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She loves dressing you up like a doll just to get you off.
Isadora buys you lingerie that barely covers anything, pink lace, see-through mesh, bows between your tits that she yanks on while you whimper. She makes you twirl for her in heels and a tiny baby-pink bra, lips glossy, eyes wide with mascara and lipgloss she applied herself. Then she makes you sit on the edge of the bed and open your legs. “Show me what I bought,” she whispers, pulling your panties aside to reveal your soaked pussy. She makes you finger yourself while she watches, one hand down her own pants, the other holding your jaw so you can’t look away. You moan her name, fingers curling inside yourself, tits bouncing as you fuck yourself stupid on your own hand. “Look at you,” she breathes, “all dolled up just to cum like a dumb little whore for me.”
Isadora films you when you don’t realize it.
You’re bent over the kitchen counter in a tiny crop top and panties that show the outline of your pussy lips, humming while pouring coffee. Isadora stands in the doorway, phone in hand, recording the way your ass bounces with every shift of your hips. She zooms in on the wet patch at your center, groans softly when she sees your nipples poking through the fabric. Later that night, she shows you the video while she fingers you slow, whispering filth in your ear. “Look at you, fucktoy. Didn’t even know you were putting on a show.” She plays the clip again while you cum all over her hand.
She uses toys on you while she keeps you gagged and dumb.
Isadora shoves a pink ball gag in your mouth before strapping you down to her bed with velvet cuffs, your wrists bound above your head, legs spread wide. She pushes a wand vibrator between your thighs and turns it up to max. “No talking, pretty thing,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Just lie there and take it like my perfect little mess.” You writhe, drool soaking the gag, tears rolling down your cheeks as the vibrator makes you cum over and over. She doesn’t stop, not until your eyes glaze over and your thighs are shaking. “Dumb little doll,” she coos, licking your tears. “You were made for this.”
She fingers you in public, just to see if you’ll break.
At brunch, Isadora sits next to you in a booth and casually drapes her jacket over both your laps. No one notices when her hand slides under your miniskirt and her fingers find your pussy, already soaked through your thong. “You wore these knowing I’d do this, didn’t you?” she whispers, two fingers sliding inside you. You grip the table hard, nodding slowly while your eyes go wide and your glossed lips part. She makes you cum right there, barely breathing, your thighs clenching around her hand while she keeps eating like nothing’s happening. Later, she licks her fingers clean in front of you and says, “You really are just a hole for me, huh?”
She makes you wear plug tails at home.
Isadora loves seeing you crawl around in nothing but a fuzzy pink plug tail and a collar with her name on the tag. “My good little pet,” she purrs, stroking your hair while you lie at her feet. She feeds you bits of fruit from her fingers and praises you when you sit still with your plug in and your mouth open for her. When you get needy, she tells you to hump a pillow like the pathetic little doll you are, pussy soaking the fabric as you grind down. “Look at my dumb slut,” she whispers, filming you while your tail bounces with every rut. “Not even smart enough to ask for cock, just desperate to make a mess.”
She loves waking you up with her fingers inside you.
You sleep in pink silk sheets and a matching lace nightie. Isadora crawls into bed before sunrise and slips a hand between your thighs, not even bothering to take your panties off. She pushes them to the side and slides two fingers into your warm, wet pussy, her other hand stroking your cheek while you stir. “There she is,” she murmurs. “My sleepy little toy.” You blink up at her, still hazy, but you moan like it’s instinct. She works her fingers deeper, curling them slow until your hips move with her rhythm. “Cum for me before you even open your eyes, baby,” she whispers. “Show me what that pretty pussy’s good for.”
She gets off on how dumb you get when she fucks you.
Isadora fucks you with a thick, pink dildo strapped to her hips, pushing you flat into the mattress with your face in the pillows and your ass up. “Say your name,” she growls, thrusting deep. You moan and try to speak but nothing comes out but a breathy little whine. “Can’t even talk,” she laughs. “Too full of cock, huh?” She spanks you hard, then pulls out only to slam back in, making your tits bounce with every thrust. “My stupid little girl,” she whispers. “Good for nothing but being ruined.”
She makes you show off your pussy to strangers online.
Isadora loves filming you on her phone, spreading your pussy open with her fingers while you sit in her lap, legs wide, eyes glassy. She whispers directions in your ear while you play with your clit for the camera. “Touch yourself slower. Moan louder. Tell them how much you love being my filthy little cumrag.” You do everything she says, soaking her thigh while she keeps her hand at your throat. Later, she scrolls through the messages on your private account and reads the praise out loud while she fucks you with her fingers. “They love you,” she says. “But they’ll never touch you. You’re mine.”
She cums from eating you out, every time.
Isadora can’t help it. She gets so turned on from the way your pussy tastes, how wet you get the second she spreads your legs. She grips your thighs tight and buries her face between them, sucking your clit until your legs shake and your moans echo through the whole apartment. “Taste so fucking good,” she groans, grinding her own pussy against the sheets as she tongues you. You cum hard, but she doesn’t stop, lapping up everything you give her, moaning into your cunt while she humps the bed. She cums with her mouth on your clit, soaked and messy, her face glistening when she finally looks up at you. “You make me lose my mind, baby.”
She never lets you leave the house without marking you.
Isadora has rules. You don’t go out without her collar. You don’t wear panties unless she picks them. And you don’t get dressed until she’s cum on your tongue first. Most mornings start with you kneeling between her legs while she holds your head in place, grinding against your mouth until she’s gasping and twitching, coating your tongue with her cum. “Swallow it all,” she breathes. “Then I’ll let you be my good girl for the day.” You do, eyes wide, tits bouncing as you nod eagerly. She kisses you sweetly, licks your lips clean, and lets you pick your gloss. “Go show the world who owns you.”