More from Avery

• Avery’s Seance Mind Control

  October 31, 2026

  Avery

  Mind Control Phone Sex

  The invitation had been formal — black card, gold lettering, a single line that read “you will attend.” He showed up anyway. Avery opened the door in a tight black dress and stockings, hair pinned up, and led him straight to the table without small talk. Candles were already lit. She sat across from him, reached over, and placed two fingers under his chin so he had to meet her eyes. “You came because I told you to,” she said. “Now you’re going to stay in that chair while I decide what happens. This is mind control phone sex the way a sex therapist runs it — you listen, you obey, and you don’t get to finish until I say the session is over.”

  She made him put his hands flat on the table. Then she started talking, low and steady, describing exactly what she was going to do once the lights went out. Her voice stayed calm while she told him to unbutton his shirt and leave it open. She walked around the table, heels quiet on the floor, and stood behind him. One hand slid down his chest. The other rested on the back of his neck. She kept speaking — soft instructions mixed with the kind of erotic hypnosis she used in sessions — while her fingers moved lower and wrapped around him. She stroked slowly at first, then tighter, never breaking the rhythm of her voice. Every time he tried to move she pressed her thumb against the base of his skull and told him to stay still. Domination was quiet with her. It didn’t need to be loud to work.

  The candles flickered. Avery leaned down and spoke directly against his ear while she kept stroking. She described the seance as already happening — the way his body was answering her even though he hadn’t been given permission to speak. She made him repeat short phrases back to her (“I belong to the session,” “I wait for your voice”) while her hand worked him. When he got close she stopped completely, left him hard and leaking, and walked back to her chair. She sat, crossed her legs, and continued the instructions from across the table. BDSM wasn’t about ropes tonight. It was about how long she could keep him on the edge with nothing but her voice and the occasional slow stroke when she decided he had earned it. No limits on how many times she brought him up and pulled him back.

  After the Candles

  She stood again and came around the table. This time she climbed into his lap, dress riding up, and guided him inside her while she stayed fully dressed. She rode him slowly, still talking, still giving the same calm instructions. Every time he tried to thrust she stopped moving and made him wait until his breathing evened out. She came first, quiet and controlled, then kept him inside her while she finished the session. Only after she was done did she allow him to follow. She stayed in his lap afterward, one hand on his chest, voice still low, telling him the next invitation would arrive when she decided he was ready for another session.

  Avery stayed on the line a little longer, tone professional but warm, telling him the next seance is already scheduled in her notes. If you want a sex therapist who invites you in and then actually takes control once the door closes, you know where to find me.

  More of Avery and the rest of her schedule are at kinkypinup.com/avery.

  📞 CALL AVERY
  855-357-4687 ext 523 🕯️ ACCEPT THE INVITATION
  Official Profile

• You Ask, I Tell-Voice Fetish Phone Sex

  October 12, 2026

  WICKED AM · MIDNIGHT HOUR · OCTOBER

  Avery

  pinup sex therapist on the night dial

  ON AIR

  Voice Fetish Phone Sex

  CUE

  12:01

  Cold open. I do not say good evening. I say, “Leave the light off and turn me up.” That is the whole greeting on this station. Avery in the booth, pinup mouth close to the mic, October wind knocking the call letters. If you dialed in for voice fetish phone sex, you already did the right filthy thing.

  ID

  12:04

  Station ID, said like a secret. This is the midnight hour with your sex therapist, the one who keeps a compact on the console and a ruler in the drawer. I tell the dark that voice fetish phone sex is not a script. It is what happens when a man hears a woman smile and his hand forgets it had a job.

  LINE 1

  12:07

  He wants to confess he has been listening to old tapes of me in the car, volume low, windows up, like a thief. I let the confession sit in the dead air until he fills it. Then I make him park. Hazard lights. Hands on the wheel. “You do not touch anything until the sex therapist says the hour has started.”

  12:11 · BOOTH NOTE

  Red bulb over the board. Seamed stocking crossed at the ankle. Lipstick on the mic grille. I drop my voice until it is almost a rumor. Erotic hypnosis, if you need the clinical word. I call it turning the dial until he only receives me.

  LIVE

  12:16

  Tease and denial, broadcast live. I have him open his belt and then I talk about the weather. October rain on the booth window. A porch light two blocks down. I return to his cock only when he begs in a whisper, because a whisper is better radio. “Stroke twice. Stop. Tell me the call letters.” He misses one. I make him start the count over. Domination with a honeyed sign-off voice.

  JOI

  12:22

  I give him a JOI the way a late show gives a recipe. Slow. Numbered. Mean about the pauses. “One, the head. Two, not yet. Three, you will wait for the chime.” There is no chime. I hum one. Voice fetish is the trick of making a sound into an order. He laughs once, shaky, and I do not laugh with him.

  FILE

  12:28

  No limits on the questions, manners on the delivery. I ask what he would do if I opened the booth door in this dress and told the empty studio he was the only audience. I ask if he wants the sex therapist or the woman who forgets the advice and just uses his ear. He wants both. Greedy, and correct. I file it under confession and leave the folder open.

  12:34 · DEAD AIR

  Four seconds. “That silence was mine. You do not fill my quiet.” Stroke. Stop. I describe the lipstick on the grille and tell him the next word will be the one he ruins himself on, then I say a useless word. Weather. He groans. I praise the groan and refuse the finish.

  CUE

  12:41

  I let the erotic hypnosis go a little superstition, because it is October and the dial likes a ghost. “When the red bulb blinks, your hand stops. When I say Avery, your hand moves.” I blink nothing. I just say my name until he is shaking and polite. Domination that sounds like a lullaby is still domination. He thanks me without being told. I make him thank me again, properly.

  HOLD

  12:48

  I will not let him cum on the first broadcast. I tell him the show runs all month, and unfinished men make loyal listeners. He can have the ruin on Halloween if he keeps the appointments. Until then the program is voice fetish phone sex, a sex therapist at the mic, and a hand that waits for cue. Last cue, cruel and small: two strokes, then the wheel, then still.

  12:55 · SIGN-OFF

  I read the number like a station promo, slow enough to write on a hand. The longer takes, the ones I do not put on the air, live at kinkypinup.com/avery. “Stay in the car. Do not fix your belt until the carrier wave drops.” Dead air. Then just the rain.

  CALL THE STATION 855-357-4687 ext 523 STAY TUNED kinkypinup.com/avery