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Mistress Roulette Chatelaine

Therapist Plays Sexual Sadist off the Clock

Sex fascinates me; ever since I was a little girl, I knew the power of the feminine mystique. My mother, an accomplished female dominant (and when I say she cuckolded my father, it wasn't a game) taught me how to bend boys to my will before I entered junior high. By college, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life: study the criminal mind through psychology and put the most disrespectful of men behind bars. I had an ingrained desire to punish them. All of them.

This led to a complicated life, helping to heal the abused while hurting the abusers. Like a superhero - minus the powers, but all of the kinky outfits.

I was obsessed with roleplaying; I enjoyed exploring the myriad layers of human dynamics, which helped me to fuel my life's passion - which is separate from my life's 'work': writing. Producing. Directing. Performing. I cut my teeth in porn with my submissive husband; we had a great time.

Now I continue speaking, writing, lecturing on the subject of femdom, BDSM in general, and creating healthy, satisfying relationships built upon respect, mutual understanding, and a solid moral code.

But that's not why you're here today. You know we all have a darkside - that which leads us down the dirty alleys of the mind, into the cramped corners, the reckless recesses, of sexual identity; the willing (or unwilling) flesh and the cursed soul.

You're here because you know just as well as I do that this is not a game. It's a yearning. A need. A calling. So, let's quit the bullshit and get down to business.

You need what I can give you. You need understanding. You need fulfillment. You need someone to call you on the deviant, disgusting desires you disguise from the world - maybe even yourself. And to exploit them. Use them. Tempt you with utter destruction if you cross me. Think to disobey me. You want to be ruined, and you need an intelligent, powerful, no-nonsense bitch to bring you so close to it that it makes your cock throb and your wallet bleed.

Don't like it? That's life, my friend. You're fucked. We both are. I get that. The sooner you come to the realisation that this isn't going away, and nobody's really going to understand, the sooner we can begin working together. And by that, I mean you pour your little pussy heart out while jacking off your teenie weenie towards some kind of momentary victory, and I get the sweet release of making you, some faceless loser, into every man that's ever wronged every woman on the planet. I know. Big shoes to fill. Lucky for you, big man, you're just pathetic enough to fill them. Look at the bright side: you can fill something. Sure as hell ain't a woman, now is it?

Oh, don't cry. Actually - cry. I love it when men cry over the acknowledgement of their own uselessness and fragility. It's called dacryphilia, actually. One of the paraphilias. Something you'd know if you were anything like me. An angry therapist, sick of stupid men and their stupid needs, but too straight to play for the other team. Solution? Use you. All of you. Why? It's fun.

After awhile, we get over the fact that the world's fucked-up and there's nothing you, nor I, can do about it. Welcome to Wonderland, freakshow. We're all mad.

So grab a chair and join the party. You know you want to. Or just click on the chick's page you were looking at before. The 19-year-old bottle-blonde with the double D's. This site seems to breed them. I'm sure babybitch knows what you need. Of course, when that fails (oh, and it will) stop back by and break on through to the other side with me. We're all adults here. I'm just the one with enough balls to be real about it.

Lastly, I have many videos in my goodie bags that will get you off, and they are all reasonably priced.