If you ended up here as a consequence of following a link that promissed you something very special you are in luck. There is something hidden that when found will lead you to the reward you are looking for. When you find it, return here as you will need to remember the following.
Only three of you will win. The three fastest.
You may request nothing other than your limits be followed.
I have been having My bottom bitch, main squeeze, sluttiest slut of all cock holes, Gaping-Gabriella keep a very dirty diary of our debaucherous debacles. Here is the first entry:
“ Mistress Isobel told me to be owned as her sissy slut and knows as Mistress Isobel slutty bimbo whore Gabriella. I was told to go shopping, pick out panties and throw away all my men underwear. No longer to wear men underwear and always wear panties. I got all sorts of panties to wear for my Mistress Isobel. Thongs, G-string and bikini panties. Every day I am to send pictures of my panties I am wearing to my Mistress Isobel.
Tuesday, November 22,
2016MISTRESS ISOBEL SISSY ASSIGNMENTThere are many steps to being a good sissy! Especially if I want to be Mistress Isobel sissy slut. Some of them are simple and some of them will take a bit more effort. But every one of these steps will bring me closer to the sissy I am meant to be! This will be thorough, detailed and very comprehensive changing your masculinity totally and completely! Each of these steps will lead you down the path of feminization and sissification. The introduction to the sissy steps will be taking under Mistress Isobel guidance and control! Mistress Isobel takes her training of her girls very seriously! One of the reasons is she wants to be proud to call me as her sissy slut Gabriella and proud to be My MISTRESS ISOBEL slut! This assignment will allow visual reminders that I am her sissy and will enhance my femininity and sissification! “
Next up, Gabby’s view as well as video proof of the misdemeanors.
Video and more clips on MissIsobelDevi.ManyVids.com
It is true, we are all a little blood thirsty; or a lot blood thirsty.
Certainly it is possible to curb misandry with logical thoughts of particular versus general fault, but where is the pleasurable gain in that? Not all girls relish in vivid fantasy of hitting guys where it hurts, but most do, and some love to indulge.
I am not addicted to ball busting, I simply demand it because I am a Princess.
Emasculating by blunt force is the tuning fork for My inner serenity and bliss. Catering to My madness requires dedication, and a resilient pair of balls. Know your place beneath My heel and accept every punch, kick, and whack with honorable subordination to your cause for your superior.
Flamboyant masculinity sickens Me, and I will seek to correct it with a firm hand, and a committed foot, directly where it stems, at the odious well of libido between a mans legs.
Surrender your unworthy dangly parts for My wicked indulgence. The screams of your torment are the elixir I seek for the vice which burns deep withing Me.
These things are broken or something. Maybe a couple of whacks will fix them.Regular spankings are not working on you, maybe spanking your balls will work best.
The swing-set is my favorite playground item. It is the feeling of weightlessness at the ends of each swing that spins My mind into a serene kind of frenzy. As I gained air and momentum, My white dress flared up to catch the wind. I stretched My pale little feet out as far as I could shooting up and then back.
From way up high at the beginning of another exciting swing I spotted a man-boy approaching with his hands held wide as if to receive Me for a big embrace. He was statured like a man, but had the look of a boy; lightly freckled skin, perfect blue eyes. He was very near now, almost beneath Me, perhaps looking up My dress which had taken to streaming behind Me like a long angelic tail.
I saw his beautiful face arranged perfectly for kissing, and as My gondola of joy brought Me down to My cortier I dismissed it all for what appeared to be a target, right between his legs. It beseeched Me and I obliged, landing My tiny slippered foot right on the target. I felt the dull impact, like stepping on an expired wafer, against the body of My little foot. The squishy flesh beneath his crunchy gentleman pants gave way, almost enveloping its attacker. Simultaneously the impact sent him to his toes, his eyes widening to accept the gesture with stoic gratitude.
My seat swung back sharply, pulling Me back on course against all physical reason. From the pinnacle I saw him again below Me, waiting, and I came down for another bull’s eye, laughing with maniacal pleasure as I descended. This time he became air borne, his face of masochistic bliss even more distorted, smiling at Me.
I kicked the man in the genitals again, and again until his head grew large with pressure like a balloon and finally burst, propagating a colorful shower of marshmallow candy bits. Each little sugar morsel melted into a gooey frosting as it rained down upon Me and the playground.
A drowning sensation woke Me from My dream. Have you had any kinky dreams lately? Share them in the comments or if you are shy in a private conversation with me.
Only 33 wee hours separate us from the long awaited Mistress Dinner. We are all sharpening our claws for the tender slave feast which awaits. I imagine it will go something like this:
Upon arrival the slaves will be stripped of their clothing and privilege, examined for physical integrity, and groped for approval before being granted their collar, and number. They will be taught strict slave commands which they must demonstrate flawless understanding of. Once properly introduced, they may clean themselves to standard and begin setting the table for the Priestesses.
The slaves eat on the floor, naked. If they should make themselves privileged, perhaps near their favorite Priestess. Upon completion of the meal, there will be a moment of pause for the purpose of tidying up, and serving with foot massages while the ladies digest over light libations.
Soon enough, the caffeine coursing through Our veins will awaken the kinky beasts inside of Us and We will drag the meat-cicles to the dungeon. Or perhaps ride them like tiny steads of subordination. Never the less, the evening will conclude in a festive display of Female Supremacy and Sadomasochism. Cries of bittersweet devotion will pierce the chilly night sky, frightening the squirrel inhabitants of the otherwise vacant land surrounding the Temple of The Order of Indomitus.
When dealing with a sadist, torture can be quite inevitable. But why attempt such robbery to one’s self? Behind the complex fabric of our existence, delicate math erects the foundation of all that was, is, and will be. There are equalities and inequalities, and each is addressed respectively to derive the optimal result.
If you wish to make a sadist happy, because Her laugh is sweeter than any other poison to cross your lips, you will simply have to endure the torture which fills her black heart with glee. There are formulas for this, but My suggestion will be blind trust, for optimal benefit. I know you want to hurt for Me, as much I want to elicit the torment from your voice in chilling howls and desperate pleas.
I am a lover of the extreme. Naturally, when it comes to being put to work, I will want you totally destroyed for Me by the end. I find sick pleasure in watching your body stretch beyond its perceivable threshold. Perception means nothing to Me, you will bend over and take whatever I chose to subject your body to.
I was born to sodomize, there is no question about this. No hole is too sacred, no dong too large. The sight of an orifice stretched to its limits is invigorating to Me; the possibility of busting that hole open forever is intoxicating.
The thing about limits is they can always be stretched. My feet are so small. Making the coziest Princess slipper out of that ruined whore-ass would delight Me so. Don’t you want to please your Princess?
The smell of burning human flesh is not for the faint of heart, and neither are any of My other interests. Regardless, the moment of discomfort should be welcomed for the opportunity to truly belong. Bearing the mark of the Princess is no trivial matter; it is for the ones who wish to surrender all, truly, and forever.
My mark is subtle, ultimately signifying the exchange between Mistress and slave. It will not serve to expose, only to establish the devotion owed to Me by My subjects; a constant daily reminder, until the end. If you wish to become a branded slave, the application process can be started here:
For the kinky soul who is into raw, uncensored mind fucks, My new personal blog. Here I will bestow My simpler, more carnal thoughts and urges. Profanity will be used, boundaries will be crossed, limits will be stretched. My mind is a black hole and you cannot wait to get sucked into it. Stay tuned for updates of My travel schedule regarding domination and performance art alike. Creep around for a chance to purchase a pair of My old worn shoes and socks, and also see photos and videos of said apparel. Have your fill of My crazy devious life and all the fun experiences I have in the full verbal spectrum of an intellectual sadist, and bratty Domme Princess.
And if you fancy what you see, go ahead and say thanks by spoiling Me with gifts.