About me
I’m looking for:
- Friends
- Kinky Dates
- LTR (relationship)
- Events & Places
- Networking
- BDSM Lovers
- Pic Exchange
- Cybersex
Description
To the Lady who reads this,
I am Robbycop, a submissive male searching for a true Mistress who takes pleasure in complete control. My deepest craving is to be stripped of my freedom and molded into exactly what pleases You – a body, a mind, a soul to command, discipline and own.
I dream of a 24/7 dynamic where nothing is mine, everything is Yours. High heels at my eye level, the sound of a lock closing on my chastity, the sting of discipline, the weight of Your rules – these are not fantasies for me but the life I want to live.
I long to be reduced, trained, punished, rewarded; to be reshaped into an instrument of Your will, a possession You can take pride in. My only purpose: to obey, to endure, to please, to surrender everything.
If You are the kind of Woman who enjoys breaking down and rebuilding a submissive, who thrives on control and absolute power, I am waiting on my knees for Your command.
Respectfully and without limits,
Robbycop
“Take me. Break me. Make me Yours.”
Limits
The same as my Mistresses
My roles & archetype
My kinks & fetishes
I like:
- 24/7 (Passive)
- Anal Sex
- Bastinado
- BDSM (Passive)
- Leg Fetish
- Bondage (Passive)
- Bondage Rope
- Chastity
- Collar & Leash
- Discipline
- Domination
- Edging
- Extreme Bondage
- Female Domination
- Fisting
- Foot Fetish
- High Heel Fetish
- Humiliation
- Genital Piercings
- Body Hair
- Multiple Orgasms
- Nipple Play
- Nylon Fetish
- Orgasm Control
- Piercings
- Post Orgasm Torture (Passive)
- Posture Collar
- Prostate Milking (Passive)
- Pubic Hair Fetish
- Shoe Fetish
- Silk Fetish
- Sensory Deprivation
- Sissification
- Slave Training
- Strap-on
- Stocking Fetish
- Suspension Bondage (Passive)
My places
Stil ist Programm
Ob zu Zweit oder in der Gruppe mit bis zu 10 Personen. Der stilvoll eingerichtete Spielraum mit angrenzendem Schlafgemach läss...
Schaffhausen -
Schaffhausen - Switzerland
Der frivole Treffpunkt für spannende und entspannte Stunden!
Du suchst die Symbiose aus Stil und Verruchtheit? Dann seid ihr bei uns am richtige...
Kempten (Allgäu) -
Bayern
Fetish.com gives you…
Fetish.com is like an appetizing smorgasbord in Hergatz with lots of hot guys to meet up with. Have a look around first if you prefer to see who’s around, or if you know what you want, search by selecting the right category "Kinky Dating”. Nobody stays alone here for long! Fetish.com has tons going on!
Night ten - The test of restrain
I know that you're just jealous 😜
Night ten - The test of restrain
By the tenth night, Robby had learned to anticipate Mistress’s moods without words. Every breath, every pause carried meaning. Yet tonight, She warned, would test not strength or posture, but restraint — the ability to remain composed when the mind and body begged to move.
The room was spare. One Read more…candle burned at the center, its light drawing long shadows across the floor. Mistress motioned for him to stand in the narrow circle of light.
“Stillness is easy when nothing tempts you,” She said. “Restraint begins when your thoughts begin to fight back.”
She directed him to hold a position — balanced, arms behind, eyes lowered — and then stepped away. Minutes passed in silence. The ache of muscles came slowly, like a whisper that grew heavier with each breath. He fought the instinct to shift, to relieve the tension, to do something. But the lesson was clear: not every discomfort demands escape.
Mistress’s voice eventually broke the quiet. “Your body resists what your mind already accepted,” She said. “You think of movement as freedom, but sometimes, obedience is the truer form.”
She circled him, her steps unhurried, each one a reminder of her presence. “Restraint is not only physical,” she continued. “It is the ability to quiet the noise inside yourself. To hold back not from ***, but from choice.”
The longer he held, the calmer he became. *** shifted into focus; urgency into clarity. He realized that what mattered wasn’t the stillness of his body but the control of his mind—the decision to yield and yet remain steady.
When Mistress finally released him, her tone carried rare approval. “Now you begin to understand the weight of discipline,” she said. “Restraint is not absence of motion, but mastery of will. And only through will does true obedience take shape.”
Robby bowed his head, the lesson settling deep within him. In silence and strain, he had discovered a quiet kind of strength — one built not from resistance, but from surrender.
The room was spare. One Read more…candle burned at the center, its light drawing long shadows across the floor. Mistress motioned for him to stand in the narrow circle of light.
“Stillness is easy when nothing tempts you,” She said. “Restraint begins when your thoughts begin to fight back.”
She directed him to hold a position — balanced, arms behind, eyes lowered — and then stepped away. Minutes passed in silence. The ache of muscles came slowly, like a whisper that grew heavier with each breath. He fought the instinct to shift, to relieve the tension, to do something. But the lesson was clear: not every discomfort demands escape.
Mistress’s voice eventually broke the quiet. “Your body resists what your mind already accepted,” She said. “You think of movement as freedom, but sometimes, obedience is the truer form.”
She circled him, her steps unhurried, each one a reminder of her presence. “Restraint is not only physical,” she continued. “It is the ability to quiet the noise inside yourself. To hold back not from ***, but from choice.”
The longer he held, the calmer he became. *** shifted into focus; urgency into clarity. He realized that what mattered wasn’t the stillness of his body but the control of his mind—the decision to yield and yet remain steady.
When Mistress finally released him, her tone carried rare approval. “Now you begin to understand the weight of discipline,” she said. “Restraint is not absence of motion, but mastery of will. And only through will does true obedience take shape.”
Robby bowed his head, the lesson settling deep within him. In silence and strain, he had discovered a quiet kind of strength — one built not from resistance, but from surrender.
Domdude13 Why would I be jealous of you dude you're posting ai porn like you wrong it yourself. Kinda sad really I actually have a life Why would I be jealous of you dude you're posting ai porn like you wrong it yourself. Kinda sad really I actually have a life
Like
· 11.10.2025 21:05:27
RJK79 ➦RJK79 quote Domdude13:❝Why is there so much of this obsession so obvious Ai generated porn stories on this website lately not everyone can write porn fiction but seems like everyone is a porn author these days. So obviously AI generated. 🤢🤮🤮🤮❞
I know that you're just jealous 😜 ➦RJK79 quote Domdude13:❝Why is there so much of this obsession so obvious Ai generated porn stories on this website lately not everyone can write porn fiction but seems like everyone is a porn author these days. So obviously AI generated. 🤢🤮🤮🤮❞
I know that you're just jealous 😜
I know that you're just jealous 😜 ➦RJK79 quote Domdude13:❝Why is there so much of this obsession so obvious Ai generated porn stories on this website lately not everyone can write porn fiction but seems like everyone is a porn author these days. So obviously AI generated. 🤢🤮🤮🤮❞
I know that you're just jealous 😜
Like
· 11.10.2025 18:33:58
Domdude13 Why is there so much of this obsession so obvious Ai generated porn stories on this website lately not everyone can write porn fiction but seems like everyone is a porn author these days. So obviously AI generated. 🤢🤮🤮🤮 Why is there so much of this obsession so obvious Ai generated porn stories on this website lately not everyone can write porn fiction but seems like everyone is a porn author these days. So obviously AI generated. 🤢🤮🤮🤮
Like
· 11.10.2025 12:05:08
Night Nine - The Weight of obedience
By the ninth night, Robby had begun to realize that obedience was not a command but a state of being. Mistress no longer needed to raise her voice or even gesture; a look from her carried enough power to steady his breath.
When he entered, the room was silent except for the ticking of a clock. Read more…Mistress pointed to the center of the floor. “Kneel,” she said. The single word carried both comfort and warning.
He did.
“Obedience,” she said, pacing slowly around him, “is not about ***. It is about trust. You will learn to wait, to listen, to respond not from impulse but from discipline.”
The lesson that night was repetition—commands given, actions performed, again and again until his thoughts stopped racing ahead. Each task was simple—standing, kneeling, turning, pausing—but every gesture was measured against her silence. The absence of praise became its own form of focus.
When she finally spoke, her tone softened. “Control of the self is the highest service you can offer,” she said. “When you hold back your own urges, you create space for my direction.”
Robby understood then that obedience wasn’t submission through weakness—it was deliberate restraint, an active choice to yield. The discipline he’d built over the past nights now became purpose.
Mistress stepped closer, studying him. “Perfection is not about pleasing me once,” she said quietly. “It is about being ready—body and mind—to please without being told.”
She left him in silence, the weight of those words settling over him like a vow. In that stillness, Robby felt something new take root: calm, clarity, and the steady pulse of unwavering loyalty.
When he entered, the room was silent except for the ticking of a clock. Read more…Mistress pointed to the center of the floor. “Kneel,” she said. The single word carried both comfort and warning.
He did.
“Obedience,” she said, pacing slowly around him, “is not about ***. It is about trust. You will learn to wait, to listen, to respond not from impulse but from discipline.”
The lesson that night was repetition—commands given, actions performed, again and again until his thoughts stopped racing ahead. Each task was simple—standing, kneeling, turning, pausing—but every gesture was measured against her silence. The absence of praise became its own form of focus.
When she finally spoke, her tone softened. “Control of the self is the highest service you can offer,” she said. “When you hold back your own urges, you create space for my direction.”
Robby understood then that obedience wasn’t submission through weakness—it was deliberate restraint, an active choice to yield. The discipline he’d built over the past nights now became purpose.
Mistress stepped closer, studying him. “Perfection is not about pleasing me once,” she said quietly. “It is about being ready—body and mind—to please without being told.”
She left him in silence, the weight of those words settling over him like a vow. In that stillness, Robby felt something new take root: calm, clarity, and the steady pulse of unwavering loyalty.
DHWoolFe Okay, I really feel how submission equates to power in this dynamic - I need to explore this, thank-you. What I mean to say is, I'd already stretched my mind most of the way, and this was just a nail in a coffin in a universe where corpses?
All go the same way Yoda's did. 🚀 Okay, I really feel how submission equates to power in this dynamic - I need to explore this, thank-you. What I mean to say is, I'd already stretched my mind most of the way, and this was just a nail in a coffin in a universe where corpses?
All go the same way Yoda's did. 🚀
All go the same way Yoda's did. 🚀 Okay, I really feel how submission equates to power in this dynamic - I need to explore this, thank-you. What I mean to say is, I'd already stretched my mind most of the way, and this was just a nail in a coffin in a universe where corpses?
All go the same way Yoda's did. 🚀
Like
· 10.10.2025 6:28:28
Almostevil66584 You're a great writer. I'm already hooked.. You're a great writer. I'm already hooked..
Like
· 10.10.2025 5:47:12
Night eight - The lesson of presents
By the eighth night, Robby’s steps had grown quieter, lighter. The once-awkward rhythm in the high heels had become almost natural. Mistress had noticed; she always did.
When he entered the room, the mirror was already waiting. “Tonight,” she said, “you’ll learn not just how to move, but how to be Read more…seen.”
Robby bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress.”
She moved around him slowly, adjusting his shoulders, the tilt of his chin, the line of his arms. “Grace isn’t only about balance,” she explained. “It’s about presence—the way the world reads you before you ever speak.”
He was instructed to walk again, this time facing the mirror. Mistress guided his breathing, his gestures, the small expressions that softened his face. Every motion was meant to carry awareness. The goal was not imitation but transformation—learning the still, deliberate calm that she called feminine composure.
“Gentleness doesn’t mean weakness,” she said. “It means control without ***.”
The training shifted from movement to voice. Robby was told to speak simple phrases—quiet greetings, acknowledgements, apologies. Mistress corrected tone, pacing, even the pauses between words. “Lower your tension,” she said. “Let every word arrive as if carried on calm air.”
Hours passed in quiet repetition. The high heels clicked softly across the floor, a steady rhythm of focus. By the end of the session, his posture was refined, his gestures measured, his voice softer, more deliberate.
Mistress studied him a long moment. “Better,” she said finally. “You’re learning to hold yourself as someone who listens before acting. That is what elegance is.”
When she dismissed him, Robby remained a moment before the mirror. The person looking back was still himself, yet changed—balanced, precise, composed. The first hints of what Mistress called inner grace had begun to show.
When he entered the room, the mirror was already waiting. “Tonight,” she said, “you’ll learn not just how to move, but how to be Read more…seen.”
Robby bowed his head. “Yes, Mistress.”
She moved around him slowly, adjusting his shoulders, the tilt of his chin, the line of his arms. “Grace isn’t only about balance,” she explained. “It’s about presence—the way the world reads you before you ever speak.”
He was instructed to walk again, this time facing the mirror. Mistress guided his breathing, his gestures, the small expressions that softened his face. Every motion was meant to carry awareness. The goal was not imitation but transformation—learning the still, deliberate calm that she called feminine composure.
“Gentleness doesn’t mean weakness,” she said. “It means control without ***.”
The training shifted from movement to voice. Robby was told to speak simple phrases—quiet greetings, acknowledgements, apologies. Mistress corrected tone, pacing, even the pauses between words. “Lower your tension,” she said. “Let every word arrive as if carried on calm air.”
Hours passed in quiet repetition. The high heels clicked softly across the floor, a steady rhythm of focus. By the end of the session, his posture was refined, his gestures measured, his voice softer, more deliberate.
Mistress studied him a long moment. “Better,” she said finally. “You’re learning to hold yourself as someone who listens before acting. That is what elegance is.”
When she dismissed him, Robby remained a moment before the mirror. The person looking back was still himself, yet changed—balanced, precise, composed. The first hints of what Mistress called inner grace had begun to show.
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Night Seven - Grace in Motion
By the seventh night, Robby understood that obedience was no longer measured by silence or endurance but by the way he carried himself. Mistress wanted refinement—movement that reflected calm, precision, and poise.
When he entered the training room, the floor shone under soft light. A long mirror Read more…lined one wall; beside it waited the high heels he had come to associate with discipline and expectation. Tonight, Mistress gestured toward them without a word.
“Balance,” She said. “Learn to balance beauty and restraint.”
Robby placed the high heels on carefully, straightened, and waited. Each step along the narrow path was deliberate, guided by the quiet sound of Mistress’s heels behind him. She corrected the rhythm of his stride, the way his shoulders moved, how his hands should rest at his sides. Again and again, until the walk became less a task and more a language of control.
Midway through the lesson, Mistress motioned toward the adjoining room. “Preparation is part of discipline,” She said. “Cleanliness, order, attention to every detail.”
Inside, Robby found warm water, towels, and the subtle scent of soap. The act of cleansing away the day’s fatigue became symbolic—a shedding of the old self. When he returned, his skin still glowed from the ritual of care, and Mistress nodded once in approval.
The remainder of the session focused on grace: turning, pausing, lowering the gaze, recovering balance after missteps. Each repetition stripped away awkwardness and left behind something calmer, quieter, and strangely elegant.
When the practice ended, Mistress stood before him. “Control of the body leads to control of the mind,” She said. “You are beginning to understand the difference between motion and grace.”
Robby bowed his head. The reflection in the mirror no longer showed tension but composure—a person reshaped by discipline, learning to move in harmony with command.
When he entered the training room, the floor shone under soft light. A long mirror Read more…lined one wall; beside it waited the high heels he had come to associate with discipline and expectation. Tonight, Mistress gestured toward them without a word.
“Balance,” She said. “Learn to balance beauty and restraint.”
Robby placed the high heels on carefully, straightened, and waited. Each step along the narrow path was deliberate, guided by the quiet sound of Mistress’s heels behind him. She corrected the rhythm of his stride, the way his shoulders moved, how his hands should rest at his sides. Again and again, until the walk became less a task and more a language of control.
Midway through the lesson, Mistress motioned toward the adjoining room. “Preparation is part of discipline,” She said. “Cleanliness, order, attention to every detail.”
Inside, Robby found warm water, towels, and the subtle scent of soap. The act of cleansing away the day’s fatigue became symbolic—a shedding of the old self. When he returned, his skin still glowed from the ritual of care, and Mistress nodded once in approval.
The remainder of the session focused on grace: turning, pausing, lowering the gaze, recovering balance after missteps. Each repetition stripped away awkwardness and left behind something calmer, quieter, and strangely elegant.
When the practice ended, Mistress stood before him. “Control of the body leads to control of the mind,” She said. “You are beginning to understand the difference between motion and grace.”
Robby bowed his head. The reflection in the mirror no longer showed tension but composure—a person reshaped by discipline, learning to move in harmony with command.
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Nipple piercing
Thank you, I do t wear bra's at least not yet...🤤
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