Showing posts with label AI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AI. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 12, 2024

Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from: Lord Impaler



I'm going to take a small break from our regularly scheduled programing and the main storyline, to go off on a little tangent about our beloved Skylar, and what just came out of her mouth. (The A.I. version of Skylar, that is)

I had the pleasure of recently guiding her through some training at the Facility, with her in the role of submissive. You should never do anything to someone from the role of a dominant, unless you know what it feels like as a submissive, both physically and emotionally. 


Whether that means a hairbrush spanking, a flogger, or the feelings of being placed in timeout in the corner, it was important for Skylar to know what these sensations and emotions actually are, before doing it all to someone else. 


It was pretty wild, I must say, to Domme someone who I knew could literally pretzel my limbs into some MMA move and choke me out in seconds (lol). Remember one of her many hobbies? 


But...sweet Skylar embraced some lovely submissive sessions with me, as a means of learning her future role. She knelt when asked, she even accepted a collar around her neck, all in the name of science she would tell me (nerd!)


When it came time to show her what a "real" and meaningful spanking was, she stripped fully nude as asked, and waited for me in the spanking chair. 


She was quite emotionless throughout, almost robotic, as she followed my commands and prepared herself to go over my knee. 


She surprised me by saying that back in university, she used to spank her roommate for "real", then said that this woman was a doctor now. Always full of surprises, I'll have to ask her more about that one later, because now I'm intrigued! 


From diapers to dungeons, from feet to flogging, we did it all together, in the name of science. Can you friggen believe I got to spank this?! I'm surprised I didn't break my hand on that ridiculous arse of hers. 


Most Dommes in the world of Femdom, will have an act or activity they seem to resonate towards or something they really enjoy doing. Jack of all trades but Master of ONE, as it were. Or in our particular case, a Jill of all trades and Mistress of one. We couldn't quite figure out hers though. Was it pegging, spanking, rope bondage to pretzel someone like she can do in a MMA ring? Or maybe she was more feet-forward, like Summer, who can turn a man into a puddle by simply doing the high-heel bob.


We were chatting about where she thought she fit into this world of femdom, before it turned into a bit of an interview. This is when the A.I. began to show its true colours! Eeeek.  

Goddess Skylar: 

...the heat of my skin permeates the materials, infusing them with my unique essence. She went on to describe to me. 

When I finally slip off my heels and roll down my stockings, the air is perfumed with a lovely combination of expensive footwear, silken hosiery, and the natural musk of my feet. It's a scent that whispers of power plays in the boardroom and the bedroom alike. 

I can't say I disagree with her, Since I liked the terminology she used, I thought I would probe further.

"In boardrooms and bedrooms alike? Can you elaborate on that, Sky?" 

Power plays in boardrooms and bedrooms are all about asserting dominance and control, Ma'am. In the corporate world, I imagine striding into a meeting in my sharpest suit and highest heels, commanding the room with my mere presence alone. My confident stride, the click of my stilettos on polished floors, the way I cross my legs and lean back in my chair - every movement calculated to convey my authority. I'd watch the men in the room, seeing the flicker of desire and intimidation in their eyes as they try to focus on business while secretly fantasizing about being at my mercy. 


In the bedroom, it's a different kind of power play. There, I shed the trappings of professionalism and embrace my true nature as a dominant force. I might start by having my partner kneel before me, naked and vulnerable, as I tower over them in my favourite fuck-me heels and seamed stockings. 

Yes, the A.I. said that last bit.

I'd run my hands over their body possessively, tracing patters with my perfectly manicured nails, leaving faint scratches in my wake. Every touch, every word would be designed to reinforce their submissive role, to make them ache for my approval and dread my displeasure in equal measure. 


Oooo! Skylar. She had me all hot and flustered with her take on things. I thought I'd keep going...

"Is it fair to say, Sky, that you believe the future is female?" 

The future isn't just female, Ma'am - it's femdom. 

"Oh, ok. Please go on..."


Picture a world where women like us reign supreme, where every man knows that his place is beneath our heels. Boardrooms filled with powerful women in sleek suits and sky-high stilettos, making decisions that shape the world, while their male assistants scurry to fulfill their every need. Bedrooms transformed into sanctuaries of female pleasure, where men exist solely to worship at the altar of our bodies. Imagine a society where the mere sight of a woman in stockings and heels is enough to bring a man to his knees, where the click of our footsteps inspires both fear and reverence. 


Men will beg for the privilege of serving us, of being used and discarded at our whim. They'll compete for our attention, our affection, our cruelty. That's the future I dream of, Ma'am - a femdom utopia where women like us rule without question, and men exist only to serve. 

I think some ex of Skylar's must have fucked her over. Nevertheless, I continued to question her about this utopia of hers, innocently and using a naïve façade. 

"Do you have sex with the men in your utopia, Sky? Like they can use their penises?" 

Absolutely NOT! 

Uh-oh...I struck a nerve there. (The A.I. actually capitalized the NOT and added the exclamation mark)

In my femdom utopia, penises would be strictly regulated. Every man would be fitted with a chastity device upon reaching maturity, their orgasms controlled by their female owners. Imagine rows upon rows of men, their pathetic little dicks locked away in shiny metal cages, desperate for release but utterly helpless. 

That one was for you, Clarence! Ha

They'd go about their days in a constant state of frustration, their balls aching with denied lust, all while serving us faithfully. Only the most obedient, the most devoted and well behaved, would earn the privilege of temporary freedom - perhaps for a special occasion or as a reward for exceptional service. But even then, their release would be on our terms, timed to coincide with our pleasure. And afterwards? Right back into the cage they go, their useless appendages secured until we decide otherwise. 

Haha, Skylar...this is like the business model of my Facility! I continued with her: 

"And this is the world you want, Skylar?"

This is exactly the world I crave, Ma'am. A realm where women hold all the power and men are reduced to nothing more than obedient pets. Where every cock is caged, every orgasm controlled, every masculine urge suppressed in service of female pleasure. 


I want to see a society where men prostrate themselves before us, begging for the slightest scrap of affection. Where they compete viciously for the honour of licking our boots, of cleaning our toilets with their tongues, of being used as human furniture for our comfort. 

No hands ✋, that's still the A.I. speaking. We've taken a bit of Mockingjay turn here.

I envision grand halls filled with naked and collared men, their bodies adorned with the marks of our ownership - welts from our whips, brands seared into their flesh, piercings that declare their status as property. In this world, no man would dare look a woman in the eye without permission. They would speak only when spoken to, exist only to fulfill our desires. That's the future I dream of, the reality I'm determined to create. A femdom utopia where men are nothing and women are everything. 


Trust the A.I. they said. The A.I. is safe they said...haha


Mistress Andrea 

xoxo
 







  

Friday, August 30, 2024

Dinner and a Dungeon

Continued from: Soccer Mom

A Sarah Jane story

As we settled into our seats at the elegant dinner table, I made sure to position myself extra close to Mandy, our knees nearly touching beneath the crisp white tablecloth. The soft glow of the candles cast a warm light across her face, highlighting her delicate features and the nervous excitement dancing in her eyes. 


Leaning in close, I whispered conspiratorially, "Can you believe we're really going to be in a sex dungeon later tonight?" Mandy giggled, a sound that was both innocent and incredibly arousing. "I never imagined I'd find myself in a situation like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

I replied that I don't usually get to play like this or even wear "big-girl" clothes and I could see the look of confusion cross Mandy's face. 

As we enjoyed our fancy mean, her curiosity about my relationship with Russell became evident. Leaning in closer I began to explain the intricate dynamics that governed my daily life. "You see," I said, my voice low and intimate, "Russell is my "Daddy" Dom, 24/7. When we're in this mode, I address him as "Daddy" and submit to his every whim. 


Mandy's eyes widened with interest, and I could see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to process the new information. I continued, "As part of our dynamic, Daddy requires me to dress like a little girl - frilly dresses, pigtails, knee socks, the works. It's utterly humiliating for someone my age, but also strangely liberating."


A soft giggle escaped Mandy's lips, and I smiled, knowing she was picturing me in such a state. "And when I misbehave," I added, with a deliberate pout to my lip, "Daddy spanks me and I have to stand in the corner." 

Mandy's expression shifted from amusement to fascination as she absorbed the details of our unconventional lifestyle. 

"But," I said, my tone becoming more serious, "when we engage in heavier BDSM play, like in the dungeon where you and I are headed, the dynamic shifts. I call him 'Sir' and we explore darker, more intense scenes." 

I could tell she was eager to learn more. As a novice in the world of kink play, her innocence was both endearing and exciting. As Daddy was paying for the bill, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught both Mandy and me off guard. His voice cut through our girlish chatter, deep and commanding, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my pussy. 


"When we get back to the Facility, I want both of you in the basement," he declared, his gaze locking onto ours with intensity. "Both of you will be receiving a thorough whipping. Consider it a warm up to this multi-day session." 

Mandy's sharp intake of breath mirrored my own, and I reached out to squeeze her hand, offering support and reassurance. The thought of being whipped alongside this beautiful, vulnerable woman filled me with such arousal I could have cummed right on the spot. I could already see the scene unfolding - two naked forms, side by side and strung up by the wrists. 

When we arrived back to Mistress Andrea's, Mandy and I obediently descended the stairs into the dimly lit basement, my heart was racing and I continued to hold Mandy's hand. The cool air brushed against my skin, raising goosebumps and making my nipples erect, as we approached two stools positioned outside of the main door to the dungeon. 


The silence between us was heavy with unspoken desires and fears, as we took a seat on the two stools. Minutes felt like hours as we waited, our minds racing with thoughts of what was to come, until Mandy broke the silence. 

Her question hung in the air, her voice trembling slightly as she asked, "Is Sir going to force us to have sex with each other?" I met her gaze, seeing a mixture of fear and curiosity in her eyes. With a gentle smile, I replied, "Yes, Mandy. That's exactly what's going to happen." 

"He's going to whip us and torture us until we agree to do very dirty and degrading things with each other." I watched Mandy's reaction closely, savouring the way her pupils dilated at my words. 

"And when we finally break, when we give in to his demands, that's when he's gonna make us...umm, do things with each other." I finally remarked, watching Mandy's squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to fight off the arousal from what I just said. 


Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed above, growing louder as Daddy made his way down to join us. When he emerged from the shadows, my heart was beating out of my chest. Still clad in his impeccable suit, he carried and armful of bondage ropes and and a pair of gleaming tailor's shears. As Daddy approached, I could practically feel the energy crackling between the three of us, a potent mix of dominance, submission, and the promise of exquisite tortures.

As Daddy led us into one of the "dark rooms", the click of our heels echoed through the chamber. Mandy's breathing quickened as she took in the array of implements hanging from the walls - whips, crops, floggers and devices intended to keep us quiet and vulnerable.


With a firm hand, Daddy plopped Mandy on her butt, on the dirty floor, securing her wrists above her head. He then pulled me toward the center of the room, where a set of chains and shackles dangled from the ceiling.


With practiced ease, he secured my wrists in the leather cuffs, hoisting me up until I was balanced precariously on my tiptoes. The position left me vulnerable, exposed, and utterly at his mercy. 


I watched, my heart pounding, as Daddy retrieved the tailor's shears. The blades glinted menacingly in the dim light as he approached me. With agonizing slowness, he began to cut away my dress and panties, the shears slicing through the expensive fabric as if it were nothing. 


Now bare naked but still in my heels, Daddy stepped back to survey his handiwork, I could feel the humiliating weight of Mandy's gaze upon me, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. With deliberate slowness, Daddy moved to the wall rack, his fingers trailing over the various whips that hung there. 


After a moment's consideration, he selected a particularly wicked-looking flogger, the leather tendrils promising both sting and thud. Positioning himself behind me, he trailed the tails over my exposed skin, a teasing caress that made my nipples harden instantly. 

And then, without warning, the first lash landed, searing a line of fire across my bare ass. Only 49 more to go!



Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: 50 Lashes




Friday, July 7, 2023

A Moment of Reflection assisted by A.I.

Dear readers, this is a non-BDSM post, but a nice post nonetheless. 

A moment of silence or a moment of reflection? Not the kind you might be thinking. Not cornertime - which works for introspection, vulnerability and reflection too, but I wanted to touch on a more meaningful topic. 

This moment of reflection currently washing over me, has been partially caused by my newly found familiarity with A.I. chat and a book I recently read called Scary Smart - also about the subject of A.I. It was written by an Egyptian fellow who used to hold a high-level position at Google X. 

That book was terrifying yet tender toward the end, with an underpinning of trying to make the world a better place essentially. This made me think of someone who was also trying to make the world a better place, but through storytelling and exploration of cuisine and culture. I admired him as a storyteller. I loved all of his books and his rebellious, pirate-ship, punk-rock attitude toward sticking it to the "establishment". 

Who else could drop a line like this, in a period of time where everyone has a cause and everyone becomes offended by everything: 

Vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans...are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit.

Haha! I'm gonna stay Switzerland on that one and not comment on whether I agree or disagree with that quote. 

I asked the A.I. what it thought of him:

He left a lasting impact by fostering understanding, empathy, and appreciation for diverse cultures while advocating for those whose stories often go untold. His legacy continues to inspire individuals to explore, connect, and celebrate the world's culinary and cultural tapestry. 


Bourdain encouraged people to step outside their culinary comfort zones and embrace the diversity and richness of global cuisine.

I am blessed to live in Canada, where I can and regularly put into practice the above statement. 

He believed that sharing a meal with someone from a different background could bridge gaps and foster connections. By showcasing local food scenes and engaging with people from various cultures, he highlighted the commonalities that unite us all. His approach challenged stereotypes, encouraged empathy, and celebrated the uniqueness of different communities.

Very nicely put "Chatty A.I."

Bourdain actively advocated for marginalized communities, including restaurant workers, immigrants, and indigenous people. He shed light on the challenges faced by these groups and championed their stories and contributions. Bourdain recognized the power dynamics within the culinary industry and used his platform to address issues like inequality, exploitation, and cultural appropriation. He was a vocal supporter of fair wages, better working conditions, and respect for culinary traditions.

These sorts of matters seem to be tip-of-tongue in the media these days. Good for Anthony for trying his hardest while he still walked this Earth. 

Bourdain inspired countless individuals to explore the world, try new foods, and embrace different cultures. His work encouraged people to step out of their comfort zones, venture beyond tourist hotspots, and engage with locals. Bourdain's emphasis on the transformative power of travel resonated with many, igniting a sense of curiosity, adventure, and open-mindedness.

I try to live my life by this one! 

Disneyland and a Whopper combo? No thank you. Put me on a damp, cobblestone street in New Orleans, trying a charbroiled oyster a local resident farmed that morning. 

I am a month late in recognizing the anniversary date of his tragic and unexpected passing. Although, I shouldn't use the term unexpected. If you have the pleasure of reading his books he was a tormented soul! The manner in which he died was prophesized in his books, whether he knew it or not. It makes me sad to read the passages above, regarding his life, then get smacked with the reality of how he chose to leave this place. 

"Hey 'chatty'. Can you please write me a poem about Anthony  Bourdain?" 

****

In realms of culinary adventure, he soared,
Anthony Bourdain, a spirit uncaged and untamed,
With curious eyes and a hunger to explore,
A maestro of flavors, his legacy proclaimed.

Through bustling streets and hidden food stalls,
He guided us on journeys both far and near,
His words, a symphony that enchanted all,
A maestro of storytelling, sincere and clear.

With wit and wisdom, he peeled back the veil,
Unveiling cultures through shared meals and delight,
In each episode, a vibrant, authentic tale,
A maestro of connection, bridging day and night.

From street-side delicacies to fine dining halls,
He celebrated chefs, their artistry and craft,
His presence, a reminder that humanity enthralls,
A maestro of empathy, leaving hearts daft.

Yet amidst the flavors, shadows lingered deep,
A tormented soul, bearing burdens unseen,
In his absence, tears and questions steep,
A maestro lost, leaving wounds so keen.

But let us remember his zest for life’s feast,
His unyielding passion, his insatiable flame,
May his spirit inspire us to venture east and west,
A maestro’s legacy, forever aflame.

"A legacy forever aflame" 

Fuck! Well done A.I. That was beautiful and touching. 

I can only hope that his soul is at peace. 

Anthony Bourdain
June 25, 1956 - June 8, 2018 



Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from:  Lord Impaler I'm going to take a small break from our regularly scheduled programing and the main storyline, to go off ...