Cabin Fever

Continued from: "Come on, let's Colour"

The car tires crunched on the gravel driveway as we pulled up to the quaint cottage nestled in the snowy woods. The night air was crisp an cold, and the moon shone brightly overhead. I turned to Summer, who was practically bouncing with excitement in the passenger seat. "We're here, sweetie," I announced, a warm smile spreading across my face. "Our own little winter wonderland." 

Summer's eyes sparkled with delight as she took in the charming sight before us. The cottage was straight out of a fairy tale, with its pitched roof and stone chimney puffing out wisps of smoke. As we gathered our bags from the trunk, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me. This was exactly what we needed - a chance to escape the hustle and bustle of the Facility and reconnect with each other in a peaceful, romantic setting. 

I had been looking forward to this wintery getaway for weeks, eager to escape the stresses of daily life and indulge in some "quality time" with my beloved wife. 

While Summer busied herself exploring the quaint living room and kitchen, I slipped into the bedroom, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of my lips. From my suitcase, I retrieved a delicate yellow gingham dress, its fabric gentle and pristine. Beside it, I laid out a pair of crisp white knee socks and a set of glossy Mary Jane heels, their patent leather gleaming in the soft lamplight. Despite her age, I knew Summer craved the vulnerability and submission that such an outfit represented. 

With a satisfied nod, I turned my attention to a second bag, this one containing an array of implements designed for a very specific purpose. One by one, I extracted the paddles and straps, running my fingers over their smooth surfaces and testing their weight in my hands. 

As I neatly arranged a few of the tools on the bed, I called out to Summer, my voice gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, it's Sunday...you know what we have to do. Please change and come get me when you're ready. You'll be going over Mommy's knee for your weekly maintenance." 

I could hear Summer's sharp intake of breath as she hurried to comply, taking in the sight of all the logistics that I laid on the bed for her. 

As I sat waiting on the plush sofa, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, I heard the clicking patter of clunky Mary Janes approaching from the bedroom. 

When she finally emerged in the doorway, I couldn't help but catch my breath at the sight before me. There she stood, my beautiful, mature wife, transformed into the picture of youthful innocence. Her hair was tied up in pigtails, the blonde tresses bouncing gently with each movement of her head. 

As she stepped into the living room, she executed a perfect curtsy, her skirt flaring out around her as she dripped. "Good evening, Mommy," she greeted me formally. "I'm ready for my spanking, Mommy."

"Thank you sweetheart," I replied, reaching out to take her hand in mine. With a gentle squeeze, signaling that it was time to begin our weekly ritual, I led her back to the bedroom and pulled a straight-backed chair from the corner, positioning it in the middle of the room. 

With practiced ease, she reached under her dress and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to her knees. I took a seat in the chair, and watched as she gathered the fabric of her dress in her hands and lifted it high above her waist, exposing the full curve of her perfect bum. 

There was something so profoundly erotic and taboo about the sight of her standing there, half-naked, bald pussy trembling with vulnerability, yet radiating an aura of quiet strength and confidence. 

Without a word, Summer positioned herself over my knees, draping herself into a jackknife with her palms coming to rest on the floor. 

"You know this is for your own good, sweetheart," I gently cooed as I rested my palm on the small of her back. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand high above my head and brought it down with a swift, decisive smack. 

Again and again, I repeated the process, alternating between her left and right bum cheeks, exploring a variety of implements and positions, until Summer's entire bottom was glowing a deep, rosy hue. Occasionally, she would let out a soft whimper or a muffled cry, but for the most part, she endured her spanking with stoic resolve. 

As the spanking drew to a close, I set aside the hairbrush and returned to stroking Summer's reddened cheeks, soothing away the lingering pain with gentle caresses. She lay limp and pliant across my lap, her body relaxed and her mind drifting in a haze of endorphins and emotional release. 

I leaned down to press a tender kiss to the nape of her neck, whispering words of praise and reassurance into her ear. "You did so well, my love," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. I helped Summer to her feet, steadying her as she regained her balance. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as I pulled off her dress over her head. But, there was also a serene expression on her face, a look of peace and contentment that came from such a thorough spanking. 

Gently, I guided her towards the corner of the room, where two walls met in a monotonous juncture. "Kneel here, sweetheart, hands on your head," I instructed softly, pressing a hand against her shoulder to encourage her descent. Summer complied without hesitation, lowering herself to the floor and arranging her body in the prescribed position. 

Her panties remained pooled at her knees, and she dutifully perched her palms on top on her head, which naturally arched her back to, presenting her freshly spanked bottom to my view. 

"Thirty minutes, my love," I reminded her, my tone firm but kind. "Use this time to let it all wash away, and reset." Summer nodded, her nose rubbing against the convergence of the two walls. Leaving her to her contemplation, I retreated to the bed, to relieve myself of my restrictive clothing. The crackling of the fire provided a soothing backdrop, and I found my fingers drifting towards my delicate petals. 

As the minutes ticked by, the snicker-snack of my masturbation would have been driving Summer mental with frustration as I noted the subtle shifts in her posture and the occasional tremor that rippled through her body. 

"My darling," I whispered, my voice soft and commanding. "Your time is up, please remove all of your remaining clothing and put your Mary Janes back on." I took a moment to admire her in all her glory, drinking in the sight of her curvaceous form, the soft swell of her breasts, and the inviting dimples on her lower back. 

I crossed the room with a leather collar in my hand, a symbol of our transition into the next stage of our weekly ritual. I buckled it securely around her slender neck, its presence a tangible reminder of her submission to me. Lastly, I attached a leash to the D-ring at the front of the collar, giving it a gentle tug to underscore my coming command. 

"On your hands and knees, pet," I ordered, my tone brooking no argument. I led her on all fours towards the bed, where a ball gag lay waiting, its shiny red sphere and black leather straps promising further humiliation and restraint. 

"Open wide, huni," I commanded, my voice low and authoritative. Summer obeyed without hesitation, parting her red lips to accept the rubber sphere. I slipped it behind her teeth, feeling her jaw stretch to accommodate its size , and secured the straps behind her head, rendering her effectively mute. 

With the gag in place and a firm hold on her leash, I positioned myself behind her, admiring her red bum and the glistening folds of her pussy, perfectly presented for me. "Such a needy little slut," I teased, tugging on her leash to encourage her back to arch deeper. "So desperate to be filled and fucked, aren't you?" 

My hands found purchase on her hips, digging into the soft flesh as I pulled her back onto my dildo. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the quiet woods, punctuated by Summer's muffled moans amd the occasional slap of my palm against her reddened cheeks. 

"That it, my little fucktoy," I growled, my voice rough with exertion and desire. "Come for me. Come on Mommy's cock like the dirty slut you are." 

The name calling and degradation sent her over the edge instantly and she surrendered to the inevitable, her body convulsing in a series of intense, toe-curling spasms. I rode her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure for as long as possible. 

Watching Summer recover, I grinned, envisioning myself in my other outfits I was sure to pack for her. Our week away promised hot, filthy sex, whips, bondage and the odd outfit change. 

Is this too much for a cabin in the woods? *giggle

One thing is for certain, with all this heat we'll be generating inside the cabin, we may need the odd cooling walk in the woods. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Fire & Ice

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.

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

 

Non-derogation Clause

Continued from: Addendum

A Sarah Jane story

Mistress Andrea cleared her throat delicately, drawing our attention back to this clause at the bottom of the page. 

Poor Russell could do nothing but listen from his timeout corner, spanked, locked in chastity and utterly mortified that his Sunday maintenance had become so "public", with the inclusion of my two stunning, fabricated attorneys'. 

"A non-derogation clause," she explained, her voice smooth and professional, "is a provision that ensures the core element of a contract remains intact, regardless of any addendum or temporary modifications," she continued, her gaze now descending upon Russell in the corner. 

"The clause guarantees that Russell's orgasm control remains exclusively under Sarah Jane's jurisdiction, even during periods of role reversal. Essentially, it preserves the fundamental power dynamic of the FLR, ensuring that Sarah's ultimate authority is never truly compromised." 

Mistress smiled, a hint of wickedness in her expression as I spoke. 

"Quite ingenious, Ma'am, thank you for preparing this document, but may I clarify something with you?"

I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks as I posed the question, my voice tinged with a rare note of uncertainty. "So, let me see if I understand this correctly, Mistress," I began, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. "Under the terms of this addendum, I could find myself draped over 'Daddy's' knee, my bottom bare and vulnerable, squirming helplessly as his firm hand rains down upon my tender bum?"

"Or perhaps, dressed in the frilly finery of a little girl, my innocence feigned as I'm subjected to humiliations beyond my wildest imaginings."

I paused, swallowing hard, my breath coming a little faster at the thought. "I might even find myself naked and shackled in a dimly lit dungeon, at the mercy of 'Master's' cruel implements and relentless cock, my body pushed to the very limits of pleasure and pain. 

"And yet," I continued, my voice growing stronger, more confident, "despite all of this, despite the illusion of submission, the reality of my FLR remains unchanged. He may fuck me senseless, reduce me to a quivering, pleading mess, but he cannot, will not, cum without my express permission, is that correct, Ma'am?" 

Mistress Andrea nodded, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Precisely, my dear," she confirmed, her voice rich with approval. "You understand perfectly. The non-derogation clause ensures that, no matter how convincing the illusion of his dominance, his cock cage, the use of his penis for a sexual purpose, and his permission to cum, remains under your absolute control." 

 

I leaned forward, closer to Mistress Andrea, my curiosity piqued by this tantalizing prospect. "And what, Madam Counsellor, would be the consequences should he fail to control himself?" I asked, my voice a sultry purr. "If, in the throes of passion, he were to accidentally cum without my blessing? Surely such a transgression would warrant severe punishment?" My mind drifted toward the possibilities. 

My daydream was cut short as Mistress Andrea snapped her fingers at Summer, who fumbled into her briefcase to reveal a second document. With Russell still listening from his timeout position, Mistress cutely cleared her throat once more as she studied the new page. 

"Should the submissive party, hereinafter referred to as Russell, achieve orgasm without the express permission of the dominant party, hereinafter referred to as Sarah Jane, he shall be subjected to the following disciplinary measures:

Russell shall receive a punishment spanking of no less than thirty minutes in length, administered by Sarah Jane who shall use any implements and positions of her choosing. The spanking shall be witnessed by both Mistress Andrea and Miss Summer, to ensure it is carried out properly.

Oouff, that would be embarrassing! 

Following the spanking, a time of reflection in a designated corner shall commence. This time shall be no less than thirty minutes in length and no greater than one hour. Notwithstanding any article of clothing worn by Russell during this punishment, the buttocks shall remain bare and displayed during this time. 

Following corner time, Russell shall be confined to a chastity device if one is not already in place, for a period of three months, during which time the keys to said device, will be held in trust by Mistress Andrea. 

Throughout this period, Russell shall devote himself fully to Sarah's service, attending to her needs and desires with utmost diligence and respect. 

You can tell Mistress has written official Spanking Court rulings before, *giggle. Remember when she was the judge, jury and executioner all at once? She looked so cute yet menacing enough to make my butterflies swirl...and I wasn't even on trial that day! 

Story Link: The Spanking Court 

As Mistress Andrea finished reading, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. The idea of asserting my dominance 24/7, but holding the clause to switch roles when I wanted and dictate for how long, was deeply arousing. I could have my 'Daddy' and my pet! 

And the thought of him locked away even during these role reversals, his pleasure entirely at my mercy and control...well, it was enough to make a girl giddy with power!

Wish us luck. We love all your comments and support. I better come up for air and let Mistress Andrea use her own blog for awhile, before she tans my arse! 

Until we meet again, everyone xo

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Update your Resume

  

 

 

Addendum

Continued from: Ma'am to Mistress

A Sarah Jane story 

As the gentle rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, I stirred from my sleep, my body pressed against the warmth of Russell's peaceful form. 

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of my beloved boy, his masculine frame clad in the frilly pink panties I had insisted he wear to bed the night before. It was the second Sunday since the beginning of our FLR contract (female-led-relationship). 

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face as I recalled the significance of the day ahead. Maintenance Sunday, our sacred ritual was upon us once again. My gaze drifted down to Russell's groin, where the outline of this chastity device was clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of his panties. Fourteen days had passed since his penis last felt freedom, and his mounting frustration filled me with a sense of profound satisfaction. 

As Russell began to stir awake, I guided his head between my thighs. "Good morning, my pet," I purred, my voice thick with sleepy desire. "I require your tongue this morning." 

Over the past two weeks I have been deliberately using language like this, eloquent and Goddess-like. "Go down on me or, lick my pussy," has its time and place, but "I require an orgasm to start my day," is much better. The word "require" leaves little debate as to my status as his Queen. 

Obediently, he nuzzled against my pussy, the warm breath of his French kiss sending shivers of electricity through my body. 

As the last tremors of my orgasm subsided, I gently stroked his hair, a silent acknowledgement of his devoted service. "Very good, my sweetie," I hissed in satisfaction. "Prepare my coffee please, and remain in those adorable panties only, I'll be down shortly." 

I tiptoed up behind Russell, as he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing my coffee with the utmost care and attention. I cupped the cheeks of his panty-clad bottom to give it a squeeze, before fixing him with a stern yet loving gaze. 

"Young man," I began, strict and authoritative. "I have decided that we shall not delay your maintenance spanking. Last week's drawn-out anticipation, while effective in building tension, proved to be somewhat disruptive to our daily routine."

"Therefore, once you have finished your coffee, you are to head upstairs and shower. After this, put your delightful, pink panties back on and wait for me in the corner of the spanking room, is that understood?" 

Russell's eyes widened slightly at my pronouncement, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing within their depths. "Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. 

During his shower, I took a moment to transform myself into the epitome of feminine authority. Slipping into a figure-hugging pencil skirt, I paired it with a crisp white blouse that accentuated my curves. Black seamed stockings and towering stiletto heels completed my ensemble, lending an air of power to my appearance. 

I swept my blonde hair into a severe bun behind my head, not a single strand out of place, and perched my reading glassing upon the bridge of my nose. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror was one of a woman in complete control, which I couldn't help but realize was the paradox of my recent internal conflict and my longing for submission. 

As I entered the spanking room, my heels clicking authoritatively against the hardwood floor, I was greeted by the sight of Russell standing obediently in the corner. One by one, I laid out some implements on the desk, several hairbrushes, a strap, a belt, and with a final satisfied nod, a box of tissues, just in case. 

The final smacks of this Sunday's maintenance landed upon Russell's bare bum. I allowed my hand to linger, cupping his heated flesh possessively. 

Gently, I helped him to his feet, steadying him as he regained his balance. With a tender smile, I guided him back to a corner of the room, positioning him on his knees this time, with his nose to the wall. "There you go, my sweet boy," I cooed. "Bottom red, panties down, just as Mommy likes." 

I sat back down in the spanking chair, the room was deathly quiet, and checked the time on my phone as a secretive smile spread across my face. From downstairs, I heard my front door, followed by approaching footsteps, the unmistakable click of high heels against my staircase. 

I watched as Russell's body tensed, his shoulders rising as he fought the urge to turn and investigate the source of two sets of high heels, power-strutting into my home office. 

In the doorway, stood the striking figures of Mistress Andrea and Summer. Both women were dressed as I was, in corporate power attire, their outfits chosen to emphasize their feminine dominance. 

As they entered the room, their eyes immediately fell upon Russell kneeling in the timeout corner, his bare bottom on display, his panties pooled around his ankles. I could see the initial shock register on their faces, quickly replaced by amusement and appreciation. 

Stepping into her role, the reason she and Summer made this surprise visit today, Mistress extended her hand to shake mine. "Good morning, Sarah, I'm your retained counsel, Miss Andrea," she remarked, with a smirk playing across her face. "This is my personal assistant and associate counsel, Miss Holliday," Mistress spoke firmly as she continued her act. I, of course, played along for Russell's benefit, or detriment, however you wish to look at it from his current state in the corner. 

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," I gestured towards the plush armchairs arranged in the opposing corner of the office. As they settled themselves, their eyes remained fixed upon Russell, drinking in the sight of his humiliation. 

"As you can see, we were just finishing up our weekly maintenance. Isn't he a sight to behold?" I purred, my gaze sweeping appreciatively over his exposed form. My attention turned back to Mistress as she started to get down to business.  

Mistress Andrea reached into her briefcase, extracting a crisp manila folder with a flourish. "As your official counsel, it's our duty to ensure that all aspects of your...unique arrangement are properly documented. This is the addendum you asked us to prepare for you, Miss Sarah, is that correct?" 

I nodded in approval as I perused the one-page document, my eyebrows raised in surprise. The document outlined several new clauses. As I read, I couldn't help but clench my thighs together to quell the ache, as a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine.

Terms of Switching Roles

This was the delicious looking title at the top of the addendum. 

The idea of temporarily reversing our roles, of surrendering control to Russell for a designated period, had my heart pounding out of my chest. It would be the best of both worlds! 

My manicured fingers reached the bottom of a page. where I scanned a section with the title of: 

Notwithstanding

I looked up at Andrea, slightly confused as I read the sub-heading:

Non-derogation clause 

"Madam Counsellor," I asked softly and submissively, "what's a non-derogation clause?"

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Non-derogation Clause