Doctor Patel

Continued from: Roommates

Written by Skylar St. Germaine

"Please, Skylar, punish me." 

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before. My hand, poised above her bare bum, clenched into a fist before relaxing again. 

With a swift, decisive motion, I brought my palm down hard against Eesha's upturned ass. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, mingling with Eesha's sharp cry of pain. A red handprint bloomed instantly on her bronze complexion, and I watched, transfixed, as she squirmed against me. 

Again and again, I spanked her, each smack harder than the last, my hand stinging with the force of the impacts. 

With each punishing blow, Eesha's cries morphed into desperate apologies and promises. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I'll do better, I promise. Please, Skylar, I'll be a good girl!" 

Her words fueled my fervor, spurring me to spank harder, faster, until her ass was a canvass of crimson and purple. 

"I won't disappoint you again," she vowed, her tears flowing freely now. "I'll study harder, I swear!" 

When I felt Eesha go limp across my lap, I slowed my assault, my hand gentling to soothing strokes across her bare bum. "Shhh," I whispered. "You've been punished enough for now." 

Eesha collapsed against my legs, her body heaving with exhausted sobs. Slowly, she slipped her arms around my waist in a tight embrace. "Thank you for punishing me, Skylar." I ran my fingers through her disheveled hair and told her everything would be okay. 

Eesha clung to me for a moment longer, before reluctantly releasing her hold. With a soft sniffle, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wincing as she gingerly rubbed her sore bottom. I watched as she shuffled towards her bed, her steps hindered by the panties still pooled around her ankles. She crawled atop the covers, curling into a small ball around a pillow and quietly sobbed herself to sleep. 

For Eesha, this was no game, no sexual fantasy. It was a deep-seated need, a compulsion born of years of strict upbringing and the weight of expectations. And I, her friend and confidante, understood the gravity of my new role. 

In the months that followed, an unspoken ritual emerged between us. Every few weeks, I would return to our dorm room to find Eesha standing in the corner, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her bottoms and panties pulled down. 

Wordlessly, I knew this was my queue to help her with whatever she was struggling with. I would guide her by the bicep to her bed, to my bed, or to a nearby chair, and position her directly over my lap. 

As our ritual evolved, so too did my autonomy to punish her more creatively and effectively. On some occasions I would reach for my belt, other times it was Eesha's own hairbrush, the unforgiving wooden surface leaving ashy-white splotches on her bare bum. 

I began to incorporate enforced corner time into our sessions, before and after her spankings. I even insisted that she start stripping fully nude for me, before being sent to the corner or going over my knee. 

"Socks too, Eesha. I want you fully nude," I would command and she covered her face with her hands and cried into her palms. 

These moments of vulnerability, of enforced introspection, seemed to bring Eesha a sense of peace. They allowed her to confront the demons that drove her need for strict punishment, to accept the consequences of her actions. 

Years have passed since I last saw Eesha. Our paths diverged after graduation, she pursuing her dreams in medicine, while I took an internship with NASA. But now...now I'm here, at Mistress Andrea's Facility, providing the exact same service to men and women, that Eesha once needed. 

I often find myself wondering what Eesha would think if she saw me now. Would she recognize the echoes of our shared past, in the way I wield a paddle now? Or would she see me as some sort of deviant, a perversion of the friend she once knew? 

I like to believe that Eesha would approve. After all, it was our time together that first awakened this side of me, that showed me the transformative power of adult spankings and discipline. 

I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It had been years since Eesha and I had spoken, yet the memories of her vulnerability lingered within me. I wondered if she still felt the same need for structure, for discipline, that had once landed her over my knee with her bum bare. Or did she still crave the cathartic release that only a thorough spanking could provide? 

I was between discipline sessions at the Facility, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a simple message to Eesha: a single heart emoji, followed by the words 'miss me?' 

I hit send, my pulse quickening as I waited for a response from Eesha, who was listed in my phone as Doctor Patel. Finally. three dots appeared, signaling that Eesha was typing. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the screen, anticipation coiling in my gut. 

And then her reply: 

"More than you know."

My heart leapt at the sight of those four words, a surge of warmth flooding through me. Whatever doubts I may have had about reaching out, vanished in an instant. Eesha still needed me, still craved the unique brand of discipline that only I could provide for her. 

And I was more than ready to deliver!

Goddess Sky

Continued in: Adorable A.I.

Roommates

Continued from: Boardrooms & Bedrooms

If you remember, during the last post, my ears perked up like a deer, when young Skylar casually made a comment about spanking her roommate in university. That's right, this Skylar, the Librarian, with absolutely no experience in BDSM: 

My mind spun a visual of two giggling 19-year-olds with tequila on their breath, tickling and wrestling on their single beds after the bar. A couple smacks on the bum for one of them being too drunk, followed by a pass-out and the promise of a hangover the next morning. 

"No, it was for REAL." Skylar corrected, and began to tell me the whole story. 

By the end of her tale my mouth was dry, my jaw was on the floor, and the butterflies in my tummy were raging like a storm. 

Skylar has published papers, written a doctoral thesis and obviously reads like a fiend. She is very well-written and well-spoken. I thought I would ask her to write this one herself, she reluctantly agreed. Take it away, Sky. 

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

I remember the day we met like it was yesterday. I had just finished unpacking my bags in our shared dorm room, my muscles aching from the effort of lugging my belongings up three flights of stairs. As I stood there, surveying my already cluttered space, the door swung open and in walked this vision of exotic beauty. 

"Hi, I'm Eesha Patel," she said in a subdued tone. 

Eesha was petite, with long, raven-black hair. Her almond shaped eyes were green, framed by impossibly long lashes, and her lips were set in a shy smile. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a loose t-shirt.

I introduced myself, exchanging pleasantries and discussing our fields of study. Eesha was going to be a doctor. I could sense a tension in her, a coiled energy that seemed at odds with her gentle demeanour.

Over the next few months, as we settled into our routines, I noticed small things about Eesha. The way she would bite her lip when in deep thought, the nervous habit of twirling a lock of hair around her finger when stressed. She confided in me about her struggles with the demanding course load, her fear of falling behind. 

One day, in our second semester, Eesha burst into our room, her face flushed with anger and disappointment. She slammed her backpack onto her bed, sending papers flying everywhere. I looked up from my computer, startled by the sudden commotion. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, concern etched on my face. Eesha turned to me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

"I failed," she whispered, her voice trembling. 

"Failed? But you're one of the top students at this entire university!" I protested, rising from my bed to comfort her. 

Eesha shook her head vehemently. "No, you don't understand. I got an 86 on my biochemistry exam."

I frowned, confused. "But that's a great mark. What's the problem?" 

Eesha sank onto her bed, her shoulders slumping. "In my family, anything less that a 90 is considered a failure. If my parents knew..." She trailed off, a shudder running through her body. 

"When I was younger, if I ever brought home a grade like this, my mother...my father would..." She hesitated, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "They would punish me," she admitted in a rush, her gaze fixed on the floor. 

I stared at her, shock and something else, something darker and more thrilling, coursing through me. "Like…Spank you? For getting a B+?" 

Eesha nodded miserably. 

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's how I was raised. The fear of disappointing them, of facing that punishment...it drove me to excel. And now, here I am, failing without that motivation. 

The next evening, as we prepared for bed, the atmosphere in our room was thick with tension. Eesha moved silently, her movements jerky and uncertain. She was dressed in a simple tee and sleep shorts, as I was. 

She climbed into bed and paused, her hand trembling as she reached for something on her nightstand. Slowly, she turned to face me, her eyes downcast, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. In her hand was the crumpled test paper, the damming 86 circled in angry red ink. Without a word she held it out to me, her arm shaking slightly. I took the paper, smoothing it out on my lap, my heart pounding in my chest. 

When I looked up, Eesha had sunk to her knees beside my bed, her head bowed low. "Please," she whispered, her voice barley audible, "I need you to punish me. Like my parents would. I deserve it for failing." 

I stared at her, my mouth suddenly dry, my palms sweating. The sight of her, so vulnerable, so desperate, ignited something within me. A darkness I had always known lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge. I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking from the test paper to Eesha's trembling form. 

I sat up straighter on my bed, the test paper crumpled in my fist. 

"Eesh, I...I wouldn't know what to do," I admitted, my voice wavering. "I've never done anything like this befo…" But even as the words left my mouth, Eesha stood and remained silent, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pajama shorts. With agonizing slowness, she slid them down to her ankles, then completely off her socked feet. 

Then, in one fluid motion, she gripped the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up, exposing the smooth expanse of her tummy and lower back. Before I could utter another word, she had draped herself across my lap, her body warm and pliant against mine. 

My hand hovered above the rounded globes of her bare bum, trembling slightly, as I fought the urge to caress her. Eesha's Sobs filled the room and I knew I couldn't deny her this, we had become such great friends over the past months. 

"Please Skylar," she wept, her voice raw with desperation. "Punish me, hard! I need it...I deserve it."

Goddess Sky

nee:

Dr. Skylar St. Germaine 

Continued in: Doctor Patel

 

The Future is Female

Continued from: Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

As I stepped back to take in the full effect of Skylar's transformation, I found myself utterly captivated by this young woman. I was in awe. Clad in those sinfully sexy black pantyhose and nylon lingerie, her jacked body was a symphony of curves and shadows, a living, breathing work of art. And yet, despite the undeniable allure of her appearance, Skylar remained modest, her arms crossed protectively over her chest as if to shield herself from our appreciative gaze. 

My fingers itched with the desire to explore every inch of her newly revealed body. With a gentle touch, I swept her pretty hair forward, exposing the graceful curve of her back and the delicate nape of her neck. 

And that's when I saw it - a small intricate tattoo nestled at the base of her hairline. The Olympic rings, a symbol of athletic prowess and international recognition. 

Turning to face her fully, bracing for yet another revelation from this driven, remarkable young woman, I asked softly, my voice barley above a whisper. 

"Skylar, huni...were you in the Olympics?" 

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied, her cheeks flushed as she nodded shyly. "I won a silver medal in Sochi, I competed in fencing, Ma'am." 

Stunned silence greeted this latest information, both Summer and I struggling to process everything we had heard thus far. Skylar, our shy, unassuming guest, was not just a brilliant academic - she was an Olympian, she competed at the perfect human trade show! She stood atop an Olympic podium and accepted a medal for Canada.

There had to be a catch here, I was almost searching and probing for some kind of flaw within this flawlessness. Something...anything. Maybe she chewed with her mouth open? Could she have done a little jail time, or is she addicted to prescription meds...there must be a crack in her armour somewhere. 

Just as I was about to abandon these silly notions of imperfection, I noticed something that gave me pause. My gaze traveled over the smooth expanse of her muscular calves. There, marring the otherwise flawless canvass of her skin, were unmistakable bruises - not the BDSM kind, these were angry purple splotches that spoke of violence and pain. 

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the marks, my mind racing with possibilities, none of them pleasant. And then, as I forced myself to look closer, I saw them - faint fingerprint bruises, etched into the muscle of her upper arm, a silent testament to some unseen struggle. 

A chill of pure rage ran down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place. Skylar, with her shy demeanour and sudden interest in dominating men, bore all the hallmarks of someone fleeing an abusive relationship. Is this what led her to my Facility, could this have sparked her inner dominatrix to bubble to the surface? 

My gawd, I couldn't even! If some worthless fucking man, put his hands on this extraordinary woman!

The thought made my stomach sick with a mixture of anger and sorrow. How dare anyone lay a hand on this magnificent creature? How dare they seek to dim the light that shone so brightly within her? As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I knew I had to confront the issue head-on, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. 

Stepping closer to Skylar, I reached out and gently traced the edge of one particularly nasty looking bruise, my touch feather-light against her skin. 

"Skylar, my dear," I began, my voice trembling slightly with the weight of what I needed to ask. "I couldn't help but notice these, these scratches, these finger marks...is someone hurting you? Are you in an abusive relationship?" 

The words hung heavy in the air as I looked to Summer, who was almost in tears. I braced myself for the answer I assumed was coming and I feared I had overstepped, that I had shattered the fragile trust we had been building. But then, Skylar's eyes met mine and for the first time this evening, she let out a peal of laughter that rang through the room. 

The sound was so unexpected, so at odds with the gravity of the moment, that I found myself momentarily frozen into silence. 

"Oh, Mistress," she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry for laughing. It's just...well, it's not quite what you think." She paused, gathering her thoughts, and I found myself leaning forward in anticipation, eager to hear the explanation behind those mysterious marks. 

When she finally spoke, her words came as yet another shock in a night already filled with revelations. "Ma'am, Miss Summer, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine," she began, her voice steady and clear. 

"I do MMA in my spare time, Ma'am. I have a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu." She gestured to the bruises on her leg, a wry smile creeping across the corners of her lips. "These aren't the result of abuse, Mistress. They're badges of honour for me." 

The little thing drew her feet together in the most adorable display of vulnerability, teetering on her high heels and nervously fumbling with her fingers. 

I stared at her in fascination, my mind reeling as I tried to process this latest piece of information. 

Boy, don't I feel like a horse's patoot! 

For the third or fourth time tonight, I began my question in the same, shocked and awestruck fashion.

"Skylar...sweetheart..."

"You're a cage fighter?" 

She gleefully nodded her head and gave us an adorable, "mmm hmm," in the affirmative. 

"I think it's safe to say, young Skylar, that you're the most interesting and remarkable woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." 

She ducked her head, a shy blush spreading across her cheeks. 

From Sarah Jane, to Cassandra and Bella, Nancy, my own beautiful wife Summer and now this enigma of a woman, Skylar, I could barely believe that these remarkable women were a part of my life. For too long, we have been told to sit down, shut up, and know our place. But I was never more certain in this very moment, that the future is female! 

Please join me in welcoming the newest member of the Facility, 

Goddess Skylar St. Germaine, PhD

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Halloween Harem

 

Old Flame

Continued from: Jail Bird

What do you think dear readers? What would you do if you were Russell? He's currently in the arms of his 🔥old flame🔥, kissing her neck, just below her earlobe, with his dick locked in a metal cage. 

And MY Gawwwwwd, he's good at this! Goosebumps were spreading all across my body and my toes were curling!

(Speaking of Old Flames. If you haven't tried this brunette craft-brew, I would highly recommend it. It's toe-curling also. Port Perry, Ontario! - support local)

As Russell continued his exploration of THIS brunette, up and down my neck with his lips, I realized the silly man was just stalling, he had a decision to make. I had just offered him a wonderful yet horrible predicament. 

If you read the previous post you know he was recently spanked and strapped with a police-belt, by my two cute Officers. This was likely not arousing for him in the moment, but post-spanking, as he still feels and sees the effects of that belting, his arousal would begin to creep back in.

This was right around the point I locked his dick into a chastity cage, shutting down any and all penile activity without my permission. Once locked, he got to hear the two policewomen get spankings over my knee. Then he got to watch and hear them kiss, go down on each other and eventually me, as the scene culminated into a hot, lezzie threesome. 

All while poor Russell observed from this vantage-point:

And NOW...

I had just offered to unlock his penis to re-kindle an old role that he used to provide for me, when I was his submissive. The predicament part? If he wants to take me, right here and now, he has to celebrate Locktober this year, and submit to inescapable chastity for the entire month, with me as his keyholder. 

What would you choose, hmm? 

I know what Russell is going to choose. The fact that he's already been denied most of the day, spanked, then a helpless witness to a hot lesbian threesome, should influence his decision. Was this cheating on my part? Too much stimulus and influence over his decision making? Maybe a little...😈

But if that wasn't enough, I started rubbing the metal bars of his cock-cage against my pussy. Hehe. This she-devil wasn't playing fair at all! 

As expected, I was soon accessing the keys for his chastity device to unlock him. We switched roles right then and there, once his cock was free. I was now his submissive pet, to do with as he pleases. I was naked and on my knees. It was about to be a nice little vacation / slave-cation for me.

"How would you like me prepared for you, Sir?" I whispered out, in my most submissive tone. 

"A pleated plaid skirt, young lady, like you used to do for me," Russ said. 

I immediately felt a rush of adrenaline and arousal form between my thighs. "Schoolgirl", back in the day, usually meant a spanking, a really long one! But then he continued...

"Boots with your skirt please, my doll. A subtle nod to your current role." He smiled as he suggested this deviation from the norm. 

Oooo, ok. I can get behind this idea! Rather than the innocence and vulnerability of white knee socks and Mary Janes, Russell clearly wants me a bit more edgy and "grown-up", not so innocent perhaps?

Before heading off to prepare, Russell stood me up and performed a wet-check. I was embarrassingly soaked for him. I shuddered with ecstasy as his manly hand cupped my pussy, his two middle fingers explored their way deep inside. 

Those two fingers ended up in my mouth, where I shamefully and greedily sucked them clean, like a huge slut. Russ had me right where I wanted to be, panting and hypnotized with submissive arousal. 

I returned a while later, dressed and ready for Russell. I was feeling both sexy and vulnerable in my new look. Without being prompted, I knelt to await my instructions, noticing that Russell had moved some of my furniture around and positioned a few mirrors, strategically, near the bed. 

"You look beautiful young lady." 

"Thank you, Sir."

"Come here, little one." 

I was all melty and gooey in his strong arms. I was right back to the sub-space I once enjoyed with Russell. I felt so safe and cared for. He was my protector!

Pretty soon he was patting his lap invitingly. I rose from my knees slightly and slowly and deliberately slithered my mid-section over his lap like a snake. 

I got a mild spanking with his hand, over my skirt, then over my panties until those were eventually peeled down and off my feet. 

We moved to the bed and my spanking continued. Only this time, Russell would spank and finger me, spank and finger me. I even felt several swats directly onto my pussy lips and bottom hole. Shamefully, I think I was moaning like a whore the entire time. But I didn't care. Tonight, I was his whore, and I was loving it!

Russell, much to my delight, busted out some old-school tactics he used to do back in the day. While I was still draped over his lap being systematically spanked and fingered, he used my wetness and transferred it onto my little bum hole, until it was glistening and slick.

Let me repeat that...

He used my own arousal as lubricant for my asshole! What a freakin' stud he was.

That being said, the butt plug that came next slipped into my bottom with ease. He then removed my top and gagged me. 

Another of his old moves. Having me ride his tongue while I'm anally plugged and gagged, with a mirror to stare into.

When he flips me around to face his cock, it's frustrating because I want to inhale the entire thing, but my gag remained in place. In this position, as I grind my pussy into his mouth, his nose presses on the base of my anal plug. I get a joyful little ass-fucking sensation because of this and I was soon screaming into that gag-ball as I came. 

When I ride his tongue, Russell actually edges himself. Just slow-stroking his cock until it's ridiculously hard for me. Boy, did I ever get fucked after that! Sometimes I was allowed to be in control of the speed and tempo. 

Other times it was all him. 

When I was made to face the mirror, he ensured a sharp tug to my ponytail would remind me to watch. 

Around this point he was taking frequent breaks, fighting off the urge to cum so he could extend our playtime as long as possible. He would pull completely out of me and I could hear him heavy breathing, it was cute. Then I would feel the awesome and full sensation of his cock slowly re-entering, competing with the contours of the anal plug, pressing against my vaginal wall. 

The reverse pressure of the anal plug is also an incredible sensation for his cock. The poor guy held out as long as he could, edging himself each time he had to stop, then re-start. Eventually he absolutely unloaded into my pussy while he clawed at the bedsheets and shook like a leaf. 

He could barely stand afterwards, his knees were so shaky. It was super cute, to have this paralyzing effect over a man from a position of submission.  

You know what else was cute? Seeing his belt-strapped little bum while we had sex. It was almost as red as mine, and his spanking from the girls was hours ago!

I ended up getting another one, with his firm hand, in the dreaded wheelbarrow position. EVERYthing is on display when you're put in this pose and spanked. There's no modestly whatsoever. He would have had a good view of his cum oozing from my puffy, red pussy. 

He actually chose this one specifically so he could pull the anal plug out of my ass. 

Disheveled, sweaty, sore...and completely blissful in each other's arms. It was exactly as I remembered our times together. We popped some champagne and got right into some pillow-talk, as Russell helped me out of my hot boots. 

I was beyond content! Recently Domme'd by Goddess Vanessa, now Dom'ed by Russ. I was a lucky girl. I certainly had my fix of submission for awhile. I decided to return the balance of things and remind Russell of our Locktober agreement. 

"Yes Mistress Andrea." He replied with a cute and bashful smile. 

His gaze was locked onto me, he gazed directly into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. It was a look I had not seem from him in over a decade. I felt it penetrate my heart. I tried to lighten the atmosphere. 

"Did you ever think we'd end up here? The two of us with spanked bums, pretty much running a harem of BDSM enthusiasts and re-connecting the way we have?" 

"Never in a million years, huni." 

"Russ, I've never told you this before, but I love you...I always have."

Oh FUCK! Fuck, what did I do?! I had no idea where that suddenly came from. I was literally holding my breath until he said something. I couldn't look at him. He had tears in his eyes and it was gonna make me cry too!

He finally did speak, as he drew me close onto his lap, shielding his face in my neck to hide his tears. 

"Andrea, it's been ten years..."

"And not a day went by that I didn't think of you." 

😢💓

*sigh*

Be still, my heart... 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

 

Continued in: Back to School