a little story

I said I would write a story,

Not sure if it would be a happy or sad one but I promised I would.

Its late at night and I am drinking again. Not sure if its to escape reality or to destress while reading and dissecting articles of our impending economical doom.

I keep thinking of piggies, so perhaps its appropriate I create a short story and metaphor.

So there was once a piggy. Short, round, a baby. Offspring of prize-winning swine – fine is not an adjective to describe this domesticated animal.

This piggy grew, and my, what a beast he became! Huge, robust. A meaty contender. A fearsome and awesome hog. The farmer fed him what he could, but the pig always wanted more. He had to have his own pen, unshared, because with his size he easily would kill any other piggies that tried to munch on the slaw allotted.

The farmer thought him to be magnificent enough to take to a county fair, perhaps win a prize.

So the farmer had his 2 children usher the beast into a portable trailer. Unfortunately, the farmer underestimated the power of the hog and this animal then trampled and killed his 2 children.

The hog did not go to the fair. It did not win any prizes.

Its consumption did not bring him a life of breeding for him, or comfort. Instead, the farmer decided to kill the beast and use the carnage to feed the town, no charge.

This 1,000 pound pig who would not cease to eat, who would not share, shared the same fate as all the rest of the pigs. Death, consumption. Perhaps there was more joy and celebration in the death of the other pigs before him, but this huge pig was not missed nor celebrated.

And thats what I think of the elite.

You can monopolize, consume, take advantage of the hand that feeds you.

But you will die the same death as us, and you will not be missed. Your half-assed philanthropy will not save you, and no one will shed a tear. Your children are part of the elite, so their emotions and feelings are worthless in the grand scheme of things.

I truly don’t think there is anything wholesome or good that can come from your allotted money.

My suggestion to you is to give it away for free.

Ask for nothing in return.

Give, to strangers, to beautiful young girls, to non-profits, to organizations abroad, to individuals who don’t necessarily share their story.

You don’t need all that money.

You are more than fine with half of it.

Give it to brown people, to black people, to communities that know how to speak and understand the Earth and Universe in ways that you’ve only read about.

Send to me, a Goddess,


give it away.

I made you rich.


I am retiring my running shoes, Nike Zoom Pegasus, in size 8.

However, as a Goddess, I would like to give a slave bitch the opportunity to have them, to use as objects of worship.

My stats: 5’5 ft/168 cm, 135 lb/61 kg

I am a Southern Californian Brown Queen, love to be active and treat my body extremely well. I believe my maintenance of my body and skin makes me worthy of worship. Therefore, the shoes that are blessed by feet are worthy of worship as well.

My average runs are about 3 miles, I run approximately 3-5 times a week.

I love how my sweaty feet smell, not gross, but pungently sweet like me 🙂

Would love to have a foot bitch worship my trash and treasure it.

Running Shoes

Women's Nike Zoom Running Shoes, size 8. Retiring them as they no longer service my Feet as well as they did. Used by me to pound pavement and dirt trails for miles. Please email me or contact me in my form so I can ship them out to you. Extra charge if international. Will be used for jogging one last week prior to sending.


a task

I have stated more than once on my blog that I won’t respond to any inquiries without tribute.

My tribute methods are not difficult to find, literally 2 links on my homepage.

The reason I require tribute is because upon receiving money, I get notified. I know who my slaves are, so seeing random money in my account concerns me enough to check my email inboxes to see what new potential boi/gurl is seeking my attention.

A lot of your messages are getting swept under the rug, simply because you are not putting your best foot forward.

I will not settle for less. Tribute it REQUIRED in order to get a response from me. $10 is like the equivalent to a drink. Or would you not buy a drink for me if we were on a date? lol.

Smart men tribute

Impressive men go above and beyond, simply to flex and to pleasure me.

I have a purchase PayPal link, which is a secure method of tributing.

I get phone notifications for all tribute methods; Venmo, Cashapp, and Paypal

Once more

Venmo: hnl777

cash app: missush

to look me up by email, it is: evillatina@protonmail.com

Many of you are telling me about your successful careers, I do not care about your money and power unless you are sharing it with me :3

Your task is to Impress me!



yummy cummies


I feel like I am close to forgetting the details of my most memorable experience as a Domme. It truly is a shame I haven’t lived another experience as thrilling as the one I have yet to finish telling.

Very random sidenote, but men truly are the simplest creatures.


The story left off with Chrissy and me sitting in his European car. Estaba bien chiveado el señor. He was too embarrassed to look me in the eyes for longer than a second or two, I obviously relished the fact that I was making him squirm without him actually flailing about. I cant help but giggle when I notice how pathetic he turns for me.

We were parked behind a sex shop, so it was mandatory that I make his bitch ass buy me things. Before heading into the store however, I asked him to show me the outfit he wore for me. He nervously laughed as he reached with his trembling hand towards the top button of his pressed dress shirt. After unbuttoning a few, he pulled opened his shirt and revealed to me a baby-pink, lacy bralette with the smallest triangle cups and chest jewelry.

I let Chrissy wear whatever accessories she wants when we play, because she buys me whatever I want whenever I ask; no hesitations.

We briefly caught up on vanilla things, as I sincerely care for each of my submissives. Then I told him I was ready to go to the store, and as we were about to go inside one of his clients who happened to be in the Cadillac parked behind us called him over. Knowing how skittish my boi could be, and his vanilla lifestyle so I went in without him. I knew he would soon follow. I shopped around, my eyes skimming for toys that I know would make my sissy squirm with delight or bleat for me.

I had just chosen one or two things for myself, insignificant things really, by the time Chrissy came into the store. She looked really nervous, but I of course, always know the right things to say. It took only a moment or two to get her docile and in her right state of mind again. I had been eyeing a clit cage for a little bit, and at the register it dawned on me that I wanted it for my mischievous plans later in the evening.

Our cashier was a very sweet and shy seeming girl, probably no older than 25. She seemed more shy than the other workers at the shop that I had interacted with, anyways. I didn’t ask her to show me the cage, but made Chrissy ask. It was really funny seeing a trial attorney stutter out ” may I please see the cock cage” while his face turned a bright shade of red.

Our cashier seemed conflicted as to whether it was okay to laugh or not, because I can imagine from an outside perspective it may appear my poor Chrissy was in an abusive relationship with me, which is simply not the case. In my effort to give her the okay to laugh, as she went around the counter to get the display item, I sternly and loudly said “Don’t just stand there, go help her get it!” to Chrissy who quickly turned his heels to follow her. It was after I said this that she laughed liberally, which made my boi nervously smile at me.

After our purchase, we went back to his car and it was decided (I decided) that we were to head out to LA for the evening! One of my favorite cities.

I made him strip out of his work clothes for me in the parking lot, forcing him to drive us to the Mondrian in his baby-pink thong and bra set.

Experiences like these make me love my life 🙂

As per usual, not done. Roughly written; Too many details I have yet to share and will refine




virtual kisses, besitos, petit bisou pour mes chiens



Most of you are of feeble minds and character, which is understandable.

Providing sweet submissives the possibility to read the smut they desire.



dans ta tête

Dream of me, think of me. Tell me a fantasy of yours and I'll write a yummy story inspired by as me as the protagonist. Let me make you leak with my prose. Upon payment, email me at evillatina@protonmail.com with screenshot of payment and 2-3 sentences briefly describing the prompt. 100-300 words 1 to 3 weeks delivery (published post) PROHIBITED: HARD LIMITS ON INTEREST PAGE. CNC OK



my first experience as a novice Mistress

As I conclude my first year of being in the lifestyle, I recall the people I have met and sustained relationships with, and others that I should probably refrain from staying in contact with.

My mentor when I began this Journey was/is Audacity Diaz, a good friend of mine who is well more experienced in female domination than I was and even now she is still more assertive of Herself than I am. There is always something new I can learn from her.

Now, I have dabbled in the sugar bowl, but that is not the topic of this evening but prior to meeting my first submissive that was the only real life exposure I had to any type of SW. Surprisingly, it was not difficult for me to find potential daddies and the funny thing is that most of them where what I was looking for… a rich lawyer. So I knew it was important to be good with my words and carry myself in a certain manner, it was about being what these guys wanted me to be and give them excellent company that the surrounding men would be jealous of.

I’ll definitely touch more on my sugar bowl experiences at a later time, but as a side note I guess it reaffirmed that I much preferred taking the lead in relationships and being pampered, and spoiled for simply being me.

—————- —————— ————- ————-

I met my first submissive on Fetlife, although I had a bunch of slave applications in my inbox when I first started (as you can imagine), his stood out in particular due his proximity to me and the structure and content of his letter. I was just beginning to discover fetishes, and wasn’t quite sure what I liked and didn’t, but this submissive was into sissification. For sure his main kink.

He wasn’t ugly and he told me he had his own business… for some reason I thought he owned a restaurant or bakery due to the proximity but turns out I was talking to a lawyer with his own practice, coincidently.

I was a bit nervous to meet him, because again, I had turned 22 years old not that long ago and I was meeting a stranger who could easily be a murderer. But I guess he could have said the same.

We met at the parking lot of a store, and I was waiting for him inside as I was honestly really nervous. Then I got a text that he arrived and that he was in “the bougie Mercedes”. As I go outside I see him in his work clothes still, in the distance waving at me.

I had no idea how close we would get and how well we get along in a D/s relationship, but us smoking weed in his car the first time we met would have been a good indicator.

I adore Chrissy as a submissive. In retrospect I see he’s not one of the best human beings, but he is very fun to be with and at the same time I really admired him for his professional achievements.

Chrissy is an important person in my journey as a dominatrix, and was my first D/s relationship.

After smoking weed, we went back to the store and he bought me over $300 worth of crap I wanted, which included a fancy bong, jewelry for my piercings, and probably something else that I don’t remember now. I made him carry the purchase and my purse as he walked behind me. I was also aware that the people at the store knew that they were going to get a fat purchase with us as they were EXTRA helpful.

When we got to the hotel room on the side of the beach, I did not feel uncomfortable but I did feel uneasy and unsure of what I was doing. I wasn’t sure if I was doing things appropriately or “domme”- like.

I remember he brought a duffel bag full of toys and slutty fits. I laid them out on the bed as he freshened up, trying to pick an outfit I would like to see him in. I chose a turquoise rayon outfit with black lace trimming for my sissy to wear once he got out of the shower.

He asked me if he could come out now, and I told him yes and that I had an outfit for him to change into for me. I first showed him what I was going to make him wear for me, and then handed it to him. His eyes lit up and he happily obliged.

He came back out, shy and meek, stripped of any authority he possessed. I was his Mistress now and I wanted him crawling to me. I found it extremely arousing to see a man who is a prominent professional in the area buy me whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted him to.

I was sitting on a chair and I made him come to me and fit my feet and then take off my shoes and worship my perfect soles and cute toes.

I don’t think I let him touch my pussy but I did let him crawl behind me and see my almost bare ass from below. He was so happy to do so, and Chrissy did not get an orgasm that evening either.

I think I spanked him a few times, made him suck a dildo and fuck himself with one after wearing a plug.

The evening concluded with us eating In-N-Out, talking about nothing and sharing things about our lives.

After I got into my car to head back home, I couldn’t believe the day I had and also realized financial domination and power exchange had me aroused more than vanilla foreplay ever did, and now I had to get home to take care of myself.


I’ve becoming increasingly independent that it is now out of my comfort and is overwhelming me,.

Being independent and self-reliant was something I always boasted and was proud of, but now I don’t want it. I would like to know what it feels like to not worry about controlling every aspect of my life, to let go, to be free.

I do not recall the last time I didn’t worry, perhaps prior to my stepdad moving in with my mom when I was 7. Thankfully, he never sexually abused me but he did hit me and strike me relentlessly with the belt. I think at 10 I started inflicting pain onto myself and by 12 I started drawing blood.

My mom didn’t understand and I didn’t understand either why I would hurt myself, at times I think it was to prepare myself for future hits or also could have been me seeking some of the attention that I stopped receiving long ago. One memory that particularly stands out to me is one from when I was 10 years old and got a lead part in my 5th grade musical. I practiced every day ; I sang in the shower, practiced speech, etc., hoping to get the lead which I did and the day of the play comes and my mom comes late to my part and didn’t bring a camera.

Achievements of mine as I have aged have pretty much gone unrecognized and its frustrating. For some reason, I have come this far despite no help nor mentorship only to want to quit going on.

As a submissive, I seek the approval and long to please my Dominant, to the best of my abilities. I will try before I say no. As a submissive I am not shy, I am still confident; I choose to give up power and my pride for a moment of bliss hopefully achieved with pain.

I know nothing in life is worth having if it is easy, but I am a realist and I know those who acquire generational wealth have had it easy in the socio-economic aspect.

As a Domme, I want to inflict pain onto others, especially the rich white elite who’s Fortune 500 company only fosters disparity in our nations and abroad. I know I am Supreme. I know I am more strong and resilient than most of these men, who are nothing and of no value without their money. They are just slaves. Pitiful slaves who know they need to serve, because deep down they know that they are terrible human beings. I will make you fall in love with me, with the goal to break your heart and take all your money. Take every last cent as reparations for the unnecessary suffering I’ve endured caused by centuries of withheld social constructs made by your race.

can I just wake up to $xx,xxx dollars and relax , I deserve it and I’m invoking it.

good night.