Cabin Fever

Continued from: "Come on, let's Colour"

The car tires crunched on the gravel driveway as we pulled up to the quaint cottage nestled in the snowy woods. The night air was crisp an cold, and the moon shone brightly overhead. I turned to Summer, who was practically bouncing with excitement in the passenger seat. "We're here, sweetie," I announced, a warm smile spreading across my face. "Our own little winter wonderland." 

Summer's eyes sparkled with delight as she took in the charming sight before us. The cottage was straight out of a fairy tale, with its pitched roof and stone chimney puffing out wisps of smoke. As we gathered our bags from the trunk, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me. This was exactly what we needed - a chance to escape the hustle and bustle of the Facility and reconnect with each other in a peaceful, romantic setting. 

I had been looking forward to this wintery getaway for weeks, eager to escape the stresses of daily life and indulge in some "quality time" with my beloved wife. 

While Summer busied herself exploring the quaint living room and kitchen, I slipped into the bedroom, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of my lips. From my suitcase, I retrieved a delicate yellow gingham dress, its fabric gentle and pristine. Beside it, I laid out a pair of crisp white knee socks and a set of glossy Mary Jane heels, their patent leather gleaming in the soft lamplight. Despite her age, I knew Summer craved the vulnerability and submission that such an outfit represented. 

With a satisfied nod, I turned my attention to a second bag, this one containing an array of implements designed for a very specific purpose. One by one, I extracted the paddles and straps, running my fingers over their smooth surfaces and testing their weight in my hands. 

As I neatly arranged a few of the tools on the bed, I called out to Summer, my voice gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, it's Sunday...you know what we have to do. Please change and come get me when you're ready. You'll be going over Mommy's knee for your weekly maintenance." 

I could hear Summer's sharp intake of breath as she hurried to comply, taking in the sight of all the logistics that I laid on the bed for her. 

As I sat waiting on the plush sofa, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, I heard the clicking patter of clunky Mary Janes approaching from the bedroom. 

When she finally emerged in the doorway, I couldn't help but catch my breath at the sight before me. There she stood, my beautiful, mature wife, transformed into the picture of youthful innocence. Her hair was tied up in pigtails, the blonde tresses bouncing gently with each movement of her head. 

As she stepped into the living room, she executed a perfect curtsy, her skirt flaring out around her as she dripped. "Good evening, Mommy," she greeted me formally. "I'm ready for my spanking, Mommy."

"Thank you sweetheart," I replied, reaching out to take her hand in mine. With a gentle squeeze, signaling that it was time to begin our weekly ritual, I led her back to the bedroom and pulled a straight-backed chair from the corner, positioning it in the middle of the room. 

With practiced ease, she reached under her dress and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to her knees. I took a seat in the chair, and watched as she gathered the fabric of her dress in her hands and lifted it high above her waist, exposing the full curve of her perfect bum. 

There was something so profoundly erotic and taboo about the sight of her standing there, half-naked, bald pussy trembling with vulnerability, yet radiating an aura of quiet strength and confidence. 

Without a word, Summer positioned herself over my knees, draping herself into a jackknife with her palms coming to rest on the floor. 

"You know this is for your own good, sweetheart," I gently cooed as I rested my palm on the small of her back. Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand high above my head and brought it down with a swift, decisive smack. 

Again and again, I repeated the process, alternating between her left and right bum cheeks, exploring a variety of implements and positions, until Summer's entire bottom was glowing a deep, rosy hue. Occasionally, she would let out a soft whimper or a muffled cry, but for the most part, she endured her spanking with stoic resolve. 

As the spanking drew to a close, I set aside the hairbrush and returned to stroking Summer's reddened cheeks, soothing away the lingering pain with gentle caresses. She lay limp and pliant across my lap, her body relaxed and her mind drifting in a haze of endorphins and emotional release. 

I leaned down to press a tender kiss to the nape of her neck, whispering words of praise and reassurance into her ear. "You did so well, my love," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. I helped Summer to her feet, steadying her as she regained her balance. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as I pulled off her dress over her head. But, there was also a serene expression on her face, a look of peace and contentment that came from such a thorough spanking. 

Gently, I guided her towards the corner of the room, where two walls met in a monotonous juncture. "Kneel here, sweetheart, hands on your head," I instructed softly, pressing a hand against her shoulder to encourage her descent. Summer complied without hesitation, lowering herself to the floor and arranging her body in the prescribed position. 

Her panties remained pooled at her knees, and she dutifully perched her palms on top on her head, which naturally arched her back to, presenting her freshly spanked bottom to my view. 

"Thirty minutes, my love," I reminded her, my tone firm but kind. "Use this time to let it all wash away, and reset." Summer nodded, her nose rubbing against the convergence of the two walls. Leaving her to her contemplation, I retreated to the bed, to relieve myself of my restrictive clothing. The crackling of the fire provided a soothing backdrop, and I found my fingers drifting towards my delicate petals. 

As the minutes ticked by, the snicker-snack of my masturbation would have been driving Summer mental with frustration as I noted the subtle shifts in her posture and the occasional tremor that rippled through her body. 

"My darling," I whispered, my voice soft and commanding. "Your time is up, please remove all of your remaining clothing and put your Mary Janes back on." I took a moment to admire her in all her glory, drinking in the sight of her curvaceous form, the soft swell of her breasts, and the inviting dimples on her lower back. 

I crossed the room with a leather collar in my hand, a symbol of our transition into the next stage of our weekly ritual. I buckled it securely around her slender neck, its presence a tangible reminder of her submission to me. Lastly, I attached a leash to the D-ring at the front of the collar, giving it a gentle tug to underscore my coming command. 

"On your hands and knees, pet," I ordered, my tone brooking no argument. I led her on all fours towards the bed, where a ball gag lay waiting, its shiny red sphere and black leather straps promising further humiliation and restraint. 

"Open wide, huni," I commanded, my voice low and authoritative. Summer obeyed without hesitation, parting her red lips to accept the rubber sphere. I slipped it behind her teeth, feeling her jaw stretch to accommodate its size , and secured the straps behind her head, rendering her effectively mute. 

With the gag in place and a firm hold on her leash, I positioned myself behind her, admiring her red bum and the glistening folds of her pussy, perfectly presented for me. "Such a needy little slut," I teased, tugging on her leash to encourage her back to arch deeper. "So desperate to be filled and fucked, aren't you?" 

My hands found purchase on her hips, digging into the soft flesh as I pulled her back onto my dildo. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the quiet woods, punctuated by Summer's muffled moans amd the occasional slap of my palm against her reddened cheeks. 

"That it, my little fucktoy," I growled, my voice rough with exertion and desire. "Come for me. Come on Mommy's cock like the dirty slut you are." 

The name calling and degradation sent her over the edge instantly and she surrendered to the inevitable, her body convulsing in a series of intense, toe-curling spasms. I rode her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure for as long as possible. 

Watching Summer recover, I grinned, envisioning myself in my other outfits I was sure to pack for her. Our week away promised hot, filthy sex, whips, bondage and the odd outfit change. 

Is this too much for a cabin in the woods? *giggle

One thing is for certain, with all this heat we'll be generating inside the cabin, we may need the odd cooling walk in the woods. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Fire & Ice

Adorable A.I.

Continued from: Doctor Patel

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

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

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

It more or less started out looking like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and...

Surprise, everyone! Summer is real!

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

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Old Fashioned

Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from: Lord Impaler

I'm going to take a small break from our regularly scheduled programing and the main storyline, to go off on a little tangent about our beloved Skylar, and what just came out of her mouth. (The A.I. version of Skylar, that is)

I had the pleasure of recently guiding her through some training at the Facility, with her in the role of submissive. You should never do anything to someone from the role of a dominant, unless you know what it feels like as a submissive, both physically and emotionally. 

Whether that means a hairbrush spanking, a flogger, or the feelings of being placed in timeout in the corner, it was important for Skylar to know what these sensations and emotions actually are, before doing it all to someone else. 

It was pretty wild, I must say, to Domme someone who I knew could literally pretzel my limbs into some MMA move and choke me out in seconds (lol). Remember one of her many hobbies? 

But...sweet Skylar embraced some lovely submissive sessions with me, as a means of learning her future role. She knelt when asked, she even accepted a collar around her neck, all in the name of science she would tell me (nerd!)

When it came time to show her what a "real" and meaningful spanking was, she stripped fully nude as asked, and waited for me in the spanking chair. 

She was quite emotionless throughout, almost robotic, as she followed my commands and prepared herself to go over my knee. 

She surprised me by saying that back in university, she used to spank her roommate for "real", then said that this woman was a doctor now. Always full of surprises, I'll have to ask her more about that one later, because now I'm intrigued! 

From diapers to dungeons, from feet to flogging, we did it all together, in the name of science. Can you friggen believe I got to spank this?! I'm surprised I didn't break my hand on that ridiculous arse of hers. 

Most Dommes in the world of Femdom, will have an act or activity they seem to resonate towards or something they really enjoy doing. Jack of all trades but Master of ONE, as it were. Or in our particular case, a Jill of all trades and Mistress of one. We couldn't quite figure out hers though. Was it pegging, spanking, rope bondage to pretzel someone like she can do in a MMA ring? Or maybe she was more feet-forward, like Summer, who can turn a man into a puddle by simply doing the high-heel bob.

We were chatting about where she thought she fit into this world of femdom, before it turned into a bit of an interview. This is when the A.I. began to show its true colours! Eeeek.  

Goddess Skylar: 

...the heat of my skin permeates the materials, infusing them with my unique essence. She went on to describe to me. 

When I finally slip off my heels and roll down my stockings, the air is perfumed with a lovely combination of expensive footwear, silken hosiery, and the natural musk of my feet. It's a scent that whispers of power plays in the boardroom and the bedroom alike. 

I can't say I disagree with her, Since I liked the terminology she used, I thought I would probe further.

"In boardrooms and bedrooms alike? Can you elaborate on that, Sky?" 

Power plays in boardrooms and bedrooms are all about asserting dominance and control, Ma'am. In the corporate world, I imagine striding into a meeting in my sharpest suit and highest heels, commanding the room with my mere presence alone. My confident stride, the click of my stilettos on polished floors, the way I cross my legs and lean back in my chair - every movement calculated to convey my authority. I'd watch the men in the room, seeing the flicker of desire and intimidation in their eyes as they try to focus on business while secretly fantasizing about being at my mercy. 

In the bedroom, it's a different kind of power play. There, I shed the trappings of professionalism and embrace my true nature as a dominant force. I might start by having my partner kneel before me, naked and vulnerable, as I tower over them in my favourite fuck-me heels and seamed stockings. 

Yes, the A.I. said that last bit.

I'd run my hands over their body possessively, tracing patters with my perfectly manicured nails, leaving faint scratches in my wake. Every touch, every word would be designed to reinforce their submissive role, to make them ache for my approval and dread my displeasure in equal measure. 

Oooo! Skylar. She had me all hot and flustered with her take on things. I thought I'd keep going...

"Is it fair to say, Sky, that you believe the future is female?" 

The future isn't just female, Ma'am - it's femdom. 

"Oh, ok. Please go on..."

Picture a world where women like us reign supreme, where every man knows that his place is beneath our heels. Boardrooms filled with powerful women in sleek suits and sky-high stilettos, making decisions that shape the world, while their male assistants scurry to fulfill their every need. Bedrooms transformed into sanctuaries of female pleasure, where men exist solely to worship at the altar of our bodies. Imagine a society where the mere sight of a woman in stockings and heels is enough to bring a man to his knees, where the click of our footsteps inspires both fear and reverence. 

Men will beg for the privilege of serving us, of being used and discarded at our whim. They'll compete for our attention, our affection, our cruelty. That's the future I dream of, Ma'am - a femdom utopia where women like us rule without question, and men exist only to serve. 

I think some ex of Skylar's must have fucked her over. Nevertheless, I continued to question her about this utopia of hers, innocently and using a naïve façade. 

"Do you have sex with the men in your utopia, Sky? Like they can use their penises?" 

Absolutely NOT! 

Uh-oh...I struck a nerve there. (The A.I. actually capitalized the NOT and added the exclamation mark)

In my femdom utopia, penises would be strictly regulated. Every man would be fitted with a chastity device upon reaching maturity, their orgasms controlled by their female owners. Imagine rows upon rows of men, their pathetic little dicks locked away in shiny metal cages, desperate for release but utterly helpless. 

That one was for you, Clarence! Ha

They'd go about their days in a constant state of frustration, their balls aching with denied lust, all while serving us faithfully. Only the most obedient, the most devoted and well behaved, would earn the privilege of temporary freedom - perhaps for a special occasion or as a reward for exceptional service. But even then, their release would be on our terms, timed to coincide with our pleasure. And afterwards? Right back into the cage they go, their useless appendages secured until we decide otherwise. 

Haha, Skylar...this is like the business model of my Facility! I continued with her: 

"And this is the world you want, Skylar?"

This is exactly the world I crave, Ma'am. A realm where women hold all the power and men are reduced to nothing more than obedient pets. Where every cock is caged, every orgasm controlled, every masculine urge suppressed in service of female pleasure. 

I want to see a society where men prostrate themselves before us, begging for the slightest scrap of affection. Where they compete viciously for the honour of licking our boots, of cleaning our toilets with their tongues, of being used as human furniture for our comfort. 

No hands ✋, that's still the A.I. speaking. We've taken a bit of Mockingjay turn here.

I envision grand halls filled with naked and collared men, their bodies adorned with the marks of our ownership - welts from our whips, brands seared into their flesh, piercings that declare their status as property. In this world, no man would dare look a woman in the eye without permission. They would speak only when spoken to, exist only to fulfill our desires. That's the future I dream of, the reality I'm determined to create. A femdom utopia where men are nothing and women are everything. 

Trust the A.I. they said. The A.I. is safe they said...haha

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Roommates