toiletpaper while he masturbates a mile a minute.  MAKE SURE he masturbates using the same stimuli everytime–over and over and ONLY that stimuli,  until he finally is conditioned to become fully erect at first glance of the new object of his desire and a withering wimp in the presents of the Valiant Vagina.   I’ve used
similar conditioning techniques on My “big spenders”.  For instance, My dollar-dummies are allowed ONLY to
masturbate after large sprees, looking at pictures of Me brandishing their lost Franklins, or over their CreditCard
statements at the end of a well-spent month.  Keep him completely chastised at all other times. SPENDING
MONEY on Me is his ONLY release. Men are stupidly crude animals.  Repetition seems to penetrate their thick
skulls..repeat things to them.  I tell them.  you just bought Me $100 dress that makes you sooo horny, doesn’t it?
Let him stroke it, get aroused,  Then make him stop.  Put on the new boots he bought you, stand in front of him,
coo, “you paid $130 for these leather boots–look how stiff it makes you.”  Take his wallet from him, pull out his
bills, say, “can I have these?”  If he says no, smack that damned dick until it shrivels up.  Repeat as many times as necessary.  Finally, when he gives in, rub the bottom of your shoe on his dick.  Yeah, this part is gross…but its the
bottom of your shoe–don’t touch it or anything.  We wouldn’t want to make You, the Goddess sick..or give him a
MUCH undeserved thrill.  Make sure he licks all his cock-cooties off the shoe afterwards or that he purchases you replacements.  Just arouse him a bit, it won’t take much.  Soon, it will have a Pavlovian affect on your little pooch.
When he forks over the dough-he gets turned on.  The more he gives–the hornier he gets.  AND THIS IS A
GOOD THING.  Let him masturbate after a long shopping day, model a few of the items for him, read the receipt
amounts out loud to him.  Don’t be afraid to let him see how pleased you are with the purchases.  That’s what the
dumb dog lives for–to make you happy at his expense.  But never be grateful.  You have no reason to be grateful.
Whack him across the face.  Kick him in the balls.  Let him spank-off while you admire yourself in the mirror and
complain that you didn’t get those cute strappy sandals in brown as well..

Dear Diary,
I had a session with an ancient guy with a fucking huge callous on his ass from years and years of paddling.  I was grossed out.

Dear Diary,
SHARE DA WEALTH!  I’m getting so busy with phonecalls that I can’t handle all of them MYSELF.  Seems My slavies are MUCH more interested in talking with ME and reading about ME–than actually meeting ME in person.  What a bunch of chicken-shits. I decided to share da wealth..hopefully My friends will be able to quit their day-jobs and live comfortable lives on piggy-dollars like ME!!.   Anyway, I now have a couple of My friends doing phone calls for Me when I’m doing live sessions, exercising or partying.  Here’s a picture of Meany Morgan and Her scary nails. Many of you man-things have spoken to Her on Saturdays when We are getting ready to go out.  She’s My PartyBud and probably the only Woman I know who enjoys man-bashing as Much as Me.   She shows up throughout My diary adventures under the alias Pamela (I just hate that stagename–so We’ve decided on Meanie Morgan instead.)  She started out a mere snotty bitch, but I am proud to say that after hanging with Me for 2 years and listening to Me rant–plus talking with My morons and watching sessions–She has become completely aware of just how fucking pathetic the male gender is–SHE has evolved into a Dominant male-ego-smasher and demachoizer.  She’s 100% Uppity Bitch.  We will go out to a bar and  see how many men’s egos we can deflate during an evening.  When guys come on to US,  SHE is always there at My side, pointing Her pepperspray with a “Get lost, lonelyboy.”   Think of how proud I was the first time I saw Her slyly slip Her cigarette in some dork’s beerbottle.  One time, I was reapplying My lipstick in the mirror of My compact, when this homely little fart of man came up and asked, “Ya wanna dance?”  I turned My compact at him so he could see his reflection and said, “whaddya think??”  She laughed out loud and said, “you are so fucking unworthy how did you even get the balls up?”  Now that’s a true friend.  Several of you,  Send $20 bills weekly to support Me and My girlfriend’s Saturday Night Excursions.  This is Her.

Lady Lauren is another friend of Mine.  She’s a lot sweeter than Morgan, Chloe and Myself.  Poor thing.  I’ve been working on Her, but for some ungodly reason She still respects you dumb-fucks. Oh well.  Whenever I get annoying nonsub footguys or annoying assholes who just want to suck My toes all day but aren’t interested in all that “abuse stuff” I send them DIRECTLY to Lauren.  I can’t deal with these delusional dips. She has Her own site and I will probably start forwarding My calls to Her occasionally on Saturday Night, while I’m out with Morgan.

Dear Diary,
I had a fun session tonight.  First thing, he brought Me wine, flowers and chocolates.  Come bearing food without being instructed to and you automatically rate a little higher in MY book.  I’ve talked to this wimp on the phone for awhile so I pretty much had him figured out.  For some ungodly reason, I was in a nicer mood today–I was almost playful.  The slave was respectful and polite, not an ogling pervert like sooo many of you.  Some of you put Me in such a foul fucking mood–I just want to dash your skulls in and scream at you and watch you suffer.  This was a less offensive shithead.  This spanker was a fun toy…but sometimes I break My toys when I’m playing with them.
Chloe and I played tug O war with his balls.  I took one nard, she had the other.  We yanked and pulled and watch those eggplant colored nards get bigger and bigger and turn fascinating colors.  I even wore heels in this session…I just wish these shoes were 1 or 2 inches lower..they make Me walk wierd.  But they are COOL shoes…deryck the dork paid for them.  My legs looked very lovely and My pantyhose sort of sparkled by the candlelight….I couldn’t help but admire them all night.  I would lean back resting My sharp little heels on the sub’s sacks, while I nibbled on chocolates and sipped a tall glass of wine.  (I prefer MY wine chilled, next time, asshole.)  Whenever I got a nasty cream-filled chocholate–I would full-face slap the little bitch in the face.  Waste MY calories on coconut filling?? SMACK!! and spit the partially chewed drooly hunk of candy into his mouth.  I also spat him a mouthful of wine to help wash it down.  I proceeded in showing him just how much I “respect” dicks. UGH.  I manicured it with a wire dog brush.  Then I slapped and punched his nasty nubby.  The harder I punched, the more I smiled.  I would say inane things that drive bozo’s crazy like, “Don’t you like when I touch you?” then plant a fist in his nads.  “Don’t I get you the hardest?”  Then I stomped his dick into the floor.  It actually cracks Me up to watch some panting moron looking at ME in a state of ecstasy when I’m squashing his balls flat and batting My eyelashes.   As awful as I am, I always abuse My favorite slaves with a smile, sometimes winking at them or blowing them kisses.  That’s what makes Me so powerfully addicting..although I am apathetic and cruel, I am devastatingly feminine.
After a kick–he would kiss and thank My foot for taking the time to kick him.  I even let him smell some SKANKY panties of Mine.  I mean these things were beyond gross.  I wore them the day before when I had a very long work-out.  he earned a whiff of those by dragging a 20 lb log across the room.  I was even impressed when he succeeded in standing up on the first step of My throne with the enormous log hanging from stretched-out sacks.  I was disappointed because I left My weights on My kitchen table at home…we were going to break records with those.  I was going to try out My new potty on this slave–but I couldn’t go.  awwwwwwww…..poor thing.  But to make up for it, I placed My perfect ass in his face and blew a smelly loud fart.  Usually My farts aren’t so aromatic–but this one was a doozy.  I planted My ass, tighter on his face trying to trap that fart in his nostrils for ULTIMATE piggy-enjoyment.  Chloe giggled in a sexy radio voice, “The erotic flatulence of SIERRA.”  I should make a soundtrack.  he instantly got a rock-hard erection and started squirming and masturbating–sniffing MY salami-fart.  We cackled and decided that subbie had been good enough to earn his mouthful of manjuice. Chloe cleverly instructed him to lay on his back and tuck his feet behind him supported on this bar under the bondage table.  This put him at an angle where his ass was perfectly straight in the air and his dick COMPLETELY straight over his mouth.  I leaned over, peeking down at him laughing and spitting into his mouth–so he could practice catching stuff.  Then he squirted…a torrential downpour of dork-drizzle.  It just kept squirting and oozing into his mouth….ick…ewwww….I don’t even want to think about it.    I told him to sit there and hold it in his mouth while I leisurely changed My shoes, gobbled a few more candies and fussed with My hair.  Chloe listened to him gargle–then finally he was allowed to swallow.

Dear Diary.
Well, I got another no-show.  slave ryan..up yours, you, stupid little tramp!   Me and Morgan were all excited planning this public humiliation scene.  We  were even going to give him a 2 Domme session for the price of one–just because he sounded like he’d be so damned fun to humiliate.  he has long hair, so we were going to roll his hair in pink foam-curlers and send him off  to do My grocery shopping.  We had also planned this great feed-the-pig-slop-scene, you know…get a big bowl and stick all kinds of unspeakable stuff in it: catfood, spit, piss, tampon, hairballs, used Qtips, toiletpaper, kitty litter–goddess knows what, dress him like a sissypig and make him eat his slop without using his hands.  Anyway, we sat there and guess what!  The lousy pile of man-manure didn’t EVEN fucking CALL to cancel.  Stupid part is, the little chicken-shit paid $100 deposit.   Anyway, Morgan and I made do and abused another pig.  And boy did that little pig suffer!

Really, no-show pigs like ryan put Me in the foulest of moods.  I am charitable enough to arrange MY schedule around some pathetic man, show up with one of My friends, bring new pig-ears and a can of catfood, and wait for some moron to stand Me up??  HELL NO!  So Morgan and I took turns abusing our second pig with a vengeance, used him as an ashtray and took pictures of him in Our new tu-tu.  I stomped the hell out of him, slapped him around and took pictures of him to add to both of our sites.  I almost feel bad for dweebs who unwittingly schedule after a no-show….well, I almost do…not quite.  Morgan and I sat around and guessed what ryan’s excuse would be–aunt died??  violent illness??  car-accident….yeah car-accident…that’s what most of them say.  Sure enough, the next day, ryan called claiming to had been in a fender-bender.

Damned, if there is one man I would love to make into My personal little foot-stool, maid and ashtray would be Fox Moulder.   Every time I watch him I think, now that man would make the sweetest little potty.  Morgan and I met some dork out this weekend who We made get on his knees at a club and beg to sit with US, then both took turns using his mouth as an ashtray.   It’s always especially amusing to pull this sort of stunt in a normal vanilla sort of bar.  Of course, these “non-sub” men don’t have pure submissive intentions.  They’re thinking they will humor the mean bitches until they get some pussy, suffer the indignities to get lucky with the Hot chicks.   HAHAHA…when monkies fly out of My ass!!!  Humiliate them, make them buy Me a few pricey fluffy drinks, then leave the little putz alone on his barstool with a little less cash, a bit of frustration and a hell of lot less dignity.

you would be amazed at what losers will do, to be allowed to bask in My presence.   Of course, who can blame them when 73 inches of this comes waltzing into a place?  (Another white sock and combat-boot picture for you, fatmac. Now lay off the Egg McMuffins and get your lard ass to the post-office and send Me some DINERO!!)  I wish MORE of you dork-wads eroticized My groovy tough-girl boots.

Dear Diary,
I think I found a new money-boy!  Yippee!!   An optometrist who I can already tell is a COMPLETE and utter sucker for ME.  Don’t worry, you silly dog–I’ll wring you dry.  It won’t be long until he is My personal money-tree.
My Mom belongs to this kick-ass Email group of highly educated feminist Women who exchange man jokes all the time.  She sent Me a cute one.  I always get guys who LOVE to be teased about being minimally endowed.  For all you puny penis packing perverts, here’s some free spankin’ material.

30 things Women can say to a naked man.
1. I’ve smoked fatter joints than that.
2. Ahhhh, it’s cute.
3. Why don’t we just cuddle?
4. You know they have surgery to fix that.
5. Make it dance.
6. Can I paint a smiley face on it?
7. Wow, and your feet are so big.
8. It’s OK, we’ll work around it. (They should have left this one out.)
9. Will it squeak if you squeeze it?
10. Oh no… a flash headache.
11. (giggle and point)
12. Can I be honest with you?
13. How sweet, you brought incense.
14. This explains your car.
15. Maybe if we water it, it’ll grow. HAHAHA
16. Why is God punishing me? (Should be why is Goddess punishing you?)
17. At least this won’t take long.
18. I never saw one like that before.
19. But it still works, right?
20. It looks so unused.
21. Maybe it looks better in natural light.
22. Why don’t we skip right to the cigarettes?
23. Are you cold?
24. If you get me real drunk first.  (ewwww…I don’t like this one.)
25. Is that an optical illusion? (heehee good one!)
26. What is that?
27. It’s a good thing you have so many other talents.
28. Does it come with an air pump? (My sides!)
29. So this is why you’re supposed to judge people’s personality.
30. I guess this makes me the ‘early bird’.

Dear Diary,

Well I had another foot-slut.  This one was in the process of moving from the East Coast to California and decided to stop in for some abuse on his way.  I’ve done phone sessions with him for a while–so he was a brave little schmuck.   He brought Me the finest cheese cake I have EVER eaten, some chocolate, a bottle of wine, 2 bundles of mixed flowers and a dozen yellow roses.  Over the phone, I gave him My grocery list.  He had some time to kill before the session, so I thought this at least would make him useful to Me.  When he got there, I told him to get back in his car and pick us up some dinner.  Morgan and I had made plans to go out that night, so she came along to help torment the moron.  While he was out fetching Our supper, We discussed whether or not he was going to chickenshit out and run for the state line.  But “shithead” did show back up.

This one would get an instant erection the minute I removed My socks.  It was a hoot.  he would stare at MY soles in a semi-trance.  he looked at My feet the way male-pigs look at a centerfold.  But first things first, no foot sniffing until after he is THOROUGHLY humiliated, degraded and aware of what a degenerate idiot he is.  To the bathroom we went.  I positioned his head above the bowl and pointed into the water.  “you want a cigarette?”  One solitary, cigarette-butt floated on the surface of the yellowish depths.  Before he could answer, I dunked his noggin into the toilet.  The cigarette pitched on the piss-wave, and the slave’s vile mouth followed the lone butt around the bowl.  After many mis-tries and several hard whacks to the back of the head, slave “shithead” sucked the urine-logged cigarette out of the toilet.  While, he was merrily blowing bubbles in the pungent waters, I commented to Morgan, “I wonder who forgot to flush the toilet?  How ruuuuude. Think it was the maintenance men who put up that new dry wall today?  Did you check out the plumber-crack on the big one?  I bet he’s the one who left “shit-head” the “piss-cocktail.”  This was a complete fabrication.  There was no drywall, no maintenance men, no
plumber-crack (thank Goddess).  I had left the piss My very self.  I was just trying to stir shit-head up and DID IT WORK!  he instantly jerked his head from the commode and started blabbering some intangible blubberings.  he started speaking in tongues, looking up at ME with such sad, bewildered puppy-eyes.  I took a towel, dried off his face, and SLAPPED THAT DUMBASS SENSELESS!  “Did I ask for your fucking opinion????”  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!  About  7 solid full-swing slaps shut his jabbering right up.  I could hear Morgan’s deadpan comment from the other room, “shitheads these days.”    So back into the throne room.  I have this ritual with new slaves.  I put MY pretty face right in theirs and announce the difference between them and I.  “I am the PRINCESS.  you are shit.  I am the BOSS.  you do what you’re told.  I am always right.  I make the rules.  you obey.  I am PERFECT, you are a turd. ” etc. etc. etc.

Morgan and I decided to snack and chat amongst ourselves.  “shithead” served as an adequate footrest for both of Us.  “shithead” was allowed to beg for morsels too, pant and beg on his hind legs like a dog.  It was sort of cute…well as cute as men go.  Then I allowed him some time to “love My feet”.  Now “shithead” would drool at the mouth, just looking at My pretty piggies, and when I allowed to him sniff and nibble and kiss My feet, he would instantaneously grow erect and start humping the floor,  flopping around on the rug like a fish out of water.  It was hysterical and We howled like banshees.  I told him how he didn’t rate pussy, that he shouldn’t be allowed anything above the ankle.  I placed My two bare feet together–sole to sole, pointed to the little diamond shape opening of My two arches and said, “looky…there’s your little foot pussy.  Eat out your foot pussy, stud.”  Then something really unexpected and gross happened.  he fucking splooged on the floor.  UGH!  AND WITHOUT PERMISSION??  I started kicking the fucker in the head and HARD, pushing MY foot on his head and rubbing it on the face till he got carpet burns on his forehead.  I slapped him repeatedly again, until he whimpered, then dragged his ass upstairs to the bathtub.  I instructed him to do the old piss-in-the-face-routine.  he pointed his dick up, leaned over and pee’d and pee’d in his own face, while Morgan and I cackled.  We made him sit in his own piss, but we vacated the room because of the stench.  When we came back, I ordered him to shower in icy cold water.  Morgan kindly offered him some liquid soap–“Open up”–and squirted a sizable glob into his open mouth.

“Time to go , schmoe!”  I announced.  We’ve  already gone over and you’ve worn out your welcome.  BEAT IT!”  This crestfallen idiot, fell to his knees and started pleading…”please..please don’t make ME leave you.”  “HAHAHAHA!” was Our answer.  My pretty little palm popped up, “PAY OR GO AWAY, bozo!”  he frantically went for his wallet, and threw out some more money, “Nahhh….Morgan and I have plans.”   he handed over about $900 and begged to worship MY feet some more.  Morgan even allowed him to suck the toe of one Her socks.  I let him follow Me around like a hound-dog, his schnoz to MY heel, face on the floor, ass in the air while I minced around, gathering MY purse, fiddled with MY hair and reapplied My makeup.  “shithead” was actually pretty young and attractive, so WE decided we’d allow him to be seen with Us.  We went down to a local little sportsbar.  “shithead” was forced to stand at attention holding My ashtray at a comfortable wrist height.  However, Morgan and I took the liberty of tossing our cigarette butts and ashes into his bottle as well.  I liked how people ogled the floaters in his drink.  Of course, he just sat there beside Me, staring at Me in awe, mumbling under his breath,  “Oh Goddess, you are the MOST beautiful GODDESS in the World…Princess you are so Powerful and Gorgeous.  Princess your face is just flawless….”yadayadayada.  Been there..heard that.  I removed the piece of gum I had been chewing.  Before he could finish telling Me for the 100th time what a lovely and feminine creature I was, I popped the tasteless Wrigley’s into his mouth and said, “yeah..I know.”  I placed My heel on the tender part of the top of his foot, and PRESSED hard while I enjoyed My drinks.  he winced in pain, while I smiled sweetly at him over the rim of  MY glass.

Back outside, I made “shithead” kneel and kiss My shoes in the parking lot then lick My tire clean.  he followed US to a nearby gas-station and he and I slipped into the Women’s restroom.  I forced him onto his knees and made him meticulously wash the floor around all the toilets with his tongue.  I ventured into one of the stalls and LO AND BEHOLD some little diva forgot to FLUSH!  WOW!  What fucking luck!!!  I made him kneel in front of the toilet..and again the waterfalls, “oh Princess, it’s not yours…it doesn’t come from you…”   wahhhhhhhhhhhhh…  Cry Me a river, buddy. . ” I was in a better mood than usual, because of the margaritas, and sort of saddled his back.  he shivered…I laughed, and leaned over and whispered seductively in his ear, “Drink it like a good doggie before I make you suck on one of those tampons sitting in the trash can.”  I looked down at MY lovely thighs and thought to MYself, “damned I got some fine legs!” and listened to him lap up his potty water like an obedient poochie.

Anyway, we spent a long time with this worm.  But since, I had talked him into signing over a couple of paychecks he was saving for his “moving-in” money, I thought it was only fair that I let him bask in MY presence for most of the evening.  Later that night, he called from a payphone–begging Me to let him just stay in Columbus and be MY personal slave.  awwwwww…..Someone had caught the BITCH-bug.  he told Me that he wasn’t sure if he was going to have enough money to stay in hotels every night now.  I recommended that he sleep outside of dairy-mart in his car, while thinking of Me cuddled up in My satin sheets, My pink nightie and My hair tied in 2 adorable braids.  I blew him a kiss on the phone and told him to have a good night suffering for ME.

Dear Diary,
For those of you who have phoned Me recently and keep getting MY answering machine–do not distress. This warm summer weather has put Me in a slack-off mood–I go through these spells where I feel less generous with MY time, leave My phones unmanned, My email unanswered, My letters unread.  Like My many other mood spells, you’re just going to have to deal with it and wait it out.  I did have an interesting humiliation session.  Chloe and I decided we wanted to do some running around.  I had already given My sissy instructions to go to one of those shirt-work T-shirt stores and get a little baby-T-shirt custom made.  It was white with Pink cursive letters reading “SISSY”.  We had also instructed him to bring a pair of pink spandex shorts a few pink hair barrettes and some flamingo pink lipstick with him.  We sat in the air conditioned car, outside of a gas-station and rocked out to Our CD’s waiting for the prim little priss to exit the public restroom we had instructed him to dress in.  We knew he was going to look like a total freak, so we told him not to come up to our car or act like he even remotely knew who we were.  I was applying mascara in the rearview mirror when Chloe cackled, “oh MY gawd!!!  Here it comes.”  The beet-red sissy boy emerged from the outside restroom dressed in his cropped SISSY-T, white shortie socks, pink spandex shorts his running shoes and big stiffening knot in his shorts.  We rolled down our windows and honked and whistled,  “woohoo, baby!  Come give mama some of that!”  It is truly hysterical.  Several of My sissiest prissy bitches have been cursed with these gigantic penises. The fact that these effeminate little ass-wigglers tote around 8-9 inches of sissy-schlong is almost ironic. It’s like dear Mother Goddesses was up in heavens playing pin-the tail on the donkey blindfolded and accidentally pinned the biggest tail on the fruitiest sissybitch.  Hopefully there is some macho-pig-tractor-pull, NASCAR-shirt-wearing-idiot running around with the 3 inch nubby that was meant for the sissy.  Sissy didn’t even look at US, eyes downcast, he shuffled into the gas-station like he had been instructed.  he bought a Chippendale air freshener, a WRANGLER BUTTS drive me NUTS!  bumper sticker and 2 packages of licorice rope.  Chloe and I laughed our asses off when we spied the 3 gas-station attendants pointing and laughing from the window.   Sissy  looked like he was about to cry as a carload of young teen aged girls drove up in their tacky neon Tracker.  (Gawd, I hate those things.)  3 girls got out of the car and one little redheaded one in a halter top, actually turned around, stopped dead in her tracks and silently mouthed the words.  “OH MY God!”  hahaha!! oh I can just picture those belly-button girls in the gas-station.  “Oh My god!  Like Cheri, did you see that major freak in the spandex?  That was like so To-tally disgusting.  he was LIKE such a MAJOR faggot!  Like gag Me with My real lame plastic purple tracker.”  Our traumatized twit stoically placed his Wrangler Butt bumper sticker on his back bumper as ordered, draped his hunky air freshener from his rearview mirror, sexily placed his licorice rope in his mouth, started his car engine and looked over to Our car with the saddest sissy eyes I have ever seen.  HAHA  I really love looking in the eyes of a miserable man.

Sissy Saga Conclusion:
Well, sissy followed us closely behind in his car.  First we stopped at the gas-station and made him pick up My PO BOX mail, then we went to dairy queen where we made him go in to get us 2 frosty treats.  Dairy Queen was jammed pack with teenagers all adding to their acne problems.  It was funny to watch them huddle behind him and point and roll their eyes and then all back out of his way when he left like he had leprosy.  We made sissy sit outside under one of those umbrella-tables licking daintily on a vanilla ice-cream cone.  I had a bunch of pennies in MY soda holder so I threw one out the window and pointed at it like “GO FETCH.”  he ran over to get the penny and we laughed at his panty lines. As soon as he was comfortably seated.  I threw another.  This went
on for about 20 pennies and nobody even had a clue what he was doing, just that he was some freak in pink hot shorts bending over in the parking lot.  We made him exchange a denim dress I had purchased a few days ago, wait patiently in his car while we stopped at Radio Shack and a few other errands.  Inspiration struck when we walked by a toystore.  We bought one of those little kiddie push toys–you know the ones, that have all the little balls inside of them that spin around inside.  We made him go to this big lawn in front of a apartment complex.  This place always has a bunch of chicks sunbathing outside.  All the bronzed beauties watched in bewilderment as the silly sissy methodically “mowed the lawn” with his colorful pushtoy.  We had given him instructions to cover every inch of the lawn while we supervised his work from the car.  Damned, he looked like a lunatic.
(click to go back to top of page–for those coming straight here from first diary page.)

Dear Diary,
I made 2 slaves eat piss snowcones today.  Mildly amusing, if I should say so Myself.  It’s a special recipe.  you need two morons, an ice-crusher, paper cups, and 2 dinkuses with full bladders.  I made them both hold out their little snowcones for the other to put his piss-syrup on.  They were mortified.  I invited one of My “not-in-the-scene” friends to watch.  We played this nifty game where we make the “scum” stand behind a big dart board that has the bull’s eye cut out.  (That’s where his weener and skewer-sacks stick through.)  We used plastic-tipped darts for those computerized dart boards and batted tennis balls at it too.  The game would have been WAY cooler with sharp darts!!!  Anyone in the mood to be a guinea pig??

Dear Diary,
Dirtbag dan.  I’ve done phone session with him for months.  he finally got the nads up to meet with Me.  I was completely surprised because this spaz loves to be blackmailed, kidnapped, and manipulated for information.  Phone sessions are very predictable I get him to give up a bunch of information–banking information and work information, including coworkers, work address etc.  I’ve made him type up these tragic little letters explaining what a sick fucked up pig he is and how he derives sexual pleasure from being blackmailed and exploited by a lovely Goddess (MOI).  Then I proceed to blackmail him,  you know the routine…I’ll send this letter to your work, I’ll mail this picture to your boss…usually he ends up buying Me a slew of outfits, or sending Me sizable “gifts” of cash, whacking off like a crazed man, bursting into tears and begging Me to never talk to him if he calls ME again.
teehee.  This man has issues..oh give Me some tissues.  HAHAHA!   So anyway, I was sort of surprised that this wayward little man actually decided to do a live session with ME.  I took it as this: dirtbag dan must actually  want to hurt, he must REALLY want Me to get some good stuff on him.  I mean if you dumbfucks are STUPID enough to come to Me and want to be abused and blackmailed, I’m going to do you up good.  HELL, I am going to give you your fucking money’s worth.  The FANTASY does NOT end with you spanking off and ME handing over your cash and saying “oh I never really called your Aunt Nadine.”  There was some important information I had not procured yet.   Like his ex-wife’s address and phone number and his present girlfriend’s phone number.  Today would be the day.

dirtbag dan OBVIOUSLY wanted ME to know everything or he wouldn’t do this to himself.  you all know what I am like.  DO NOT come to ME looking to be threatened or blackmailed only until your time is up.  It doesn’t work like that.  I DO NOT call you dumbfucks up out of the blue and demand information.  you silly-assed little morons call ME, pay ME to get information out of you, and load ME up with ammunition.  you practically beg ME to destroy you.  do not think of it as ME blackballing you, or exposing you to your girlfriend..think of it as your STUPIDITY and your SORRY prick ruining your life, fucking you over, and making ME rich.

I digress back…Back to the thick of the plot of this afternoon.

Anyway, I tell dirtbag dan to meet ME at 10a.m.  (he should have known something was up, because I don’t drag My perfect ass out of bed until afternoon and it takes Me several hours to get ready.)   If I was actually up and about at that time of day, you can bet your lame ass–I’d be eating an Egg McMuffin (why don’t they serve those damned things after 11????? ) rather than hanging out with some MONDO losers like you guys.  So as I snoozed in My plush bed with visions of JEEPS, $100 bills and Godiva chocolate dancing in My head, dirtbag dan was met at the door by MY ever-devoted, forever worshipful and obedient slave, desiree.  That’s got to be punishment in itself.  Dreaming all night of My beautiful form opening the door and beckoning you into the room to suffer at My perfect hands, hypnotized by My curvy ass, My wicked giggle..crawling to your own demise, begging like a dog to be used by ME..and what do you get when you get here?  A silly little titty-boy slave in sweat pants answering the door instead and handing you a note that reads, “turdbreath, do whatever desiree tells you and keep your fat trap SHUT until I get there.  I don’t want you saying a fucking word.  XOXOXOXOXO Princess Sierra”
As instructed, desiree stripped, blindfolded, hooded, handcuffed and locked up dirtbag dan in the dog cage for safe keeping.  He was set next to a CD player that was programmed to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” over and over and over again until MY arrival.  6 hours later, I showed up and received a report that dirtbag had whined and complained for nearly 5 hours.  I give him ONE FRIGGIN assignment, “keep your trap shut” and he fails ME??

I drag the moron from the dog cage by his hair and kick him squarely in the mouth twice.  he is then placed on a chair and gagged.  I ordered desiree to tie dirtbag’s legs to the legs of the chair and to place his feet on each side of the chair lifting them off of the ground and securing each ankle with a piece of rope tied to each gonad.  The chair was then slid up to a table prepared with papers & pens.  If this asshole wanted to find comfort he would have a lot of writing to do.  I was correct in guessing that sitting in this position would cure his writer’s block.  So he sat at his desk and scrawled information on the notepad..but every now and then he would write something really annoying like, “this is going too far, please what is my safe word??  Please untie my ankles.”    I’ve got 4 words for you buddy: you MUST BE KIDDING??  Is there a hoop in baseball?  A racquet in golf?  No..those belong in a different game.  In MY game there is no safe word, there is no pretend. I am the coach, the captain, and the referee, and you can only lose.  I held My electronic pig zapper at his balls…What is your ex-wife’s phone number??  I bought this fucking thing at the Farm and Fleet asshole!!  Don’t make Me use it on you!  he started to blubber.  But that’s to be expected.  I love seeing that look in a man’s eye.  That hopeless “oh god i am an idiot–why did this ever turn me on???” wild-eyed look.  They get that look when they start  questioning their own sanity.  Where they look at Me and the only thing good in the world seems to be My sweet silky smile.  But it’s all good boys, really it is, making ME happy and loading Me up with your dinero is a good thing…the only thing you’re good for.  DAMNED, do I have a gift for words or what??  How is it that I SOO wholely understand the minds of men??  The only comprehensible explanation for MY great wisdom, beauty and deep understanding is that I am TRULY a Goddess, perhaps not even of this world.

“Whatdya get, Sierra?”  That’s the first thing Morgan and Chloe asked Me when I told them about this session.  Definitely the most important question.  How much loot did You get?  How goes the pillaging?  How much did it cost the bozo?  Well, I cracked open the Victoria’s Secret catalogue and made a humongous order by telephone using his card while he sat there gagged and bound.  I ordered stuff in the back of the catalogue, FUCK that Wonder Bra and panty shit..I go straight for the overpriced clothes in the back.  I also made him make a “testimony” on tape recorder for ME.  It would cost him  $800 directly deposited into My account if he didn’t want Me to call his “beloved” and play it to Her.  I got the $600 in his wallet on top of the $800 direct deposit…some very USEFUL information, MY tank filled up and his rayban sunglasses and cool leather wallet.  Wasn’t exactly a shiny new jeep, but I suppose it was a fairly eventful blackmailing.

I offer these words of wisdom to the budding bitch blackmail artiste…Information is priceless…always make sure to tradeoff something for even more information–don’t only go for more cash.   And a blackmail artiste professional always knows that pictures are money in the bank.  Be sure everything is signed and never bother blackmailing a broke man. One must be motivated to blackmail with passion.  Blackmail can be both a traumatizing and satisfying experience for the financially endowed pigslave and a lucrative and empowering venture for any self-centered heartless vamp.

Dear Diary,
Well…a few nights ago…I got a call from one of My very lame slaves, scott.  he paid Me nearly $450 for a 12 minute phone call!  How much is that a minute???hee hee   Can we say, “MAJOR SUCKER???”…So the lame ass called Me last night and said he would pay another $50 if I wrote about it in My diary….  so here goes….

 

Dear Diary,
sucker scott paid Me $450 for a 12 minute phonecall.  GOD I LOVE THIS WORK!!!  I wish all My morons were this stupid.  I wonder how many hours he had to work to make that $450…well no matter….you and I both know…I sure as hell won’t be losing any sleep over it!!

 

Hey scott…I’m sure you are reading this!  Now that you have a tiny stiffy (oops…we don’t call it “tiny”…it’s just petite) in your pocket…why don’t you be a good little peckerhead and buy ME something off MY wishlist…or email ME for a few giftgiving ideas.