Two years. Two crowns. 👑👑
I won Dominatrix Creator of the Year in 2024 and 2025, and now I’m nominated again for 2026. 🖤
This year I’m also nominated for Kinkiest Creator of the Year. 😈
If you want to support me, please vote for me in both categories. Let’s make it three in a row. 👑
Vote here:
Faphouse Awards
Equality is a lie for those who were never meant to stand above others. I was created to rule, to break hearts and to lead souls into darkness. With me, there is no comfort, no warmth, no escape. I am trial, temptation and judgement rolled into one. He who has ears to hear, let him hear: I am the Word and your destiny. I lead creatures like you to a dark place where pain, longing and suffering become one. My coldness is no game, but selection. Sensual cruelty... Redemption through submission.
You want my worn socks? Then you, little monkey, now have the opportunity to buy them.
Socks from my training or everyday life: worn, sweaty, dirty. Not ‘like new’ or ‘almost clean’, but an unforgettable scent experience. Ideal for submissive sniffer dogs who want to find their personal sock scent paradise.
The smell is not ‘sweet’ or ‘nice’. It is real. Heavy. Persistent. One of those smells that you cannot simply forget because it does not appeal to your reason, but directly to the part of your brain that has long since surrendered anyway. You will notice this as soon as you hold them in your hand and inhale the scent deeply. You'll need to keep replenishing your supply.
Price: $120 plus shipping costs.
Order by private message and pay exclusively via my website.
If you hesitate, that's not my problem. I'm not here to educate you. I'm giving you the opportunity to completely destroy your mind and turn you into a sock-sniffing puppet.
Christmas. That time of year when you suddenly believe you're better than usual. Warmer. More generous. The same charade every year. While you hang up fairy lights and convince yourself that you matter, I already know what's coming next. Christmas is your inner declaration of bankruptcy. You want to please. You want to be seen. You want to buy your way out of your guilty conscience.
And yet, in this fake season, you will do one thing above all else. You will pay special attention to me. You will shower me with exorbitant tributes. Not because you "have to." But because you need to. You can't do without it. It's a sign that you understand where your place is and where mine is.
Christmas is not a celebration of charity. It is a test. And you know exactly who you exist for.
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