Smoke Phonesex

JASMINE 844-332-2639 ext 262

Jasmine stands with her back to the fire, dark hair lit from behind, seemingly aflame. In a red dress she stands, the ever present cigarette in her hand. Sunk in chairs, legs crossed sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, wherever she is, all our eyes hang fascinated upon her. Upon her face, her full lips, high cheekbones, hypnotic eyes and upon her perfect form.

The flames flicker; her half closed eyes waken to our mute appeal. As ever desire and the long drawn smoke of her cigarette weave about her,snakelike, slowly entwining her willowy frame; Around her neck it curls, she shudders, her eyes close. Ahh! Contentment! Power! Jasmine, who we know but will never truly know. Jasmine, the mysterious figure in the red dress.

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Mistress Jasmine’s Slave Boy Phonesex- Part 2

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext 262

The boy, my slave boy, is kneeling before me, naked, hungry so very eager to please. It is the collar I have put about his neck in part–but the rest, well it is me–he has wanted me for a long time and will do anything in order to have me. But I intend to play with him first, to edge him to the very brink and then bring him back until the ache of his desire, it hurts. Until he begs for his release. And I intend to make him hurt in other ways too. This is the price he must pay in order to be with me and I have no doubt that he will pay it.

I pull on the strap on and stand before him. I give to his collar a sharp tug and force him to take the strap on into his mouth. “You are my bitch,” I tell him and though some part of him wants to rebel against this assertion, his desire for me and the collar, that constriction about his neck, remind him that he must obey my every command. 

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Mistress Jasmine’s Slave Boy Phone Sex

MISTRESS JASMINE 844-332-2639 ext. 262

“Do you trust me?” I ask the boy with a wicked laugh. He is naked and beautiful as he kneels at my feet, trembling with combination of fear and desire as I put the collar around his neck. He is overcome by such conflicting emotions– the desire to please, love, arousal and terror. But he nods his head and says “yes” for he loves me with blind devotion. He would do anything for the chance to be possessed by me, to be my slave.

“So say it, ” I tell him. “Repeat for me the rules”. I dangle the key to the collar before his eyes and he raises eyes to meet the intensity of my gaze. “I will have a key to the collar but I am not allowed to use it,” he says. “And what if somebody asks you about it,” I say. “Then I will tell them the truth about it,” he answers with a meekness that is touching. “And what is the ‘truth’, darling?” I ask. “That I am yours,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “I belong to you and need you and you alone. I am your slave.”

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