Mistress Dalisay

I know right! I love the fear on his face!

I’ve come across a cartoonist with an exquisite taste for dominating women. The first comic, My Husband, the Loser, had me self reflecting. Maybe I’ve been a bit too harsh at times?….And then I remember that you are all exactly where you want to be; possessed from our power. So please indulge and let me know how you feel about Eric Stanton and his work. https://archive.org/details/eric-stanton-lady-in-charge Attached below are different illustrations of some of his other work.

Electro sounding can be a very intense experience. I’m not sure how used you are to c&b torture, but I’ve heard that it feels like pins and needles or poppers…but I’ve only experimented with the lowest voltage. I have a feeling I could make someone cry with one of those and I won’t stop until I find a worthy subject. 😈 As for needles, I’d like to do angel wings that take up the entire back. Sickly symbolic innit?

And what if someone in the audience wanted to have a taste of power? How would that make you feel?

In your fantasy, do you see their faces? The expression they give as you receive your punishment?

I would absolutely LOVE to discipline someone like this. The shame they would feel would be so evident on their face, I think I would cry tears of enjoyment!

In your hand is a flier to the next buzz in town. A traveling show for The She Devil. In the front, hundreds of people are hoping to get a chance to see this one-night extravaganza. Peeping around, you notice a door slightly ajar. “My ticket into the show...”, smiling cheekily. __________________________ An empty hallway stretches out, dim and still. The show won’t begin for an hour, plenty of time to explore, but dangerous enough to make your pulse quicken. A door at the end beckons. You step inside. The dressing room feels like trespassing into a shrine. Mannequins wear sparkling lingerie and feathered boas that drip off their shoulders like smoke. Jewels catch the light, throwing shards of color across the walls. Amid the decadence sits a small table, almost mundane—except for what rests upon it: a collection of crops, canes, and whips. “Do you like them?” The voice freezes you. You whirl, and there she is, She Devil. Every inch of her radiates command, the air charged with her presence. Her smile is molten; her stride deliberate. With each step closer, your knees weaken until you collapse before her without realizing it. I’ve been wanting to try a new act,” she purrs, eyes glittering with intent. “And you, darling, seem like the perfect specimen. What do you say? Interested?” Your mouth goes dry. She hovers above, a predator circling her prey. “You don’t look so hot, baby.” Her tone softens, but the intensity in her eye does not break. “Take a seat. I’ll fetch you something to drink.” She slips from the room, leaving you trembling in humiliation. Why hadn’t she called security? Why hadn’t she screamed for help? When she returns, it’s with a single glass of water. “Here, sugar. Drink up.” You obey. The cool liquid slides down your throat, and in seconds the glass is empty. But her expression—her smile, now sharp as a blade—stabs you with dread. “Any second now…” she whispers. The world tilts. Then blackness. ———————————————— “Wake up, baby. It’s showtime!” You struggle, but the weight of your predicament becomes clear: naked, gagged, trapped in a pillory at center stage. The roar of the audience drums in your ears. “Escape is futile.” Her voice cracks like a whip—followed by one, slicing across your flesh in a blaze of pain. The crowd gasps. She Devil turns to them, triumphant. “This culprit thought it wise to sneak into my dressing room. But I’ve found the perfect punishment.” She scans the crowd, smirking. “Let me burn this into your memory forever.” Her gaze locks on you, eyes alight with cruel delight. “Good luck.”, a sharp crack rings out. She leans in close. “I don’t think they’ve heard you yet, sugar. Speak up.” Another lash, this one forcing a muffled cry from behind your gag. The crowd howls with delight. She Devil steps close once more, gripping your chin so you have no choice but to meet her eyes. The theater falls into silence, every soul hanging on her next words. “You should know better next time, Pet.” she purrs, voice low and dangerous, eyes scanning yours. “Punishments must be served.”

Hello Pet, Here is a list for you: * Continuously adding weights to your c&b, enduring the pull and squeeze as it piles on. * Electro-sex sounds and butt plugs…need I say more? * Needle play. Fear and pain go hand in hand, but beautiful none the less. That last option is a new experiment of mine. The body is a vast empty canvass and I am looking to paint a mural.

Baby, I don’t think you could disappoint me. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I want or what I’m capable of. You are the subject who will help me understand myself better and I want you to have as much fun as I will! Will it be funny if you can’t walk? OF COURSE! However, I’d much rather you be conscious.

You know I can play nice. You also know your safe words. If anything, we can put aside some time to get some feeling back into your legs 😛

I am right there with you!!! It’s so exhilarating!!! I broke a paddle from my last hard core session 🤭