Ezada Sinn

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.

Do you hear that? The creak of natural leather, the rich, commanding sound that reminds you exactly who I am, and exactly what you are. It is the sound of My power over you, the sound of your submission.

Look at yourself. Naked. Kneeling. A collar tight around your neck, your pathetic little dicklet locked away in chastity where it belongs. I don't even have to touch you to make you feel weak, to make you tremble with submission. It's instinctive. you exist to obey.

I see how eager you are, desperate to please Me, to serve however I command. I know you crave purpose: to be used, to be owned. Watch My fingers now. Assume your position, on your knees, tongue out, hands behind your back. Show Me you are ready.

Will I use you as My ashtray today? Or perhaps as My personal spittoon? you will never know until I decide. Because you have no will, no choice. you have only one purpose.

My hubby exists for one purpose: to please Me however I desire. And today, he pleased Me well. Smothered between My perfect arse cheeks, his tongue worked deep inside My arsehole, exactly where it belongs. When he serves Me properly, when he worships Me with complete devotion, I decide if he is worthy of a reward.

Of course, with his pathetic little dicklet locked away in permanent chastity, there is no chance that pleasure will come from his useless cock. No, his reward is something better: he will be fucked.

Like the obedient slut he is, he helps Me fasten the strap-on around My waist, securing it tight, just the way I like it. I want to feel every thrust, every inch of My cock stretching him open as I take what belongs to Me. But before that, I want to see him worship it.

On his knees, he stares at My enormous cock, so much bigger than his tiny, worthless thing. I see the hunger in his eyes, the desperate longing to be filled, to be used. Our sex life has never been better since I locked him in chastity. Now, he exists to lick, suck, and be fucked.

Bent over the sofa, his arse practically begs for Me to impale him. I know it's been a while, so he'll be tight, but he will take it, because I demand it. As I slide My fingers inside, I can tell how much he enjoyed having his face ridden. his body is ready, eager for Me to use it. Three fingers slip in easily, and that's all the proof I need.

you like what you see, don't you? I can see it in your eyes, in the way your breath catches, in the way your body reacts without permission. you crave this. A true fetish for powerful Women, for submission, for being owned. This is what you need.

Look at Me: wrapped in black, tight, and shining with dominance. It makes you weak, doesn't it? The way the light catches My curves, the way My presence alone makes you tremble. And here you are, exactly where you belong—on your knees before Me. you understand our positions perfectly: Me, standing tall, untouchable, magnificent. you, down there, hoping, aching, desperate for My attention.

Men like you are nothing more than mutts, eager and pathetic, waiting to be tamed. And what does a good puppy need? A collar. Here, let Me fasten it around your neck, tight enough that you never forget who owns you. With this collar, you will see only what I allow, move only where I lead, exist only for My pleasure.

I see how much you like it, but I know what you really need. you need Me to take this leash, to guide you, to control you, to use you as I see fit. you need to be claimed. Now, beg Me, beg properly, to take you as My puppy.

At Mistress Alexandra's Omega Compound, I am with 14 other beautiful Ladies who are itching to subject this slut knelt in front of Us to the face-fuck of his life. Using strap-on cocks and hand-held dildos that range from small to X-large, we'll stretch his mouth open as We ram Our dicks down his gagging throat. Imagine what it's like to have 15 dominant Ladies eager to cock slap your face with their big dicks, all as They wait to gangbang your trap. The is endless, with one Lady after another stuffing his lips as We verbally humiliate this pathetic male creature. In the end his loosened mouth is turned into nothing more than a trash bin for Our used condoms.

Me and Giada have just finished an intense workout, My body glistening with the proof of My effort. Yet, she has the nerve to question Me: asking if I showered this morning, even daring to suggest that My scent is "intense." As if My natural aroma needs to be tamed for her delicate senses. She even has the audacity to question whether I used anti-perspirant.

How pathetic. Such a narrow, patriarchal mindset. This is the raw, powerful scent of a Woman in control: unapologetic and pure. If she cannot appreciate it willingly, I will teach her to savour it. Her tongue will worship My sweaty armpits, tasting every drop of My dominance.

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.

My medor has been My chattel for many years, a lifetime of devotion bent to My will. Even now, at over eighty years old, he exists for one purpose: to serve and suffer for My pleasure. I know he's missed My touch, My control, during our time apart. But the fool cannot keep his big mouth shut. And in My world, there is only one punishment for disobedient tongues: the whip.

Twenty-four strokes will teach this naughty boy the lesson he deserves. I do not care what he has to say; his thoughts are worthless to Me. What I want is his pain, his body trembling beneath the sting of My whip. But I see it: he enjoys this far too much. That's why his mouth runs so freely. This is not about his pleasure; it's about My power. If he insists on speaking out of turn, then I will simply spank his arse harder until he learns to suffer in silence.

The sound of My whip against his bare flesh arouses Me, how could it not? But when I allow him to sniff My panties, the stupid boy dares to kiss them without permission. For that, he earns more whipping; My pleasure always comes at a price. Watching his arse turn redder and redder feeds My arousal. And now that his pain has pleased Me, I will use his pathetic body however I desire.

I adore leather: its scent, its feel, the way it clings to My perfect form. But what I enjoy even more is imprisoning My chattels in leather, binding them completely while I wear it, reminding them of My absolute power.

Right now, My hubby is wrapped in leather from head to toe: helpless, vulnerable, and Mine. Every breath he takes is a reminder of My control. I've left his pathetic dicklet available, vulnerable to My every whim. And of course, I'm wearing My leather gloves, just to make his torment sweeter.

I stroke it, slow, deliberate, making his entire world shrink down to the sensation of My leathered hands teasing his cock. his balls? They are Mine to stretch and torment until his little dicklet weeps for Me.

This cock is not his: it belongs to Me. And I want it aching. I want him so desperate, so hungry to release that he would do anything for it, if he could. But I will not make it easy. I will edge him until he is trembling, horny and helpless, and when I do allow him to cum, it will be nothing but a ruined, unsatisfying mess.

I am a living Goddess: divine, untouchable, and superior in every way. And you? you are nothing but a pathetic, groveling creature unworthy of My gaze. Look down! You do not deserve the privilege of looking into My eyes.

I know your weak little heart races at the sight of My leather-clad curves, My tight leggings hugging My perfect arse, the way My power radiates through every inch of Me. But you are beneath even that. Your rightful place is on the floor, at My feet, where you belong.

Get down: spreadeagle. Face pressed to the ground. This is where you will learn true devotion, how to pray, how to worship, and how to obey. The only thing your pathetic eyes will be allowed to admire are My exquisite, towering heels.

I know you are hard, helpless against your arousal, but this is My will, and you exist to serve it. Here is your purpose: For every kiss on the floor where I step, you will repeat the mantra and tribute $5. Count every kiss carefully, I expect you to pay in full.

Today, Giada will learn, once again, that her pleasure is secondary to Mine. She has never seen this new outfit before, and I can see the hunger in her eyes before she even glimpses the lingerie beneath. As she slowly undresses Me, pressing worshipful kisses against My skin, I can feel the heat radiating from her body, the desperate need building inside her. She is already wet, aching to be used.

There's nothing quite like an intense workout with My dear friend, Mistress Lilse von Hitte. Today, We crave something more than just cardio: We want to feel the thrill of impact, the satisfaction of Our fists meeting flesh. A proper gym may lack the right equipment, but Lilse always brings Her own: Her well-trained human punching bag.

Newly installed as the House of Sinn's personal training tool, he exists for one purpose—to absorb every strike, every blow, without protest. his body is Ours to mark, his pain Ours to enjoy. Every bruise, every welt, is a testament to Our strength and skill. he takes the hits well, but can he endure everything We have planned for him?

I have a new pair of Cervin stockings: luxurious, delicate, and deserving of the utmost care. And what is the purpose of a chattel if not to serve? Giada is with Me now, so she will have the privilege of assisting Me in dressing.

She must be precise. The seams must align perfectly down the back of My legs, her trembling fingers ensuring every inch of silk clings flawlessly to My skin. But she knows what awaits her once her task is complete: the whip. Whether she excels or fails, she will suffer beneath My lash. Her only choice is how severe her punishment will be.

I had so much fun during the weekly live-stream on My fan page, in which both My live-in boys showed perfect obedience in serving as My human puppies. In my harem, good boys are always rewarded. Of course, the rewards are to also provide Me with pleasure, in any way I desire. From worshiping My body with passionate kisses and hungry tongues, respectful mantra recitations, all the way to using sit as a cuckold to lick hubby's anus and suck his balls. Both boys are nothing more than My personal sex toys. They are being trained to enjoy mixing each other's cums while I add in My spit, piss, and orgasmic squirt.

rabbit has already felt My whip, her body trembling in a cruel predicament of My design. But I am far from done with her. I have a vision: one that involves those beautiful, full breasts of hers bound in merciless ropes, displayed in suffering for My amusement. The thought alone makes Me wet.

The first knot tightens, and her whimpers fill the air: delicious little sounds of pain that only fuel My sadistic hunger. The ropes bite deeper, winding around her tender flesh, making her nipples stand painfully erect. I tease them, flicking them with the very rope that will soon imprison them further. Every shiver, every yelp, makes Me crave more.

I want to feel her: her pain, her helplessness, her vulnerability pressed against Me. But she resists My embrace. Perhaps she will appreciate another kind of hug: one from My whip. With her breasts already aching, I turn My attention to her exposed lower body, the single-tail cutting through the air before kissing her skin with sharp, stinging precision. Her arse, her thighs, marked beautifully for Me.

What arouses you more, My glorious arse encased in these shiny pantyhose or the arousing scent of My sweaty feet after a long day? There is only one correct answer: both.

And that is exactly what My chattel will experience today. I will smother him beneath Me, pinning him down under My perfect arse while teasing his pathetic dicklet with My hot, damp feet. I know how weak he becomes the moment My arse presses against his face. The heat, the weight, the scent: it takes no effort at all for his cock to swell beneath Me. But I won’t touch it, not yet. he must be fully, desperately hard before I allow even the slightest contact. A little nipple torment, a few whispered words about how sweaty I am, and I can already feel his body trembling beneath Me.

Now, it is time. My feet glide over his cock, just barely touching, teasing. his breath, muffled under My arse, grows ragged. his body is completely Mine: smothered by My scent, overstimulated by My touch, mind lost in submission. his cock twitches wildly, on the edge with only the gentlest movement from My sole.

Today, I am feeling generous. I will allow him release, but only in the way that pleases Me. his tongue buried between My arse cheeks, My foot pressing down on his aching cock. Just a little stroking and he is gone. A pathetic, ruined orgasm dribbling from his useless dicklet, over and over, just from the overwhelming pleasure of being under Me.

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 told Me you don't want strap-on play. That was your first mistake.

If you had simply said you weren't interested, perhaps I would have let it go. But no: you claimed that being taken by a Woman with a strap-on would make you "gay." That ignorance must be corrected.

you are drawn to power, to the irresistible allure of Leather-clad Dominant Women. Something about Me made you watch this, made you want. So listen closely, learn well, and surrender to the inevitable.

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.

Trapped in the black box, Giada had no way of knowing who was in My presence at the House of Sinn. Now, even freed from its confines, she remains just as helpless: hooded, blindfolded, stripped naked before Me and Mistress Lexy Noir. She is no longer a person, merely a doll, an object existing solely for Our pleasure.

Lexy’s brief concern about not having an ashtray is quickly dismissed: why worry when We have Giada’s mouth to serve Us? But her helplessness is about to deepen. Bound in a straitjacket, her arms are useless, her body completely at Our “mercy.” With her most vulnerable places left exposed, she will serve her true purpose: nothing more than Our sex doll, aching with need, helpless beneath Our power.

We place her on her knees as Lexy describes the perfection she cannot see: Our beautiful, leather-clad bodies just out of reach. Teased by Our scent, tormented by the mere words of what he is denied, her place is cemented as We kiss above her, trapping her head between Us. And the torment does not end there. As Our skirts fall away, she is left with nothing but the arousing scent of Our arousal, made to breathe it in, knowing she exists only to serve and to suffer in aching devotion.

This is where she belongs. Our plaything. Our doll. And We are far from finished with her.

See what else We did with her:


Matriarch Ezada Sinn and Mistress Lexy Noir surprise Giada with a hard strap-on fucking


Boot worship and humiliation: Matriarch Ezada Sinn and Mistress Lexy degrade Giada while They smoke


Whipping and human ashtray: Matriarch Ezada Sinn and Mistress Lexy Noir using Giada to satisfy Their sadistic desires


Matriarch Ezada Sinn & Mistress Lexy Noir: Giada's submission through sweaty pantyhose foot worship