Happy Slutsgiving! Duos With Contessa Zoe

Sweet sickos,

It’s your sticky hot wet dream – to be trussed, dressed and basted to be the meaty centrepiece of the Vore feast for two greedy Goddesses.

Zoe Aspasia (www.zoe-aspasia.com) and I are buttering up the corn cobs making them nice and slick to spit-roast you. Seasonal buggery indeed. Contessa Zoe and I have a cornucopia of sadistic and humiliating activities to keep your spank bank stocked well into winter.


  • Slut Turkey bondage with all the fixin’
  • Spit-roasting
  • Harvest WAM
  • Pain Training
  • Human furniture/ candlestick
  • Sissification
  • Cannibal/ Vore Fetish
  • Juicy Basting Enema
  • JOI, CIE
  • Saran Wrap Marinade
  • Battery Farm Caging
  • Forced Oven
  • Kitchen Corporal Punishment

More than a list of things, take a look at us and just imagine basking in our fierce presence, giving in to our whims, our creatively twisted desires, sliding deep into submission as our messy little goose.


Advanced Booking and Deposit Required for all supplicants

Tribute:  1 – 3 Hrs : 500 * 700 * 900

Availability: 11am-8pm M-F with rare weekend availability.

Deposit via Bitcoin, EMT (Interac e-transfer), GC of our choice, or Snail mail ($/ MO).

corn cob sodomy * turkey trussing: stuffing/ anal, food gags, spices * cannibal-style turkey preparation with sauce, tenderizing, saran wrap marinading and Vore talk * Harvest themed WAM with gourd/ pumpkin / jack-o-lantern fucking (JOI or Anal) * human cornucopia with candles, markers + lipstick carcass colouring/ tagging * turkey role play from “humane” breathplay weakening to trussing and stuffing * Spitroasting * candlecocks * “manturkey” caging and corporal punishment * master basting class * rubber gloving * and more terrifying and delightful things *


Catheter Arts: put it in to let it out

Those who follow my musings know that I have a fetish for all things urethral. Piss games like target practice, forced consumption, toilet slavery, golden enema, bladder control, and on to more precise practices like sounding, figging, and urethral stretching.

Catheter play is a twisted merry game, and it can be done as a standalone practice or as part of a longer scene. If you’ve been sounded you’ll know that the feeling of a slender object snaking up your urethra is incredible, intensely pleasurable, and stimulating for the prostate. Once it’s secured in you, imagine how much it would heighten pleasure for other play.

It’s quite an ordeal of medical paraphernalia, laying the sterile Sheet of Dignity over your freshly swabbed and cleansed junk, lubricating the equipment, feeding it through into the bladder and inflating the bubble to keep it in, and securing the leg bag. The bag fills – you don’t get to decide when you are going to urinate because this little tube does it all for you.

From there, I might carry on flaying you, going deeper into medical play. Needles, staples, sutures… I can go into more detail when we meet, I don’t want to frighten the sissies away from reading the rest of this.

I put you in extended bondage. You are immobile, unable to touch yourself. Perhaps you are kept in a cage overnight as I sleep soundly in the king bed upstairs.

Or maybe we go out in public, and you squirm with hot embarrassment in lacy knickers and catheter tubing under your everyday clothes. Imagine dinner across form me as I gently torment you, urging you to drink more water.

And then, a test of your devotion in an act of submissive debasement. The bag is full, but how could we waste such a precious collection? It’s got to go back in, one hole or another. I might let you flip a coin to seal your fate.

Want to try it? Break the golden seal. Come get cath’d.



Explaining My Harvest and Extraction Scene

Many of you have contacted me asking what my seed harvest session is. You just don’t get subtlety, do you.

Scenario 1: I am a sadistic villianess, the power-mad keeper of the key to your cage. You are bound and hooked up to my ingenious machine, and you are helpless against my milking machines. I taunt you as the rope bonds grows tighter, as the sensations intensify till you feel like you will burst…

Test alpha and you will be an exalted slave in my ranks. Test beta and I will still find a job for you, perhaps cleaning grime off my stiletto.

pour_girl (1).jpg


Scenario 2: I am in the bath, waiting to be cleaned and pampered by my servant. I am to be treated as a Goddess, pure yet decadent. You ache in chastity as you lather up and polish my body. I may humiliate you further by dressing you in slutty silky frills and laugh as you fumble for your clit, desperate to impress.



The theme has room to include bondage, CBT, punishment enema and sissification, catheter play, and so on. Essentially, it’s about edging. This is done with prostate massage, JOI, and/or a machine. As to whether or not there is a release, that depends on how sweet and compliant you are with my evil plan. The gooey result is then recycled into you through any of your holes, or turned into a frozen popsicle for the next victim.

Book Your Seed Extraction Today


Ballad of the Sissy Slut

I found a sissy by surprise

Trying on my best thigh highs

“You thieving bitch!” I said to him,

“Get on the floor. Obey my whims.”

So he did, his satin creased

I perked his bum up, hot and greased

I laughed to see his clit a-throbbing

Dribbling juice, the tip a-bobbing

“What a nasty slut you are

But just obey and you’ll go far.”

Cue the music, hit the lights

Disgusting fun all day all night

Rope and sounding, CBT

Ball gags, clamps, tongue on my feet

My needs first, never yours

The thief found snooping through my drawers

Silky sissy frilly slut

Clips and zips, all buttoned up

And your butt your butt your butt your butt

Dressed like that you’re going to get what…you deserve

When I’m through, and you are too,

Have an oily rag to wipe up your goo

Stumble out of my house to the harsh daylight

Panties in pocket, feeling tight

People point and laugh and stare

They know about your underwear

Wobble home on shoes too high

Lube still dribbles down your thigh

Dirty, greedy, hungry frill

You’ll be back – you know you will.


July Schedule

leathercageOh summer is upon us in all its sweaty burning muggy glory. I don’t produce a lot of melanin but I can’t resist a skimpy frock, so I require a parasol holder as well as a bag bitch on my outings this season.

Really I like to be in the dungeon where it’s dark and cool. There I can lace you up in the leather body cage and hook it to the suspension bar, hang you up and leave you tight and dangling while I taunt and tease you.

Late in the dark I have you strapped into whatever contraption I feel you need – hanging upside down by your ankles so I can use your head for my amusement, or hooked up to a fluid extraction and recycling machine so that none of your liquids are put to waste. When was the last time your body was reduced to a simple system of passages? I am a meticulous experimenter and I have the tools to remodel you.

I am in Toronto this month. My availability is 5-11pm on the following dates.




25th-28th (10am-11pm)

As always my pets, you have a much better chance of spending time at my feet when you enquire at least a day ahead, because I’m often booked up. I am taking deposits for all new slaves who can’t give references, even if you request an in-person consultation. And we both know that pleasing me every step of the way is a truly rewarding investment.


My bathtub should be filled to the brim. Can you be of any use at all?




New Photos

Oh my darlings. The photos are up.

Just what on earth am I bathing in? Well, let me just say it took considerable time to harvest, and that was after going to all the trouble of kidnapping, tormenting, and teasing the “livestock”. Worth the factory farming though, and now my evil plans for global control of the male species are that much closer to completion.

collection (1).jpg

Of course you’ll like it the first dozen or so times that you are milked. But then, the longer you are left in your cage, brought out into the light to feed and harvest just twice a day, you may regret your life choice to be a donor. But by then it’ll be too late to get out of the contract, which binds you until you are pumped dry of all of your seed. At least the food isn’t bad – my studs make sure of that.




How lucky am I to have such a rich network of talented degenerates in Toronto. My fabulously skilled photographer Sydney Rose and I had a fortuitous day at the Patricia Marsh Dungeon rollicking around in the clawfoot bathtub upstairs.

June Schedule

Hello piglets and princesses,

I’m gearing up for a summer packed with travel and outdoor education. Patio scenes, walking on the beach with my pup, a little exhibitionism here and there. I’m moving around a fair bit this month, so here is my availability for June for ease of pre-booking:

Ottawa: 7th-9th

New York: 17th-21st








Montreal: The Hunter Stalks



Ponies, pups, and pansies: I’m taking Montreal to the track.

On top of my host of skills in bondage, sissification, all kinds of medical play, and corporal (ie impact play ie SPANKING YOU TILL YOU STOP CRYING) I will be running sessions in forced exercise, scent and sweat worship, pony and puppy play, endurance training and objectification.

My time is brief in the sex capital of Canada so book ahead. If I’ve seen you before, you will notice how my style has become more sensual, more intense and connective.

I will be hosting in Sainte-Marie. I am holding interviews for a bag bitch as I swan about Montreal for a weekend of BDSM fun. Folks identifying as queer and femme will be considered first.



Office Bullies: A Modern Slave Training (Part 3)


Starry-eyed with tears, he gathered cleaning supplies from a cupboard in the corridor. As he scurried back with his head down, he collided straight on with a woman carrying an enormous stack of papers which flew into the air in a blizzard of invoices and receipts. He dropped to the floor and frantically grasped at the pages.

A slender, freckled hand touched his shoulder, he looked up from his hands and knees at an achingly beautiful woman, her eyes large with concern. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll do it together.” She knelt down beside him. “Here, it’s no trouble, we’ll get it all neat and ordered soon.” He flinched away from her and grabbed at another dozen muddled pages. She touched him again. Her lips parted and she smiled gently. “Really,” she insisted, “it’s alright. It didn’t even take that long to get straightened out the first time.”

“Helena, what are you doing?” Miss Hart called out from her office.

“Miss Hart I’ll have this all cleaned up in a moment, sorry.”

The CEO stood above Nick. “Why are you helping that boy? He made a mess, it’s his job to clean up messes he makes.”

A small crowd of employees had started to form near them, gleeful spectators hoping for a scuffle.

“Helena, get up. Remember our chat? Protocol is vital.”

Helena blushed. She stood slowly and deliberately adjusted her shirt.

“Marvellous. Now, lots of us are going out for lunch in a moment, and it would be wonderful if you joined us. It’ll give you a chance to meet everyone properly.”

They ignored Nick as he crouched at their polished shoes, the entire staff crowding in, all of them laughing and chatting, their legs around him like bars in a cell. There was no way he could finish his task without pushing against their warm silk-enrobed flesh, squeezing through to grasp at the last wisps of paper fluttering across the floor. Moira’s velvet thigh pressed against his arm, Miss Hart’s sharp heels nearly pierced his finger, and everywhere hemlines shifted and stocking tops showed.

In the din of the conversation, Miss Hart’s mouth was hot at his ear, her fingers sliding down his collar. “Now, you’ve done nothing to deserve this, but you’re coming with us to lunch. After all, we can’t leave you here without supervision.” She didn’t need to see his face to feel his yearning. Her hand closed around the back of his neck and he sank towards the floor, the paper stack slumped in his arms.

Audra drove the SUV, leading the convoy to the restaurant. Nick was strapped in the middle front seat between her and Moira, who was engrossed in slowly uncrossing and recrossing her legs and feeling her tights. He could glance into the rearview mirror to see five other women squashed into the back seats, talking business while loosening their shirts after a long morning at work.

They pulled into an alleyway. A door in the wall opened out and they all slipped inside to a long dingy corridor. Echoes of whispers and footsteps as they filed through, descending twisting stairs and confusing corners. Nick was flanked by Audra on one side and Moira on the other, armlocked. At last, a seam of light outlining a door came into view.

The room: a polished floor and sliding wooden doors flush with the deep red walls, a heavy marble slab for the table, thick benches on the long sides and a tall chair at the head. A row of silent male servants lined up against the far wall, standing straight and still.

The women poured in, and Nick was sat next to Helena, with Audra as a looming bodyguard on his other side. It was a tight fit to get the whole company round the table, twenty women in all, with Miss Hart at the head, reclining back in the leather-backed chair.

The servants filled water glasses, which were quickly drained. As they reached to refill glasses, light glinted off metal bands around their wrists and beneath their shirt collars. The meals were served quickly, and Nick’s place was bare.

Audra threw her head back and laughed when his stomach growled loudly, elbowing his ribs.“Skinny boy, you haven’t eaten today, have you. Hungry now? And you sweat so much, so nervous.” She gestured to her plate. He started to reach over but she rapped his knuckles with the flat of her knife. “Dirty hands don’t touch anything of mine. Filth.” She went back to eating, and Nick squashed his hands between his knees.

Then Helena’s fork fell from her place and clattered under the table. The company quietened and eyes bore down on him. “Helena dropped her fork, Nick.” Miss Hart said, languidly dripping lemon juice onto an oyster and slipping it down her throat. “Floor, now. Pick it up.”

He squirmed off the bench and under the table, dark and cramped. He crawled to retrieve the fork, and a foot touched his back. A heel pressed into his shoulder and then a kick landed square on his arse and a tumult of shoves, pushes and jabs all over his body. He covered his face to make it to where it lay, grabbed it and fought his way out on his knees and elbows, dodging blows from stiletto heels on all sides in the dark. Helena’s face beamed down at him and he polished the fork with a corner of his shirt. He offered it up to her and she grabbed it, clutching his hand.

“you tedious cunt, get on your feet.” The shape of Miss Hart loomed behind Helena, her finger stabbing at his face. “You’re off-task and slow. So tiresome and dull. Hurry up.”

He stumbled over the chair and brushed his knees off briskly. Miss Hart grabbed him by the tie and frogmarched him into a room through a door that had silently opened.

It snicked shut behind him and they were cloaked in pitch darkness. Her heels slowly pacing around him echoed in the shapeless space.

“Nick.” A fingernail lightly dragged from his ear down his neck. “Let’s talk about your work ethic.”

“Yes Miss Hart, thank you.” A sharp heavy slap landed on his face that burst silver stars in his eyes, spit flying out of his mouth.

“Don’t interrupt me with your snivelling niceties. You speak only when you are explicitly invited. Do you understand?”

He was silent. A sharp kick landed just missing his balls. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes Miss Hart,” he squeaked.

“You worked hard this morning.” She circled him still, her hands crawling up his body, unbuttoning, unzipping, peeling his clothes slowly away. “There were quite a few tests for you. I’m telling the agency that you’ve done well, and that we’re going to keep you for a while longer. And I think you want that, telling by those goosebumps.”

He stood naked in front of her, feeling her heat, the softness of her clothing. His body vibrated. She raked her fingers through his hair. “I can’t imagine you’ve ever been treated so appallingly in your life, actually, with how flustered you got. But my gang of mean, powerful women stirs something deeply curious in you, doesn’t it?” Her grip tightened on his hair and she wrenched his head back. “Doesn’t it, Nick?” she growled in his ear.

“Yes Miss. Thank you for saying I’ve done well, Miss.”

“You’re welcome.”

“May I speak freely, Miss?”

“Quickly, then.” Her fist pulled his head back further and he gasped.

“Only that, and sorry, but that I’m happy you want to keep me on. And, ow, that I hope I have pleased you and your colleagues, Miss.”

“Are you done?” Her nails grazed his throat again and his head stretched back even further.

“Ah, yes Miss.” She released her hold and he stumbled forward. She pulled his neck down and he fell onto his hands and knees, and still she pressed his head further to the floor so his bare ass was up and his ear touched her shoe. She swiftly fastened a buckled leather strip around his neck, and the tinkle of a small lock danced at the front.

“We need to make sure you are true to your word. Your contract states the terms of your employment, but what does paper promise? Words can be broken, but bodies show true loyalty.”

Something cold and hard nudged at his hole, and suddenly his body opened up and swallowed a gigantic steel ball. Miss Hart swiftly attached the end of the anal hook to the ring at his collar. His face bore a look of pure bewilderment, her favourite expression on a man.

She entered into a focussed trance as she dressed him, fitting his legs into snug leggings with kneepads and straps for the ankle to connect to the thigh. When she clipped them, his legs drew up so he was forced to rest uncertainly on his knees. Wrists clamped to shoulders, a meagre padding at the elbows. Snaking twin belts from the tips of his toes, under his body and crossing at his ribs, to come up under the shoulder and clip with perfect tension onto the collar. Stuck. A creature born from leather and metal, forced to walk painfully on elbows and knees. She shoved his head down to the ground and he yelped, the hook yanking his guts.

“I want your mind completely gone. I want you to disappear. Here.” A hood slid over his head, laces and straps strained tight.  Gagged, bound, hooked and disfigured.

She unzipped the hole for his mouth. “What a pretty predicament you’re in, you funny pet. How are you feeling?”

He opened his mouth to answer and she pushed a gigantic rubber ball in, stretching his jaw past its flexibility. “You only need to nod or shake your head to answer. So, how are you feeling?”

He nodded his head slowly, whimpering with each tug of the hook.

“Good, wonderful. You’re starting to look like you finally fit in here.” She lifted his chin to meet her eyes and smiled at him with genuine kindness.

“Let’s go for a little walk, shall we?”

He dribbled.

“Good boy.”


Read the final instalment HERE

*The final part of this story is password-protected. Send a request to unlock it misstressisobelhart@gmail.com

Office Bullies: A Modern Slave Training (Part 2)

Chapter 1 left off with Nick scrambling to please his boss Miss Hart, who delights in setting him tasks where he is doomed to fail and be humiliated. Her dominant female employees are set on taking advantage of him and seeing how far they can push his boundaries.



Shuffling back down the hall tugging at his tight collar and cuffs, he nearly tripped over a woman who had pushed her chair right out into the corridor and had propped up her foot against the wall, languidly dangling a shoe off her toe, fiddling with a lock of long black hair. She smiled at him, wolflike. She uncrossed her legs and pushed herself off the chair to stand inches from him. He rubbed his neck and studied the carpet.

“Hallo, I’m Moira. I’ll be supervising you now. Miss Hart is too busy so it’s my job to keep you on target.” She pushed past him, turning to beckon him to follow. “But let’s do this first.” In her green velvet pencil skirt, the slit rising curiously high, she shimmered.

Out the door, down a hallway, up some stairs and into the women’s bathroom. He stopped at once and let the door squeak closed in front of him. Moments later it blew open and Moira grabbed his wrist, tugging him in.

She prodded him into a stall. “The lock doesn’t work properly,” she said, and he shrank into the corner of the tiny space when she hiked up her skirt.

“You’ll keep it shut for me, won’t you.” He did as he was told, tightly holding the door with his eyes squeezed closed. She exhaled deeply as her piss hit the water, relieved. “Turn around,” she ordered sharply. He wrenched away to face her straight on.

She grinned in that hungry wolf way and parted her legs, so the rushing noise of her stream echoed off the walls, and whispered, “If you talk to anyone about this, I’ll tell your agency that you wouldn’t do anything you were assigned. I’ll tell them that you were lazy and stubborn…ahh.” she sighed as the stream slowed to drips, and Nick kept his eyes on her, knuckles white from gripping the door shut.

“Paper.” She held out her hand.

They froze at the sound of squealing door hinges and confident heels walking over the tiled floor. One pair of shoes tapping its toe outside the stall, and two pairs of shoes facing each other in the confining cubicle.

“Moira.” said a voice, brusquely.

No reply.

“Moira I know it’s you, we’ve spoken about this.” The voice was rich, silky and German. “You can’t do this on company time. It will be your third offence this month. Shape up and come out now.”

The flush of the toilet, and Nick squirmed out first. He was met with a striking woman, blonde, sturdy and handsome. She looked past him, unsmiling.

“Out now. Be quick.” Moira bumped into him from behind and he stumbled into the statuesque woman. She sneered at the contact. “Who is this?”

“Audra, this is the newest temp we were waiting for, he’s here to assist with the filing for the audit.”

Audra’s face showed sudden interest. “Ah, here to assist is he?” She turned on all the taps and then stood next to Moira, giving Nick a hard appraising look. “And how’s the assistant doing so far?”

Nick started to answer but was cut off with a stony glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, boy, I was addressing my colleague. So arrogant, this one. Thinks he can tell us how he’s doing? Stand up straight, you’re stooping.” Their heels clicked the tiles as they edged closer towards him, closing the gap between them and the wall of sinks.

“He’s doing alright, but I suppose we’ll see as the day goes on.” Teeth glinting, enjoying his visible discomfort, they drew closer. He bumped against the counter. Still they inched closer, their eyes dancing over his body, calculating, judging, their snug pencil skirts and bursting buttoned shirts radiating forbidden heat. They pressed themselves tight against him from both sides and he bent backwards, a jolt running through him as shockingly cold water splashed his back.

They sprung back at his yelp, and were gone from the room.

He looked around wildly, confused how they had disappeared so fast. He spun around to the mirror and saw a dishevelled mess brimming with tears.

Bracing against the counter with all three sinks running he spoke to himself. “What is going on in this place? Am I being bullied? This is unprofessional. I should leave. I should call the agency and ask to be transferred straight away.” He dabbed cold water at his wrists and neck to calm himself, and felt a tightness in his trousers, a stain blooming at the front.

He scrubbed roughly at the stain, dampening the fabric more. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. They’re all so mean but I don’t know if I want to stop…” He stared hard at his reflection. “Get a grip. Think about what you need to do today. Think about alphanumerical order. Paper clips. Staples.” He felt his trousers, no change.

Miss Hart caught him walking stiffly past her office. “Where have you been? You’re paid by the hour. You’ve been gone twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry Miss Hart, I had to…attend to something.”

The CEO looked down at him and sucked air through her teeth. “Ah. Well, an office full of women does take getting used to. Go get me a nice cup of tea why don’t you.”

“Yes, Miss Hart. Thank you.”

As the water boiled, his prick calmed down. The stain was still there, dark and wet and obvious. He returned to Miss Hart’s desk, silently placing the cup next to her. She took a sip and spat it back in the cup with contempt. “You grimy little speck. You’ve served me swamp water.”

“Sorry, it’s made how I thought you’d like it -”

“Too much sugar! No milk! Vile boy.” With a flick of her wrist she knocked it over the desk and it splashed everywhere, dripping off the table and beading onto the thick carpet. This was the time to push him over the edge, to overwhelm him to free him.

“Don’t gawk at me you stupid twat, get a mop.”


In the next chapter, Nick the temp is squashed into a car and driven to lunch with the entire staff. A bizarrely kinky meal shoulder to shoulder with Dommes, he is coerced into service.


To his right, Helena’s fork fell from her place and clattered under the table. The company quietened and eyes bore down on him. Miss Hart lazily squeezed lemon onto an oyster and slipped it down her throat. She smacked her lips and said, “Helena dropped her fork, Nick. Get to the floor, now. Pick it up.”

He squirmed off the bench and under the table, dark and cramped. He started crawling to retrieve the fork, and a foot touched his back. A heel pressed into his shoulder and then a kick landed square on his arse and a tumult of shoves, pushes and jabs all over his body. He covered his face to make it to where it lay, grabbed it and fought his way out on his knees and elbows, dodging blows from all sides in the dark. Helena’s face beamed down at him and he polished the fork with a corner of his shirt. He offered it up to her and she grabbed it, clutching his hand.