The Pianist

Continued from: Alice: Down the Rabbit Hole

[F/f] [female supremacy] [classic rock] [hosiery] [socks]

Summer had been away for a few days, working on a series of transatlantic flights with a completely new crew. While I missed her terribly, I also knew that these trips were an important part of her career, and I supported her wholeheartedly. 

Still, I couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy whenever she mentioned her fellow flight attendants, especially the attractive ones. 

On this particular trip, Summer had apparently hit it off with a lovely Jordanian woman who used to fly for Emirates. According to Summer's text messages, this woman is "like us" - a euphemism we often used to describe someone who might be into kink or BDSM. 

Naturally, this revelation set off alarm bells in my head. While I trusted Summer implicitly, I also knew how charmingly naughty she can be, especially when it comes to seducing unsuspecting women. The thought of her flirting with some exotic beauty halfway across the world made my blood boil with possessiveness and concern. 

I wasted no time in scolding Summer via text, sending a series of motioning palm emojis, combined with a ripe peach emoji. I think I even sent her this one: 

"Behave yourself, Summer Addison!" I warned sternly, hoping that she could feel my tone on her bare backside. 

To her credit, Summer responded promptly and adorably, sending me a seductive selfie from her layover hotel room. She quickly changed the subject by hinting that she had a surprise waiting for me upon her return. 

Intrigued and curious, I pressed her for details, but she remained tight-lipped, insisting that I would have to wait and see. (Ohhh, she's getting a spanking when she gets home!) This only fueled my imagination, as I spent the next few days speculating wildly about what sort of treat Summer might have in store for me. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Summer arrived home, looking radiant and refreshed despite her jet lag. She greeted me with a warm embrace and a lingering kiss, her body melting into mine as if we hadn't seen each other in years. 

Summer smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I brought back a little something for you, love..."

Before I could respond, Summer took my hand and led me toward our music lounge, my heart raced with anticipation. I could sense something special awaited me, but I had no idea what it could be. With a playful giggle, Summer placed her hands over my eyes, guiding me forward with gentle steps. 

"Okay, keep your eyes closed," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "I have a surprise for you but you have to promise not to peek." 

I nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I promise," I murmured, my voice barely audible. 

Summer guided me a few more steps before coming to a halt. "Alight, open your eyes!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. 

As I blinked my eyes open, it took a moment for my vision to adjust to the light. But then, as if in a dream, I saw her - Gamazda! Seated at the white grand piano, her fingers poised elegantly over the keys. My jaw dropped open in shock, and my trembling hands flew up to cover my mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped my lips. 

If you remember back, dear readers, this little red sparrow appeared in the blog before. A story called Major Renovations: Vanilla Space. This is what I wrote about her in that post: 

I felt like that internet girl who goes by Gazmada. She's popular on YouTube for playing heavy metal covers on the piano, which she absolutely crushes, all while scantily or very cutely dressed. Heels, pantyhose, socks and knee socks. She'd fit right in with the culture of our Facility. 

What a little biscuit she is, huh?

Have a look at her lighting up some November Rain, and looking like a boss-bitch while doing so: 

We tend to feature, celebrate and genuinely root-for remarkably amazing women on this blog. Alexandra Kunznetsova is one of them. Big fan of hers. And she's in my friggen piano lounge right now! 

I can't even...

She was even more adorable in person, her pinky-blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face, her eyes sparkling with intelligence and warmth. She was dressed in her signature denim skirt with nude pantyhose that hugged her slender legs, paired with adorable white and pink runners that added a playful touch to her ensemble. 

Hosiery and runners! Summer is the only other person I know who does this. Must be a European thing. 

As I stood there, frozen in awe, Summer began to explain how the miraculous encounter had come to be. 

"I met Alexandra on my last flight from Russia," she said, her voice filled with pride and enthusiasm. “We got to talking, and it turned out she's a huge fan of your blog, Andrea." 

I could hardly believe my ears. One of my piano idols, someone whose talent is second to none, knew who I was?! It seemed too good to be true. I can't begin to explain how many times I wished I could play the way she does. 

And a fan...of my blog...How could this be? 

My mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together the puzzle of her interest in kink and BDSM. 

(She's covering Don't Speak by No Doubt in this one: Don't Speak)

It occurred to me that there were clues scattered throughout her public persona, hints of a darker, more femdom side, lurking beneath her polished exterior. 

I thought back to some of her earliest online videos, where she had gained notoriety for her jaw-dropping renditions of hardcore rock classics. 

(She's covering November Rain by Guns n' Roses here: November Rain)

Watching her attack the keys with such ferocity and precision, it was clear that Alexandra possessed a wild, untamed spirit that belied her classical training. It was like she had 15 fingers! There was something undeniably edgy and alternative about her approach to music, a rebellious streak that set her apart. 

(This one is Don't Cry, another from Guns n' Roses: Don't Cry)

Pantyhose AND socks? A noticeable proclivity towards hosiery and high heels in other videos too. Her petite frame and youthful features cut a strikingly alluring figure, one that would be catnip to anyone with a foot fetish. 

She went full schoolgirl in this one, while playing a Pink Floyd classic: Another Brick in the Wall

As I considered all of these factors, a realization began to hit me as to why she might be a fan of my work and what we do here, at the Facility. 

Is that a lace top? Are those stockings? Atta girl! 

(Here, she's right into some Don't Stop Believing by Journey: Don't Stop Believing)

Plaid skirt...pencil skirt actually! Maybe she would fit in around here...? 

While it is certainly tempting to project my own fantasies onto her, imagining her as a willing submissive or a powerful dominatrix, that's not why I made this post, the intention was not to objectify her in that way. 

The truth is, I could listen to her play for hours and I'm a huge fan. I would love to see her climb to one million YouTube subscribers, so go find her and subscribe. The poor thing is hanging at 947,000. 

There's certainly enough dumb shit on YouTube that has over a million subscribers, but this woman, has a real gift and she's sharing it with the world. 

With that, I dismissed the notion of corrupting this little red sparrow. And with the lovely backdrop of Alexandra playing for us, I turned to Summer, a small grin tugging at the edges of my lips. 

"So..." I leaned in close for a whisper, my serious face boring into Summer's eyes. "Tell me about this Jordanian woman."

Mistress Andrea

xo

Continued in: Innovation Lab

Feet Lovers

Continued from: Helping a Friend

[Flight Attendant] [feet] [foot fetish] [hosiery] [high heels] [F/m]

A.I prompt: Can you make me an image of a play on words. A Domino's pizza box that says "feet lovers" instead of meat lovers?

This was about the 30th attempt at this image above, and it's actually kinda cute. I can live with this one. 

This one was a bit concerning, with the knife, and not A.I. generated. This one came from the interwebs. Sorta cute also. 

You know what else is cute? My wife, Summer! 

Now get inside and warm those buns up before I'm forced to help you warm them up!

"Oui, Mummy." 

After a few years and over 300 short stories, I have realized that Summer herself, has never written one. She was interviewed once, by some wiener from the internet but she has not once, authored a story on here. Probably because her English is not 100%, she has a noticeable, one could say thick, French accent. Also very cute! 

Go have a look at her interview: Someone's Gonna Get It

So, dear readers, try to follow along as best you can, with her Frenchness sprinkled into this one. Take it away Summer, after you get off eBay and put your phone down. 

"Oui Mademoiselle." 

I remember zee moment I first realize zee power of my feet, so vividly. I was une jeune fille, fresh out of flight attendant training, et eager to explore zee vast world. One of my first long-haul flights, I found myzelf noticing some of zee male passengers...zey would be starring at my feet. My feet zat were encased in sheer black stockings and perched atop zee high stilettos. 

Zee hours spent walking up and down zee aisle, attending to pazzengers' needs, had left my feet aching and swollen. But as I admired zem, I could see what zaa silly men were seeing, 'ow shapely and elegant zey looked. Zee arch of my foot was perfectly defined, my toes delicately tapered, and zee skin smooth and unblemished. Look and zee for yourzelf:

It was zen zat I decided to celebrate my beautiful pieds, to adorn zem and show zem off to zee world. I began wearing dainty anklets and zee toe rings, painting my nails a deep, seductive red, and slipping into zee finest silk stockings and lace-topped hold-ups. I took all zaa pride in caring for my feet, massaging zem with luxurious French lotions and keeping zem soft and supple. 

After meeting ma cherie, Vanessa, she told me her naughti, naughti little secrets. She is a very bad girl, who needs zee spanks! Somezing we also dabbled in, cherie and I. 

After zees long flights we would kick off our heels in zaa h'otel room and snap pictures of our stocking-clad feets, zee sheer fabric clinging to our sweaty soles and toes. We posted zees images onto the internets, describing zee aches and pains of our travels, telling zee men how much we needed the massages and comforts. 

To my surprise, zee responses were overwhelming. Men from all over zaa world began messaging me, complimenting my feet and begging for more photos. Zees men were captivated by my feet, driven wild with desire by zaa sight of my sweaty stockings and exhausted arches. They offered me money, gifts, anyzing to convince me to send to them my worn nylons or shoes. 

And so, my little side business was born, I started selling my used stockings, pantyhose, and heels to zee highest biddars, carefully packaging zem to preserve my unique scent and zee evidence of my femininity. 

I developed a system with Vanessa's help, verifying the authenticity of my items, taking photos and videos of myzelf wearing zem, sealing zem in airtight bags with my signature and a personal note. 

But zee more I embraced my role as a purveyor of worn delicates (I was zelling my knickers, too) zee more I found myself drawn into zee world of kink and BDSM. Zee men who bought my items often had very specific requests, asking me about my last spankings or if I like to be tied up. I must admit, zier ideas were exciting to me. 

This is a time in her life where she can't explain it in English, but she basically didn't want her severed feet to end up in some dude's freezer. Oh look, a creepy basement!

The bad man on the internet said it was safe down there...go on, Summer. He just wants to take some pictures of your feet." 

Oh fuck! 

Safety, ladies! Safety, safety! I get the whole CNC (consensual non-consent) play, but please take care of yourselves and be smart about power dynamics play. 

Zat is when I met my beloved Mistress Andrea. She led me through zee various rooms of her Facilitee, each equipped with its own array of bondage gear, whips, and other implements of discipline. Here was a place where I could safely indulge my deepest, darkest fantazee, where I could surrender completely to zee pleasures of submission. She was tall and statuesque, with jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a commanding presence zat made my knees weak. A woman who could bend me to her will, with nothink more zan a glance. 

Eventually, our relationship evolved beyond zee confines of zee fetish studio. We moved in together, sharing a grand mansion on zee outskirts of zaa city. Mistress continued to run her business, welcoming clients into our home and guiding zem tru dare own journey of submission and self-discovery. Meanwhile, I balance my duty as her devoted slave with my career as a flight attendant, jetting off to exotic destinations and returning home to kneel at her feet. 

Our love story culminated in dramatic fashion. I'm going to start crying. Our love story culminated in a hotel room in New Orleans, when Mistress hid her face from me, to hide zaa tears in her eyes. 

That storyline can be found here: I have a plane to catch

"I don't know how to say goodbye to you anymore." She zed to me. Right before she told me that she loved me. 

"Say it again..." I replied to her. Hehe, and she did! 

As I embraced my role as Mistress Andrea's devoted wife and submissive, she encouraged all of zaa feet content and grew my side-hustle into a lucrative business zat has made us beyond rich. 

Who would have thought, oui? Somezing zoe zimple as my little toes. 

Love always, 

Summer Addison Holiday 

💋

Continued in: Sports Betting

 

Why the Long Face?

Continued from: Fallen Angels

[F/m] [sissy] [FLR] [chastity] [pegging] [cuckold] [queen of spades] [humiliation] [sissy husband] [Flight Attendant] [hosiery] [feet]

"Why the long face, Derek?" 

Ohhh, right, right. It's because you go to bed every night and look down and see this: 

While your wife is in some layover hotel room, probably doing this:

You wake up in the morning, Derek, and diligently make your bed and tidy your room until it looks like this:

 While your wife wakes up in the morning and diligently addresses something also...

But don't worry, she'll be home soon. 

Do you remember Vanessa and Derek? Goddess Vanessa as I like to call her, and her loving, sissy cuckold husband, Derek. Their storyline began here: Vanessa is a Goddess

God she is stunning! I have a major girl-crush on her and actually let her Domme me one night, with MY wife's permission of course. 

You can read about that steamy session here: I often envy submissives

Since these two have such a unique dynamic, I wondered if I could bring them to life using ethically sourced, text-based image generation. 

I described Vanessa as Cuban, 30 years old, a flight attendant with a proclivity toward hosiery and heels, make-up, grace and poise. 

Ummm...*panty check*

Yep, I think we can work with this version of Goddess Vanessa. 

And what about poor Derek? 

Haha...he looks like a version of Zach from Saved by the Bell. You better not let your wife catch you in those boring boy clothes, Preppy! 

That's better sissy gurl. Get your chores done and the house cleaned before your wife gets home, and make sure you're dressed like a little girl, as she had asked...or you know you'll be in deep trouble!

As the sun rose over the Miami horizon, Vanessa, the ravishing flight attendant, prepared for the final leg home to Toronto.

Her raven-haired beauty gleamed in the blossoming light, her curves accentuated by the fitted uniform she wore so elegantly. Meanwhile, back at home, her devoted sissy husband, Derek, waited anxiously, dressed in a frilly maid's outfit, complete with satin gloves and a headpiece. His heart raced with anticipation as he finished handwashing Vanessa's delicates and ironing her laundered clothing. 

By afternoon, Vanessa's arrival home was imminent. Derek assumed the position, presenting himself at the base of the couch as a willing footstool. As she lifted one foot, then the other, onto his trembling back, Derek couldn't help but emit a sigh of contentment. 

With deliberate slowness, Vanessa slipped off her stilettos, setting them carefully and neatly in front of Derek's nose. The scent of warm leather and musky nylons, mixed with lotion, wafted upward. 

His nostrils flared, drinking in the aroma as he gazed longingly at the insides of her high heels, a spot he knew his tongue would soon be put to use. Vanessa settled in, letting out a satisfied moan as she rested her hosed feet on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sissy attire.

Vanessa's weight pressed down upon him, her toes curling gently over his shoulder blades. Derek's mind wandered to the ache beneath his satin panties. The steel confines of his chastity cage seemed to tighten, a cruel reminder of his captivity. The delicate lace trim of his underwear, adorned with tiny hearts and flowers, only added to his sense of emasculation.

The contrast between his restricted cock and Vanessa's carefree sensuality was a constant thorn in his side. Yet, as he breathed in the heady aroma of her stockinged feet, now resting comfortably on his nose, Derek knew he wouldn't trade this humiliation for anything. 

For in this world, Vanessa was queen, and he was but a lowly subject, destined to serve her every whim. 

It didn't quite help his cause however, that she was the queen of a certain suit. 

Welcome back, Vanessa and Derek. We've missed you!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Pent-Up