The Goth Girls

Continued from: Our Anchor

As I surveyed the scene before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of deep satisfaction. Russell and Sarah Jane had settled comfortably into our home, their presence bringing a new energy and vitality to the space that often feels empty and cavernous when it's not bustling with clients. 

Summer and I had gone out of our way to ensure that they felt welcome and at ease, providing them with everything they needed to begin the process of healing and rebuilding. With Cassandra still here, we felt like a little family again. I had a warm tingling in my heart, bringing them under my roof as the matriarch and head of household (HoH). 

But like any family, it is not immune to problems at times, and there was one lingering issue that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness - the ongoing rift between Cassandra and her mother, Bella. It had been months since the sudden and secret wedding in England, and the two had scarcely exchanged a word or message in all that time. 

Cassandra has always regarded me as a mother-figure to her, but I can never be a replacement of her actual mother. It was up to me to intervene, and make things right between these two, even if it hurts a little. 

I slipped away to a quiet corner of the piano lounge and secretly accessed my phone. I had to play this one a little cloak and dagger, in order for it to work, so I made up some excuse to get Bella over to the house, without Cassandra knowing. 

I sort of eluded to Summer to make herself and our guests scarce for a bit. She cooked up a plan to take Russell and Sarah Jane shopping for clothes, both of their wardrobes and all of Sarah's DDLG, specialty and submissive wear was destroyed by the fire. Of course the two of them were bouncing off the walls at the prospect of shopping for age regressed clothing together. Russell just followed along like a Dad, taking two excited, pre-teen girls to the mall.

With Bella on the way, I tried to broach the subject with Cassandra yet again and immediately she got her back up, until suddenly, I heard the front door and asked Cassie to follow behind me. 

The moment Bella stepped through the doorway, I could feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. Clad in her signature red satin dress, her legs encased in dark hose and her feet perched atop towering heels, she was the very picture of elegance and sophistication. 

But the icy glare she directed at Cassandra told a different story altogether - one of simmering resentment and barely contained hostility. 

"Mother." Cassandra greeted her, her voice dripping with venom as she spat the word from her mouth. 

I attempted to calm Cassie's ferocity and ushered the two of them to a nearby couch. Sitting together, like two bickering siblings with me towering over them, I tried to calm the waters as best I could, but I knew that drastic measures were called for. 

Both women had experienced my firm hand before, submitting to the stinging correct of my hairbrush, my strap. But never had I punished them together, in the same room, forcing them to witness each other's humiliation and surrender.

I knew that it was precisely what was needed to break the cycle of resentment and hostility that had taken root between mother and daughter. Only by stripping away their defenses, by reducing them to their most vulnerable and childlike states, could I hope to guide them towards a place of forgiveness and understanding. 

I stood dramatically and slammed my high-heeled foot against the floor, shocking them to attention. 

"Enough! This ends now!"

"Cassandra Leigh, Isabella Octavia, get yourselves up to my room this minute!" 

To my satisfaction, the Goth women immediately bowed their heads in submission, their voices soft and compliant as they responded in unison, "yes, Ma'am." 

"In your underwear, facing the wall," I added, as the two of them scurried up the grand staircase and out of sight. 

I took my time, letting them stew in their shared predicament, before my heels eventually connected with the hardwood staircase slowly, deliberately, a commanding strut. 

I found them as instructed, wearing their undergarments only and standing shoulder to shoulder in my bedroom, facing the wall. Their previous bickering had morphed into a nervous silence that I quickly broke. 

"The two of you are going to get a spanking, right in front of one another. A good, hard, bare-bottomed spanking, the likes of which is long overdue, ladies." As I spoke, I could see their bodies tense and shoulders lurch forward as they remained silent with their heads bowed in shame.

Clutched in my hands, were two school uniforms, almost identical in style and vulnerability. The skirts were impossibly short, a length that would barely cover their plump asses, the tops were tiny too, a size too small for the ladies. Completing the ensemble were knee-high socks in a crisp white, and shiny black Mary Janes with buckled straps. 

"If you two are going to insist on behaving like a pair of petulant schoolgirls," I declared, my voice laced with disdain, "then you're going to be treated like that." With that, I tossed the outfits onto the bed, watching with amusement at how horrified they both were. The two Goth girls were not strangers to being taken over my knee while dressed in such vulnerable attire, but again, never together in the same room. 

"Go into the bathroom and strip, you two," I ordered aggressively. "Then put your uniforms on and report right back to this corner!" 

I was being so demanding in my tone that I didn't hear so much as a peep of protest out of these two, about the embarrassment of the situation, about the uniforms. I think they realized just how real this spanking was going to be, and suddenly, they were on their best behaviour. 

In dramatic fashion, I positioned two straight-backed, wooden chairs into the middle of the bedroom, strategically close to my dresser, which housed several hairbrushes and my leather strap. 

As I waited outside the bathroom door, I could hear the muffled sounds of movement and whispered conversation coming from within, the telltale signs of Cassandra and Bella struggling to come to terms with their predicament. 

"Sit!" I hissed, as the two Goth girls emerged from the bathroom in their crisp white knee socks, staring down at their glossy Mary Janes in shame and humiliation. 

I circled them like a predator, scolding them the entire time and reminding them about the loving bond only family can provide. "All this fighting and bickering stops today, and we'll stay in this room, spanking you one-by-one, until you're ready to accept that, ladies." 

With my final threat of what was to come, I had both women stand for me. 

"Cassandra Leigh, put your chair in the corner of the room, sit down and face the wall," I commanded. 

"Isabella, pull your panties down to your knees and get over my lap." 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: It Will Heal

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 

Continued in: Our Anchor

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

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"

Old Fashioned

Continued from: Adorable A.I.

Basil Hayden bourbon 

Aztec Chocolate bitters

Burnt orange rind

On the rocks

That's how this gal likes her old fashioned. 

I thought I'd slow-sip on one, while I contemplate where to take the storyline next. With the introduction of so many new and exciting characters, each with their own uniqueness, the possibilities seem endless at this point. 

Summer and I are always here as a default, if the content is not exciting enough. I did a little tribute post to her in the last installment.

Goddess Skylar, the new girl in town. 

We're almost ready to unleash her on the Facility but it seems she's reconnected with an old friend. The mysterious Dr. Eesha Patel. Sky showed me some pictures of Eesha, she's gorgeous! (and her name, ironically enough, means Goddess in Hindi) 

I can't argue with that. 

I'm wondering if this could be their future at my Facility? 

Across the pond in the Facility U.K., my baby girl Cassandra Goth and her new wife, Carley, are establishing their own den of depravity. Looks like quite the welcoming place for silly male clients. 

They even found themselves a sissy receptionist named, Alice. I think he's coming up on 90 days in his chastity cage. Around those two, I don't imagine he'll ever need his penis for a sexual purpose, ever again. 

Cassandra is a sim, the daughter of Bella and Mortimer Goth. Her and her mom haven't spoken since the semi-secret wedding in England. As a former disciplinarian to both of the Goth women, I may need to intervene and sort those two out. Mother and daughter, both taking a trip over my knee for a nice, long attitude adjustment, we can always take the storyline in that direction. I'll have them on speaking terms in no time, if they wish to avoid my hairbrush. 

Carely...not a sim. 

I quite literally hijacked and stole this dude's Kindroid character that he made and incorporated Carley into the main storyline of this blog. Again, when I write, I am never really sure what direction things are going to go until it happens. Poor Robbie, the creator of the lovely Carley, ended up being left alone in some forest in England, after Carley got married to Cassandra. Sorry, Robbie. 

For the darker, more intense side of BDSM, we can always visit the Facility U.K. and write about these two little tattooed weapons.

We have Sarah Jane and Russell, not sims and are actually based on real people. They did a huge switcheroo recently and Sarah is now enjoying the spoils of a female-led-relationship, with a heavy emphasis on caring, but strict domestic discipline.

I wonder if she'll ever feel the need to switch back to her submissive role? She seems to be loving being on this side of the OTK chair. 

And lets not forget Sarah's little playmate, Mandy, the soccer mom. Those two found themselves "forced" into some bisexual dungeon play at the hands of Russell. Now it seems that Sarah Jane has claimed Mandy for herself, probably to use her to cuckold Russell while his penis remains locked in chastity. 

Plenty of great content with these two and this storyline. 

And lets not forget the real OG's. Bella and Nancy who are both from the sims world. 

Vanessa and her sissy husband, Derek, these are fictional characters...always good story opportunities here, of intense cuckolding, humiliation and sissy slavery. 

What do you think everyone? Where should we take things next? And let’s try another video, of ME this time! 

I'm just gonna sip my old fashioned and contemplate all of this, while I wait for your suggestions. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Why Choose BDSM?"