Enigma

Continued from: Guilty Pleasures

[F/m] [F/sissy] [feminization] [humiliation] [spanking] [OTK] [BDSM] [femdom] [Mistress]

It was shortly after Christmas, and I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast when Russell shuffled in, looking rather flustered. 

"There's a very young and jacked, angry-looking woman in the living room, Andrea," he announced, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of jocularity. 

I couldn't help but chuckle at his bewildered expression, realizing that he'd never met Skylar before. And...I may have forgot to tell him she appears in the vanilla wing of the mansion from time to time. I guess she must have just finished a session on the heavenly-hash side of the house.

"That would be the Doctor," I explained, rather nonchalantly, all while pouring Russell a coffee. "She's one of my new gals at the Facility." 

"The Doctor?!" Russell remarked with a laugh. "She does, umm...like your medical fetish stuff?" 

"No, honey," I laughed, "she's an actual doctor. PhD in astrodynamics or something." 

"The-hell d'you find her?" Russell spoke, now sounding awe-struck, but not nearly as awe-struck as I was, the night I first met this young enigma of a woman. 

"I think I interrupted something, she just glared at me, and didn't say a thing. Like she was looking right through me." Russell stated, now sounding a bit amused with all of this. 

I will admit, Skylar does possess a bit of a distant glare, robotic looking and a bit spacey. It's like there's about sixteen other conversations going on in her mind, as she's maintaining a conversation with you. 

"It's because her brain is working about ten times faster than yours is, darling." I cooed to Russell, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"C'mon, I'll show you, and introduce you to her." 

Still clad in her dominatrix leathers and heeled boots, looking every bit the intimidating goddess, she simply lounged by the fire, smoking a weed pen and mumbling to herself under her breath. I whispered to Russell, as not to disturb her. 

"She's running through the 'data' from her latest session, analyzing every detail of her sub's reactions, every nuance of her client's behaviour, and making notes about it."

It's a surreal scene, really - this stunning, powerful woman, lost in thought, her mind working overtime to dissect and understand the intricacies of human submission as a sexual kink. I pause for a moment, watching her in fascination. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she processes the her inner dialogue. 

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

Meanwhile, inside Skylar's mind: 

My client, a middle-aged man with a successful career and loving family, had broken down in tears the moment I presented him with the frilly pink dress and matching Mary Janes he would be wearing for his spanking. His reaction was fascinating - a raw, visceral display of emotion that seemed to stem from somewhere deep within his psyche. 

As I guided him over my knees and began his spanking, his sobs intensified, mingling with gasps and pleas for forgiveness, yet I wasn't spanking him hard, nor did he require my forgiveness for anything.

It's clear that the humiliation of being dressed like a little girl had struck a nerve, tapping into some long-buried shame or insecurity. But why? What was it about this particular stimuli that elicited such a profound response? 

Was it a manifestation of some childhood trauma, a desperate attempt to atone for perceived failures as a father or husband? Or perhaps it was a way of reclaiming a lost innocence, a chance to experience the unconditional love and guidance that only strict maternal discipline can provide.    

Halfway through his spanking, with his panties down to his knees, I decided to introduce a new element to the scene - a full-length mirror, positioned directly in front of my client as he lay over my lap. 

As I resumed his spanking on his reddening cheeks, I observed his reflection in the glass, noting the way his tear-streaked face contorted with each impact. The effect of the mirror was immediate and profound - his crying became more intense, his body writhing beneath my grip as if trying to escape the image before him. 

It was clear that seeing himself in such a vulnerable, humiliating state only served to heighten his emotional response. But why? What was it about witnessing his own degradation that pushed him over the edge? 

I hypothesized that the mirror acted as a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil, forcing him to confront the aspects of himself he had long sought to suppress. By dressing him as a little girl and subjecting him to a punishment typically associated to misbehaving children, I had tapped into a wellspring of guilt, shame and self-loathing that had festered within him for years. 

The mirror merely served as a catalyst, brining these feelings to the surface and allowing him to experience a cathartic release. As I continued his spanking, I marveled at the complexity of BDSM and the ability it has to break down barriers and expose raw, unfiltered emotions that lay beneath. 

With each snap of my palm against his tender bottom, I could feel him surrendering more deeply to the experience, letting go of the inhibitions and hang-ups that had held him back for so long. By the end of the session, he was a quivering, sobbing mess - but there was a palpable sense of relief in his demeanour, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

I'll make a mental note to incorporate the mirror technique into future sessions, eager to see how other clients might would respond to this potent tool of psychological manipulation.

When I close my eyes I can see the room again, I can smell it. It had a distinct aroma of pink baby lotion. The space was deliberately decorated like a little girl's bedroom, complete with pastel colours, frilly lace curtains, and an abundance of stuffed animals perched on every surface. But the centerpiece, the element that may be adding to the session, was the massive mural adorning the wall above the bed. 

A gathering of Disney princesses, each rendered in vibrant detail, the artwork seemed to watch over the proceedings with knowing smiles and sparkling eyes. I couldn't help but wonder what effect this visual stimulus had on my clients, particularly the men who found themselves in this feminine domain. 

Did they feel as though their spanking was being witnessed by a chorus of giggling, judgmental women, their embarrassment magnified tenfold by the presence of these iconic figures? Was this Mistress Andrea's intention all along - to create a space where our clients' shame and vulnerability were constantly reinforced, even in the absence of a real audience?  

By surrounding our clients with symbols of femininity and innocence, we were effectively stripping them of their adult identities, reducing them to the status of helpless, naughty children in need of correction. 

I'm only scratching the surface of what this world has to offer. There was so much more to learn, so much more data to collect - and I am determined to uncover all of it, one spanking at a time.

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

As I cleared my throat, Skylar snapped out of her scientific state. She looked up, startled as if she'd forgotten where she was. "Oh, hello, Mistress Andrea," she said, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "I hope you don't mind me making myself at home. I just needed a quiet space to think after my session." 

I assured her it was no problem at all and gestured to Russell, to introduce him. 

"Sky, I'd like you to meet someone very special to me. This is Russell Burnett, the one I've told you about." 

She tilted her head to the side, almost like a synthetic human processing new information. She fixed her distant gaze on Russell, her eyes narrowing to study his face. 

"Mr. Burnett, you used to provide Mistress Andrea with spankings, didn't you?" she blurted out, her voice low and curious. 

"Did you ever position a mirror in front of her?" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Scientific Method

Christian Christmas?

Continued from: The Season for Giving

[M/f] [F/f] [DDLG] [little] [lezdom] [dungeon] [bondage] [leather]

A Sarah Jane story

With a final squeeze of Mistress's hand, I turned to hurry from the room, my heart was already pounding with anticipation and my mind racing with deliciously depraved ideas for Mandy's session. 

"Wait a sec, princess," Mistress gripped and didn't let go of my hand. "Here, baby girl...for you." 

"What's this, Mommy?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement. Mistress smiled warmly, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on my forehead. 

"An early Christmas present, my dear," she explained, her voice soft and loving. "I thought you might appreciate having something special to wear for your session with Mandy. Something that will make you feel powerful, confident, and utterly irresistible." 

Intrigued, I carefully untied the bow and peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a large black box embossed with the iconic Christian Louboutin logo. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid, gasping in amazement as I beheld the magnificent boots nestled within. 

They were a work of art, crafted from the finest leather and designed to accentuate every curve of my legs and ass. The towering heels would add almost half a foot to my height, while the liquid red soles absolutely oozed feminine dominance. 

I ran my fingers over the stiletto heel like it was a triumphant, erect cock. "They're perfect, Mommy," I breathed, my eyes filling with tears of gratitude. "I know where her lips will be going first. Thank you so much, Mommy." 

Mistress beamed with pride, clearly pleased by my reaction. "You're welcome, my little one," she replied, her voice brimming with affection. "Now, go and get yourself ready, tell Daddy you have my permission. Mandy will be waiting for you and I have no doubt that she'll be putty in your hands once she sees you in those boots!" 

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

I burst into the bedroom, my pussy throbbing with excitement, and found Daddy standing on a little step stool, carefully hanging a picture on the wall. He turned to face me, a look of mild surprise crossing his features as he saw the slutty boots I was holding. 

I held them up, my eyes shining with delight. "Look what Mommy got me, Daddy!" I exclaimed, my voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "She said I can dress like a big girl and have sex with Mandy!" Daddy's eyes narrowed into a judgey glare. "Is that so?" he growled under his breath. 

"Mom said!" I giggled out, as I scurried into the en suite, leaving a happy squeal of joy in my wake. 

As I slipped my stocking feet into the luxurious leather and zipped up the sides, I felt a surge of power and confidence coursing through my veins. These boots were more than just a fashion statement - they were a symbol of my reawakened dominance. 

Just as I was slipping into a leather corset, Mommy entered the room, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. She approached Daddy, her expression stern yet composed. "Russell," she began, her voice calm and authoritative. "I wanted to confirm with you that my decision regarding Sarah is accurate, and that she's not parent shopping. She has my full permission to assume the role of a dominant this afternoon with Mandy, and to engage in whatever sexual activities she deems appropriate." 

Daddy's brow furrowed, and I noticed him tugging at his crotch in obvious frustration. His chastity cage, a constant reminder of Mommy's status as the head of this household. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him, knowing how difficult it must be to watch me embark on this exciting adventure, while he remained confined and restricted. 

"Didn't Sarah generously gift you that hot redheaded German woman for Christmas last year? I seem to recall that she did, and hearing that you thoroughly enjoyed her company, alongside Sarah Jane...hmm?"

Last Christmas: Season's Beatings

"So in my opinion," Mommy continued to playfully scold Daddy, "the two of you are more than even when it comes to indulging in side-pieces." 

"And don't let me catch you moping about like a pouting child, or you'll find yourself in frilly pair of panties over the holidays along with a very red bum!" 

Daddy blushed at the mention of such humiliating consequences, his eyes widening in alarm. "Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, knowing her word was final. 

As I added some finishing touches to my outfit, I giggled and stuck out my tongue at him from the behind the edge of the bathroom door. He knows I'm untouchable and can't throttle my bare bum for having a playdate with Mandy, as it's on Mommy's blessing...but the tongue thing may have just earned me a trip over his lap, when this is all over. Fuck, I didn't think that one through. 

"Now, if you'll excuse us, Russell," Mistress cheerfully cooed as I stepped out into the room for the first time in my new Loubies, "Sarah and I have some business to attend to downstairs." 

"Daddy! How do I look?"

"Shall we, my dear?" Mistress asked me, while extending her arm in a gesture of invitation. 

"Absolutely, Mommy," I replied, my voice filled with eagerness. 

As Mistress and I approached the door to the basement, I spotted Mandy waiting for us, leaning casually against the wall with one high heel propped up behind her. Almost cocky looking, in her new Loubies. 

She looked absolutely stunning in her black lace thong and matching bra, her curvaceous figure accentuated by the sheer of her stockings. An open blazer provided a touch of modesty, but it hung loosely around her shoulders, revealing the tantalizing swell of her tits beneath the lacy cups of her bra. 

As our eyes met, I felt a surge of desire and possessiveness coursing through my veins. This gorgeous creature belonged to me, at least for the duration of our session, and I was determined to make the most of every second. Without a moment's hesitation, I closed the distance between us, pressing Mandy firmly against the wall with my body. Our lips met in a searing kiss, my tongue delving deep into her mouth as I claimed her with unbridled passion. 

"Hello my little angel!" I purred, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw. "Loose the jacket," I cooed to her, all while circling her like a shark, slowly getting into role. 

With a swift motion, I retrieved my riding crop, pressing the tip firmly beneath her chin and forcing her to meet my gaze. 

I reached over to open the medieval basement door, leaving the dark sprawling expanse of the staircase that disappeared into the depths of the Facility's infamous basement. 

"Get down there, slut!" I hissed, gesturing towards the staircase. 

"Yes, Ma'am," Mandy nodded quickly, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she hurried to obey. I watched appreciatively, as she descended the stairs, her juicy ass swaying enticingly with each step.

Once she had disappeared from view, I turned to Mistress, my expression serious, as I took a deep breath. 

"Do you have a session plan, honey?" She asked. 

"Yes, Mommy," I nodded, while an evil grin developed on my lips.

"Remember, if you're leaving her in bondage or in a cage, nothing in her mouth, right?" She reminded, one last piece of motherly, Domme to Domme safety advice, before she clicked off and left me staring into the depths of the basement. 

As I made my way down into the dim lighting, I surveyed the array of implements and equipment, neatly arranged on walls and racks. The air was thick with the scent of leather, metal, and the unmistakable musk of arousal as I closed in on Mandy. Suddenly she was shy and vulnerable, attempting to shield her panty-covered pussy with her fumbling fingers. 

"Hands at your sides...kneel!" I snipped at her, offering her a reassuring wink. 

"Do you like my new boots?" I purred, as I extended one foot in offering. 

"Kiss them." 

Meanwhile, back upstairs, as if the house was cursed with an echo, "kiss them," escaped Mistress Andrea's lips. 

Shortly after, a very sheepish Russell, crawled on all fours to comply. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Serenity

Cabin Fever

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

[F/f] [lezdom] [MDLG] [spanking] [cornertime] [hairbrush] [OTK] [BDSM]

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

[FF/f] [Flight Attendants] [hosiery] [feet] [heels] [lezdom] [MDLG]

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