The Mad Scientist

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Almost out of Time

Continued from: Floating on a Cloud

[M/f] [F/mf] [chastity] [submissive] [FLR] [voyeur] [humiliation] 

A Sarah Jane story

Oh my goodness, I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to tantalize Daddy just a teensy bit! With the keys still clutched in my hand, I decided to prolong the suspense, to draw out the anticipation until it was almost unbearable. I remained resplendent in my little girl finery, the pink dress and knee socks a stark contrast to the decidedly adult game we were about to play. 

Slipping off my panties with a sly smile, I bared my sweetest assets, letting the warm bathroom air caress my skin. Then, with dramatic flair, I dangled the chastity keys directly over my quivering pussy, the metal glinting in the soft light like a wicked promise. 

My heart raced as I tested the waters even further, my voice dripping with desire. "Kneel down, Daddy, and crawl to the keys." The words hung in the room like a challenge, a dare to see how far he'd go to claim his freedom and maybe me. 

I knew, of course, that this little display might come at a cost later on, a stern reprimand - perhaps even a taste of Daddy's belt - but oh, the thrill of it was simply too delicious to resist! 

Daddy wouldn't do this to me, I'm his babygirl! But...on the other hand, what if I...I want him to? 

The scene unfolded like a decadent fantasy, every second a testament to the unbridled passion that coursed through our unique little household. Daddy's eager form crept closer, his hungry gaze fixed on the tantalizing keys dangling above my bared femininity. 

His lips eventually reached the prize, closing around the keys with such softness, as if savouring the promise of freedom. But I, the cunning little minx, had other plans. With a saucy chuckle, I whisked the keys away, returning them to their nest around my neck. And in the same fluid motion, I left his mouth hovering above my exposed pussy, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down my spine. Yet another move that will most likely land me here...

My words dripped with seductive sweetness as I issued the ultimatum: "If you want to be unlocked, Daddy, you'll have to make me cum first." The challenge hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown down between us. Would he rise to the occasion, or remain trapped in his golden prison? 

As I succumbed to the expert ministrations of Daddy's tongue, my gaze wandered upward, my rolling eyes attempting to lock on to the bedside clock. Time seemed to warp and bend, stretching out the moments into an eternity of bliss. But even as I lost myself in the swirling vortex of pleasure, I remained acutely aware of the ticking seconds, counting down the remaining minutes of my allotted 45.

Meanwhile, Daddy's skilled mouth worked its magic, lavishing attention upon my sensitive clit and occasionally straying south to graze against my puckered asshole. The dual sensations combined in a crescendo of delight, threatening to overwhelm my senses at any moment. And then, suddenly, I was there - clawing at the bedding, my cries echoing through the room as I tumbled over the edge into a soul-shattering climax. 

For one fleeting instant, I forgot about keys, chastity cages, and D/s dynamics - and simply reveled in the pure, unadulterated joy of simply feeling alive. 

The aftermath of my orgasmic explosion left me in a haze of euphoria, my limbs limp and languid as a rag doll. I managed a feeble giggle, still reeling from the aftershocks, and carefully plucked the keys from around my neck. "Good boy," I cooed, presenting them to Daddy with an air of mock ceremony. The moment those golden keys touched the lock, his entire demeanour transformed - a subtle shift from supplicant to conqueror. 

In a flash, his meaty hands closed around my throat, the pressure firm yet playful, a gentle reminder of his dominance. 

Before I could process the sudden change in atmosphere, he dragged me forward, my body surrendering to his will as my head tilted off the side of the bed, my mouth gaping open in surprise. And then, without warning, he filled me with his magnificent cock, the sudden invasion sparking a fresh wave of arousal within me. 

As he began to fuck my throat with slow deliberate strokes, I felt my senses spinning into overdrive once more - trapped in a whirlpool of pleasure and submission, with Daddy now firmly at the helm. 

I played along, feigning resistance as I squirmed and wriggled beneath him, pretending to protest the invasive attentions. It was all a delicious charade, of course - for I secretly reveled in the mastery he exerted over me. Still, I had to maintain the illusion, if only for the sheer thrill it brought me. So I kicked my little knee socks, my legs flailing wildly as I attempted to break free from his grasp. 

That's when Daddy decided to correct me, his broad palm flashing downward to deliver a sharp smack directly onto my pussy. The sting was exquisite, followed by a flush of arousal that threatened to consume me whole. "Bad girl!" he scolded, his deep voice resonant with amusement. 

When the face fucking paused, Daddy asked me the whereabouts of my head harness and bit gag - the one with the delectable leather reins. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, still reeling from my pussy being smacked, before scrambling to obey. A sharp motivational slap on my bare bum helped spur me along, and I hastened to fetch the gag from the nightside drawer. 

Returning with the contraption in hand, I watched in vulnerable fascination as Daddy roughly divested me of my pretty pink dress, leaving me clad in nothing but knee socks and Mary Janes. The cool air caressed my skin as he set to work fastening the strict bit into my mouth, the supple leather harness creaking softly as he buckled it around my face. 

The thrill of surrender washed over me as Daddy grasped the reins attached to my bit harness, deftly guiding me upward onto the bed. His firm tug on the leather straps ensured my head remained up and alert, my back arching deeply as I assumed the requisite pose on all fours. 

Daddy's rhythmic pounding had me in a state of utter abandon, with my poor tits flopping about beneath me. The motion was so vigorous, so unrelenting, that I found myself drooling shamelessly onto the bedding, the bit gag and harness ensuring my humiliation was complete. 

Yet, perversely, I reveled in this debased state, my inner little girl squealing with glee at the sheer audacity of it all. Clad in nothing but my innocent white knee socks and glossy Mary Janes, I must have presented a ridiculous spectacle - a vision of contradictions, equal parts innocence and depravity. And still, I wouldn't have traded this sublime sensation for the world. 

Just as I was reaching the pinnacle of pleasure, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the floor echoed outside the door from down the hallway, signaling the imminent arrival of Mistress Andrea. I could feel the flurry of butterflies in my tummy in anticipation of her reaction to our little scene. 

Without warning she just strode into the room, her piercing gaze swept over us, taking in the entirety of the debauched, compromising activity before her. 

Daddy, ever the attentive servant to her will, subtly canted my reins to the left, forcing my head to turn toward Mistress and face her, as I continued to receive his furious fucking. Mistress simply folded her arms across her chest, her gaze fixed intently on her wristwatch - a stern reminder that our allotted time was rapidly dwindling. 

And then, in a flash of imperious authority, Mistress decreed her expectations: "You better cum into her pussy, Daddy," she drawled, her words sending lightning bolts of unexpected arousal directly to my core. "You're almost out of time."

I groaned into my gag like I've never groaned before, based on what Mistress just unexpectedly said. It was the hottest thing I've ever heard, and my pussy clenched down on Daddy instantly as I braced myself for orgasm. At the same time, with a final brutal stroke, Daddy unleashed his pent-up fury within me, his cock erupting in a frenzy of hot jizz and lust.

"Oh gawd!" I thought to myself," shrieking into my gag as I climaxed. "I need to ask Mommy to raise my allowance!" 

Sarah Jane 💗

Continued in: Any Given Sunday

I Don't Want This!

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Pasteurized

Continued from: Cornertime Revelation

[F/f] [whipping] [lezdom] [public humiliation] [submission] [sex slavery] [CNC] [babygirl]

Written by Skylar St. Germaine

I watched her walk away, noting the subtle sway of her hips beneath the clinging fabric of her nearly sheer, white dress. She disappeared into the restroom, to do my bidding and sneak her panties off from under her dress. 

I pulled out my notebook and began jotting down my observations. 

Subject exhibits signs of anxiety and embarrassment when given a public task, but ultimately complies with minimal resistance. 

Willingness to obey suggests a strong submissive streak...

I paused, tapping my pen thoughtfully against the page as I considered the psychological implications of her actions. Was her obedience driven purely by fear of consequences, or was there a deeper, more primal need at play?

I made another note, just then, Eesha emerged from the restroom, her face flushed and her steps hesitant as she approached the table. Without a word, she slipped something small and silky into my hand before resuming her seat, her eyes fixed firmly on the table top. 

I glanced down at the offering in my palm - a pair of white lacy panties, still warm from her body. As I inspected the inner gusset of Eesha's panties, I noted with fascination how incredibly wet they were. The damp patch spread across the delicate crotch, evidence of her arousal at the mere thought of the dynamic we once had, the gentle taps I just gave her on the bum as we first greeted. 

I raised an eyebrow at her, my expression a mix of playfulness and judgement. "Well, well, well," I murmured, my voice laced with false disapproval. "It seems we're right back where we left off, E, all those years ago." Eesha squirmed in her seat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. I could see the conflict playing out across her features as she squeaked out a desperate plea. 

"P-Please, Sky...not here...not like this."

Just then, a handsome young waiter arrived and set down a glass of milk, directly in front of Eesha. I watched her expression closely, eager to observe her reaction to the little surprise I had arranged for her. Her eyes widened in shock and embarrassment as she spotted the tall glass for the first time, carefully placed by the waiter amidst elegant wine glasses adorning the rest of the table. 

She just gave me a look of terror and desperation, remembering how I used to treat her in public, back when we were in university. How she wished to be treated, rather, when we fully embraced our D/s dynamic, well beyond just spankings. I could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she tried to process this unexpected twist, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. 

"I hope you don't mind, E," I said sweetly, gesturing to the offending beverage. "I thought you might enjoy something a bit more...age appropriate." Eesha's mouth opened and closed several times, as if she were struggling to find the right words to respond. I could tell that she was torn between her desire to assert her independence and her deeply ingrained need to submit. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Eesha finally managed to stammer out a reply. "Um...thank you, Sky," she muttered, her gaze downcast and submissive. "That's very thoughtful of you." I smiled indulgently, reaching across the table to pat her hand reassuringly. "Of course, honey. I only want what's best for you." 

I could sense her growing unease and involuntary arousal, her body language betraying her inner turmoil. It was clear that she was acutely aware of the other diners' curious glances, their whispered conversations undoubtedly centered around the grown woman in a gown, being treated like a child. I found the entire situation utterly captivating, my mind racing with theories and hypotheses about the psychological impact of public humiliation. 

Determined to push Eesha's boundaries even further, I picked up the glass of milk and held it out to her expectantly. "Drink up, sweetheart," I cooed, my voice dripping with condescension. "We wouldn't want it to go to waste, now would we?" 

Eesha hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting nervously around the room as her analytical brain  weighed her options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she took the glass from my hand and brought it to her lips. 

When she finished her substantial gulp, she set the glass back down on the table, her eyes downcast and her cheeks burning with shame. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of the thin white moustache clinging to her upper lip, a tangible reminder of her submission. 

Leaning forward, I gently wiped away the residue with my thumb, my touch lingering on her perfect lips. "There's my baby girl," I cooed, my voice low and sultry. 

No, I haven't seen the movie yet, but I saw the trailer with the milk scene. Summer and I are planning on watching it at home together. Or I'll be watching it at least, she might be on her knees, between my legs for most of it, if it's hitting all the right marks for me.  

I would naturally assume that if you're in the testing stages of a D/s dynamic, or in the case of Sky and Eesha, a re-kindling phase, you might pull a stunt like this, in public, to gauge a person's reaction to public humiliation. 

A key worn around the neck or on an anklet of a female, having dinner with a lone male. A wife taking her husband to a pretty check-out girl at a lingerie store, to help pick out panties. (That's a Miss Julie signature move). Or a subtle choker worn in public with a single, silver O-ring. 

I can only imagine the milk scene here, is a play on the thrill and arousal of public humiliation. 

The compounding humiliations of the evening fueled her arousal, which in turn, heightened her need for discipline, creating a vicious cycle from which there was no escape. A slave to her own pussy, and her own pussy making her into a slave.

Hands and knees, right in the restaurant when her meal arrives, placing it on the floor in front of her? No...I didn't go that far, but we did book a more private session and decided on an upcoming date.  

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

Several days later, as I stepped into the bright, empty bedroom, my eyes fell upon Eesha's naked form. She was kneeling, her nose pressed to the wall and her hands clasped atop her head, just as I had ordered her to wait for me. 

The sight of her vulnerable, exposed body sent a thrill of excitement coursing through me, and I took a moment to drink in the scene, before making my presence known. I was dressed in my finest dominatrix attire - a black chest harness bra, sheer stockings hugging my legs, and towering stiletto boots that clicked menacingly against the floor with each step. 

My long blonde hair was styled and down, and my makeup was flawless, accentuating my sharp cheekbones and piercing hazel eyes. As I approached Eesha, she turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting mine with a mix of fear and anticipation. 

I frowned sternly, my voice cutting through the silence like a whip. "Did I give you permission to move?" I demanded, my tone laced with disapproval. Eesha quickly returned her nose to the wall, her body tensing as she awaited correction. I circled around her, my boots echoing ominously as I inspected her from every angle. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her bum more full and curvaceous than I remembered. I ran my nails along her spine, feeling her shudder beneath my touch as she whimpered out a "nooo, Ma'am...p-please don't."

"You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you?" I hissed, my hot breath against her ear. Eesha nodded silently, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to control her breathing. I smiled in satisfaction, knowing that she was safe, that she was playing her consensual-non-consent (CNC) role quite well. Something she confessed to me back in school, when our regular spanking sessions evolved into more intense, impact play. 

Without warning, I delivered a sharp smack to her bare bum, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. Eesha yelped in surprise, her body jerking forward reflexively. I grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her from the wall to face me as I jerked her head backwards. "That's for disobeying me," I growled, my lips brushing against her ear. 

 I could see the conflict playing out across her features - the shame of her nudity warring with the desperate need for submission. Reaching into my bag, I retrieved a pair of black strappy stilettos and tossed them carelessly onto the floor beside her. 

"Put those on," I commanded, my voice firm and authoritative. "They're the only thing you'll be wearing tonight, E." 

With Eesha now standing before me, naked save for the towering black stilettos that adorned her feet, I was ready to put my latest experiment to the test. What I had noticed since starting with The Facility, was that most sexual activity and BDSM scenes were done in specialty rooms or bedrooms, or in basement dungeons, hidden away and kept in secret. I believed that there was untapped potential in exploring these dynamics in more unconventional, vanilla settings - places where a collision between depravity and domesticity would create an added psychological effect. 

And what better place to start the heart of the home itself? The kitchen.

Eesha's body quivered with anticipation as I guided her towards the bondage vaulted horse that I had strategically placed in the center of the room, glittering with D-ring metal plates and brass padlocks. The absurdness of the scene - a piece of bondage furniture nestled amidst the gleaming appliances and polished surfaces of a modern kitchen - only added to the sense of vulnerability and heightened arousal for her. 

"Bend over it," I commanded, my voice low and seductive. "Ass in the air, hands behind your back. It's time for your whipping, my sweetheart." 

Eesha hesitated for a moment, her nervous gaze flickering between the vaulting horse and the riding crop that lay beside it. But ultimately, she complied, draping her naked body over the padded surface and presenting her vulnerable bare bottom. 

Obediently and without prompting, Eesha's slowly spread her legs for me, teetering on her high heels and coming up onto tip-toe. Her soft cries filled the air, pleading with me not to proceed. 

"Please don't do this, Skylar. I don't want to be whipped. I haven't misbehaved, I promise," she whimpered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

Despite her protests, I noticed the unmistakable evidence of her arousal - spider-silk strands of pre-cum soaking her thighs and cascading between them in a glistening web. The sight sent a surge of excitement through me, my own body responding viscerally to the visual confirmation that I was playing my role well. 

I reached out and collected some of the sticky fluid with my fingers, marveling at its silken texture and the way it clung to my skin. Without hesitation, I rubbed the mess onto Eesha's lips and face, smearing it across her tear-streaked cheeks and forcing her to taste her own arousal. 

"You're sure you don't want this huh?" I questioned, my voice laced with a mocking edge. "You know you have a safeword to stop it all." 

I could see her shoulders sinking into the padded horse - the war between her rational mind, which insisted that she didn't want this, and her primal instincts, which craved the intensity and release that only submission could provide. 

The time for talk was over - I had my baby girl right where I wanted her. 

Sky

Continued in: I Don't Want This!