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

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

Diapered & Denied

Continued from: Betrayed

After sending Mandy to the corner, I set a timer for twenty minutes and settled into a nearby chair, admiring the view of her freshly spanked bottom. Mandy remained perfectly still, her nose pressed firmly against the corner, her hands clasped obediently behind her head. 

As many of you know, I often write about layering, when it comes to BDSM. Whether this means a properly layered spanking or the strategic application of bondage, in compounding layers. Not only is the layering functional, but most importantly is how it affects the psychology and headspace of the submissive. 

Picture how you would feel, having your partner bind your ankles with a soft, silky scarf, the kind you'd get in a beginners bondage kit off Amazon. Cute, and it has its time and place. 

Versus finding yourself at the mercy of your dominant partner, in a bondage configuration like this: 

Things should "feel" different, your butterflies should feel different and your sense of helplessness should be greatly heightened. 

Poor Mandy, having been betrayed by her own pussy in the last installment, was manually edged by me, denied orgasm, then spanked directly on her traitorous petals. I couldn't think of a better time to layer her. 

I approached the changing table, my eyes roaming over the array if equipment I prepared for her continued torment. Baby wipes, powder, a realistic looking anal plug complete with lubricant - these are the instruments of my control. 

I ran my fingers over the smooth leather of the chastity belt, admiring the sturdiness of the metal locks and buckles. Once secured around Mandy's diaper, this device will render her utterly helpless, unable to access her most sensitive areas with my express permission. 

Beside the chastity belt, laid a pair of padded bondage mittens, their soft pink fabric a stark contrast to the reality of their purpose. Lockable of course, these will ensure that Mandy's hands remain useless, incapable of even the simplest acts of self-pleasure or relief. 

"Up you get, little one," I say, patting the padded surface of the adult-sized change table. "It's time to get you ready for your nap." 

I watch with rapt attention, as Mandy squirms and writhes on the changing table, her face contorted with shame and humiliation. With a resigned sigh, she lays back and lifts her legs into the air, her thighs falling open to expose her most intimate parts to my inspection. 

I took a moment to admire the view, savouring the sight of her vulnerable, trembling form. She gasped as I blotted the cold baby wipe against her soaked pussy, wiping away the evidence of her shameful arousal. Her eyes widened in horror as I dabbed and wiped a second one against her puckered anus, the scent of them leaving an innocent freshness in their wake. 

Mandy tensed as I circled her asshole with my fingers, applying generous amounts of lubricant inside and out. "Relax, baby girl," I cooed, my voice dripping with false reassurance. "This won't hurt a bit...well, not too much, anyway." Before she could respond, I pressed the tip of the penis plug against her little pucker, until it breached and entered. 

Mandy's mouth fell open in a silent moan, her eyes rolled back in her head as the thick, veiny plug seated in place, the base peeked out obscenely from between her spanked ass cheeks. Reaching for the baby powder, I shook a liberal amount between her legs, coating her naughty pussy in a fine, white dust. The scent was overwhelming, sickening sweet, a perfect accompaniment to the humiliation she must have been feeling when she watched me slid the crinkly diaper under her tender bum. 

Mandy could only whimper and tell me how badly she needed to cum, as I applied the padlocks to her, and another set of locks to her bondage mitts. 

Do my layers end there? Is that enough? 

Of course not. 

Once in the crib and comfortably on her back, I affixed soft leather bondage cuffs to Mandy's ankles, locking these as well and securing them to the bars of the crib. 

"There now, little one," I murmur, my voice laced with false sweetness. "All nice and secure and ready for beddy-byes." I reach over and switch on a baby sound machine, filling the room with the soothing sounds of rainfall and lullabies. It's a cruel joke, given the state of arousal and frustration I'm leaving my poor Mandy in. 

I'd love to use a pacifier gag for her, but I wouldn't be able to leave her alone with something like that in her mouth. Secured and plugged in her denied predicament, I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Mommy will be back in a little while, sweetheart...try to nap." 

Then, with a satisfied smirk, I turned and exited the room. 

I took off my Mommy Domme outfit and changed into something a little more comfortable, to prepare for the second stage of Mandy's session, after her nap. 

I checked the time delay to the UK before calling my sweet Cassandra for our weekly check-in. It was early evening there, which meant she was likely deep into a session at her fetish studio. 

"Hello, sweetheart!" I purred into the phone, my voice maternal and warm. As she and I began to converse, I became increasingly aware of the background noises emanating from her end of the line. The sharp crack of a whip cut through the air, followed by a muffled gasp and a wet, slurping sound.

No doubt, she had some poor, unsuspecting man trussed up in lingerie and high heels, kneeling before her as she guided his reluctant mouth onto a waiting erection. 

"Mistress Cassandra, but I'm not gay," I heard this British accent whimper pathetically, his voice strained with desperation. Cassandra's laughter rang out, cold and cruel. "Of course you're not pet," she purred sarcastically, "you just have another man's cock in your mouth right now. Now stop your whining and get back to work, that dick isn't gonna suck itself." 

"Mistress, can I call you back in like 15? This little cock whore needs more motivating." 

I heard another crack of a whip and a yelp of pain, before the line went dead on me. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head. I can't wait to hear all about this one...

Tsk tsk...oh, Cassie...

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: The Facility U.K.

 

 

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?"

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