Mistress Isabella introduces a woman to collared pleasure

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Greetings perverts.

As with most things that I write this series takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don’t worry about pandemics, std’s, or the need for birth control.

This story features heavy themes of submissive and dominant behavior, along with voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, orgasm denial, leash and collar play, and more.

If any of that is not your cup of tea, please take a look at some of my other stories and keep checking back because there are lots of other things I’m preparing to submit in other genre’s.

The sexual feelings around submitting to a partner and dominating a partner are very personal to me, but they are kinks I enjoy and indulge in only within narrow parameters.

I am far from an expert on BDSM, nor is this story meant to be a definitive exploration of that lifestyle. As with most sexual kinks, your personal mileage may vary depending upon your partner and the desires you both share.

This is meant to be reflexive of some of my feelings and experiences, and of my own personal approach to submitting to a partner and dominating a partner. Some readers may find this intense. Others may find it fairly vanilla.

Regardless of where you fall, if you’re interested and want to indulge in any of the kinks explored here, please do so only after lots of communication with your partner.

Two characters here.

Gabby: Nineteen years old at the beginning of the story, and this first chapter marks the very beginning of her journey into transforming into Mistress Gabriella.

Izzy: The mother of one of Gabby’s friends, who senses sexual needs within Gabby that even Gabby is unaware of. She has another life as Mistress Isabella.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading about some of the things that arouse me in my fantasy life.



Cindy and I had been best friends forever.

We shared a birthday and started each school year by throwing a party together to celebrate.

Since neither of us had dates to our senior year fall formal last October we’d gone together, and somehow, we’d ended up paired up for our entire senior year.

No romance, no hand holding, no sentimental proclamations of love, just two friends of the same sex hanging out.

And it worked out just fine.

She was shy around guys and wanted to concentrate on her grades, and she didn’t mind having a friend to laugh with at all the formal senior year functions.

And my romantic and sexual interests were definitely too complicated for my social circle, so I embraced the idea of being able to hang out with a good friend who made me laugh instead of chasing a steady romantic partner.

I was primarily attracted to women but that wasn’t really a problem. Even in my rather conservative suburb there were several homosexual couples. My problem was that my sexual fantasies were more unusual than most.

The experiences I craved were a bit less mainstream than the handholding, make-out session, groping, stroking, and quick orgasms that most of my peers hungered for.

Because of those urges, I didn’t really have any experience. With either gender. Even though I was primarily attracted to women, I was certainly curious about cock as a sexual experience, even if I suspected that I’d prefer women for romance.

I had accepted that I was one of those people burdened to be a ‘late bloomer’ due to the awkwardness of trying to find people who would understand my unusual needs and be able to help me explore them.

Even my masturbatory fantasies were largely unexplored, because I could never make myself orgasm.

I could certainly get aroused, and I knew where everything was and what was needed to climax, but I could never figure out how to get over that line that separated physical arousal from physical release.

So I fantasized a lot, and spent lots of time sexually frustrated, recognizing that there was a complicated need buried within me that I couldn’t even explain to myself.

Not even Cindy, my best friend on the planet, knew about my feelings or needs.

She just assumed that my focus was on school, like hers was. We’d been friends since we were little kids, so spending time with her socially was a natural fit, that no one really questioned.

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