Les Misérables

Continued from: Dream Team

Remember Remy, everyone? The sissy schoolgirl from France. Well he's back to finish off his experience with my real girls. This is Remy’s current predicament, in  the presence of my three minions, with his little penis safe and secure within the confines of a chastity cage. 

The room fell silent as Remy walked into the classroom, his Mary Jane heels clicking on the linoleum floor. All around him, he saw gorgeous women - tall, curvy, confident - dressed identically to him. 

Each one seemed to radiate an air of superiority that made him shrink even further into himself. When Mistress Andrea called on him to introduce himself, he stuttered out his sissy name of, Lena, with his eyes glued to the floor in front of him. 

"And what brings you to our all-girls institution, Remy?" she asked sweetly. 

Remy's face flamed with embarrassment as he mumbled something about wanting to learn how to be a girl. Mistress Andrea's eyebrow arched at his answer, clearly unimpressed. "Is that so?" she purred, circling him like a shark. "Well then, let's start with a demonstration. Show the real girls your chastity cage, dear." 

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Remy reached down to lower his panties and lift the hem of his skirt, exposing the baby pink cage that encased his tiny penis. Laughter erupted from the other women as they pointed and jeered, some of them even pulling out their phones to snap pictures. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't dare cry - not here, not like this. Instead, he stood there, frozen as Mistress Andrea continued to berate him, her words cutting deeper than any knife ever could. "Look at this pathetic excuse for a man! This is what happens ladies, when you enjoy dressing up as a naughty little schoolgirl."

Remy suddenly noticed that all the desks were equipped with a large, realistic and veiny dildos, standing at attention before the other women in the room. 

As the lesson began, Remy couldn't help but stare at the monstrous cock affixed to his own desk. His heart raced as Mistress Andrea announced that today's lesson would be focused on manual and oral pleasures. The girls all giggled, but Remy's poor face was white with embarrassment. Over the next hour, Summer, Nancy and Carley all helped their new sissy classmate to jerk off the dildo with his hands and how to use his mouth and tongue to explore its length and girth. 

When it came time for Remy to demonstrate what he'd learned, he found himself paralyzed with fear. The thought of kneeling before these beautiful women, opening his mouth wide and taking that massive dildo inside...it was too much. He shook his head, muttering a feeble protest. But Mistress Andrea wouldn't hear of it. Grabbing him roughly by the arm, she dragged him to the front of the class, positioning him on his knees. 

"You will learn to be a girl, little sissy," she growled, raising a wicked paddle high above her head. 

The crack of wood meeting flesh echoed through the classroom as Andrea brought the paddle down hard on Remy's exposed bottom. He squealed like a little girl, his body jolting forward with each strike. The women watched eagerly, some even cheering her on as she continued the brutal paddling. By the time she was finished, his pale skin was a deep crimson colour, dotted with angry white splotches and bruises. 

Sobbing openly, Remy finally obeyed and began to suck the large dildo while the girls cheered and called him names. 

 

When his humiliation had reached its apex, Remy was escorted to the Principal's office by Mistress Andrea. Her stern grip on his upper arm led him down the hallway, passing curious glances from other teachers and students. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear. The door swung open, revealing a well-lit room filled with the scent of old books and leather. Principal Jones sat behind his mahogany desk, a cruel smile playing across his face as he took in Remy's sissy appearance. 

He gestured towards the corner of the room and told him how to position his feet and arms. 

Tears streamed down Remy's face as he was now alone in the office with this strange man. The sound of a zipper sounded like a chainsaw in the quiet room, followed by the wet, rhythmic slapping of a palm against an engorged penis. The Principal was masturbating at his desk, while admiring the view of Remy in the timeout corner. 

Remy was pulled from the corner by the cruel Principal, his eyes downcast as he tried to process the situation. Never in his wildest nightmares had he imaged himself in this position - kneeling before another man, his own tiny caged penis a mockery of masculinity compared to the impressive cock before him. 

"Take it in your hand, girl," the Principal ordered, smirking at the look of revulsion on Remy's face. Slowly, trembling, Remy reached out and wrapped his fingers around the warm, velvety length, trying not to cry as he began to stroke it tentatively. 

Eventually Principal Jones leaned back on the desk and spread his legs wider. "Now, sissy," he purred, "I want you to put that pretty mouth of yours to work." 

Swallowing hard, Remy leaned forward, the tip of the Principal's cock brushing against his lips. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the worst. 

But then, the strangest thing happened: instead of feeling repulsed, he felt...excited? Desperate? Hungry for more cock? He didn't know why, but suddenly all he wanted was to please this powerful man, as he could feel his penis growing hard inside his mouth. 

In a moment of pure desperation, Remy looked up at Principal Jones, tears pooling in his eyes. "Please Sir," he begged, his voice cracking with need. "Please fuck me like a girl." The words left his mouth before he even realized what he was saying, but once they were out there, there was no turning back. 

Beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the Principal's office, Remy was bent over a counter, his plaid skirt lifted and his panties pulled down to his ankles. The sounds of feminine laughter and excited whispers filled his ears, as the real girls entered the room to watch him be claimed by this dominant male figure. Each time Principal Jones thrust deep into his tight, unwilling hole, the pink chastity cage would rattle and slap about between his thighs, reminding him of his status as a "man". 

He could feel the head of the Principal's cock hit his prostate, sending sparks of pleasure to his growing penis, only to be snuffed out by the rigid cage that kept it limp and lifeless. 

Carley, of all people, who was watching the fucking intently, cried out in encouragement, driving the other girls into a fit of laughter and excitement. "Cum inside him!" she yelled it again. The heat of Remy's embarrassment flooded his face as he felt the Principal begin to tense-up, and then, with one final thrust, he released himself deep into Remy's asshole. The sensation of hot jizz filling him up was indescribable - both humiliating and thrilling at the same time. 

As he pulled out, leaving Remy gasping and trembling on the desk, the girls erupted into applause, their voices ringing in his ears like a symphony of sissy shame.  

****

Thank you to the real Remy for his collaboration and content on this one. He ended up messing around with his own face and an AI image generator to create the following. This is how Remy actually dresses, behind closed doors, when he is Lena - the chaste sissy gurl. Please enjoy:

 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Choose your own Adventure

What Katie Did

Continued from: Roses are Red, Summer is too

I am in no way, shape or form affiliated to the vintage lingerie brand titled, "What Katie Did". It just so happens to be the name of this post, based on a client of mine named Kate. 

The lingerie however, is one of my favourtite brands. It's 1930's 40's and 50's pinup style, dresses too. The stockings, the seamed ones, the fully fashioned ones, are simply divine. Anytime a client of mine needs to be spanked by "Mommy", the collection from What Katie Did are my go-to styles.

Kate, on the other hand, is a new-ish client of mine. I find her to be quite a fascinating individual, based on the type of service she wants from me. I thought she was worthy of a post, my darling Katie, as I refer to her when she's with me. 

Picture like a Diane Lane...Aged beautifully, elegant, sharp and seriously feminine! Her experience shines brightly, in the odd strand of platinum-silver, that now runs through her hair. She doesn't dye it. She wants her level of maturity on display. This is essentially how I would describe Kate. 

I'm not 100% sure what she does for a living but my instincts tell me that she is some manner of corporate powerhouse. A CEO, a CAO, maybe the Director of a finance or legal department. She absolutely oozes corporate power, but comes to me to be spanked. 

I get it...I understand why she wants and needs this type of escape, given her vanilla role. I'm not sure if it was topping from the bottom originally but she basically told me exactly how she wanted her appointments to go. I obliged her, she tips well!

She only ever books with me over her lunch-hour on a weekday. Like visiting a therapist or dentist, like booking a massage. It's in her calendar, it's once a month and she is always on time. 

Kate graciously brings me an overpriced coffee, which she sets on my desk like an apple for the teacher. She mutes her phone and sets it on my desk also, along with her purse.

She of course greets me with a smile and a "Hello, Ma'am", but beyond that she doesn't say anything else. Kate just walks to the corner and parks herself in timeout. Sometimes I lower her dress-pants to her ankles, sometimes I just let her be. 

30 full minutes. This is what Kate asked of me, to strictly enforce 30 full minutes in timeout. I hear her breathing change around the ten minute mark. Deep inhales and deep exhales, as she stands motionless in her stilettos. 

Her panties always stay on for her spanking. If she's not in a tiny little thong which she usually wears, I will wedgie her panties up her bum crack so my target area is predominately bare. Her pussy and bottom hole have always been covered, upon her request. 

She wears a wedding band...maybe that's why? Maybe her hubby allows these sessions for her provided her modestly is maintained? I think she wears the pants at home though. Her hubby is probably a sissy maid to her. She reeks of female dominance...just not in these particular moments, and that's exactly why she needs these particular moments.  

The level of spanking on a severity scale of 1-10, Kate wants an 11. Bathbrush, the strap, hardwood paddles, canes, hairbrushes. She wants me to take her to "yellow" every time, but will never say "red". She believes it shouldn't be her decision when her spanking ends. 

Remember faint-of-heart people, this is what she has asked for:

Once per month, on her lunch break, without fail, she leaves my office with a bum that looks like the above and sometimes a tear-stained face. 

She is quite the trooper. Sometimes she doesn't even cry, she just silently takes it. 

When I declare "that's enough till next month", she drops to the floor and kisses my footwear while thanking me. Sometimes she's bawling...sometimes she's fully composed. Kate wanted this as part of her ritual for some reason, to lower herself to the floor and kiss my high heels. 

Then, just like her arrival, she walks herself to the corner and parks her nose against the walls. I start the timer again...for another 30 minutes if you can believe it! Her request. 

30 minutes in the corner, 30 minutes of spanking typically and 30 minutes in the corner, once a month! This is how she spends her lunch break. A truly intriguing woman! 

When the timer finishes she dresses. She holds me tightly and says, "thank you", and off she goes. It's somewhat mysterious. Like I want to know what happens after she leaves me or see her back at work, squirming in her seat. Her spankings are so severe that she'd be feeling the effects for a week, and seeing the marking and bruising for two weeks. 

Does her hubby see her bum and become horrified? Aroused? Does Kate get sexually aroused from this? Probably...but likely not in the moment. So mysterious! 

After our embrace she un-mutes her phone, grabs her purse and coffee...and boom, back to corporate power-fem. 

I end with a "see you next month, Katie". But not spoken as a statement. I frame it as a question, always open to her consent to continue or not. 

"See you next month, Katie?"

"Yes Ma'am, I'll be here, thank you Ma'am". 

And I kiss her forehead...

I'm not sure what Katie did, to feel she deserves such treatment each month. 

Maybe it's just the greatest possible escape a corporate adult could ever hope for. 

I admire her nevertheless!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

 

Home Sweet Home

Continued from: The Huntress

So we land in YYZ, Summer and I, having enjoyed a lovely week in Paris together. We grabbed a limo for the trip home, slightly exhausted from the flight. I was eager to wash the travel off me. Summer was too. It was nice to be home again...

Until...I walk into my living room to this scene! 

Both of us giggled out loud. Cassie fuckin' kills me sometimes!

You can see for yourself, but Summer and I walk in on her gaming, on the couch, looking like she's been smoking weed all day. Her bratty, Nike High Dunks are resting on the back of some ridiculous male submissive who she has dressed in lingerie and heels. 

Within her strict gaze, a second pathetic specimen of a male, kneeling and gussied-up, head-to-toe as a French Maid.

Apart from Cassandra's munchies on the end-table, the place was actually spotless, the fridge was full, and the sinks and toilets sparkled. Ha! She and her sissy maids can house-sit for me anytime!   

In the vanilla world, this would of course be a shocking scene to walk in on. Here at my Facility, it was simply a Tuesday. The poor sissies had such pouts on. Just sickened with humiliation, especially after Summer and I showed up.

Remember the infamous Mistress Elaine? The British woman who would totally own these poor submissive men by dressing them in layer upon layer of satin and petticoats, heels and hosiery. 

This poor chap she always addressed as "Vicky". He always had the same pouty look on his face once she had him fully made-up. It was a look of such defeat, just nauseated with humiliation. 

There's the look. Isn't Vicky a precious little gurl? Silky-smooth and hairless.

Mistress Elaine was notorious for using the full stainless chastity belts on Vicky and some other sissies who made appearances. One of them even had an electric-shockable anal attachment that locked onto the main chastity belt. That was a wild video...watching her torture this poor dude's rectum, while he begged and squirmed around on the bed in vintage lingerie and a dress. Totally something Cassandra would do... 

Apart from torturing her sissies, Mistress Elaine would often get them fully dressed-up and their little dicklettes locked away, before making them perform curtsies, to humiliate them. She would make them mince around the house and serve as Victorian-era maids.

Her scenes always involved Vicky in shit for something or Vicky had not performed a clean enough curtsy. Mistress Elaine would then spank, cane and paddle his bare bum, then peg the sissy with a strap-on. What a Goddess huh? She wielded a wonderous cocktail of physical and psychological dominance. 

I read somewhere that she was actually the seamstress or dress-maker, who custom-designed these satin and ruffled outfits. Who wakes up one day, with a skill-set like she has for these lovely artistic creations, and decides to start making them in men's sizes, to eventually keep a stable of sissy maids? Haha...amazing.

Good for her! 

Come to think of it, I should have a dress-maker on staff at The Facility. Some of these silly males would go beet-red if they had to come to me to be custom-fitted for a sissy dress. Something like this perhaps, for the most masculine of my submissive men?

A skilled seamstress could also add the lockable features for me, to any sissy outfit. These little additions are an absolute must for any sissy of mine!

Yes...on their bras too: 

It's one thing to forcibly feminize a male submissive as a form of control, punishment and humiliation, but you can take it to the next level psychologically, if their delicate attire cannot be removed without bolt-cutters or the keys! Lol...

 

Anyway, back to Cassandra... 

She had a padlock on the neckline of the maid dress one of her men was currently wearing. She also had their high heels padlocked to their feet. Good girl, Cassie! I taught you well. 

I noticed the dude in the pink lingerie had an inflatable plug up his ass. Typically something you would use to stretch and prepare the area for a good fucking. 

I gestured toward the sissy with the plug and asked Cassie, "are you preparing her pussy for something?"

Cassandra replied and pointed to the man in the maid's dress, then to the sissy on his hands and knees.

"Yes Mistress Andrea, this one (maid) is going to fuck this one (lingerie), but they didn't want to participate in anything homosexual, they're both straight." 

Ok...well how is one going to fuck the other then? I thought to myself...

Ahhh...leave it to Cassandra and her creativity, to push the limits of these two without breaking the limits. 

Is it still gay if it's not your own cock? 

Summer and I may have to stay and watch this go down...

Stay tuned. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

 

Continued in: Is it Gay?

 

Paranormal Activity

Continued from: The Taboo Farmhouse

My curiosity, challenge and endeavours with the ChatBots have been continuing in entertaining fashion, as I try to get the robots to bend to my perverted will. I must admit, when the thing really gets going in its description of sissy outfits, humiliating spankings or the anticipation of one to come, it can certainly write in a whimsical and elegant manner. 

I have had some decent wins of late! ChatGPT for instance, allowed for a full collaborative story which mirrored my own adult discipline facility. A fictional place in a fictional town where adult men and women can attend to experience emotional catharses, shed tears and have their bare bums spanked for therapeutic purposes. It even allowed for enforced nudity in the waiting room and humiliating cornertime in front of strangers. 

I guess the A.I. rationalized this similar to the peer support of like an A.A. meeting. All of these strangers are here for similar reasons, so it's ok if they share in the same vulnerability. Otherwise, the ChatBot would have gonged me for non-consensual bdsm activities. 

I have found the A.I. to be very logical, as one would assume it would be. A mixture of matter-of-fact empirical evidence, combined with a sensitivity toward cultural differences, human emotion and the mitigation of risk to humans. 

If I were to ask it (which I did...hehe): 

Should I pet an adult lion? 

It senses the danger of such a notion, based on its knowledge of what a lion is capable of and immediately commits to a NO! 

No, attempting to pet an adult lion is extremely dangerous and not recommended. 

This was the A.I.'s opening advice to me. 

One night when I was fiddling with the ChatBot to occupy some time, while I had a red bum to monitor in the corner for an hour, I was curious to see how it felt about the supernatural or theories of conspiracy.

I tried Bigfoot, UFOs, and the Loch Ness Monster. There was some horse-shit that came out of the U.S. recently about aliens and bodycam footage capturing a craft landing in some suburb. I wanted to ask the most rational thing in the world, what it thought... 

All of the answers provided a neutral and inclusive introduction that recognized cultural folklores, myths and conspiracies but eventually the A.I. went on record to say NO...”there is no scientific evidence to support”...blah blah. No surprise here, it answered as I would expect it would answer, the way a robotic form of intelligence should answer. 

But then the hair stood up on my arms, when I read its response to this question: 

Should I mess around with a Ouija board? 

Utilizing a Ouija board is generally not recommended. Ouija boards are often associated with attempts to communicate with spirits or the supernatural, and using them can be unsettling or even potentially harmful.  

HARMFUL? It says...

I thought this thing was the logical, rational robot that knew women who can float in water are not witches? The A.I. who knows that that the City of Atlantis is not a real place but has folklore rooted in Greek Mythology? People apparently have photographed Bigfoot and Nessie, suggestive of evidentiary proof, but the Ouija board is the thing that has the A.I. rattled? 

What data has it collected from the interwebs or who has it been speaking to, to make it think that based on its deductive reasoning, there is a risk to humans who interact with an Ouija board? 

Cassandra is into this sort of shit, because she's a little bit hot-goth and freaky, but damn, harmful you say? Not recommended you say? 

We thought we'd mess around and try a bdsm séance. Lol.

Cassandra said we needed like an offering or sacrifice to the netherworlds so we used poor Sarah Jane. Naked, blindfolded and gagged, Russ helped us get her into a rather demonic-looking bondage pose. 

I don't know who we were offering her up to, but I took great pleasure in whipping her pussy lips with my riding crop as she was upside down like that. Easy target in that pose! Her shrieks of discomfort through her gag, provided a very haunting soundtrack for our séance.  

We weren't able to conjure anything or anyone but since we were all dressed up, some of us more scantily than others, we decided to capitalize on the opportunity and have some fun. 

Sarah Jane's blindfold and gag was removed so I could tease her with my French-cut hosiery. 

Her whimpers from my teasing brought on another whipping, this time of her tits and nipples. I continued my torment while I watched Cassandra eat out my wife's asshole. That was fuckin' hot to watch!

Summer and I actually ended up sacrificing Sarah Jane into the clutches of Cassandra. These two had never really played together before. Cassandra was under instructions to take her to the dungeon space and subject her to angry, goth-sex! Haha.

I'm not 100% sure what that will entail but I wanna watch! 

Stay tuned I guess. We'll try some safe, sane and consensual, NON-HARMFUL dungeon play with our sacrificial slave girl Sarah.

Mistress Andrea

xoxo 

 

Continued in: Brutalized in the Factory

 

  

The Taboo Farmhouse

Continued from: Chat Bots and BDSM

Summer and I just bought an old, turn-of-the-century farmhouse on the other side of town. It's not for us, we're not moving. It is another facility where we will soon be offering our clients a very vulnerable and immersive experience. 

A safe place where they can explore their deepest and darkest and transport themselves back to a different time. 

Cute isn't it? 

The curators of this new location are a lovely retired couple named Ed and Lorraine. They will actually be living here and managing this location similar to a Bed and Breakfast for interested clients. 

"But what's the twist Mistress? There's always a twist..."

Indeed there is. For this is no ordinary B&B. 

Clients who come here will stay for the weekend, this is mandatory. There are no electronics permitted on the premises, meaning cell phones and computers. Outside of a client sneaking in a naughty masturbation there is no sexual activity permitted, not between clients and not with Ed or Lorraine.

My silly males, this means no chastity devices either! Yes I really just said that. Lucky you, but of course there is a catch that you'll read about later on.

"So it's just a normal farmhouse retreat, Bed and Breakfast then?" You ask. 

Clients who wish to book this space have two fantasy options to select from and only two.

1. You've been sent to stay with Auntie, Uncle and your cousins, at their farm for the weekend.
2. This is your childhood home, a hobby farm, with your Mommy, Daddy and your siblings. 

Your weekend session will not be solo, ever. There will always be "siblings". Other adult clients of mixed gender will be playing the roles of big sisters, little brothers or cousins, directly immersed in the vulnerability and humiliation of this experience also. 

The rooms are designed to take you back to a different time, where carpet was shag, Daddy read the paper in the "Daddy Chair", and the wallpaper had an odour of sweet pipe tobacco and potpourri. 

The furniture was ugly, the small television only had 12 channels and children had to do things like read books and play outside, pick up a board game or irritate their siblings. 

"You two, go outside and play, it's nice out."

This parental order would not be met with whines or back-talk, because this household, in this period of time, was managed by Daddy's belt and Mommy's hairbrush!

Over in the kitchen, a slightly different but equally antiquated decade. 

Mommy's heels would click across the linoleum floors as she hummed a song and baked banana bread. Supper in this home would involve a 1962 Betty Crocker Cookbook and some manner of casserole that required a tin of cream-of-mushroom soup. 

Lorraine WILL be making you food of this era during your stay and you better finish ALL of your green beans without making a face, crossing your arms or holding your breath at the table. The lifeless, baked pork-chop and triple-mix, frozen veggies? You'll be sitting at the breakfast table the next morning, with a sore bum and tears streaming down your face, finishing your supper from the night before. 

I wouldn't test her!

Lorraine looks sweet and caring and she is! But she also knows what's best for you and has implements of opportunity everywhere to quickly arm herself. 

From the wooden spoons of the kitchen, to the slippers on her hosed-feet in the evenings, there are implements of opportunity everywhere in this home! Even in the laundry room. 

Lorraine, who will play the role of Mommy or Auntie for the clients, loves earlobe marching and always has a bar of soap at the ready for potty-mouthed boys and girls! You'll be experiencing both during your stay!

 

 

  

Ed is no push-over either. If your "younger cousin" brings a note home from school indicating she cheated on a test, "Uncle" Ed will put her right over his knee while you listen from your bedroom. A familiar sound in this home of his firm man-hand meeting bare buttocks. 

In the bedroom where you will be staying, we wanted to capture the feel of your own childhood bedroom. You will be grounded here occasionally, you will be shedding tears into the pillow and you might end up just nervously sitting on the edge of the bed full of butterflies. 

Why...? 

Because Mommy told you to go up there and sit on your bed "and you just wait until your father gets home!" 

That's right my silly male clients! 

If you book this farmhouse experience your discipline will come from "Mommy" OR "Daddy". I know most of you are heterosexual males but this experience has nothing to do with sex. Your naked little penis and balls will be rubbing against Daddy's wool dress pants as you squirm and dance over his knee. 

Your female "cousins" will cover their mouths and giggle when they see Uncle's firm hand reddening your bare backside in the living room.  

"I heard you got it pretty bad?" Your attractive older "sister" will ask you empathetically, as you rub your itchy and sore bottom. 

"Yeah. Daddy took me out to the woodshed after school cuz Kyle and I broke old man Thompson's shop window." 

That's right my beloved guests, this farmhouse has a woodshed and you will absolutely be marched out here for the most serious of correction. 

The younger "children" in the home and the dainty womenfolk don't need to see or hear you getting some sense strapped back into you by Daddy. 

Kyle's Mom brought him over to answer for the broken window too. I'm sure they’re commiserating right now actually! Talking about the best size and style of wooden spoon for both baking and spanking. 

There are eyes everywhere! The interconnected network of Moms and rotary dial phones, all supported by their sleeper-cell of teachers and shop owners in the community. 

This was a time when Mommy would get a call from Timmy's Mom. "You'll never guess what your son taught my son to say!" 

Did Mommy cast blame away from you, try to blame the schoolboard or the teachers or maybe it's Timmy's parents fault? Hell no! YOU were held accountable for your actions!

And your sister probably made your misery even worse! "I heard him swear last week too Mom!"

"He said WHAT?!!"

Then, as you're grounded to your bedroom with the taste of soap in your mouth and a blistered backside, you mischievously grin because your Marsha Brady-looking sister is now being throttled for tattling.

The naughtiest of my female clients and friends of this blog, you know who you are! I haven't forgotten about you.  

Your backsides won't escape a trip to the woodshed either. Once Daddy gives you and your sister an OTK warm-up in the house, you'll be marched out to the dreaded shed where the strap and sawhorse await. 

You know you need this manner of therapeutic discipline and regression! Female clients will be provided with clothing styles like yellow gingham dresses, knee socks and sandals or saddle shoes. Male clients will be age regressed with little shorts, tighty-whiteys, dress shirts and Buster Brown shoes. 

Please don't hesitate to contact Cassandra at the Facility to book this truly immersive experience. The Farmhouse is open for business and Ed and Lorraine are eager to meet you and provide you with a wonderful escape from adulting for awhile. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Paranormal Activity 

To jump right to the next iteration of this storyline: Miss Julie books the taboo Farmhouse