"Come on, let's Colour"

Continued from: The Facility U.K.

A Sarah Jane story

As the knock sounded at our front door, I looked up from my colouring book, my eyes wide with curiosity. "Daddy, someone's at the door!" I exclaimed, my voice high and childlike. "I'm too little to answer it by myself. Can you get it, pweeease?" I asked, gazing up at Russell with a pleading expression. 

He smiled indulgently and rose from his armchair, setting aside his book. "Of course, sweetheart," he replied, kissing my forehead affectionately as he passed by. I watched him go, admiring the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt and the confident swagger of his gait. 

As Daddy opened the door, I heard a familiar voice, and my heart leapt with joy. "Summer!" I squealed, jumping up from the floor and rushing to the entryway. There, standing on our doorstep, was our dear friends Mistress Andrea and Summer. 

Summer, dressed in the cutest pink overall skirt, white nylons and sporting adorable pigtails, was shocked to see me in knee socks and plaid once again. Without hesitation, I threw myself into her arms, giggling with delight as we embraced. 

"Sarah Jane, tus es a nouveau soumise?" she chuckled as she spoke. I looked to Mistress for a translation, who had her eyebrow raised at Daddy. 

"You two switched again, didn't you?" Mistress Andrea asked, with an undertone of judgement in her voice. 

Summer and I jumped up and down on the spot, as I saw Mistress smirk and shake her head. "Oh my goodness, look at you two!" Her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took in the sight of two adult women, dressed the way we were. "You're just too precious for words." 

Glancing up at Daddy, I saw a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes softening as he watched us. "Why don't you girls go play while "Daddy" and I catch up?" Mistress suggested, her tone warm and encouraging. 

"That sounds like fun, Ma'am," I agreed eagerly, grabbing Summer's hand and tugging her towards the living room. "Come on, let's colour!" As we settled onto the floor, surrounded by crayons and colouring books, I could hear the low murmur of adult conversation drifting in from the kitchen.

I knew that Daddy and Mistress Andrea were discussing the intricacies of our dynamic flip, the complex dance of power and submission that defined our relationship. 

But in that moment, I was content to lose myself in the simple joys of being a little again, to revel in the companionship of my dear friend and the comforting presence of my beloved Daddy. As Summer and I chatted and laughed, our hands moving in tandem as we filled the pages with vibrant hues, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. This was where I belonged, nestled in the warmth of our home, surrounded by the people I loved most in the world. 

As Summer and I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, our heads bent over our colouring books, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with my fellow age-regressed submissive. We may have taken different paths to arrive at this place, but in many ways, our journeys mirrored one another, reflecting the deep-seated desires and vulnerabilities that drove us to seek out these unique dynamics. 

"You know, Summer," I began, my voice barley above a whisper as I selected a bright pink crayon from the box between us, "I really missed calling him 'Daddy', I kinda just missed being adorable and cute, you know?" 

I pulled up some content on my phone to show Summer. "Here, like this." 

"Do you know what I mean?" I asked, as I thumb-flicked to the next one. 

Summer nodded in understanding, her own crayon pausing mid-stroke as she listening intently. "Oui, I know exactly what you mean," she replied softly. "There's a certain freedom in letting go, in surrendering yourself to someone else's care and guidance. It's like you can finally breathe again, after holding your breath for so long." 

I smiled, grateful for her empathy and insight. 

"Even when he has to punish me, I know it's because he cares. It's not always easy, and the spankings definitely suck sometimes, but at the end of the day, I know that he's doing it because he loves me." 

Summer reached out and squeezed my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "That's the most important thing," she agreed. "Knowing that you're loved and protected, no matter what." 

Summer eventually talked me into getting my top and skirt off and started playing with my boobs, giggling and pinching my nipples through the delicate fabric. I pleaded with her to stop, reminding her that we're about to get in trouble if we're caught. 

I couldn't help but overhear snippets of the conversation between Mistress and Daddy. 

"Here, take these," Mistress said to Daddy, and I heard the jingle of keys changing hands. "They're for the Facility. Please keep an eye on the place while we're gone."

I turned to Summer, my eyes wide with excitement for her. "Are you and Mistress Andrea going on a trip?" I asked, bubbling with enthusiasm. Summer nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oui! We rented a cottage in the woods up north. It's suppose to be absolutely gorgeous, with a cozy fireplace and a big, steaming hot tub, it's going to be so romantic."  

Summer drew me in for a passionate kiss, I suddenly felt her hand slip into my panties, her fingers teasing my sensitive folds. "Summer!" I gasped, shocked but aroused. "What are you doing?" She just grinned and kissed me again to muffle my moans as I melted under her expert touch. 

Just then, I heard Daddy's voice in the opening to the kitchen. "Now, now, you two," he admonished, his tone firm but playful. "Girls, behave yourselves," he warned, giving us a wink in the process. 

Summer withdrew her fingers from my pussy, leaving me squirming with unsatisfied desire. I picked up my crayon, determined to focus on anything but the throbbing need between my thighs. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Cabin Fever

 

Why Choose BDSM?

Continued from: Old Fashioned

It has always been said of submissives, that they are truly the ones in control. Most whom I have known are powerful, professional, educated, alpha men and women in the vanilla world. Yet, with all the power and control they wield, they choose to kneel. Making that choice puts them in control, does it not? Look at me when I ask you a question!

I recently had Mandy over for a session. Or rather, she requested a session with me, putting the choice and control in her hands essentially. 

Remember Mandy, our cute little soccer mom and nurse? She is mini-van, mega fun, let me tell you! 

She was literally on her way home from work and figured she could squeeze in a quick session, then go home and try to hide the fact that she has a sore, welted bum while interacting with her family. *giggle. 

I asked the A.I. if it would please give me a shot of Mandy, at work, in her scrubs, to share with all of you as a beginning to her story. Hmm, okay...scrubs come in skirts now? And heels. I like it, but I'm not sure how practical this would be in an ER. 

No...no, A.I. - medical scrubs involve pants. Can you put her in proper scrubs for me, please? 

Hehe. Scrub shorts! Super cute and they look great on her! Totally a spankable look for Mandy

Third attempt? 

There we go! Third time's a charm. 

I asked Mandy at the end of her session, when she indeed was thoroughly spanked and humiliated for about an hour, why choose BDSM? What keeps her coming back to endure such shameful vulnerability and pain? 

For me, BDSM is more than just a kink or a fetish. It's a vital part of who I am, a fundamental aspect of my identity, albeit, hidden from the outside world. Through my submission, I've learned to embrace my vulnerabilities, to accept and even celebrate my flaws and weaknesses. I've discovered strength within myself that I never knew existed, a resilience born of enduring pain and humiliation for the sake of pleasure. 

In a world that often judges and condemns those who deviate from the norm, finding a safe space where I can explore my desires without fear or shame has been truly liberating. 

And of course, there's the sheer ecstasy of it all - the rush of adrenaline that comes with being tied up and helpless, the exquisite of a well-placed spank, the euphoria of finally achieving release after hours of teasing and denial. 

These sensations are unlike anything else I've ever experienced, and they keep me coming back again and again, eager for more. 

Well put, Mandy. Why don't you keep going and tell everyone about our session. 

Yes, Ma'am. Like start right from the beginning, with my check-in routine? 

Yes, please, sweetheart. Let the readers know how you are expected to arrive and wait for me.

***********

As I pulled down the long laneway and up to the mansion that housed Mistress Andrea's Facility, my heart began to race with a familiar mixture of excitement and dread. I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, noting the faint circles under my eyes and the tension lines etched into my forehead - telltale signs of another long shift at the ER.

Yet, despite my exhaustion, I couldn't deny the growing ache between my thighs, a hunger that only Mistress Andrea could satisfy. 

Taking one last deep breath, I stepped out of my car and made my way to the intake entrance, secured by a heavy metal door. As soon as I entered the stark foyer of the Facility, I began my entry ritual. This routine had been drilled into me, whipped into me actually, by Mistress during my initial sessions and now it came as second nature. 

First, I removed my runners, placing them neatly in the cabinet. Then, with practiced efficiency, I stripped off my scrubs, folding them carefully and setting them aside. Next came my bra, panties and socks, the last barriers between my naked body and the coolness of the room. I shivered slightly as goosebumps rose on my skin, my nipples hardening in response to the sudden exposure. 

Once fully undressed, I gathered all my belongings - clothes, keys, phone and purse - and placed them into the cabinet below. The moment I shut the door of the cabinet, an automatic lock clattered into place. I felt a profound sense of detachment wash over me and the vulnerability of my situation began to rise. 

With trembling hands, I reached for the waiting gag, its shiny red ball reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. With a deep breath, I pushed the rubber ball past my lips and teeth, stretching my jaw wide as I buckled the strap behind my head. 

I reached for the shackle set and the connecting chains jingled to life in the quiet of the room. I bent down, my bare breasts swaying heavily with the motion, as I applied the cuffs to my ankles. The cool metal sent a shiver down my spine as I awkwardly ratcheted the next set of cuffs onto my wrists, all joined by a mutual chain to my ankles. While clicking these cuffs into place, a familiar sense of vulnerability washed over me, knowing that I was willingly surrendering my freedom during this entry ritual...which, is exactly the point of this entry ritual, to apply layer upon layer of lost control. 

Now, fully restrained and silenced, I turned to face the stand-up metal cage that awaited my final stage of admittance to the Facility. Stepping backwards into the cage, I felt the cold bars gently whisper against my shoulders. With my cuffed wrists, I grasped the door and pulled it shut, the loud click of the automatic lock sealing me inside my temporary prison. 

Up until this exact moment, Mandy was still in control, choosing to submit, choosing to follow my entry ritual and restrain and gag herself. Once that cage locked behind her, it represents the moment all of her control is gone! Well, 99% of it as she still has a safe word. 

From here, Mandy has no idea about the type of session that is coming or what I intend to do with her. Everything is on the table from dungeons to diapers, provided it falls within the boundaries of her hard and soft limits. 

This is the part for Mandy, or any submissive, where the adrenaline starts, the fear, the excitement and the roller-coaster of emotions that makes people choose BDSM. 

I love how this is referred to as her "Waiting Room". "Reflect on their situation", is also spot on!

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

Trapped and helpless, I could do nothing but wait for Mistress Andrea to arrive and occasionally glance at the red blinking light of the video camera, trained on my cage. (For my safety of course)

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, each second stretching into an eternity as I stood there, naked and exposed. My muscles began to ache from the forced upright position of attention, and drool trickled down my chin, dampening my chest. Yet, despite the physical discomfort, I found a perverse sense of peace in my confinement.

As much as it shamed me to admit, my pussy throbbed with slick anticipation when I finally heard the sharp click of high heels approaching, each step echoing through the sterile foyer like a gunshot. My heart raced as Mistress came into view, her stunning beauty taking my breath away. 

She was dressed in a vintage 1950s pinup style, her curves accentuated by the cinched waist and flared skirt of her dress. Her fiery red lips curved into a cruel smile as she appraised my naked, bound form, her eyes roaming over my body with a predatory gaze. 

Despite the gag filing my mouth, I let out a muffled whimper, equal parts fear and desire. Mistress Andrea sauntered closer, her hips swaying hypnotically with each step. She circled the cage slowly, her fingers trailing along the cold metal bars and she inspected me from every angle. 

Her voice was as smooth as honey when she finally spoke. "Well, well, well...look at you, young lady. All trussed up and ready for me." 

With that, she unlocked the cage door, the metallic clank reverberating through the room. Mistress extended her hand, beckoning me forward with a single crooked finger. Obediently, I shuffled from the cage in my shackles, my bare feet padding softly on the cold tile floor.

As she removed my gag and unlocked my cuff set, I stood before her, rubbing my wrists absently as I awaited her next move. She regarded me with a calculated gaze, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Tell me, Mandy," she began, her voice low and measured. "When was the last time I gave you a good, old-fashioned spanking?" 

I knelt and assumed a proper position of submission, as my stomach sank in unison. 

Memories of previous sessions flooded my mind - the humiliation of being draped over her lap like a naughty child, my feet kicking the air as her hairbrush connected with my bare bum, and the mortifying realization that despite my protests, my pussy grew wetter with each smack.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "It's...It's been awhile, Ma'am," I stammered, my eyes downcast in shame. "I believe the last time you gave me a spanking was several months ago, Ma'am."

Mistress nodded slowly, a wicked grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "Indeed," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "Far too long, I'd say. Mommy will have to rectify that, won't she?" 

This is now the moment in the session where I've shown my hand. Mandy now knows how to address me for this session and she has some basic idea of what is about to happen. Can you imagine what must be going through her mind? 

***********

At 45 years old, a mother myself, I was about to be spanked like a misbehaving child, and required to call a woman younger than me, "Mommy". And yet, beneath the churning humiliation, I couldn't ignore the telltale throbbing between my legs, a betrayal of my body's true desires. 

Without warning, she seized my arm, her grip firm and maternal. I yelped in surprise as she began to smack my bare bum to move me along and into one of the specialty rooms. She led me into a bedroom decorated in sickening sweet pastels and pinks, the air heavy with the scent of baby powder and lavender. 

Laid out on the bed was an outfit that made my tummy twist with humiliation - a soft pink Lolita dress, complete with puffy sleeves and a Peter Pan collar, alongside a pair of pristine white knee socks and glossy pink Mary Janes. The piece de resistance, however, were the "little girl" styled panties, emblazoned with Disney princesses, a far cry from the lacy thongs and boyshorts I usually favoured. 

"Get dressed for Mommy, young lady," she ordered, leaving no room for argument. "And don't forget to put your hair in pigtails. Mommy will be back up in a little while to give you a long overdue spanking."

Any spanko will tell you that they want to hear that word spoken aloud, as it relates to their upcoming fate. They don't want to hear, "I'll be back up to deal with you, are you ready for your correction, you're due for discipline." No...they want to hear, "it's time for your SPANKING!" 

I think I learned this one from Miss Julie, I think she wrote about it once. 

********** 

The words sent a chill through my body, my stomach twisting into knots of dread and anticipation, as I began to don the ridiculous outfit. My face burned with embarrassment as I took in my reflection, the frilly dress, the knee socks and childish accessories a stark contrast to my mature features. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a soft stuffed bunny to my chest, I felt ridiculous, adrift in a sea of shame and humiliation while being betrayed by arousal. 

I hugged the bunny tighter, seeking comfort its soft fur, as the sound of heel clicks, coming up the stairs, jolted me from my reverie. 

Mandy

Continued in: Betrayed

  

 

Tucked In by "Mommy"

Continued from: A Special Bedtime for Russell

A Sarah Jane story 

"Now, be a good girl and bring the plug and lubricant to Mommy," I sang out from my seated position on the ottoman. No doubt Russell, in this very moment would be holding and handling the realistic plug in horror, feeling its veiny contours, fully aware of what was about to happen next. 

Russell gathered the towel with the two items balancing on it, his cheeks flushing crimson like his bare bum, and presented them to me. I accepted the towel with a nod of approval, setting the items aside momentarily as I shed my robe, exposing my stocking tops and garters, patting my strict lap invitingly. 

"Pull down your panties and lay across Mommy's lap once more, my sweet girl," I cooed, gently caressing his sore bottom to guide him over my knees. I took a moment to admire the sight before me - his bare bottom, still rosy from my slipper, upturned and vulnerable. 

Reaching for the lubricant, I squeezed a generous amount onto my gloved fingertips, spreading it liberally over his tight little hole. Russell gasped as I breached him, my digit sliding easily into his naughty bottom. I spent a little time on his prostate, finger beckoning it from inside him, milking-out a few spider-strands of pre-cum that I knew would be glistening from his chastity cage and dampening his panties when he slips them back on. 

I worked him open a little more, adding more lubricant as needed, until I was satisfied with his readiness. Only then, did I reach for the plug, coating it thoroughly in the slick lube. "Relax, little one," I whispered, pressing the tip of the plug against his pucker. Russell whimpered as I pushed forward, his body resisting the intrusion. But I was patient, working the plug in millimeter by millimeter until it was fully seated up his bum. I could feel his muscles clenching around the base, his body adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness. 

Gently, I pulled his panties back up, pulling them high on his hips so the thong portion would help hold in the plug. "There now," I cooed, helping him to stand and turning him to face me. "How does it feel to be nice and full, just like a girl? Does it make you feel owned and claimed by Mommy?" Russell nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

I guided him to the bed and had him lay down on his side. Laying down on his tummy would be no good for the cock cage, if he was laying on his back he would become acutely aware that he was recently spanked and now anally plugged. On his side, in a vulnerable fetal position was perfect to be "tucked in" by Mommy.

From the bedside table, I retrieved four baby pink bondage cuffs, their soft leather brought a beautiful scent as I held one of them up to my nose. With gentle but deliberate haste, I secured the cuffs around Russell's wrists and ankles, adding a small brass padlock to each buckle. As I worked away, I couldn't help but admire the picture he presented - a vision of feminized helplessness, his frilly attire a mockery of his masculinity. 

With one final length of narrow chain, I connected his ankle cuffs to his wrist cuffs, with more than enough room to comfortably move about on the bed. 

Once he was fully restrained to my liking, unable to reach back and remove the plug or his attire, I leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "There you go, my sweet little girl," I sang out to him. "All tucked in and ready for bed. Mommy will be up to join you in awhile," I promised, my voice laced with maternal care. "In the meantime, you just rest there and think about how lucky you are to have a Mommy Domme to keep you safe and controlled."

With a final whimper from him, I glided out of the room and went downstairs to get some fruit, still feeling like an absolute Goddess. 

I couldn't help but think of Mistress Andrea, as someone I once had to call "Mommy", when I was draped over her knee, dressed like a little girl. I now had a better understand of what it felt like on this side of the hairbrush, the pride, the caring and nurturing of your submissive...it was a lot of work, but well worth the return on investment. 

I wanted to tell Mistress all about tonight, I wanted her to be proud of me and what I was blossoming into. 

I text her a picture with no further description or details, just this: 

Moments later, my phone on the counter buzzed to life. 

Mistress asked a few more details, I shared mostly everything. In our particular arrangement, it is thrilling, butterfly causing and humiliating for Russell to know that another woman, or several women, are aware he is spanked, kept in chastity and as of tonight, "forcibly" feminized. It was part of our contract that he is owned by me, but must obey the likes of Mistress Andrea, Summer and if she ever comes back to Canada, Cassandra. 

A "surprise" at Mistress Andrea's Facility usually meant I'd be leaving there sore, degraded, humiliated and blissfully indulged, in all my kinky cravings. But after this role-switching with Russell, I'm not sure I'm in the right headspace for one of the Facility's many surprises. Lucky, Mistress put my mind and my heart, quickly at ease. 

Coffee-talk sounded nice, just Andrea and I...

But my mind was reeling with self-doubt, almost like I was intimidated, but I shouldn't be, should I? 

Am I really one of them now, have I been turned to the dark side? 

Am I a female Dominatrix?

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Little Spoon

 

A Special Bedtime for Russell

Continued from: The Three D's of a FLR

A Sarah Jane story

The following night, I was lounging on the sofa, my legs spread invitingly, I could feel the gentle caress of Russell's tongue against my delicate folds. I had him fully naked and collared with a leash, kneeling dutifully between my legs.

 

Since my pinup dress and vintage lingerie look of yesterday, I seem to have resonated toward these classic, feminine styles. The strict, vintage "Mommy" look, always with the pearls and an ebony hairbrush at the ready.

That being said, for tonight, I was in vintage heels, nude stockings with garter straps that disappeared under the cool satin of my Mommy robe, opened slightly to expose most of my bare tits and allow Russell access to my pussy.

As he lapped away, worshipping my pussy, I pulled up my phone and accessed our FLR contract. My fingers scrolled to the section relating to spankings and punishments, my thumb panning to rest on the sub-heading: 

Bedtime Spankings

I scanned the content and raised an eyebrow, as I felt his tongue begin to swirl circles around my clit. 

Section 3.1, sub-section (a), (b) and (c)

The submissive shall present himself to the Mistress, ready for bed and dressed in dedicated sleepwear selected by the Mistress. 

When prompted, the submissive will bare his bottom and position himself over the lap of the Mistress.

These bedtime spankings may last anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour, depending on how long it takes for the submissive to fully embrace his vulnerability. These bedtime rituals serve to strengthen the bond between us, reminding the submissive that even in his most vulnerable moments, he is cherished and protected.  

I tucked my phone away and got more involved in his oral worship, pressing on the back of his head and encouraging him to slow down and draw his tongue upwards, the full length of my pussy. After an amazing orgasm, Russell remained on the floor, lowering his gaze and whispering out a breathy, "thank you, Mistress," for my delightful gift of cumming onto his lips.   

I smiled down at him in contentment, enjoying the view of him collared, with his leash held in my hand, as I contemplated my next move. 

During the wooden spoon spanking of yesterday and our subsequent playtime after dinner, he was transitioning into his new role quite well. However, I could still sense too much of his dominant, alpha bravado left in him. I would see this rising to the surface from time to time. Plus, his whiny, little girl tantrum when I didn't unlock him last night to fuck me, I still needed to address in some manner. 

I accessed my phone and pulled up the contract again, section 3.1 (a) and (c).  

...shall present himself to the Mistress, ready for bed and dressed in dedicated sleepwear selected by the Mistress. 

...for the submissive to fully embrace his vulnerability.

Had he fully embraced his vulnerability yet? Or was there still too much of his old role left in him? 

I thought I would give a bedtime spanking a try, but with a twist, and see how Russell responds. 

"It's time to get ready for bed, my little one," I announced, in a sing-song voice. I rose from the couch, the silk of my robe flowing around my curves as I stood before him in all my dominant glory. 

The click of my heels against the hardwood floor echoed through the room as I accessed his leash and began to lead him out of the room. I stopped short of the upper floor, pointing to the corner of the landing on the staircase. "Kneel here, facing the walls," I commanded, guiding him into position. "Hands at your sides, eyes straight ahead. Mommy needs to prepare some things for your early bedtime." 

I ran a manicured finger along the nape of his neck, watching as goosebumps consumed his body. 

"Don't move a muscle until I return. Understood?" 

"Yes, Mommy," he replied, picking up on the change in my role, that I was laying on pretty thick.

 

I ascended the stairs, my hips swaying seductively with each click and I made my way to the bedroom. The soft glow of the nightside lamps illuminated the space as I approached the dresser, a special drawer of the dresser I had started just for him. 

With careful deliberation, I selected a pink satin, babydoll nightie, its fabric whispering against my fingertips as I laid it out on the bed. 

Next, a matching satin thong, the silky texture a stark contrast to the masculine hands that will soon be pulling them on. 

Finally, I retrieved a pair of adorable nylon ankle socks, their ruffled cuffs adding a touch of childlike innocence to the ensemble. 

I arranged each item with precision, creating a visual feast of femininity that will serve as a shocking reminder of Russell's place in this dynamic. 

As I made my way back down the stairs, my eyes fell upon Russell's kneeling form, still obediently facing the corner as instructed. The sight of him, naked and collared, waiting patiently for my return, sent a thrill of power coursing through my pussy. 

Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stand up, honey," I whispered, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm. "Mommy has laid out a special jammies for you tonight," I murmured, my voice a sultry purr. "Go to Mommy's room, dress yourself in the items I've laid out, you may remove your collar, and sit on the edge of the bed with your eyes down. I'll be up shortly to..." I paused dramatically, "...to tuck you in."

With a gentle pat on his bare bum, I sent him on his way, watching as he climbed the stairs, his naked form disappearing from view. A wicked smile played on my lips as I imagined the scene unfolding for poor Russell - having to dress in such frilly pajamas, to wait for "Mommy" to "tuck him into bed" earlier than usual. 

The anticipation was building as I waited a good ten minutes, before slowly and powerfully clicking up the stairs in my heels. Upon reaching the top of the stairs I stopped, allowing the silence to stretch out for a moment before slipping off my heels and sliding my feet into a pair of plush, fur-lined slippers.

I entered the room with purposeful strides, my slippers whispering against the rug as I made my way to the ottoman bench at the end of the bed. Lowering myself onto the cushioned surface, my satin robe pooled around me like liquid silver. I took a moment to adjust my position, ensuring that my lap will provide a sturdy base for Russell's mid-section. 

Once settled, I called him over. "Come here, little one," I purred, a slow sensual smile spreading across my lips, as I took in the sight of his feminized form. 

I cooed out to him again, speaking with maternal care and authority. "It's time for your bedtime spanking." 

As he approached, in the unfamiliar embarrassment of his girly attire, I reached out to gently grasp his wrist. My eyes travelled down his body, lingering on the pink satin thong that hugged his hips and outlined his cock cage perfectly. 

"These need to come down, sweetie," I hissed, tracing a finger along the waistband. "Bare that naughty bum for Mommy, we're going to have a little chat about your girlish whining last night." 

He whimpered as he hooked his thumbs into the delicate panties and slide them down his thighs, revealing the pale globes of his bare bum. I tapped my lap invitingly, the sound of my palm against my own flesh acted as a preview of the sounds to come. "Over Mommy's knee, young lady," I ordered with amusement, mixing in some emasculating gender-play. 

As his weight settled over my lap, I closed my thighs gently, to trap his cock cage between my stocking tops. 

With a deep breath, I begin the spanking, my hand rising and falling in a therapeutic, comforting rhythm. I intended to make this spanking long but not overly severe, a preview for Russell, as to what a bedtime ritual may become in our new dynamic. 

As the minutes ticked by, I watched as his bottom transformed to a lovely shade of pink that matched the shade of his adorable pajamas. When I finally paused, my palm stinging pleasantly from the impact, I kicked my foot out of one of my slippers, the firm rubber sole making a soft thud as it hit the floor. 

"Hand Mommy her slipper, young lady," I commanded, my voice low and sultry. I shifted Russell's position slightly, so her could support his upper body on the ottoman and I could use one of my legs to pin his in place, a time-honoured position I learned at the Facility. 

As I gripped the slipper firmly in my hand, I marveled at the dichotomy of this scene - a grown man, alpha-male at that, reduced to the status of a naughty little girl over's Mommy's knee. 

I raised the slipper high above my head, and brought it down firmly onto Russell's sit-spots, alternating cheeks, mixing in some upper thighs too. I paused occasionally to caress his bum, inspecting my work and making sure I was feeling the right amount of heat. 

As the spanking drew to a close, I allowed Russell a moment to just lay there in pure silence and vulnerability, over my knee, with his red bottom exposed and swollen. I rubbed his lower back and told him he was a "good girl," before helping him to his feet.

"Pull up those pretty panties, my sweetie," I instructed, my voice switching to a soothing balm. "And don't forget to thank Mommy for your spanking." 

I watched as he obeyed, wincing slightly as the delicate thong slid between his reddened cheeks. 

"Thank you for my spanking, Mommy," his voice crackled out in the quiet of the room. 

Satisfied with his gratitude I pointed to the bathroom door, once again firm and authoritative. I began to lay it on thick, making every attempt to break down the defences of his previous role as my dominant. 

"Now, my little princess," I said sweetly, "I want you to go into the bathroom. Mommy has a special surprise for you in there, resting on a towel. Bring the items to Mommy please." 

Earlier, when Russell was in the timeout corner on the landing, I had prepared some things for after his bedtime slippering. What he was about to see, laid out upon a fluffy white towel in my bathroom, was a realistic penis-shaped butt plug and a tube of lubricant.

"Be a good girl and bring the items to Mommy, please," I sang out cheerfully, twisting my blade of dominance even deeper. Hehe! 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Tucked in by Mommy