Like a puppy

Strict woman in seamed pantyhose

She stands tall, her posture impeccable. The glint of authority in her eyes matches the sleek, form-fitting black leather skirt she wears, hugging her figure with precision. Every movement of hers is deliberate, every step a reminder of the control she commands. The subtle shine of her nude seamed pantyhose contrasts against the dark beauty of her black high heels, clicking with an almost predatory rhythm as she approaches. Her gaze never falters from yours.

 

"You think you can keep up with me, don't you?" Her voice is soft, but there's an edge to it, a firmness that commands attention. "But, truth is, you're nothing more than a little puppy to me. Cute, but helpless. Obedient. You’ll do anything I say, won’t you? Just like a puppy.”

She takes a step closer, her presence almost overwhelming. “I don’t need to raise my voice to make you listen. You’re already trained, aren’t you? You know your place. And that place is at my feet. I want you to understand that, truly feel it. When I speak, you respond. You don’t think for yourself; you just obey. Like a puppy, eager to please."

Her lips curl into a slight, knowing smile as she watches you, studying your every reaction. "Do you think I don’t see the way you watch me? The way your body reacts when I step into the room? It’s adorable, really. But you’re not in control here. I hold the leash, and you're just here to follow it."

She takes another step forward, her heels clicking like a metronome, each sound a beat in the rhythm of dominance. "And just like any good puppy, you’ll do exactly as I say. You’ll sit when I tell you, stay when I command. You’re going to learn that obedience is the only thing that matters here. Nothing else. You can’t run, and you can’t hide. You’re mine now, puppy. Forever."

 

Humilliation

Kneel before your Mistress

“Look at me, kneel before me. Do you see what I’m wearing? The sleek black skirt that hugs my curves perfectly, the soft, smooth black gloves that cover my arms with such elegance… and these black stockings, hugging my legs so sensually. It’s a visual symphony of control, isn’t it? The sharp click of my high heels as I move, a constant reminder of who holds the power in this room.

 

You should be on your knees before me, accepting your place. The moment you looked into my eyes, you knew you had no choice but to submit. These high heels aren't just a fashion statement; they are my command. Each step I take brings me closer to you, each step further solidifying your obedience.

So, I command you now: Kneel. Show your respect. Let the air between us grow heavy with your submission. I am the embodiment of authority, elegance, and power. You are nothing but a willing servant in my presence, and I will enjoy every moment of it. Do as you're told, and remember your place beneath me.

This is the world you live in now, the world where I am in control, where I decide your every move. Kneeling before me isn't just an action; it's a sign of devotion, a recognition of the absolute control I hold. You exist to please me, and you’ll learn the meaning of true obedience.”

No escape

Strict dominatrix en black stockings 

You think you can escape, don't you? Well, think again. Standing right here, blocking your every move, I hold my riding crop firmly in my hand. The sharp click of its tip against the floor echoes through the space, making it clear, there’s no running away from me now.

 

In my black skirt, sleek black stockings, and towering black high heels, I stand unyielding, unwavering. My gaze is fixed and steady, just like my presence. Every step you take toward an exit, I’ll be there, effortlessly positioning myself between you and freedom.

 

You feel the weight of the tension in the air, don’t you? It’s almost palpable. There’s no way around me, no easy way out. I’ve placed myself in your path, and you know that disobeying me, trying to push through, will only result in consequences. My riding crop flicks lightly against my palm, a reminder of my authority and your inability to slip past me.

I’m not here to negotiate, and I certainly don't have patience for disobedience. You can try to make a break for it, but I’ll be quicker. My high heels click against the floor as I take a step forward, tightening the distance between us. I’ve already anticipated every move you might make.

So go ahead, try me. But know this: You’re not going anywhere—not while I stand here in my black skirt and heels, riding crop in hand, blocking every attempt to escape. You'll find, sooner or later, that there’s no way out when I’ve taken control of the situation.

Delivery

Strict Mistress at home

A strict, mature woman stands tall, exuding authority. She holds a riding crop in her hand, her posture commanding and uncompromising. Dressed in a form-fitting black latex skirt, black sheer pantyhose, and towering black peep toe high heels, she prepares to deliver a punishment that reflects her stern nature.

 

"You have disappointed me," her voice is calm yet firm, resonating with a sense of power. "I trusted you to follow the rules, and you failed to meet my expectations. Now, you will face the consequences of your actions." She steps closer, her heels clicking sharply on the floor with each step. "You know that I do not tolerate failure. Not now. Not ever." Her gaze locks onto her subject, eyes cold, unwavering.

She raises the riding crop, its leather tip swishing through the air with a sound that makes the atmosphere tense. "This punishment is not just about correction. It is about discipline. It is about reminding you that there are consequences for your choices. I will not accept excuses. You will learn respect, or you will suffer the consequences of your behavior."

She stands tall, her presence overwhelming, her black skirt hugging her figure as she positions herself for the final act of reprimand. "You will remember this moment. Every time you think about breaking the rules, you will recall this moment and the discipline you received. Now, prepare yourself." With that, she strikes the air, the sound of the riding crop like a warning of the discipline about to unfold.

 

Clean my heels

Obey your Mistress

 Pay attention, because what I am about to tell you is essential to understand your role here. I am giving you a clear order: clean my heels. This is not a simple cleaning assignment; it is a manifestation of your obedience and your ability to follow instructions without question.

 

My high heels are more than an accessory; they are a symbol of the authority and control I exercise over you. Every corner of these heels reflects the power I have in our dynamic. By taking care of cleaning them, you are demonstrating your respect and your submission. Your every move, every effort put into this task, must reflect your willingness to obey and serve with the precision I expect of you.

Use a soft cloth and make sure it is completely clean. Your task is to make my heels shine like new. I don't care if it takes you a long time to do it; what counts is the quality of the result. Lack of attention or effort will not be tolerated. This act, though simple, is a test of your ability to meet expectations and your commitment to my orders.

 

As you work on the heels, remember that every detail is important. The way you clean up and the care you put into it are indicative of your respect for my authority. This exercise is a way to evaluate your ability to follow instructions and your dedication to serve.

When you finish, make sure my heels shine and reflect the effort you have put into the task. Your obedience in this small act is crucial to your development within this dynamic and to your true understanding of what it means to serve.

 

Public domination

Sexy Mistress in leather

Picture a striking, severe woman standing in a bustling public square, her commanding presence impossible to ignore. She is dressed in a tight-fitting black leather dress, black pantyhose that smooth her legs, and towering black boots. She locks eyes with you, and her tone leaves no room for doubt as she addresses you directly.

 

Her voice is cool and authoritative as she speaks, standing firm with a look that commands respect.

"Look at you, standing there, eyes wide with curiosity. Do you think this is just about the leather dress? Or the pantyhose? Or these boots? No. This is about power, control, and how you choose to respond to it."

She crosses her arms, her black leather dress creasing slightly as the sun glints off the smooth material. Her black boots are polished to perfection, the heels clicking sharply as she shifts her weight. She takes a step forward.

"You will listen to me now. You may not like it, but you will listen. Fashion is not just about looking good. It’s about exuding power and confidence in every detail. This dress—this leather, is not something you wear to blend in. It makes a statement. It screams authority."

She takes another step closer, her eyes unwavering as she looks directly into yours.

"You think you can understand power through appearance alone? It’s not that simple. The black pantyhose, the boots, they are the details that complete the command, that leave no room for weakness. You are here, listening, because you understand that presence is everything."

Her voice grows even more measured, the authority in her tone undeniable.

"Let me be clear—every choice I make, from the sleek leather dress to these bold boots, is a reflection of control. I command your attention, not because I ask for it, but because you cannot look away. And you will not forget this moment."

She stands tall, exuding unshakable confidence as she finishes.

"You will remember this. Every detail. Every second. Now, go."

Strict teacher

Strict Mistress in black seamed pantyhose

You stand there, not daring to move, as I tower over you. My eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the weight of my gaze, cold and commanding. My black skirt clings to my hips, the material smooth and unforgiving. My black pantyhose stretch over my long legs, the faint sheen catching the light as I move, every step punctuated by the click of my high heels.

 

You know better than to speak without permission. It’s clear from the way I hold the cane—deliberate, poised, ready for action—that I expect nothing but absolute obedience from you. The curve of my lips twitches slightly as I consider you, and you can almost feel the pressure in the air, thick with expectation. You try to avoid my gaze, but I’m always one step ahead. You will look at me, and you will feel my presence.

“You thought you could defy me,” I say, my voice calm yet dripping with disdain. “But now, you’ll learn just how foolish that was.”

My high heels click on the floor again, a rhythmic warning. I take a step closer, my cane resting against my palm, its polished surface glinting under the harsh light. “You see, your disobedience hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’ve been patient with you, but patience has its limits.”

The cane taps lightly against the floor, the sound sharp like a crack of thunder. “Do you understand the power I hold over you? The control I have, not just over your body, but over your mind?”

You nod, unable to speak, as my severe eyes pierce into yours, drawing you in and making it impossible to look away. “Good,” I whisper. “Remember that when you misbehave again.”