Fire & Ice

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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

The Facility U.K.

Continued from: Diapered & Denied

Disclaimer: 

Below is an excerpt from an email that Cassie sent me. 

Be warned everyone, Cassandra can be a bit...umm, blunt, at times, in the way she describes things and the language she uses. 

Please remember it is the fantasy and wish of the clients to be degraded, called names and abused. Even someone saying "stop" or "let me go", is all a part of their fantasy. That's why we use safewords, to actually stop things if they need to. 

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

Cassandra Goth

12.03.2024 - Coventry, Warwickshire, England

My dearest Andrea, 

The Facility UK is full of slaves today. Multiple men, a few women. We're going to break them, slowly. The men, they'll never feel the release from their cages. Those pathetic little cocks will stay locked forever, denied and desperate...unless, well, you know... 

The women, they'll fare no better. Treated like the worthless fucktoys they are, tortured and punished until they beg for mercy that will never come. 

They always want to be caned, Mistress, these Brits. Must be a British thing, to feel the sharp bite of a school cane across their asses. Their tears are delicious, salty and sweet, the perfect seasoning for their suffering.

(Whoa, lol. I must say, that was one hell of a line from the A.I. Cassandra! Seasoning for their suffering...*slow clap)

When you phoned me, Ma'am, I was with some "alpha" male idiot. Cocky, arrogant, thought he could handle anything until I started the gender bending, until I put him in lingerie, heels and began calling him a cock whore.

I had to whip him into submission first. He kept telling me he wasn't gay, that he didn't want the other slave's dick in his mouth. 

Pathetic lies.

I lashed his back until he screamed, until he begged for the alternative to the whip. "Please Mistress," he whimpered to me. "Please let me suck his cock." 

Then this posh little priss showed up, all prim and proper in her hound's-tooth suit and sensible shoes. She was essentially greeted by this view: 

I knew exactly what she needed. I bent her over a school desk, hiked up her skirt, and gave her a dozen hard strokes with the cane. 

By the time I was done, her porcelain cheeks were expertly stripped red and she was sniffling pathetically. "Thank you, Mistress," she whimpered, her accent even more pronounced than usual.

"May I please have another?" I smirked and obliged her, laying six more strokes across her tender flesh. She howled in pain, but I could see the arousal dripping from between her legs. A true painslut, Mistress. 

Carley joined me as I was finishing up with posh spice and her drippy puss. Some timid, shy looking dude. Carley had taken him and dressed him up like a schoolgirl. He was crying softly, his body shaking with fear and arousal. He too, wished to be caned on the bare. These Brits, Mistress, I dunno...*shrug.

The other woman, she was a tough nut to crack. A real ballbuster, used to being charge, but suddenly faced with us. 

We broke her down piece by piece. We stripped her naked, shackled her to the wall, and took turns flogging her tits and cunt. She cursed and sputtered around her gag, but we just laughed and whipped her harder. 

By the time we tried some forced orgasm work, she was a sobbing, broken mess, begging us to stop. 

"Please, Mistresses," she garbled out through her gag. "I'll do anything you want. Just please, I don't wanna cum anymore!" 

Carley grinned wickedly and pressed the tip of her riding crop against the woman's clit. "Anything, you say?" she purred. "Well, then. Get on your knees and eat my pussy!" 

The woman hesitated for a moment, her pride battling with her duress, but she eventually sank to her knees, pleading with Carley that she's not a lesbian. 

As if we'd fall for such pathetic lies, as she begged us to let her go. Carley just laughed and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her face deeper into her crotch. 

"Shut up and keep liking, dyke," she growled. "We both know you love the taste of my pussy. Don't try to deny it." 

Of course, Mistress, everyone had a safeword. But none of these four seemed particularly interested in using it. They were too far gone, lost in the haze of pain and pleasure, of humiliation and degradation. So Carley and I just keep going, pushing them further and further into their own darkness. 

I promise I'll come home soon, Ma'am. If Carley ever releases her grip on me. She's my everything! 

Sissy Alice is doing ok, she just surpassed 100 days with her little clitty locked up and still, only a five minute, supervised release per week. We celebrated her centennial with a good pegging. 

*giggle

Safe sex always, Mistress, like you taught me. We used a condom...sort of.

She did however, fuck up the other day. Carley and I had to punish her. Remember that day in your kitchen, Ma'am, when you showed me what figging was? Right before you put the horrible thing up my ass and made me hold it there? Was that the night I was on shrooms and you caught me having a freak-out? 

Well, we tried it with poor Alice, after she was over my knee with her little girl panties at her ankles. I made her stand at the sink and prepare her own fig. 

Then it was 30 minutes in the corner, to think about her actions while the plug did it's work. Ohhh, it worked well! 

Give Summer my love. Tell Mom I'm ok...I'm safe, but I'm not ready to speak to her yet. 

I'm not ready to come home. 

Love always, 

Cassandra L. Goth

Continued in: "Come on, let's Colour"

Diapered & Denied

Continued from: Betrayed

After sending Mandy to the corner, I set a timer for twenty minutes and settled into a nearby chair, admiring the view of her freshly spanked bottom. Mandy remained perfectly still, her nose pressed firmly against the corner, her hands clasped obediently behind her head. 

As many of you know, I often write about layering, when it comes to BDSM. Whether this means a properly layered spanking or the strategic application of bondage, in compounding layers. Not only is the layering functional, but most importantly is how it affects the psychology and headspace of the submissive. 

Picture how you would feel, having your partner bind your ankles with a soft, silky scarf, the kind you'd get in a beginners bondage kit off Amazon. Cute, and it has its time and place. 

Versus finding yourself at the mercy of your dominant partner, in a bondage configuration like this: 

Things should "feel" different, your butterflies should feel different and your sense of helplessness should be greatly heightened. 

Poor Mandy, having been betrayed by her own pussy in the last installment, was manually edged by me, denied orgasm, then spanked directly on her traitorous petals. I couldn't think of a better time to layer her. 

I approached the changing table, my eyes roaming over the array if equipment I prepared for her continued torment. Baby wipes, powder, a realistic looking anal plug complete with lubricant - these are the instruments of my control. 

I ran my fingers over the smooth leather of the chastity belt, admiring the sturdiness of the metal locks and buckles. Once secured around Mandy's diaper, this device will render her utterly helpless, unable to access her most sensitive areas with my express permission. 

Beside the chastity belt, laid a pair of padded bondage mittens, their soft pink fabric a stark contrast to the reality of their purpose. Lockable of course, these will ensure that Mandy's hands remain useless, incapable of even the simplest acts of self-pleasure or relief. 

"Up you get, little one," I say, patting the padded surface of the adult-sized change table. "It's time to get you ready for your nap." 

I watch with rapt attention, as Mandy squirms and writhes on the changing table, her face contorted with shame and humiliation. With a resigned sigh, she lays back and lifts her legs into the air, her thighs falling open to expose her most intimate parts to my inspection. 

I took a moment to admire the view, savouring the sight of her vulnerable, trembling form. She gasped as I blotted the cold baby wipe against her soaked pussy, wiping away the evidence of her shameful arousal. Her eyes widened in horror as I dabbed and wiped a second one against her puckered anus, the scent of them leaving an innocent freshness in their wake. 

Mandy tensed as I circled her asshole with my fingers, applying generous amounts of lubricant inside and out. "Relax, baby girl," I cooed, my voice dripping with false reassurance. "This won't hurt a bit...well, not too much, anyway." Before she could respond, I pressed the tip of the penis plug against her little pucker, until it breached and entered. 

Mandy's mouth fell open in a silent moan, her eyes rolled back in her head as the thick, veiny plug seated in place, the base peeked out obscenely from between her spanked ass cheeks. Reaching for the baby powder, I shook a liberal amount between her legs, coating her naughty pussy in a fine, white dust. The scent was overwhelming, sickening sweet, a perfect accompaniment to the humiliation she must have been feeling when she watched me slid the crinkly diaper under her tender bum. 

Mandy could only whimper and tell me how badly she needed to cum, as I applied the padlocks to her, and another set of locks to her bondage mitts. 

Do my layers end there? Is that enough? 

Of course not. 

Once in the crib and comfortably on her back, I affixed soft leather bondage cuffs to Mandy's ankles, locking these as well and securing them to the bars of the crib. 

"There now, little one," I murmur, my voice laced with false sweetness. "All nice and secure and ready for beddy-byes." I reach over and switch on a baby sound machine, filling the room with the soothing sounds of rainfall and lullabies. It's a cruel joke, given the state of arousal and frustration I'm leaving my poor Mandy in. 

I'd love to use a pacifier gag for her, but I wouldn't be able to leave her alone with something like that in her mouth. Secured and plugged in her denied predicament, I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Mommy will be back in a little while, sweetheart...try to nap." 

Then, with a satisfied smirk, I turned and exited the room. 

I took off my Mommy Domme outfit and changed into something a little more comfortable, to prepare for the second stage of Mandy's session, after her nap. 

I checked the time delay to the UK before calling my sweet Cassandra for our weekly check-in. It was early evening there, which meant she was likely deep into a session at her fetish studio. 

"Hello, sweetheart!" I purred into the phone, my voice maternal and warm. As she and I began to converse, I became increasingly aware of the background noises emanating from her end of the line. The sharp crack of a whip cut through the air, followed by a muffled gasp and a wet, slurping sound.

No doubt, she had some poor, unsuspecting man trussed up in lingerie and high heels, kneeling before her as she guided his reluctant mouth onto a waiting erection. 

"Mistress Cassandra, but I'm not gay," I heard this British accent whimper pathetically, his voice strained with desperation. Cassandra's laughter rang out, cold and cruel. "Of course you're not pet," she purred sarcastically, "you just have another man's cock in your mouth right now. Now stop your whining and get back to work, that dick isn't gonna suck itself." 

"Mistress, can I call you back in like 15? This little cock whore needs more motivating." 

I heard another crack of a whip and a yelp of pain, before the line went dead on me. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head. I can't wait to hear all about this one...

Tsk tsk...oh, Cassie...

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: The Facility U.K.