Sissy Kaylee got everything he politely asked for, when Summer returned with two reasonably girthy strap-ons. After Summer and I had finished our special playtime with each other, Kaylee knew he was in for a horribly emasculating spit-roast.
It's beautiful to hear him moan and gasp onto the cock that Summer had in his mouth, when I entered his little boi pussy from behind.
His little clit remained limp inside the metal bars of his chastity cage, as the odd wisp of pre-cum dribbled from the tip of his penis. Kaylee doesn't get hard anymore, he gets wet, just like a girl! I absolutely love it. We frequently find girly wet stains in his panties and have even started making him use pads, if his pre-cum flow is especially heavy from one month to the next.
He's so far down the rabbit hole we might as well try tampons next, up his little backdoor for a few days each month.
Much like many of the rituals I like to use at my Facility, a sissy being "put-down" for bed also comes with its own routine. Summer would first help him out of his maid attire, then select a babydoll or teddy, sheer lingerie number for him to sleep in. This would be paired with matching panties and usually thin ankle socks with ruffles or lace.
Summer would then give him a caring but sound spanking over her knee, while Kaylee's body is supported by his princess bed.
Two splotches of Johnson & Johnson, pink baby lotion goes onto his bare bum cheeks next, which Summer will massage in, while cooing and humming to him. Then she will tuck him beneath the sheets, kiss his forehead and lock the pink cell door. This is where Kaylee stays until morning, usually only leaving his bed to use the potty or walk off a nocturnal erection in his cock cage.
Sunday's for Summer go much differently. The ritual begins with me giving her a hot, soothing bath. After her bath she dresses in the outfit I have laid out for her, she does her hair very childish and her make-up like that of a doll. She spends all morning dressed like a ridiculous little girl.
My attire on Sunday mornings, we refer to as the "Costco Mom", which is the way Summer wants it. Jeans or yoga pants, a sensible top, sometimes a dress and boots. We haven't actually gone to Costco with her dressed like this but sometimes, before her spanking on a Sunday, I will take her out in public for some humiliation. We usually go to the park or through a drive-thru, the odd person will notice she's a full grown woman, then see the contrast in the way I am dressed compared to her.
By the time we get home after these outings, Summer is extremely vulnerable and more than ready to go over "Mommy's" lap, to wipe her slate clean from the week prior and prepare to focus on the week ahead.
Around noon on this particular Sunday, I quietly led her to the corner and informed her that it was time to begin. She immediately started to well-up, deeply absorbed into her role and headspace. Summer spends thirty minutes in timeout, anticipating her upcoming spanking.
When her timer is up, I gently and caringly call her from the corner. She walks directly to my right side, while I am seated in an armless chair from the dining room. Without being prompted, she pulls her panties down to her ankles, raises her skirt and drapes herself across my lap.
Regardless of what type of "little girl" attire I have her in for Sunday maintenance, her panties are always a style like this:
They are always childishly patterned, big, full-bottomed, cotton panties. They fit her tightly but are large and frumpy, Summer absolutely hates them and they humiliate her deeply. Panties like this reinforce the fact that Summer's Sunday spanking is not sexual, in the moment, it's not playful or fun. It is meant to be thorough, memorable and embarrassing. Also, this is one of the reasons I administer her spanking in the living room where it's nice and bright, with the blinds open.
Summer reddened up very nicely with just my hand, but this was only her warm-up. She had a long way to go yet. This is what she has asked for, pleaded with me for, and this is exactly what she needs to centre and ground her.
After finishing off with the wooden hairbrush, Summer was a bawling mess. Crying out "I'm sorry Mommy, I'll do better," and anything else that made sense to her to say. This wasn't even a punishment spanking, for any particular reason. Sometimes she just needs to say "I'm sorry Mommy," even if that language doesn't fit the setting.
She was permitted a brief moment of rubbing the nasty brush strokes away, before it was off to the corner to finish up the rest of her tears.
A timer was once again set for thirty minutes, without fail. This was part of her Sunday ritual and she knew it. Half-hour before her spanking and a half-hour after. Someone do the math for me. If Summer lived for another sixty years and we maintained this ritual every Sunday, how many days of her life would have been spent with her nose in the timeout corner?
I grabbed my tea to re-heat it in the microwave, once Summer was all positioned in the corner.
"Worship, in thirty minutes young lady," I called out to her.
"Yes Mommy," she replied through her sniffles.
Worship. Also a Sunday ritual. What does that mean? Stay tuned to find out.
Mistress Andrea
xoxo
Continued in: Thanking after Spanking
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