In the vast, pixelated world of the femdom cams , I found myself drawn to a a truly cruel cam humiliatrix.
This online Domme at Camcontacts is known simply as MissE.
Her username was as enigmatic as it was direct, and her avatar was a vision of art—covering from shoulders to wrist and thighs, her ink danced across her form. Her tattoos were tales told in ink, stories of strength and mystique that lured me into her digital dungeon.
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The first session I had with this tattooed was unlike anything I’d experienced. She started with a simple order, “Remove your shirt.” Her tone left no room for argument. I hesitated, but there was something in her eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. I complied, revealing my chest to her gaze.
Then the real “fun” began. MissE loved EDGING, the dance of control. Her voice would purr commands, “Touch yourself, but not there. Not yet.” Her eyes, lingering on my form, held a mix of playfulness and seriousness. She built me up, inch by inch, but never let me cross the edge into pleasure.
“Your hands tremble,” she observed, a slight mocking tone that made my heart race. “Poor Alex, so eager, yet so restrained.”
Where this live cam dominatrix really got my brain is live cam humiliation. She teased me for small imperfections, ridiculed my weaknesses, and praised my endurance. “Your fingers look clumsy,” she said, her tone condescending. Yet, there was a lilt in her voice that suggested enjoyment rather than malice.
She laughed, an infectious sound, as I squirmed harder to please her. She enjoyed making me laugh, too, throwing in absurd commands and playful banter. “Dance for me, silly boy,” she ordered, clapping her hands like she was a kid wanting to see a cute puppy dance.
Yet it was her ability to control my mind that was her ultimate power.
“Rise from your place and make a little lap dance, Alex” and she will still be able to order me to take a photograph with her when she asks for it anytime. The virtual world lost its limits for her.
Midst of this tension and playful acts I felt the Mistress letting me go from the torture of EDGING and she whispered ”You are cute when you try so hard,” she told me, a soft smile on her face. “Look at the clock, Alex, that’s two minutes for you, let’s see how much you can take.”
We continued like that for another two minutes. Alex would be a total mess, the fear would build and with every second that passed Alex would start to experience something different, his body felt hot, it felt like his nervous system in the last phases of a high when you really don’t know where you are but are sure you are still in control of things.
Later, I saw that the humiliated Alex that I was, sitting in front of her camera and looking like a doll—with orders.
Then she switched modes, her eyes softened, and her voice gentled. “Enough,” she said, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “Let’s talk, like two normal people.”
We chatted about life, about art, about her ink and mine. She laughed at my jokes, I giggled at hers. She was kind, funny, and just a nice person overall. Our sessions weren’t just about BDSM in a way. It was about exploration, about growth, about learning.
Yet, when we’d return to her control room, I’d find myself eager to submit again, to push boundaries, to delve into the dark, delicious abyss of her mind control. MissE, the tattooed webcam Mistress, wasn’t just my dom, but a friend—a complicated, confusing, beautifully intricate friend.
In her virtual dungeon, I was a slave, a plaything, a laughing stock. In her real world, with her smiles and warm, chocolate-glazed eyes and a voice that lilted in a way that was both playful and sassy, an almost girl-next-door character, she was just a girl one would need a few years ago.
She was a complex contradiction—dom and friend, master and confidante. And I, her slave, loved every contradictory moment of it. Each time in the chatroom she goes out of her dominatrix character, the scene goes to complete ground-zero and the control is back in her hand whenever she wants it.
