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duration 17:50
ENSLAVING THE JOURNALIST video from Ellie Idol
ENSLAVING THE JOURNALIST by Ellie Idol Ellie is being interviewed for an article by a journalist, who is doing a piece on the domination scene. After she’s answered a few questions, Ellie is quickly onto the journalist's agenda and realizes he's trying to expose it as a seedy scene, where beautiful and seductive women are taking advantage of men with low self-esteem and corrupting them. Initially irritated, she then turns on her charms, seductively caressing herself and changing the way she speaks, from her initially open and friendly voice to a more soothing, sexual one, as she begins to put him under her spell, stripping down and teasing with her breasts, her ass, and her mesmerizing eyes. She says as part of the interview, he should probably go through the steps her slaves do to try and understand them better. She has him start to stroke himself, and soon she knows she has him. She taunts him and explains his assumption was very flawed; it’s not that ‘some men’ are losers - it's all men that are losers, all men can be controlled. She's not failed yet to turn any man she wants into a drooling, addicted slave, who wants only to make her happy because of her perfection. He shouldn't think of himself in any way superior to any of her other slaves. She makes him hand over his wallet as she continues to tease and take control. She tells him that after the session, he will write this feature, but from a completely different angle, and briefs him to tell the world how wrong he was, and what a privilege it is to be one of her slaves - she wants to see the first draft - before she instructs him to climax, and surrender himself completely to her.
duration 12:40
GFE - Bedtime. Your Girlfriend Had A Stressful Day & All She Wants is to Get Naked, Be Admired, and Tell You About the Book She's Reading as You Fall **** Beside Her video from MeredithTourmaline
GFE - Bedtime. Your Girlfriend Had A Stressful Day & All She Wants is to Get Naked, Be Admired, and Tell You About the Book She's Reading as You Fall **** Beside Her by MeredithTourmaline She dressed up. She wore her special lipstick, Red Revolution, her red barrettes, and black lace panties & bra under her dress. Leopard-print tights. She shaved her legs. She went to the café to meet a new client. You were hopeful - you know this work brings her pleasure and meaning, that she's fascinated by everybody she meets, curious about their stories, their bodies, their desires - even their insecurities. Especially their insecurities. You've been dating for a while and you're impressed by her perceptive ideas, her active listening skills... Her presence. No matter how many others she's with, you know that when she's with you, she's *only* with you.





















































































































































































































































































































You have her devoted attention. And she wants yours, too.





















































































































































































































































































































She's had a stressful day. She was stood up at the café. Each time somebody entered, she looked up from the book she was reading, snuck a surreptitious glance toward the door, wondered, 'Is this him?'





















































































































































































































































































































As time passed, she realized what was happening. She felt embarrassed to have saved the second chair at her table when others had wanted to sit down. But she felt calm, too. Reading a short story collection, eavesdropping on the conversations around her. When she came home, you were there, waiting for her, all tucked into her bed. You've been sleeping over more often.





















































































































































































































































































































She gets into bed with you and tells you about her day, about being stood up. She wants you to comfort her. She's reading Hellgoing by Lynn Coady, hoping she can write with such skill and detail, with such insight and sensitivity. Someday. There's a story she read, An Otherworld, and she tells you about it, she related to it and thinks you'd appreciate the story - a girl who's become self-deprecating about a previous relationship, about her idealization of a Kurt Cobain lookalike who she ran away to the forest with, and who one day came home and listed everything he disliked about her, and then left.





















































































































































































































































































































You're falling asleep. She hopes you'll read the story in the morning. Maybe she'll read it to you out loud over coffee, after morning sex.





















































































































































































































































































































She strips slowly, lifting her dress, lowering her tights. Dances a little to tease you. You want to touch her, but you're so tired, buried under blankets while she stands beside the bed, revealing more and more skin, her tattoos, her small tits that you love to hold while she curls into you, a little spoon. She watches you while she dances. Looks you in the eye. Mopes a little.





















































































































































































































































































































When she's naked, she gets into bed with you. She's so glad you're spending the night, so glad you appreciate listening to the rambling thoughts and feelings of this bookish weirdo. As she reaches toward the lamp to darken the room, she kisses you, and you reach for her soft, pale flesh, the curves of her wide hips, and you hold her close, hoping she'll never slip away.
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