First Time

Continued from: Mistress Andrea's Gift

[F/ff] [forced bi] [CNC] [slaves] [lezdom]

I just had the girls down in the basement sex dungeon for the past few hours, while Russell was at work. (Sorry, Russell! Not sorry...hehe)

And by "the girls", I'm not just referring to Summer and Sarah Jane. We were pleased to welcome our beloved Mandy into the dynamic too! She had requested a session about a week ago and I was finally able to get her some private time with us, not quite expecting that Summer and Sarah would be joining in too. *giggle. 

Omg, there was so much vagina! 

Despite the shrieks of pain and the echoing pleas of "noooo, please don't make us do that, Ma'am," I think the girls had a blast of a session. You see, they all commiserated beforehand and asked for CNC (consensual non-consent) play. The type of play where they fantasize that all the sexual acts are against their will, that they need to be whipped and tortured to perform them, and that they are captive slaves in this sadistic dungeon. 

We had such a good time in fact, that I asked Sarah Jane if she wanted to post about how it all went down. Much to my surprise she said no, but very quickly offered to write about her very first time with Mandy, the first time she was "forced" to perform sexual acts on another woman. Ok...this sounds like fun too. 

Before I give her the floor here, a few housekeeping matters from the last post that needed to be addressed. If you remember, I sent sissy alice to a professional disciplinarian to experience his very first spanking over the knee of a wonderful woman. Also, it was his first time dressing not as a "he", but as a "she", in front of someone else, as I sent alice to her session dressed like a little girl. 

Then, to amplify his humiliation even more, I made sissy alice write a full blog post about the intimate and vulnerable details of his spanking. During that post, he made this comment: 

It struck me that I was not just there for myself, but I was representing Mistress Andrea. I wanted to do her proud in front of Lady Jose and make this an experience of a lifetime. 

Yes, you were representing ME! 

Later on in that post he then said this: 

Positioning myself, head down and straddling her lap, Lady Jose started playing my red bum like a drum, with the spatula and bath brush, and I was so humiliated I hate to say I started giggling. I couldn’t help it! Those sorts of situations sometimes make me laugh uncontrollably, it’s the nerves. Lady Jose didn’t like that, slapping harder I was told, “this is not supposed to be funny alice, this is supposed to be humiliating!”  

To which I commented on that post: 

Ummm...ya. Once again, probably not a good idea, alice. You and I are going to have a little "chat" about this part!!!

So...alice and I had our "chat". 

"I'm sorry for giggling during my spanking, Lady Jose," is what's written on those pages. 

100 lines, followed by 30 minutes in timeout, in the corner.

While alice was in the corner, I sent all pages of the lines and the timeout photograph to Lady Jose, then I myself, apologized to her, on behalf of this silly sissy... 

A pleasant and graceful response from her: "Alice did well by writing the lines, I trust her not doing it again."

...and alice will be booking a follow-up session with Lady Jose, to once again be spanked in the coming months. Spoiler alert, alice, you will be introduced to the cane during this next session.

Just a little housekeeping, that's all. Take it away Sarah Jane. 

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

My First Time 

Preface

It is probably rather cruel to write a story like this for Daddy, when I know Mistress Andrea has his penis locked in a chastity cage. I know I'll probably be spanked for writing this in such lewd and erotic detail, I'll probably get a whuppin' with Daddy's belt...but...we're gonna do this anyway. Please enjoy, everyone. (sawry, Daddy 👅) 

A Sarah Jane Story  

What a night it was, Daddy! Mistress Andrea decided to treat us to a fancy dinner, just the three of us, at an exclusive restaurant in town. She dressed us up like dolls, putting Mandy in a ravishing red cocktail dress that showcased her curves perfectly, and me in a sleek black number that accentuated my bum and tits. 

But of course, our elegance wasn't complete without a subtle touch of humiliation - Mistress insisted we wear our collars in public, a discreet yet unmistakable symbol of our submission to her. 

As we sipped champagne and savoured each bite of our exquisite meal, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nervousness, Mandy and I exchanged demure glances, both of us aware that this refined evening was merely a precursor to the debauchery that awaited us back at the Facility. 

Throughout dinner, I stole peeks at Mandy's cleavage, her lips, her pretty features, my mind wandering to the possibilities of what might unfold later with this suburban soccer mom. Would Mistress command us to kiss? To touch? The uncertainty was delicious, heightening my arousal as I nibbled on my food. 

I'm not into girls...but I found myself growing increasingly...damp. My delicate black panties, adorned with tiny lace and satin bows, were no match for my naughty thoughts. I couldn't help but imagine Mandy's reactions if Mistress forced me to pleasure her - the soft gasps, the fluttering eyelashes, the gentle trembles...

My fantasy was interrupted by Mistress's piercing gaze, her eyes locking onto mine with unnerving intensity. She knew, Daddy. She always knows when I'm getting too carried away. 

"Give me your panties, right here, right now!" She hissed, with a subtle crook of her finger as she motioned my hand beneath the tablecloth. My heart skipped a beat as I hesitated, my fingers trembling slightly as I reached for the hem of my dress. Slowly, I arched my bum off my seat and extracted my soaked panties, trying to conceal them from prying eyes. 

But Mistress would have none of that. "Show us, Sarah Jane," she purred, her voice low and commanding. 

With a flush rising to my cheeks, I reluctantly held open my panties, the gusset gleaming with my arousal. Mandy's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of fascination dancing across her features. I felt like a naughty little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. 

"I-I'm so sorry, Mistress," I stammered, my apology tumbling out in a rush. "I don't want to do this!" I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, my face aflame with embarrassment as Mistress's eyebrow arched higher, unaffected by my mock resistance. 

"And what about you, slut? Shall we look at your panties too?" Mistress snapped her head towards Mandy, who inhaled and clutched a fist of tablecloth into her palm.

"No, please Ma'am, not here," she protested, no doubt feeling the saturation of her own panties and dreading the prospect of having to reveal such shameful arousal. 

Mistress Andrea's words dripped with seduction and menace, as she explained how the rest of the night would go down. My insides twisted with excitement and fear, as her threats of whipping and beating us into submission, hung in the air like a tantalizing mist. I shot Mandy a sly glance, noticing the faint blush rising to her cheeks, as Mistress Andrea outlined our impending "persuasion." 

When the three of us got back to the mansion, The Facility as it's known, it was deathly quiet. I half expected to be taken to the basement sex dungeon in shackles, but the minute we got in the door, Mistress ordered us to strip fully naked, leaving only our collars and high heels in place.

With practiced ease, Mistress Andrea blindfolded Mandy and I, heightening our senses and raising goosebumps across our skin. We were sat side-by-side, shoulder-to-should, as Mistress guided our shoulders back, bare breasts thrust forward and hands resting in our laps in a sharp, alert posture.   

I could hear each of her heel clicks across the floor as she bustled about the room, setting things up for our session. I heard her start a fire, followed by the powerful scent of wood smoke reaching my nostrils. Unconsciously, I found myself leaning slightly to my left, my bare arm pressing into Mandy's, as if to seek some safety from her warm skin.  

It was a short-lived moment of comfort however, for Mandy was snatched away by Mistress, taken from her seated position and led away stumbling. I could only hear her staggered high heel clicks and Mistress's firm command, "get over here!" 

My chest fluttered in surprise, as I felt a leash being attached to my collar and pulled in an upward direction, ushering me to my feet. With a gentle tug forward and still unable to see, I teetered on my high heels, taking shallow, shaky steps forward. 

I was temporarily blinded by the light of the room, when Mistress finally removed my blindfold, and I found myself standing at the edge of a bed. My gaze refocused, and I caught the sight of Mandy, fully naked save for her heels and collar, positioned in a downward dog pose on the bed. Her plump bottom was thrust upward into the air, her flawless asshole was poised and presented like an offering. 

I was so confused, I didn't want this. I had a safeword to use but didn't use it...why was the sight of her pussy and bottom hole making my mouth water?! What was happening to me? 

I tried to protest, Daddy, really I did! But Mistress Andrea wasn't having it. 

"I'm not a lesbian, Ma'am." I exclaimed, attempting to sound convincing. But my words fell flat, and Mistress simply raised an eyebrow. Before I knew it, her whip cracked against my bare bum, the sting making me yelp in surprise. 

Spaghetti is straight too, until it gets wet! *giggle

"You'll do as you're told, little one," she said sternly. "Now, get up on the bed behind Mandy." 

I hesitated for a moment, my face burning with shame. But another lash of the whip convinced me to scramble onto the bed, my heart racing with anxiety. As I settled into position behind Mandy, my face inches from her asshole, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Embarrassment, arousal, and a dash of fear all swirled together in a toxically exhilarating cocktail. 

I waited with bated breath, as Mandy looked back at me, almost reassuringly but just as embarrassed as I was. What would Mistress have me do next? Would I be able to obey, or would my humiliation prove too much to bear and safeword out of the scene. 

I remember the exact moment when Mistress whipped me once more and issued her next command. 

"Kiss her hello, Sarah Jane," she said, her voice low and husky. "Tell her how pretty she is." 

My heart sank as I realized what she meant. I was to greet Mandy's bare asshole as if it were her lips, French-kissing it with all the passion and intimacy I would reserve for a romantic partner...a lover. The thought alone made my stomach turn with humiliation, but I knew better than to disobey. 

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward, my lips puckering up to meet Mandy's waiting bum hole. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the indignity of the situation, and planted a sloppy kiss on her tender pucker. As my tongue darted out to explore her hole, I forced myself to utter words of adoration, trying to sound sincere despite my mortification. 

"Hello, Mandy," I murmured, my words muffled against her ass. "You're so beautiful, Mandy." 

Ugh, the phrase made my innards roil with embarrassment.

As I continued to make out with Mandy's asshole, I felt my face flaming with shame. This was a whole new level of debasement, Daddy, one that left me squirming with discomfort. And yet, beneath the surface of my humiliation, I detected a spark of excitement, a twisted sense of thrill that came from pushing my boundaries and exploring the depths of my submission. 

Daddy...sigh...I was hooked! 

Shall I continue the story, Daddy? 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Mind Games

 

 
  

The Mad Scientist

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It Will Heal

Continued from: The Goth Girls

[F/ff] [spanking] [hairbrush] [cornertime] [humiliation] [mother-daughter] [OTK] [family taboo]

I sat upon the edge of the wooden chair, creating a steady base by bringing my knees together, as I surveyed the scene before me. To my left, Cassandra sat primly in the other chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed steadfastly on the corner of the room. She was the picture of obedience, of submission, her ridiculous schoolgirl uniform a stark reminder of her childish behaviour. 

In front of me, stood Bella, her mother, a woman of fifty-odd years, dressed in an equally absurd outfit, her face a mask of humiliation and embarrassment. 

"Isabella," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I'd like you to pull down your panties and lay over my knees. Now!" For a moment, she hesitated, her hands trembling at her sides, her bottom lip trembling. But with a resigned sigh, she reached beneath her skirt, hooking her thumbs into the waistband on her panties and slide them down to her ankles with a whisper of satin against skin. 

With one last despairing glance at her daughter, she turned to face me, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of Cassandra's sobs. "Not like this. Not in front of her." 

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. With a single, imperious gesture, I beckoned her forward, patting my lap in invitation. I took her hand in mine, guiding her gently but firmly over my knees, arranging her body so that her bum is raised high in the air, her skirt riding up to expose her vulnerable bum and pussy. 

Her hand flew back after the first volley of smacks, instinctively trying to cover her exposed bottom. I reacted quickly, seizing her wrist and pinning it to the small of her back. 

With each transition of position and each escalation of implement used, I relived her of another article of clothing. 

My initial thought was to spank her bare naked, in front of her daughter, for the added psychological effect. But, I decided to keep her in just her knee socks and Mary Janes to amplify her innocent vulnerability and humiliation. 

As I continued to punish Bella, I was acutely aware that Cassie could hear every cry, every promise to be a good girl, every desperate plea that escaped her mother's lips, and I could only imagine the conflicting emotions that must have been coursing through her. 

On one hand, there must have been a sense of vengeful satisfaction, as she heard my hairbrush cracking down against her mother's bare bum. But also, a fear and trepidation as she realized it will soon be her turn. 

As she laid sobbing across my lap, her bum a deep, angry shade of red, she clutched my hosed ankle and begged for the spanking to conclude. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice hoarse and ragged from crying. "Please, I'll be good. I'll make things right with Cassie." 

I helped her to her feet and arranged her in the corner to swap places with her daughter, moving the time-out chair to a very public presentation below the window. 

Cassandra received the exact treatment in the same fury of punishing severity. A hand spanking, a strapping on the bed with pillows under her hips, and back over my knee for the hairbrush, all the while, relieving her of the protection of clothing. 

The odd time, I would scold Bella who stood quietly in the corner with her nose to the wall. "Hands on your head, don't even think about trying to rub that sore little bottom of yours, Isabella." 

I delivered the final strokes of the hairbrush to Cassandra's upturned bum, each impact landing with a resounding crack. I allow her a moment to collect herself and steady her breathing, before helping her to her feet. 

"Go and join your mom in the corner, hands on your head," I instructed her, my tone firm and maternal. 

"I want you two to think long and hard about why you're standing in the corner with spanked bottoms and the choices you two have made to bring you to this moment. You may speak to one another during your time-out, but under no circumstances are you to move from that corner. I'll be back in thirty minutes." 

Cassandra nodded mutely, her lower lip trembling as she turned to obey my command, and took up a position beside her mother. 

Satisfied that they understand, I turn and exit the room, closing the door softly behind me and setting a timer on my phone. Thirty minutes. That should give them amble opportunity talk and reflect upon their behaviour, upon the events that led them to this humiliating and painful predicament. 

Exactly thirty minutes later, I reenter the room, my heels clicking in a commanding cadence against the hardwood. "You may turn and face me," I instruct, my voice calm and measured. 

(I asked the A.I. for knee socks, glossy Mary Janes, hands on heads and otherwise, bare naked. This is the best you're getting I'm afraid)

"And you have my permission to rub those sore bottoms if you feel the need." 

Their hands protectively drop from their heads to cup and massages their tender, inflamed bums as they both squeaked out a, "I'm sorry, Ma'am." 

I look at the two Goth women before me, their faces streaked with tears, their bodies trembling with a mixture of pain, humiliation and emotional exhaustion. 

"It will heal, girls," I tell them, my voice gentle but firm. "The soreness will fade, the welts and bruises will disappear. But what of the welts and bruises you've inflicted on each other? The apology you owe is not to me, it's to each other, as your relationship will heal, just like your bums will." 

I waited patiently, expectantly for one of these previously stubborn Goth women to break the silence, towards reconciliation, to towards healing. 

I watched as Bella reached out to her daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace, their naked bodies pressing together, their breasts and nipples meeting in a strangely intimate and taboo manner. Tears streamed down Bella's face freely as she held Cassandra close as she whispered the only words Cassie needed to hear. 

"I love you, Cassandra." 

Cassandra stood rigid in her mother's arms, her body tense, uncertain, as if unsure how to respond. But then, slowly, I saw her shoulders relax, her arms lifting to encircle her mother's naked back, returning the embrace with equal fervor. 

"I love you too, Mom," she murmurs, her own voice thick with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything."

They clung to each other, their bodies shaking with sobs, their tears mingling, washing away the pain and anger and resentment that had built up between them over the years. It was a beautiful moment that filled my heart with warmth and hope. 

I picked up my hairbrush and ran my hand over the smooth expanse of the backside, smiling at its simplicity. I opened my dresser drawer and tossed it in with the others. 

Feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment, I left the room without saying another word. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: There Must be Order