Sinister Intent

Continued from: Difficult Choices

After the devastating kick to the scrotum of poor, Paul, he was helped into a bondage chair as previously described. The chair was designed for maximum access for follow-up kicks, only this time, Miss Cassandra was swapping out her little runners for heavy Doc Martins. Here's the rest of the story, leading up to the Doc Martin's being worn by Cassie.  

As Miss Cassandra settled into her throne of a chair, her gaze remained fixed on Paul's helpless form, her dominance radiating like an aura. With unhurried movements, she began to unlace and remove her hot running shoes. 

The pads of Cassie's socked-feet came to rest on the floor, leaving behind a humid little outline of their shape - a temporary impression created by the perspiration in her socks. The moisture-kissed imprints glimmered against the floor, creating ten little toe-prints beneath her feet. 

Tantalizingly slow, she began to roll the sweaty socks off her feet, Miss Cassandra's toes, adorned with two silver rings, emerged like polished jewels. Paul gasped in his bound state, witnessing her bare feet for the first time. 

Miss Cassandra lifted one of her discarded socks to his nose, the damp fabric wafting its beautiful aroma into his nostrils. "Breathe deeply, Paul," she commanded, her voice low and husky. The scent of her perspiration and the faint tang of vanilla lotion enveloped him, temporarily erasing the memory of his devastating ball-kick. 

Paul's senses reeled, his face flushing as he inhaled the heady fragrance of Cassie's sock. His imagination began to run wild, with fantasies of worshipping those magnificent feet, and despite the earlier kick to his scrotum, his erection began to grow more turgid by the second.

Miss Cassandra's gaze flickered downward, her expression twisting in disgust as she beheld the evidence of his arousal. "How dare you," she spat, her voice cold with disdain. "Your erection is offensive to me and how dare you respond so crudely, to something as simple as my sock!" She mashed the cotton sock into his mouth, to muffle his screams of what was coming next. 

Without hesitation, her bare foot swept upward, striking his dangling balls with the top of her toes. The blow landed with precision, Paul's bound form jerked in response, his face contorting in pain and humiliation. 

Amidst the agony of Paul's helplessness, Cassandra did not let up on her psychological torment, by offering the silly male yet another deal. 

"If we can get that thing limp again, limp enough to return it to its rightful confinement within the chastity cage - I'll let you worship my bare feet with your mouth, Paul." 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he gazed up at Miss Cassandra, his face a picture of pitiful supplication. "P-please, Ma'am...kick me again. Harder, if need be, to help me get limp for the cage." 

With deliberate purpose, she raised her foot once more, the toes flexing in preparation for the coming blow. Paul braced himself, clenching every muscle and hoping his penis goes flaccid quickly. With a series of measured blows, Miss Cassandra had finally succeeded in deflating his offensive erection, restoring the chastity cage to its rightful place. He was unshackled from the bondage chair, and collapsed to his knees before Cassie's bare feet.

Miss Cassandra crossed a leg and extended one bare foot, presenting it to Paul like an offering. The sight alone was enough to send his heart racing. At last, he could indulge in the sublime saltiness and wrinkles of Cassie's tender soles. 

With an anguished moan, Paul fastened his lips around her big toe, suckling gently as his tongue explored every crevice and contour. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of textures and tastes that left him breathless. 

With the lingering flavour of her bare toes in his mouth, his sight blackened by a blindfold, Miss Cassandra began to lay her final offer on the table. 

"Paul, darling," she purred, her voice laced with sinister intent, "the time has come for you to make a final decision. 

She removed his blindfold so he could watch her retrieve the discarded socks and slip them onto her feet, before beginning the painfully slow process of lacing her Doc Martin's onto her feet.

"A final kick with my new boots, full-power, to your locked-up cock and balls? Or you may get down on all fours and take a nice, thorough ass-fucking..." 

With a fiery blush branding his face, Paul arched his back and accepted a ball gag into his mouth. He presented his puckered asshole to Miss Cassandra like a supine sacrifice. We think he made the right choice, this time. 

I think Cassandra is our resident ball-buster now. Take a bow Cassie, you did well on this one, a special fan request. Fan mail and comments praising Cassandra may be left in the comments. 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Trophy Wife

 

Difficult Choices

Continued from: Secretary Fantasy

After a wonderful session with my "secretary" Bella, I had a blissful sleep that night. Summer got home late and nuzzled in beside me, her silken jammies caressing and cooling my skin. She was so stealthy that I actually didn't wake up, despite her big-spooning me.  

I was however, woken up this morning by high-pitched squealing and giggling, coming from downstairs...Cassandra must have been back from her date with Carley and Robbie. It seems their date was an all-nighter. My maternal den-mother instinct took over. I can't say I approved of this out-call, impromptu sleepover, she only just met this couple. 

As I entered the room to investigate and possibly scold, there's my wife with her hand around Cassie's throat, giggling and urging her to spill the beans on all the dirty and depraved details of her threesome evening. 

Next thing I know, these two end up wrestling around on the floor and laughing, as Cassandra begins to describe her experience with the British couple. 

"Robbie said he felt faint, cuz we fucked him so hard!" Cassie blurted out. 

"Cassandra Leigh Goth!" I barked at her, trying to force a judgey-face but fighting off laughter at the same time. 

"Whaaaat?" She mewled at me. "You know how much I hate dick! I was only there for Carley."

"Will you be seeing these two again?" I asked, genuinely curious. 

Cassandra just smiled, and bucked Summer off her hips, before declaring that she had to go shower and change, she had a client booked for today. 

I was quite surprised. "Oh...Cassie, you have a booking for today!?" 

"Yes Ma'am. Some dude wants me to kick him in the balls." She abruptly replied, while Summer tickled her and they both laughed. 

"I have three booked for spankings Cassie." I remarked to her. 

"That's ok. He can go in the waiting room with the rest of them..."

 Amidst the renovations dear readers, we reinstated the dreaded waiting room. This time it is a bit more clinical, a bit more judicial, and housed in the cell-block area near the spanking court. Clients are booked in groups deliberately, to amplify their shame and humiliation, as they are made to wait for their session and listen to the sounds from down the hall, of wood and leather meeting bare flesh. 

Their stomachs will twist and sicken with butterflies, as fellow clients will ascend the stage to serve their mandatory cornertime at the conclusion of their sessions. 

Bondage and gags are used in the waiting area, along with spreader bars, to keep glistening female genitals spread and exposed to whomever is sitting across. Male's are spread also, to display the pathetic little nub of a chastity cage, that they are required to wear to their session.

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

Paul was looking down at the floor in shame and dread, but his attention was soon drawn to the central stage. A flushed and tear-streaked mature woman stood, hands on her head, buttocks still crimson from her recent trip over my knee. 

The soft, humiliating sobbing accompanying each of her laboured breaths, served as a stark reminder of what awaited those brave (or foolhardy) enough to seek out my unique form of therapy. Paul's own face burned with empathy as he gazed at the poor woman's spanked bottom. He however, was not here for a spanking.  

His attention was snapped from a mere daydream to his ultimate, fetish nightmare, as Miss Cassandra entered the room. Her saunter and swagger was a whirlwind of dark beauty and unapologetic attitude. 

Fishnet stockings, once the purview of retro pin-ups, seemed reborn on her toned, dancer's legs, paired with bitchy jean shorts and Converse all-stars, that gave her an air of rebellious nonconformity. 

Paul's penis twitched in the confides of its cage as she approached. He drank-in the stunning beauty of this gothic princess, turned Dominatrix.  

"It's time, Paul," she hissed, her nails like daggers, roving over his naked and vulnerable form. 

"I trust you're prepared to make some difficult choices today?" 

Paul nodded in the affirmative, as his restraints were unlocked. His arms and legs flexed in relief, though his gaze remained fixed on Miss Cassandra, mesmerized by the studied cruelty dancing in her eyes. The gag, still lodged in his mouth, was slowly withdrawn, that sent a reservoir of saliva and drool cascading down his chin. With a gentle tug on his collar and leash, Miss Cassandra guided him out of the waiting room and into the unknown depths of her lair.  

"Listen up, because I don't repeat myself. You want out of that chastity cage, the pathetic symbol of your inadequacy as male, than it's going to cost you." Her leather glove cupped and cradled his dangling balls, like a coiling serpent.

"Are you willing to take a full-force kick to the balls, just to experience the thrill of freedom?" The cold calculation in her expression made it clear that she didn't particularly care which option he chose; his suffering was merely a means to an end. 

Tears welled up in Paul's eyes, as the brutal simplicity of Miss Cassandra's proposal ravaged his fragile ego. The sting of her disdain for men, seeped into his pores, infecting him with a genuine fear. Yet, after a moment's hesitation, he politely asked her if she would kick him in the balls, if it meant his penis could be free from the cage. 

Miss Cassandra moved with purpose, securing a gag into his mouth and blindfolding him with a silky scarf. As he stumbled, disoriented, she positioned him in the middle of the room and removed his chastity cage. Cassandra scoffed in disgust and raised her arms like she was using "the force", as his penis sprung to life before her eyes. 

She ordered his legs splayed open with feet firmly planted on the floor, she ordered his hands behind his back, and the silence that followed was oppressive, punctuated only by Paul's ragged breathing and whimpers of what was imminently going to happen. 

Just as his penis reached a fully erected and offensive state, the little Converse all-star connected with thunderous force. WHAM! 

Paul dropped in a heap to the floor, his mind recoiled, registering the sensation of his scrotum essentially imploding. He choked and sputtered into the ball gag, before Cassandra eventually helped him to his feet and into a chair. 

Without gentleness, she guided him toward the bondage chair, its cold leather awaiting his surrender. The restraints were secured with practiced ease, his limbs arranged to showcase his ultimate vulnerabilities. Spread-eagled, his throbbing testicles dangled like ripe fruit, trembling with every twitch of fear. With his blindfold removed, he was forced to watch her unlace her tiny runners and cast them aside. 

Ever so slowly, she reached for a tall pair of Doc Martin boots, black and perfectly polished. As Paul watched on in horror, Miss Cassandra slowly and deliberately drew each lace through the brass eyelets before snugging the strands tightly. 

As Paul was released from the chair, his poor legs surrendered, dropping him to his knees in a posture of abject submission. 

"Mercy, please Mistress...don't make me choose that, anything but..." 

She merely raised an eyebrow, her cruelty unwavering as she outlined the terms of his next choice. 

"Silence! You've been given two options to consider: endure a kick from my Doc Martin's" - she paused to admire the weight of her heavy footwear, - "or, submit to a pegging up your slutty little asshole."  

"This way, no matter what you decide, you'll be fucked like the bitch you've proven yourself to be!" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Sinister Intent