They kneel the moment I enter the room, eyes lowered, backs straight, waiting for permission to breathe. I remind them why they crave me, why they sneak away from their boring, obedient lives to kneel at my feet… this hunger they feel is what Sissy Phone Sex only hints at, but what I deliver in flesh and authority.
I circle them slowly, heels clicking, letting the silence stretch until their need grows unbearable. These are grown men, husbands with rings hidden in their pockets, men who pretend to be powerful at home yet melt the second I look down at them. They cheat not because they’re weak… but because they’re starving for control, and I am ruthless enough to feed it.
“Eyes down,” I command, and they obey instantly. I don’t touch them yet. I don’t have to. My voice is the leash. I tell them exactly how to kneel, how to hold their hands, how to present themselves for my inspection. I mock their trembling, praise their obedience, and remind them who they belong to when they’re in my space.
They crave my approval more than affection, more than release. I make them confess… who they lied to, who they left at home, how desperate they were to be here with me instead. “Now who wants to get spanked first?” I ask them loudly. “Of course me your favorite faggot” one yells in the back of the room. Every word tightens my grip on them. I make them repeat it until shame turns into arousal and obedience turns into devotion.
I pace in front of them, issuing instructions with sharp precision. “Slower. Straighter. Better.” Each correction pulls a reaction from them… gasps, shivers, quiet moans they try to suppress. I don’t allow silence unless I demand it. I don’t allow movement unless I give permission. They exist to respond.
I lean close, letting them feel my presence without touch, reminding them that their secrecy, their cheating, their need to kneel all leads back to me. I don’t care who waits at home for them. In this room, I am the only authority that matters.
When I finally step back, I leave them exactly where they belong… pliant, obedient, and aching for more. I don’t reassure them. I don’t soften my tone. I simply remind them they’ll return, because once a man kneels for me, he never forgets who truly owns his obedience.






















