Lump in the Throat

Continued from: Never a dull Moment

Cassandra Goth 

12.10.2024 - Sunnybrook Hospital, Toronto, Ontario

As I crept silently into the sterile hospital room, my heart heavy with concern, I was struck by the sight of my dearest friends, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief as they slept uncomfortably on whatever surface they could find. 

And there, in the center of it all, lay Russell - the only positive male role model I had ever known, the only man I had ever come to like. It pained me to see him hooked up to all that machinery, I felt a lump in my throat, threatening to choke off my breath. 

I reached out a trembling hand , gently stroking Russell's forehead, feeling the clamminess of his skin beneath my fingertips. 

The doctors had told the girls that he was in a medically induced coma, his body kept in a state of suspended animation while it worked to heal itself from the inside out. 

As I sat on his bed, holding his limp hand in mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still with us, still fighting to hold on despite the darkness that threatened to consume him. 

"Russ, it's Cassie," I whispered, leaning in close as to not wake the others. "I know you can hear me. I know you're still in there somewhere, listening to everything I say."

My voice cracked, and hot tears began to roll down my cheeks as the weight of my emotions finally overwhelmed me. "I...I wanted to thank you, Russ, one last time...for everything you've done for me," I managed to choke out between sobs, my grip on his hand tightening. 

"It was you, all along, who gave me the courage to go to London and find Carley. You saw something in me that I didn't even see myself, and pushed me to embrace it, to become the woman I was always meant to be." 

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself as the memories came flooding back - the night he consoled me like a father would, as I navigated the heartbreak of saying goodbye to Carley. 

"Hell, my own parents won't even speak to me anymore, Russell" I continued, my voice bitter with resentment. "I guess I'm too much of an embarrassment to their precious, aristocratic, country club circles, just because I have tattoos, because I married a woman. 

"But you...you never judged me. You accepted me for who I am, and you loved me anyway. You've been more of a father figure to me than my own flesh and blood ever was." 

At that, I broke down completely, my shoulders shaking with the force of my sobs as I buried my face into his hospital gown, letting the tears flow freely. 

I was praying with every fiber of my being that he could hear me. 

"Daddy! I don't want you to go...I need you!" 

Cassandra L. Goth  

Never a dull Moment

Continued from: Fire & Ice

In the dimly lit basement of Cassandra and Carley's Coventry townhouse, the air thick with the scent of leather and female arousal, a symphony of tortured moans and muffled screams filled the room. As a centerpiece, perched precariously atop a wicked wooden pony, was a naked young woman, her body trembling with agony as the weight of her petite frame pressed down upon the edged wood of the device. Her most sensitive areas - her delicate pussy and tender asshole - bore the brunt of her body weight. 

A bit gag had been forced between her teeth, rendering her cries for mercy into little more than pathetic, drooling whimpers, while electrodes attached to her stiffened nipples, delivered intermittent shocks. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her carefully applied makeup and leaving streaks of mascara trailing down her flushed cheeks. 

As the pitiful moans and choked cries of the woman on the pony faded into the background, becoming little more than white noise, Cassandra turned her attention to her next victim - a pale-skinned Irish lass with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. The girl was bound to a whipping frame, wearing only stockings, her porcelain skin glowing like moonlight in the dimly lit dungeon.

"Now then, my pretty little bitch," Cassandra purred, circling the spread and bound woman, a riding crop twirling ominously in her hands. "I understand that you've been sent here by your husband? Is that true?" 

The girl nodded miserably, her lower lip quivering as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes, Mistress," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the muffled cries of the woman on the pony. "I've been arguing with my husband, talking back to him when he tries to discipline me. I know I've been bad, and I want to be better. Please, Mistress, help me learn my place." 

Cassandra smiled indulgently, reaching out to strokes the girl's bum cheeks which already bore some fiery welts. "Of course, my dear," she said, her voice laced with false sympathy. "That's why you're here isn't it? To learn the true meaning of obedience and submission. And I promise you, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect, docile little wife your husband deserves."

The girl yelped in pain, her body jerking against her restraints as a vivid red welt bloomed across her pale bottom. 

"Count them," Cassandra commanded, her voice hardening as she prepared to deliver another stroke. "And thank me for each one." 

As Cassie attended to her whipping, close-by, another scene of debauchery was unfolding. There, bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, stood Carley - a striking vision of tattoos and piercings, her lean, slender body clad in nothing but stiletto boots and a harness of black straps that accentuated her every curve and contour. 

Around her waist, protruding obscenely from between her legs, was a massive strap-on dildo, its thick shaft glistening with male saliva as it bobbed menacingly in the air. Kneeling before her, was a man dressed in the trashy attire of a streetwalker - fishnet stockings, a leopard-print skirt, and a halter top with falsies. His lips were stretched around the tip of the cock, his cheeks hollowing with each desperate suck as Carley gripped his head with both hands, using his throat like a cheap fuckhole. 

Beside them, standing rigidly at attention and possibly impaled anally on some bondage apparatus, was a second man. A ball gag filled his mouth, reducing his protests to only grunts. Over his eyes, a blindfold rendered him completely helpless, unable to see the degrading spectacle that certainly awaited him. But even without the use of his senses, he was acutely aware of his displayed state and the humiliation he was being subjected to - for encasing his limp, useless cock, was a bright purple chastity cage. 

I knew there was never a dull moment at the Facility U.K. I knew I would be interrupting something insidious, but as Summer and I sat huddled together in the cozy cabin, our minds still reeling from the events of the day, I picked up the phone to call Cassie. 

"Hello, darling," I said, forcing a smile that I hoped would translate through the phone. "How are things across the pond?" But before Cassandra could respond, I heard a chorus of sounds in the background - muffled whimpers, pleas for mercy, and the unmistakable crack of a whip against flesh, it was clear she had a few "guests" over. 

"Oh, you know me, Ma'am," Cassandra replied breezily, her voice dripping with amusement. "Always keeping busy, always finding new ways to torment my lovely pets. But enough about me - tell me about your romantic little retreat, is my favourite little biotch, Summer, looking after you? She better be, that little tart." 

I hesitated, unsure of how to even begin explaining the horrific turn our trip had taken. But before I could muster the words, Summer took the phone from my hand, her own voice shaking with emotion as she spoke. 

"Cass, something terrible has happened," she said, as tears spilled down her cheeks. "There was a fire - Russ and Sarah's house burned down, and Russell...he's in the hospital. They won't let him breathe on his own yet, Cass. It's really bad." 

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "A fire?" Cassandra repeated, her hand reaching for the wall to steady her weakening knees. 

"Russell is in the hospital? Oh my god, I'm coming home. Right now. 

I'll be on the next flight out. 

Tell Andrea I'm coming home!" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Lump in the Throat

Fire & Ice

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"Come on, let's Colour"

Continued from: The Facility U.K.

A Sarah Jane story

As the knock sounded at our front door, I looked up from my colouring book, my eyes wide with curiosity. "Daddy, someone's at the door!" I exclaimed, my voice high and childlike. "I'm too little to answer it by myself. Can you get it, pweeease?" I asked, gazing up at Russell with a pleading expression. 

He smiled indulgently and rose from his armchair, setting aside his book. "Of course, sweetheart," he replied, kissing my forehead affectionately as he passed by. I watched him go, admiring the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt and the confident swagger of his gait. 

As Daddy opened the door, I heard a familiar voice, and my heart leapt with joy. "Summer!" I squealed, jumping up from the floor and rushing to the entryway. There, standing on our doorstep, was our dear friends Mistress Andrea and Summer. 

Summer, dressed in the cutest pink overall skirt, white nylons and sporting adorable pigtails, was shocked to see me in knee socks and plaid once again. Without hesitation, I threw myself into her arms, giggling with delight as we embraced. 

"Sarah Jane, tus es a nouveau soumise?" she chuckled as she spoke. I looked to Mistress for a translation, who had her eyebrow raised at Daddy. 

"You two switched again, didn't you?" Mistress Andrea asked, with an undertone of judgement in her voice. 

Summer and I jumped up and down on the spot, as I saw Mistress smirk and shake her head. "Oh my goodness, look at you two!" Her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took in the sight of two adult women, dressed the way we were. "You're just too precious for words." 

Glancing up at Daddy, I saw a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes softening as he watched us. "Why don't you girls go play while "Daddy" and I catch up?" Mistress suggested, her tone warm and encouraging. 

"That sounds like fun, Ma'am," I agreed eagerly, grabbing Summer's hand and tugging her towards the living room. "Come on, let's colour!" As we settled onto the floor, surrounded by crayons and colouring books, I could hear the low murmur of adult conversation drifting in from the kitchen.

I knew that Daddy and Mistress Andrea were discussing the intricacies of our dynamic flip, the complex dance of power and submission that defined our relationship. 

But in that moment, I was content to lose myself in the simple joys of being a little again, to revel in the companionship of my dear friend and the comforting presence of my beloved Daddy. As Summer and I chatted and laughed, our hands moving in tandem as we filled the pages with vibrant hues, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. This was where I belonged, nestled in the warmth of our home, surrounded by the people I loved most in the world. 

As Summer and I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, our heads bent over our colouring books, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with my fellow age-regressed submissive. We may have taken different paths to arrive at this place, but in many ways, our journeys mirrored one another, reflecting the deep-seated desires and vulnerabilities that drove us to seek out these unique dynamics. 

"You know, Summer," I began, my voice barley above a whisper as I selected a bright pink crayon from the box between us, "I really missed calling him 'Daddy', I kinda just missed being adorable and cute, you know?" 

I pulled up some content on my phone to show Summer. "Here, like this." 

"Do you know what I mean?" I asked, as I thumb-flicked to the next one. 

Summer nodded in understanding, her own crayon pausing mid-stroke as she listening intently. "Oui, I know exactly what you mean," she replied softly. "There's a certain freedom in letting go, in surrendering yourself to someone else's care and guidance. It's like you can finally breathe again, after holding your breath for so long." 

I smiled, grateful for her empathy and insight. 

"Even when he has to punish me, I know it's because he cares. It's not always easy, and the spankings definitely suck sometimes, but at the end of the day, I know that he's doing it because he loves me." 

Summer reached out and squeezed my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "That's the most important thing," she agreed. "Knowing that you're loved and protected, no matter what." 

Summer eventually talked me into getting my top and skirt off and started playing with my boobs, giggling and pinching my nipples through the delicate fabric. I pleaded with her to stop, reminding her that we're about to get in trouble if we're caught. 

I couldn't help but overhear snippets of the conversation between Mistress and Daddy. 

"Here, take these," Mistress said to Daddy, and I heard the jingle of keys changing hands. "They're for the Facility. Please keep an eye on the place while we're gone."

I turned to Summer, my eyes wide with excitement for her. "Are you and Mistress Andrea going on a trip?" I asked, bubbling with enthusiasm. Summer nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oui! We rented a cottage in the woods up north. It's suppose to be absolutely gorgeous, with a cozy fireplace and a big, steaming hot tub, it's going to be so romantic."  

Summer drew me in for a passionate kiss, I suddenly felt her hand slip into my panties, her fingers teasing my sensitive folds. "Summer!" I gasped, shocked but aroused. "What are you doing?" She just grinned and kissed me again to muffle my moans as I melted under her expert touch. 

Just then, I heard Daddy's voice in the opening to the kitchen. "Now, now, you two," he admonished, his tone firm but playful. "Girls, behave yourselves," he warned, giving us a wink in the process. 

Summer withdrew her fingers from my pussy, leaving me squirming with unsatisfied desire. I picked up my crayon, determined to focus on anything but the throbbing need between my thighs. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Cabin Fever

 

The Facility U.K.

Continued from: Diapered & Denied

Disclaimer: 

Below is an excerpt from an email that Cassie sent me. 

Be warned everyone, Cassandra can be a bit...umm, blunt, at times, in the way she describes things and the language she uses. 

Please remember it is the fantasy and wish of the clients to be degraded, called names and abused. Even someone saying "stop" or "let me go", is all a part of their fantasy. That's why we use safewords, to actually stop things if they need to. 

*****************

Cassandra Goth

12.03.2024 - Coventry, Warwickshire, England

My dearest Andrea, 

The Facility UK is full of slaves today. Multiple men, a few women. We're going to break them, slowly. The men, they'll never feel the release from their cages. Those pathetic little cocks will stay locked forever, denied and desperate...unless, well, you know... 

The women, they'll fare no better. Treated like the worthless fucktoys they are, tortured and punished until they beg for mercy that will never come. 

They always want to be caned, Mistress, these Brits. Must be a British thing, to feel the sharp bite of a school cane across their asses. Their tears are delicious, salty and sweet, the perfect seasoning for their suffering.

(Whoa, lol. I must say, that was one hell of a line from the A.I. Cassandra! Seasoning for their suffering...*slow clap)

When you phoned me, Ma'am, I was with some "alpha" male idiot. Cocky, arrogant, thought he could handle anything until I started the gender bending, until I put him in lingerie, heels and began calling him a cock whore.

I had to whip him into submission first. He kept telling me he wasn't gay, that he didn't want the other slave's dick in his mouth. 

Pathetic lies.

I lashed his back until he screamed, until he begged for the alternative to the whip. "Please Mistress," he whimpered to me. "Please let me suck his cock." 

Then this posh little priss showed up, all prim and proper in her hound's-tooth suit and sensible shoes. She was essentially greeted by this view: 

I knew exactly what she needed. I bent her over a school desk, hiked up her skirt, and gave her a dozen hard strokes with the cane. 

By the time I was done, her porcelain cheeks were expertly stripped red and she was sniffling pathetically. "Thank you, Mistress," she whimpered, her accent even more pronounced than usual.

"May I please have another?" I smirked and obliged her, laying six more strokes across her tender flesh. She howled in pain, but I could see the arousal dripping from between her legs. A true painslut, Mistress. 

Carley joined me as I was finishing up with posh spice and her drippy puss. Some timid, shy looking dude. Carley had taken him and dressed him up like a schoolgirl. He was crying softly, his body shaking with fear and arousal. He too, wished to be caned on the bare. These Brits, Mistress, I dunno...*shrug.

The other woman, she was a tough nut to crack. A real ballbuster, used to being charge, but suddenly faced with us. 

We broke her down piece by piece. We stripped her naked, shackled her to the wall, and took turns flogging her tits and cunt. She cursed and sputtered around her gag, but we just laughed and whipped her harder. 

By the time we tried some forced orgasm work, she was a sobbing, broken mess, begging us to stop. 

"Please, Mistresses," she garbled out through her gag. "I'll do anything you want. Just please, I don't wanna cum anymore!" 

Carley grinned wickedly and pressed the tip of her riding crop against the woman's clit. "Anything, you say?" she purred. "Well, then. Get on your knees and eat my pussy!" 

The woman hesitated for a moment, her pride battling with her duress, but she eventually sank to her knees, pleading with Carley that she's not a lesbian. 

As if we'd fall for such pathetic lies, as she begged us to let her go. Carley just laughed and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her face deeper into her crotch. 

"Shut up and keep liking, dyke," she growled. "We both know you love the taste of my pussy. Don't try to deny it." 

Of course, Mistress, everyone had a safeword. But none of these four seemed particularly interested in using it. They were too far gone, lost in the haze of pain and pleasure, of humiliation and degradation. So Carley and I just keep going, pushing them further and further into their own darkness. 

I promise I'll come home soon, Ma'am. If Carley ever releases her grip on me. She's my everything! 

Sissy Alice is doing ok, she just surpassed 100 days with her little clitty locked up and still, only a five minute, supervised release per week. We celebrated her centennial with a good pegging. 

*giggle

Safe sex always, Mistress, like you taught me. We used a condom...sort of.

She did however, fuck up the other day. Carley and I had to punish her. Remember that day in your kitchen, Ma'am, when you showed me what figging was? Right before you put the horrible thing up my ass and made me hold it there? Was that the night I was on shrooms and you caught me having a freak-out? 

Well, we tried it with poor Alice, after she was over my knee with her little girl panties at her ankles. I made her stand at the sink and prepare her own fig. 

Then it was 30 minutes in the corner, to think about her actions while the plug did it's work. Ohhh, it worked well! 

Give Summer my love. Tell Mom I'm ok...I'm safe, but I'm not ready to speak to her yet. 

I'm not ready to come home. 

Love always, 

Cassandra L. Goth

Continued in: "Come on, let's Colour"