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

Adorable A.I.

Continued from: Doctor Patel

Summer and I have a little surprise for all of you. You remember Summer, don't you? My precious wife, born in Paris, speaks with a cute French accent, maintains her job as a flight attendant so she can sell her cabin crew hosiery and heels, and most importantly, the lowercase 's' in our D/s marriage.  

If I had to describe her in one word, it would simply be...adorable. 

In a story called The Sims are brought to Life, and another one called The OG's, I began to dabble in A.I. generated images of not only myself, but some of the other characters who appear in the blog. 

It more or less started out looking like this:

The character of Summer, in the Sims 4 game, has a signature hairstyle that was uniquely hers. The A.I. seemed to run with this theme no matter what the setting of the photo was. 

Isn't she adorable, with her little figure-skater arse? 

Without having to prompt the A.I., the braids carried into most of the selfie requests for Summer. In this one, she and I were about to have a playdate in the living room. 

Corner time, a spot in the house she knows intimately well. The A.I. kept her adorable aesthetic and quintessential hair style. 

When she's not in the timeout corner, Summer can play the role of teacher...

...as easily as she can play the student. (In the description of the setting for this photo, I think I just said "chalkboard in a classroom". The A.I. generates its own gibberish on the board, as you can see above and below. Secret robot language maybe? Plotting to destroy humanity?) 

Most fans of Summer will also know that her default role at home is that of a "little". She doesn't speak like a baby or need to be changed or fed, unless we're playing a scene like that, but around the house, she feels most at peace dressing like an exaggeration of a little girl. 

Domestic Discipline, MDLG, D/s relationship, is probably how I would officially describe our dynamic. 

From the sweet lips of Summer, I am usually "Mommy", sometimes I'm "Ma'am", and occasionally, "Mistress". 

This one is definitely a "Ma'am" moment. Ohhhh she was about to get the spanking of her life, that day!

Mistress mode? Sometimes we dabble in the upscale dungeon space, yes. 

Sometimes she ends up down in the basement, in the darker, more captive dungeon space. 

When not in a defined role, Summer will usually be working on her feet content.

Perhaps or out for a jog, ensuring her hosiery or socks, her sneakers, are pleasantly infused with her gorgeousness, before they go up for sale online. 

Clients who want to spend a little more money on all things Summer, can anxiously wait for a trans-Atlantic flight pair of nylons. 

That's her bestie, Vanessa, who first got her started on the cabin crew hosiery sales racket. I have a major girl-crush on Vanessa to the point that I even let her Domme me once. Summer was ok with it. 

Gawd it was so hot! I think that story was called I often envy submissives.

Vanessa is an absolute Goddess, you should go back and read about what she does to and with her husband *giggle. 

But, this post is not about being a Goddess, it's about being adorable. And no one really pulls it off as well as my darling wife, Summer Addison Holiday.

Ok, we're going to try a video here. Hopefully it works. 

and...

Surprise, everyone! Summer is real!

And thank you A.I., for bringing this sprinkle of sunshine to life. Even in this little clip, she was nothing short of adorable. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Old Fashioned

The Librarian

Continued from: Update your Resume

As I settled into my office chair, the familiar surroundings of the Facility enveloping me in their comforting embrace, I found myself engrossed in a conversation with Mandy. The phone pressed against my ear, I listened intently as she shared her decision regarding the receptionist position I offered her. I had such high hopes for this development. HAD...*sigh*

While I had hoped to bring her on board as a permanent fixture at the Facility, I understood the constraints of her busy life as an ER nurse and dedicated soccer mom. Her responsibilities outside of our shared passion were numerous and demanding, leaving little room for additional commitments. As Mandy expressed her regret at having to decline the offer, I assured her that I fully supported her decision. 

However, there was a silver lining to this cloud of disappointment. Mandy's desire to remain a regular client and submissive at the Facility, filled me with joy. She even hinted around a Boss/secretary scene between she and I, just to make it up to me. 

Ohhh, I think I can help her with this fantasy. 

As I wrapped up the delicate conversation, I was momentarily distracted by the arrival of Summer, my beloved wife and submissive partner. She entered the office with a grace that belied her state of undress, clad only in a maid apron, stockings and towering heels. The sight of her bare back and exposed bum sent a shiver right to my pussy. 

Summer approached me silently, bearing a steaming cup of coffee as if it were an offering to a goddess. 

With practiced ease, she sank to her knees before me, her lips brushing against the polished leather of my high heels in a gesture of reverence and devotion. 

She's always quite submissive but I could sense something was up. It didn't take long before the confession escaped her lips. 

"A week old email, you say, young lady?" I mused aloud, my voice moderated into a sense of calm authority. 

"Did I not ask you to check our inbox daily, Summer Addison? We have quality service standards at this Facility for a reason, for the sake of our clients." 

Summer's eyes remained downcast, her shoulders trembling slightly as she awaited a punishment she knew was inevitable. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," she quivered from her lips. "It actually wasn't one email Ma'am...it was eighteen of them." 

"I'm sorry, eighteen, you said?!" I hissed from my lips while cupping her chin into my hand. 

"Go and fetch the riding crop from the other room, Summer Addison, and put on your whipping outfit." 

(For caning or cropping punishments of Summer, I make her wear black shapewear that frames her two bum cheeks perfectly and covers areas too high or near her tailbone that I wouldn't want to target. Plus, the constricting garment lifts her bum more fleshy and rounded for me)

Look at those perfect little mounds! Ohhh she's in deep shit.

The act of punishing my lovely wife never failed to stir a complex array of emotions within me - the satisfaction of maintaining order and control which is what she needs and wants, tempered by the tenderness I felt towards her. When Summer returned, prepared as I had asked, she knelt and presented me with the whip. I accepted it with a nod of approval. "Good girl," I murmured, my voice laced with a mixture of sternness and affection. 

I had her stand and face the wall for a little while, to anticipate what was coming, before finally breaking the awkward silence. 

"Alright young lady, bend over the desk please, you know the drill." Summer moved to comply, her body gracefully folding over the polished surface of my desk, her predominately bare bottom presented vulnerably to my gaze.

"Eighteen strokes, I believe, will suffice to remind you of the importance of diligence in your duties," I declared, my voice steady and authoritative." Count them aloud for me, please." With that, I raised the crop, the supple leather whispering through the air as it descended to meet Summer's waiting bum. 

"One. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

I obliged, the crop finding its mark again and again, each stroke painting a new line across her porcelain bottom. 

"Thirteen. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

The final five strokes were delivered with measured precision, her bum cheeks were a canvass of crisscrossed welts, angry and red, standing out starkly against her pale skin. 

"Shhh, it's over now," I soothed, helping her to stand upright as I pulled her in for a hug. 

"You did beautifully, my love," I whispered, drawing her closer to kiss her forehead. "Now, let's see about those emails." 

With Summer now forgiven, I guided her to the chair, watching with a mixture of satisfaction and sympathy as she gingerly lowered herself onto the seat, her welted bottom making contact with the unforgiving surface. 

As she began to sift through the neglected emails, the room fell silent save for the gentle click of the mouse and the occasional rustle of fabric as Summer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Minutes passed, the monotonous task of sorting through correspondence stretching on until suddenly, Summer's posture changed. She sat up straighter, her eyes widening as they scanned the screen. 

"Ma'am," she began, her voice tentative yet tinged with hopeful excitement, "there's an email here from a young woman named Skylar. She says she's a librarian, 28 years old, and she's inquiring about administrative positions at the Facility."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this timely development. 

"Is that her? Make that bigger for me, honey," I guided Summer's hand to the mouse to hover over Skylar's profile picture. 

"Oui, Madame...I guess dis is her..." Summer cheerfully chirped, while holding back a giggle. 

"Does she know what we DO here?!" 

I blurted out in partial laughter, ashamed of myself for being so judgey. 

"A librarian huh?" 

Little Skylar is actually kinda cute, probably naïve, innocent, maybe four or five cats at home? I can't bring myself corrupt this little thing...can I? 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo   

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