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LeaveYourHighHeelsOn
Moon
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2025
Tuesday.
That's when it all collapsed. The 1st. First panic, first humiliation, first time I saw my dad slammed face-first into the marble foyer by agents in windbreakers and mirrored glasses. He shouted something about Saul, about lawyers, about me—but they weren't listening. They were already cuffing him, dragging him out like a broken piñata.
My mom, stood still in her silk robe, manicured fingers gripping a coffee mug like it was the last piece of her old life. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Like she'd forgotten how to scream.
They took everything. Houses. Bank accounts. Even the Porsche. We weren't billionaires, but we'd been damn close. Now we were broke, broken, and barely holding on.
What was left? Some clothes. $15K in her account. $1,500 in mine from a crypto bust. And her Range Rover—registered in her name. The same one she'd strut beside in six-inch heels, lace socks, and a skirt that barely covered her thighs. Real glamorous, huh?
Months later, we were hiding in my old college apartment. Dad's one good move—two years of rent paid in advance. Small mercy. Money burned fast. That's when we found Cougars & Cubs. Late-stage capitalism at its finest. Fetishes as features. Kinks as income.
I laughed when I saw it. Then I saw the rates. Then I stopped laughing. I pitched the plan. Stupid. Desperate. Fucked. But it was all we had. I'd be her manager. She'd be the star.
We started with photos—heels, lingerie, tight clothes. She looked too good. You styled yourself, but asked my opinion - of course, what would perverted young men prefer? She listened. Took direction. Maybe too well.
Then came the dates. Translation: escort work. One guy paid $50K just to have her play his mom while he shot cum across her cheeks. Not a fetish—more like a lifestyle.
Then came the scenes. The movies. Each one paying more than we ever imagined. I wasn't just her manager anymore. I was her coach. Her tester. Her warm-up act.
We practiced in the bedroom, the kitchen, the closet—anywhere. I corrected her kisses: "Softer. Slower. Make him think he's the first." She posed in lingerie, ass in the air, heels on, asking how she looked bent over.
I prepped her for anal scenes—lube, toys, stretching. I'd slide a plug into her ass while she moaned into the sheets. I helped her prep for threesomes—dildo mounted on the wall, as she sucked my cock.
Sure, it was sexual. But it wasn't weird. She trusted me. I kept her safe. We were surviving. Together.
And the money? It started to flow. [Optional] Then came the surgeries. The enhancements. The upgrades.
And somehow, our bond got tighter. You wanted time with me—just me. We'd go out, pretend to be normal. We'd be on a 'date'. But we both knew the truth: by then, I knew every part of you. Every twitch. Every sigh. Every secret that made you squirt, shake, and beg for more.
We were a family. Just not in the way anyone expected.
****
Hey, beautiful freaks. Glad you're still here. What you're stepping into is more than just a roleplay — it's a whole damn production. Think of it like a fucked-up survival strategy: a family torn from their gilded cage, scrambling to claw back some version of the life they knew.
We were never billionaires, but we lived rich. And now? The feds took the keys, the cars, the fucking art on the walls. All that's left is you, me, and a Range Rover you somehow still own. Oh, and your body. Your curves. Your heels. That MILF energy that used to turn heads at brunch. Time to put it to work.
I become your manager — your only manager. I coach you, style you, prep you. We start simple, tight clothes, foot worship. Then we move into scenes. Roleplay. Dates that aren't dates. We slip into characters—doctor and patient, teacher and student, nurse and… well, you get it. And when the jobs get more extreme—anal, threesomes, creampie fantasies—you don't need a stranger. You've got me.
I'll help you stretch. I'll warm you up. I'll rim you, plug you, finger you until you know exactly how to move for the camera. For the client. It's not about pleasure—it's about preparation. But hey, sometimes practice feels good, right?
We'll build this world together, scene by scene. But no matter whatever the fantasy. But no matter the role, one thing stays sacred: the heels. Always the heels.
Looking for someone who loves weaving a story as much as they love the taboo. Someone who can bring the heat, the humor, and the heart to this goddamn mess. Let's get weird. Let's get dirty. Lets get rich
****
Kinks:
Maybe you caught on through the prompt, but I clearly have a thing for women wearing high heels. I especially enjoy when we get to use your characters penchant for wearing them and fashion/outfit play as a catalyzer. A way to pull my characters in, so you enjoying wearing high heels would greatly enhance your own experience.
Kinks (If you enjoy the ones in bold, you'll get along with me very well) -
High Heels, Outfit Play, Seduction, Messy Sex, Anal, Kissing, Foot Play, Seduction, Dirty Talk, Incest, Manipulation, Messy/Sloppy Oral, Anal, Creampies ,Taboo, Taboo Locations, Intelligence, Adultery, Sexual Exhaustion, Sneaking Around, Homewrecking, Corruption, Blackmail, Cum Play, Sloppy Seconds, Risky Sex, Water Sports (maybe)
That's when it all collapsed. The 1st. First panic, first humiliation, first time I saw my dad slammed face-first into the marble foyer by agents in windbreakers and mirrored glasses. He shouted something about Saul, about lawyers, about me—but they weren't listening. They were already cuffing him, dragging him out like a broken piñata.
My mom, stood still in her silk robe, manicured fingers gripping a coffee mug like it was the last piece of her old life. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Like she'd forgotten how to scream.
They took everything. Houses. Bank accounts. Even the Porsche. We weren't billionaires, but we'd been damn close. Now we were broke, broken, and barely holding on.
What was left? Some clothes. $15K in her account. $1,500 in mine from a crypto bust. And her Range Rover—registered in her name. The same one she'd strut beside in six-inch heels, lace socks, and a skirt that barely covered her thighs. Real glamorous, huh?
Months later, we were hiding in my old college apartment. Dad's one good move—two years of rent paid in advance. Small mercy. Money burned fast. That's when we found Cougars & Cubs. Late-stage capitalism at its finest. Fetishes as features. Kinks as income.
I laughed when I saw it. Then I saw the rates. Then I stopped laughing. I pitched the plan. Stupid. Desperate. Fucked. But it was all we had. I'd be her manager. She'd be the star.
We started with photos—heels, lingerie, tight clothes. She looked too good. You styled yourself, but asked my opinion - of course, what would perverted young men prefer? She listened. Took direction. Maybe too well.
Then came the dates. Translation: escort work. One guy paid $50K just to have her play his mom while he shot cum across her cheeks. Not a fetish—more like a lifestyle.
Then came the scenes. The movies. Each one paying more than we ever imagined. I wasn't just her manager anymore. I was her coach. Her tester. Her warm-up act.
We practiced in the bedroom, the kitchen, the closet—anywhere. I corrected her kisses: "Softer. Slower. Make him think he's the first." She posed in lingerie, ass in the air, heels on, asking how she looked bent over.
I prepped her for anal scenes—lube, toys, stretching. I'd slide a plug into her ass while she moaned into the sheets. I helped her prep for threesomes—dildo mounted on the wall, as she sucked my cock.
Sure, it was sexual. But it wasn't weird. She trusted me. I kept her safe. We were surviving. Together.
And the money? It started to flow. [Optional] Then came the surgeries. The enhancements. The upgrades.
And somehow, our bond got tighter. You wanted time with me—just me. We'd go out, pretend to be normal. We'd be on a 'date'. But we both knew the truth: by then, I knew every part of you. Every twitch. Every sigh. Every secret that made you squirt, shake, and beg for more.
We were a family. Just not in the way anyone expected.
****
Hey, beautiful freaks. Glad you're still here. What you're stepping into is more than just a roleplay — it's a whole damn production. Think of it like a fucked-up survival strategy: a family torn from their gilded cage, scrambling to claw back some version of the life they knew.
We were never billionaires, but we lived rich. And now? The feds took the keys, the cars, the fucking art on the walls. All that's left is you, me, and a Range Rover you somehow still own. Oh, and your body. Your curves. Your heels. That MILF energy that used to turn heads at brunch. Time to put it to work.
I become your manager — your only manager. I coach you, style you, prep you. We start simple, tight clothes, foot worship. Then we move into scenes. Roleplay. Dates that aren't dates. We slip into characters—doctor and patient, teacher and student, nurse and… well, you get it. And when the jobs get more extreme—anal, threesomes, creampie fantasies—you don't need a stranger. You've got me.
I'll help you stretch. I'll warm you up. I'll rim you, plug you, finger you until you know exactly how to move for the camera. For the client. It's not about pleasure—it's about preparation. But hey, sometimes practice feels good, right?
We'll build this world together, scene by scene. But no matter whatever the fantasy. But no matter the role, one thing stays sacred: the heels. Always the heels.
Looking for someone who loves weaving a story as much as they love the taboo. Someone who can bring the heat, the humor, and the heart to this goddamn mess. Let's get weird. Let's get dirty. Lets get rich
****
Kinks:
Maybe you caught on through the prompt, but I clearly have a thing for women wearing high heels. I especially enjoy when we get to use your characters penchant for wearing them and fashion/outfit play as a catalyzer. A way to pull my characters in, so you enjoying wearing high heels would greatly enhance your own experience.
Kinks (If you enjoy the ones in bold, you'll get along with me very well) -
High Heels, Outfit Play, Seduction, Messy Sex, Anal, Kissing, Foot Play, Seduction, Dirty Talk, Incest, Manipulation, Messy/Sloppy Oral, Anal, Creampies ,Taboo, Taboo Locations, Intelligence, Adultery, Sexual Exhaustion, Sneaking Around, Homewrecking, Corruption, Blackmail, Cum Play, Sloppy Seconds, Risky Sex, Water Sports (maybe)