Mistress Andrea's Gift

Continued from: Spanked by Lady Jose

[M/f] [spanking] [OTK] [strapping] [sissy] [feminization]

I am pleased to report that not only did Lady Jose permit me to post about her services and the session she had with sissy alice, but she also said she liked it! And, a little icing on the cake, she liked my content enough to share it on her social medias and with Miss Sarah Gregory!! I'm freaking out right now. Star-struck!

Let's see if, in equal measure, Lady Jose likes alice's version of events.

The following, was written and illustrated by sissy alice. It is titled: 

Mistress Andrea's Gift

I woke up with a start, wide awake, nervously grabbing my phone and checking the time, it was only 05:46.  I am always paranoid about oversleeping on days when big things happen and boy was today a big day!  Today I was going to be spanked for real.

I had been looking forward to this day for a while now, the first appointment was delayed due to sickness which only added to the anticipation, but finally it was here. 

Not only was this going to be my very first IRL spanking, but it was really the first time I had been face to face with someone in real life not pretending to be a boy but being my real self, as alice. Add onto that my appointment was with a renowned international disciplinarian as well and you can understand my excitement and nerves!

It started a couple of months before, Mistress had been keen to have me experience a real life spanking and had found Lady Jose after a little research. The first thing I knew about it was an email from Mistress getting me to fill in an application form, which was really exciting! Thankful to Mistress who helped me fill it in, and before long I had emailed Lady Jose with my application, nervously hoping I would be accepted.

Before long Lady Jose came back and accepted, and the date was set. My outfit for the spanking was outlined and approved by Mistress. I was to be dressed like a “little girl” for my spanking. The outfit had been prepared and hanging in my discipline corner for the past few days, ready for the session, a constant reminder of the humiliation I was about to endure.   

Mistress had been teasing me about the approaching day, making sure it was always on my mind. Mind you, I think I would have been thinking about it without the teasing but it added to the mix of emotions swirling inside me, feeding the giant butterflies in my tummy.

Some of the last advice from Mistress the night before was to “remember my manners, stand feet together, eyes downcast. Remember to curtsy if required and address Lady Jose with the respect she deserves." I was to be a demure and dainty young lady. 

It struck me that I was not just there for myself, but I was representing Mistress Andrea. I wanted to do her proud in front of Lady Jose and make this an experience of a lifetime.

I made sure to shower well, shave everywhere I needed to (legs, clitty, armpits, chest, face). I had made sure to save my hygiene cleaning for this morning so that my locked clitty was as clean and presentable as it could have been.

For discretion it was agreed I would arrive at Lady Jose’s studio in “boy mode”, but that was not a problem, I could wear a boy's tracksuit bottom and top over my real clothes. I set about putting on my nails, and making sure to apply a touch of make up (mascara, eyeshadow, just a hint of blush on my cheeks), before putting on my lingerie and dress. The cuffs and choker, along with my wig and Mary Jane heels would go into a bag for transport.

By the time I was dressed and ready it was…oh, I was ready about 4 hours early, lol. Ok, so maybe I need to dampen my excitement a little.  

I managed to see out time to 2 hours remaining, before deciding to leave. It was only a 1 hour drive but I didn't want any chance of being late.  

Typically the journey could not have gone better, and with about 10 mins drive left, and over an hour before I needed to be there, I pulled into a service station for a nature break and a nice canadiacano* 🇨🇦 coffee.  

*Sorry America, it sucks when things named after you are just randomly renamed, right?

I'm not sure what sissy is referencing here. Maybe a stab at numb-nuts in the U.S., trying to rename the Gulf of Mexico? 

In which case, I propose that we start calling the Great Lakes, the Great Canadian Lakes!

After finding parking and walking past Lady Jose’s place once and round the block to waste a few more minutes, I finally pushed on the door to her place and entered, no going back now, alice!

Lady Jose was so welcoming, and incredibly gorgeous! I mean wow, She was dressed in a satin green dress, the shape of which teases glimpses of the hosiery and garter belt underneath. Beautiful pearls around her neck and black heels adorned her feet. She looked amazing, but it was her smile that really caught my attention.   

A smile like that goes such a long way. Her warm greeting helped put me a little at ease as I scanned the room.

Part of the room was made out as a living room, a chaise lounge, small ornate coffee table and other chairs, along with pictures on the wall and a dressing table. I spotted a bench on the left that adorned a number of spanking implements, and on the coffee table lay a couple more.  

Carefully placed to catch the eye, but not totally in your face. It was so well visualized, the whole room.  

Quality implements, Lady Jose. Well done! That's one element that truly makes a difference in a discipline session. 

I was offered a coffee and asked if I would like to chat first or change. I opted to get out of my boy costume so went round to the toilet and stripped off my disguise.  

My heart was thumping now, I could hear Lady Jose and the click click click of her heels getting things ready, and with one final deep breath I stepped out to face someone in real life...as alice.

I was taken aback at how complementary Lady Jose was to me, she absolutely adored my outfit and kept telling me how pretty I looked - me, pretty! If I wasn’t blushing before I was now! We sat down and talked, about me, about Mistress and such, how I got into kink. It was friendly, welcoming and helped me settle in.  

All of the scene had been discussed between Mistress Andrea and Lady Jose in advance, but it was nice to clarify and agree on what was going to happen. We also agreed on a safe word system (red/amber/green) and before I knew it Lady Jose smiled, sat up that little bit straighter and said those wonderful words.

“So alice, are you ready for your spanking?”

I was sent to stand against the wall that would be, for this session, “the corner”, my heart thumping out my chest. I was so nervous, it was all about to happen.  

I don’t think I was there long before Lady Jose called me out and directed me to stand beside her.  Pointing at her lap she said, “you are going over my lap for a while now, alice, you will be there a while and your bum is going to hurt after.”

I laid over her lap, felt her place one arm over my back to hold my hip and it started. Softly at first, with my dress covering my bum still.  A gentle hand spanking warm up. It felt so good, the arm around my hip, the rhythmic slap slap slap of the firm hand on my bottom. I was told how pretty my dress was, as I was laying across her lap being spanked.  

Lady Jose paused briefly to pull up my dress and compliment my satin panties before resuming my spanking.

With one less layer protecting my skin the spanks began to get stronger, and my bottom was starting to warm up.  

In the next pause my panties were pulled down and we were into full bare bottom spanking. It felt incredible, her hand was so firm, the spanks so consistent as they slowly built up in intensity as my spanking progressed.  

Eventually there was a pause and I was sent back to the corner, to show off my pretty pink bum. As I stood with my nose to the wall, I could hear the click click click of heels behind me. I guess Lady Jose was taking pictures but also getting the next stage of my spanking ready.

Sure enough I was called back over Lady Jose’s lap, for more hand spanking. To be a 40 year old man dressed as a little girl, bent over the lap of a gorgeous woman whilst being spanked is a humiliating experience! The spanks were getting harder now, and eventually I was letting out small moans with the strikes.

"There, so you CAN make sound after all, Alice,” I remember Lady Jose joking. Guess up until then I had been rather quiet, trying to take in the whole experience spank by spank.  

Lady Jose had already told me the order of what was to come next in the pre chat - hand, leather, wood.  That was the order. Softer at first and building up intensity. I was living exactly what Mistress Andrea had written in the lesson about maintenance spankings! It was like these two had been to the same spanking school, or borrowed each other's textbox on administering a proper spanking. 

Lady Jose finished the hand spanking and soothed my now pink behind with her hand. The feel of her warmed hand over my bum was so arousing, I was nervous I would leak on her dress! My clit-cage was coming into direct contact with her lap, the little pink nub of a chastity cage that I had been locked into for 203 days at this point. 

Then, a new sensation, something cooler was slid over my bum, and Lady Jose informed me this was one of two leather paddles I would be receiving.  

The swats were harder, making me groan with each one. I could feel my sit spots start to complain when the strokes hit in that perfect spot as the two different types of leather paddles were used to add yet more depth in the colour of my bottom. 

 

I think it was now that Lady Jose used her nails to gently glide across my spanked bum - oh boy what a feeling. So sensual, so soothing! Before I knew it I was nose to the wall again as click click click went those heels, getting the next stage ready. Leaving no uncertainty that I was being disciplined by a woman!

I was called back and this time was told to bend over the arm of the chaise longue. It was time for my belt strapping.

Now the feel of a belt swatting across your behind, when wielded by someone with the expertise of Lady Jose is a wonderful experience. The sound, the feeling, the intensity!  

I know I am a bit of a masochist so I really liked the belt, grunting as each blow hit. It was intense, but at the end Lady Jose asked how that was, on the traffic light system. In my state of mind I said green, the last spanks hurt but overall it was fine. 

Probably not the best strategy, alice, telling a professional disciplinarian that "it's fine" after she's tanned your butt with a belt. Tsk tsk.

“Go to your corner, I have just the thing for a little pain sissy like you,” Lady Jose hissed.   

Nose to the wall I listened as her heels clicked off into the distance. Then the clicks returned, and Lady Jose came next to me, told me to look at her and held up something called a Canadian prison strap. Oh my, that thing looked intimidating.  

* Another Canada reference 🇨🇦 today, it’s like it was written in the stars ✨… 

Now the leather belts hurt, but the prison strap was so much more intense. Each stroke made me cry out as Lady Jose expertly wielded it's fury. 

“This is what happens when you say green to a true Disciplinarian, sissy!  What colour is it now?”  Lady Jose asked after finishing.  

Haha! Told you so!

My first thought was ouch, that thing hurt a lot. Yet part of my brain, thankfully a very small part, was begging for more.  

“Amber now Ma’am, definitely amber!” I cried out.

* Later, Lady Jose would tell me that the strap was a lazy spanker’s dream implement. Minimal effort to use, maximum effect on the butt!  

After a short corner time pause, it was time for woods. Lady Jose had selected a beautiful dark wooden hairbrush with an inlay, “A beautiful implement for a beautiful sissy spanking!”

Antique ebony hairbrush maybe? Those are frightening. And I think I saw one, at the ready. 

Yep. Right next to those super-cute hour glasses that I would totally use for lengthy corner time. 

With the focused areas of the small brush, my sit spots were really hurting now, I was crying out like a little girl with every blow. There were a range of paddles, I lost track here now a little. There was another small brush, a large brush, a olive wood spatula (apparently it’s a very strong wood - good to know given my old spatula broke a couple of weeks ago!) and a bath brush.  

I hate bath brushes, damn the hurt - Lady Jose said it’s down to the length.  

After more corner time, it was time for the most humiliating thing I have ever had to do. The wheelbarrow pose. Now I didn’t actually know what it was at first, but when Lady Jose described it, I was mortified! Positioned like that she would see everything, my most intimate spots! 

No hiding from anything, as EVERYthing is on full display. It truly is a very vulnerable and humiliating position to be spanked in.

Positioning myself, head down and straddling her lap, Lady Jose started playing my red bum like a drum, with the spatula and bath brush, and I was so humiliated I hate to say I started giggling. I couldn’t help it! Those sorts of situations sometimes make me laugh uncontrollably, it’s the nerves. Lady Jose didn’t like that, slapping harder I was told, “this is not supposed to be funny alice, this is supposed to be humiliating!”  

Ummm...ya. Once again, probably not a good idea, alice. You and I are going to have a little chat about this part, young lady!

Oh Lady Jose, it was sooo humiliating - hence the nervous, uncontrollable giggling. I was so sorry for that, believe me.   

You're going to be! 

It was approaching the end of the session, but there was time for one last position. I was instructed to lay down onto the chaise longue once more, on a towel and pull my legs up high, diaper position, the second most humiliating position I could be spanked in. 

Holding the bath brush it felt like Lady Jose towered over me as she inspected my behind.  “This is the only position you can look someone in the eye as you spank them.  Look at me alice,” Lady Jose commanded. I felt so small and childish, with my outfit to reinforce this fact. I felt like her naughty little girl. 

If being spanked isn’t humiliating enough, if spreading your legs so wide you expose every part of you isn’t mortifying, try looking someone in the eye as they spank you. I just couldn't do it for long, it was so humiliating. My tooshie killed now with every stroke, every blow of the brush. With a final 6 swats Lady Jose seemed content with her work.

For one final time I was back in the corner. This time Lady Jose informed me she was messaging Mistress on how I did and sending her images. I was so nervous, what would Lady Jose say, what would Mistress think??

What Lady Jose told me at the time was that Mistress really liked Her sand timers…..  😂🤭  I hope there was more in there, maybe something about my tooshie but still, they are lovely sand timers admittedly.

I told her to give you 20 minutes in timeout, which was covered in the last post. She's a professional disciplinarian of international esteem, she doesn't / didn't need my help. Just look at your naughty bum, she's a pro. 

Even on the eve of your session when she asked me what implements I'd like used on you, I made a few comments but again, she didn't need my two cents. My gift to you was just getting you there in the first place ; ) 

It was humbling to think these two divine, majestic, dominant women were conversing over me, little old me, as I stood in the corner with my panties hiked down and my bum bare. I have no idea how long I stood there, Lady Jose occasionally said something from the conversation with Mistress. I was so content at that point, nose to the wall, my bottom glowing hotter than it ever has before knowing I was being spoken about like a naughty child in the corner. Corner time is so powerful, so therapeutic at times like that.

This was my gift from Mistress Andrea, the most wonderful, amazing gift delivered by the amazing, beautiful Lady Jose. I was so honoured by it all, sad it was over but so grateful none the less.  

After some time I was called out of the corner and the situation felt immediately more relaxed.  Lady Jose offered me a coke, or fanta, and it suddenly dawned on me that I could really do with something sugary. I cannot remember if I changed first, or if we sat and reviewed the pictures taken first. It was so nice to have a relaxed conversation after such a thrilling session, it helped finalise things in my brain, just as corner time is such a powerful time post-session, to allow the mind to process all the buffered thoughts from the experience. We spoke about what worked, what could be done differently next time, about other fetishes and such. 

With a final hug (Lady Jose gives the best hugs by the way!) and some more kind words, I was on my way, a spring in my step unlike anything before, the cool air invigoratingly fresh on my skin.  I messaged Mistress immediately to tell her how well it went, and headed to my car. I couldn’t wait to get home and debrief Mistress on what had happened that day.

Mind you, the drive was less than comfortable, next time I think I'll need a pillow to sit on!

In very short order, the same day as my session actually, Mistress Andrea made a post about it and it was the first time she called this entire experience a gift, to me! I became emotional almost instantly, with tears blurring my vision as I continued to read and absorb the magnitude of exactly what she had done for me. 

I will never, ever forget how wonderful of a gift this this was. Thank you, Mistress Andrea. 

kisses everyone

alice

P.S. I've already booked another therapy appointment with Lady Jose. Apparently she and Mistress Andrea are already cooking up some details about the session. It sounds like I'm being "sent" to stay with my strict but caring "Auntie", and Auntie doesn't care for boys. She always wanted a little girl of her own... 

If permitted, I'll post again, after I've been back across Auntie's knee. Would that be ok? 

Very nicely done, alice. You've earned the ability to post on my blog with that wonderful content, your self-awareness and your willingness to continue this journey you're on. 

We'll see if your fans on here would like to see more of you. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: First Time

Today's Lesson: Maintenance Spanking

Continued from: The Duality of BDSM

[spanking] [domestic discpline] [F/f] [F/m]

Welcome back to another lesson, everyone, where I will continue along the same thread of defining and breaking down my wonderful world of D/s relations. 

Last time, I illustrated and explained that my D/s world has two distinct sides, two buckets if you will. 

Mandatory (admin)

It's non-sexual, she is using an implement of opportunity in this one, being her slipper. I'm sure there is another implement of opportunity in her purse which may come next. It's real, it's domestic, it is the spanking of an adult male by an adult female. It's perfect and it is often times, a form of anticipation or foreplay to what comes next.  

Electives (ops)

Now things are sexualized. I won't return to "admin" again, for the rest of the session, even though some impact play directed at the buttocks could still occur. There will be no more official cornertime, no hairbrush over-the-knee...we did that already and if I did my job correctly, the bare bum should be good for several days!

I want that vibrancy of colour to remain for his full thirty minutes of cornertime. When we move onto ops, the numbness of his bum, caused by repeated impact will have faded away, leaving only the delicious sting that will linger for the next phases of whatever I want to do to him. By bedtime, the red will have faded to pink and I still want the colour to remain well into the next day and begin to fade by day two. 

The way I achieve this is not by spanking harder, it's by spanking longer. Lengthy, drawn-out admin sessions, to build layer upon layer on and into the bare bum, and I remain within those domestic-type parameters to keep things clearly on the admin side of the house. 

Can I use specialized furniture on the admin side, to better present and display the bare bottom? 

Sure I can! 

One of my favourites, a flat bench position with the hips bolstered and bottom elevated for a belt or strap. Can I use bondage on the admin side, to make the spankee feel more vulnerable, more helpless? 

Absolutely I can and I will! 

Should I give Summer a spanking on her bare bum, with a hairbrush, while she's trussed up in this contraption, a fucking machine working her pussy, a gag in her mouth? 

A very lovely setup but, no...because now I've entered into the ops side of things and the lines will become blurred between the two. End one first, then start the other.

Do you absolutely need to do one before the other? Nope...but I have found the best results by doing admin before ops. Can you do admin without the ops or ops without the admin? Sure, you totally can, it's all flexible. 

But if you consider the admin side to be the foreplay for the ops side, this is where the real magic happens. Where you hear things like, "omg, that's never happened to me before!" As a trembling submissive describes an orgasm they just had, that was so ferocious they surprised even themselves. 

So, allow me to tie this all together and recap the maintenance spanking, I'll use my wife, Summer as our example. 

Step 1: 

Summer is informed, well ahead of time, that she will be receiving a maintenance spanking on Sunday evening, at 7:00PM. She is told how to dress and present herself and is told where she is to report at 7:00PM. Whether it is a day before or a few hours before her session, her butterflies will be stewing with anticipation. 

Step 2: 

Summer sheepishly arrives in her designated outfit, which is usually an age-regressed style, and she acknowledges why she is there. "Mommy, I'm here for my spanking," is a common line I hear from her mouth. If it's a pinup dress, hose and pearls, Summer will instinctively address me as "Mommy". If it's corporate lady boss attire, pant suit style or pencil skirt, she will call me "Ma'am'.

As for my demeanour, I'll be maternal and soothing. Summer will be encouraged, she will be told that it's okay to need this, that she is brave for asking for this dynamic, that she is loved, cared for and will be supported during this vulnerable ordeal. 

Step 3: 

I will have Summer stand in the corner, reminding her of the consequences for moving or making a sound during her timeout. From standing to kneeling corner time, a bare bum, a pantied bum and the positioning of her arms and body for this, I usually change up week-to-week. The duration for maintenance, is typically fifteen to twenty minutes before her session begins. 

Step 4: 

This is where I will take my time, slowly clicking around the room and house, setting things up for the impending spanking. If there is a nice flat bench in another room, I'll prepare a bolster for her hips and lay out the implements that correspond with that position, I chose a belt and two leather straps. 

In the living room, another array of implements will be prepared and displayed, along with the quintessential straight-backed chair. 

I would have set a timer for Summer's timeout, so at this point I'll check that, I want her to experience the vulnerability of a good 15 - 20 while I take in the rooms I've staged, specific areas to be used and the implements prepared. 

From the previous post the most successful order I use is: hand, leathers/synthetics, wood, hand. I was also using a scale of severity that was simple 1 through 10, as it relates to each implement but I kept stopping at 8. Longer not harder, right? 

Step 5: 

Now it becomes my spanking plan, quite literally like a script, where I take each of these sets from severity level one, up to about a five or six until the session progresses. And I'm going to do that twice. So think about it like one set, two reps.  

OTK hand - panties up

    (level one up to five)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to six)

OTK hand - panties down

    (level one up to five)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to six)

Arm of couch - leather paddle 1

    (level one up to five)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to six)

Over back of chair on tiptoes - leather paddle 2

    (level one up to five)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to six)

*dress off - panties off - bra off* (just personal preference at this point)

Diaper pose couch - leather paddle 3

    (level one up to five)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to seven) - note the gradual increase in intensity

Flat bench belt

    (level one up to six)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to seven)

Flat bench strap 

    (level one up to seven)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to eight)

*remember the care and encouragement - "you're doing so well, Summer, it's ok if you need to cry. We have a bit further to go with you today. You know this is for your own good, Summer."

OTK hairbrush

    (level one up to seven)

    (back to the beginning at one and bring her up to eight)

*her breathing, the presence of visible perspiration, her pleas to have the spanking end - should all be good indicators that we are in fact nearing the end.

OTK hand 

(level one up to six)

(back to the beginning at one and bring her up to six)

*rubbing and kneading of the bare bum, I'm spreading out her colour for evenness and using my hand to redden any areas that are lacking

(I might do a third or fourth rep here, so Summer can feel everything coming to an end)

(Rep 3: a one up to a five)

(Rep 4: a one up to a four)

I'd be happy if I was looking down at her over my knee and seeing this. 

Nice, even distribution of colour. No angry welts or wrap-around marks and just a touch of white, ashy splotches at the sit-spots, where more attention was paid with the brush. The thighs were a bit neglected in this image, that would be my only criticism...you want to extend this redness just below the curve of the bum also. Overall, very well done though. 

Judge your own situation and your own knowledge of your submissive, but for me, this is not the time for aftercare, not yet. Summer will be going back to the corner as the admin side of the session is still running. I might tell her how long her sentence in the corner shall be, I might not, but for maintenance, again, a nice 15-20 should do and the bum will always be bare and displayed for this, no matter what her state of dress or undress. If there are other people in the house who might witness her in this state, even better! 

Again, I'll time this out and when the timer draws to a close, then it's all about the aftercare, baby lotion with her draped over my knees on the couch. She will be thankful and grateful that I care so much about her to spank her like this, when she needs it. 

At this stage she will be vulnerable, she will have experienced involuntary arousal during her timeout. Now the ops can start to creep in a little, as she kneels to kiss my high heels, my feet, in appreciation for spanking her. I'll encourage her to masturbate as her tongue glides effortlessly along the soles of my hosed feet. She'll help me out of my panties, relieve me of my panties and politely ask to go down on me. Next thing you know I'm dressed in leather, wearing a strap-on and we have successfully made a smooth transition from admin to ops. 

I'll leave you with a final thought to contemplate and a teaser to quite likely, the next post. 

Punishment spanking...

So what's the difference between what I just described above and a punishment spanking? Clearly it must be longer, harder...right? 

Wrong. 

The only difference is in the way I'm speaking to her during the session. 

Noodle that one around, until next time. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Punishment Spanking

 

Cornertime Revelation

Continued from: My Finest Work

[M/f] [F/f] [spanking] [corner time] [age regression] [BDSM] [power dynamics] [lezdom] 

Written by Skylar St. Germaine 

Close A.I....very close *shrug* 

It won't give me a red, spanked bum, but it'll nail the ugly wallpaper...

As I stood in the corner, my mind raced, my thoughts spiraling in a whirlwind of analysis and introspection. And suddenly, amidst the chaos, a moment of clarity emerged, crystalline and sharp, cutting through the fog of the session. I remembered Eesha, my former roommate, the girl who had first introduced me to the world of spanking and discipline. 

The link to that original story, you can find here: Roommates

I recalled the night she had come to me, her eyes downcast, her voice trembling, admitting her struggles with her studies. She had begged me to help her, to motivate her, to provide the structure and accountability she so desperately needed. And I now understood why Eesha had sought out this unique form of "help", why she had returned to it again and again, despite the embarrassment, the discomfort, the indignity of being spanked as an adult woman. 

It was a form of catharsis, a purging of guilt and shame, a cleansing of the soul. It was for her, a means of atonement, a pathway to redemption, a roadmap to forgiveness. The countless hours I made her stand in various corners of our dorm room and later our shared house, I understood now, being in the same humiliating predicament with my red bottom bare and displayed. 

The revelation hit me like a bolt of lightning, searing through my consciousness, igniting a fire in my belly. Eesha. My dear, sweet, Doctor Patel. How could I have forgotten her, abandoned her, left her to flounder and struggle alone when she has such a burning need for discipline. 

I imagined Eesha now, a successful dentist, still harbouring that deep-seated desire for structure and discipline. We hadn't seen each other in years, yet this is the young woman who bared her bottom and draped her little frame over my knee, so many years ago, then thanked me for punishing her. 

The last time I reached out to her was right after my on-boarding at The Facility, when I realized this world of kink, of adult accountability via spanking and all the other wonderful facets Mistress Andrea showed me, actually exists. 

That story was called: Doctor Patel

"Miss me? 💓" - with the heart emoji, is all I sent to her. And her reply...should have been a clue that she once again needs my strict lap, my firm hand. 

"More than you know," was Eesha's response, one that I never acted upon. 

Perhaps, I mused, it was time to reconnect with her, to share my newfound insights and experiences from The Facility. Yes, I resolved, as I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my bottom still smarting from Daddy's firm hand - I had to reach out to her.

With my skirt and panties finally returned to me and a parting hug from Russell, I text-messaged Eesha right away. 

The text exchange started off innocuously enough, with the usual pleasantries and catching up. But as the conversation progressed, I couldn't resist testing the waters, probing for signs of the old dynamics that had once defined our relationship. 

When I suggested meeting up at a very swanky restaurant, her excitement was palpable, even through the screen. That's when I knew I had her hooked. I gave her specific instructions on how to dress - elegantly, but with a hint of something more. Gold, high, strappy heels that would mimic the look of bondage on her feet. I even told her the colour and style of panties I expected her in. 

Each command was met with eager compliance, culminating in a simple yet telling response: "Yes, Ma'am." The power dynamic of old, was reestablished once more, and I could practically feel the electricity crackling through the air. Meanwhile, Eesha didn't even know where I now worked, I wondered how she would react to my new role as a dominatrix in a kink studio. In any event, she was about to find out, we set dinner plans the following night, at the swankiest place in town...

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

As I strode into the lobby of the restaurant, clad in a little black mini-dress and towering heels that accentuated my sculpted physique, I could feel the collective gaze of every patron lock onto me. The men's eyes traced the contours of my muscles, their expressions a mix of envy and lust. The women, probably wanting to bed me too, regarded me with a blend of admiration and jealously, their own insecurities laid bare by my unapologetic display of strength and sexuality.

I reveled in the attention, knowing full well the power I held over them all. But my focus remained singularly on Eesha, my former roommate and submissive, whom I had summoned here tonight for reasons both personal and professional. 

After a few moments sitting at the bar, I caught her glowing radiance as she entered. I quickly composed a text message and hit send: 

"omfg you're still gorgeous!"  

Her dress, white and elegant, hugged her curves in a way that betrayed her eagerness to please. The gold, strappy heels I had instructed her to wear, glinted in the dim lighting, drawing the eye upward to the side-slit, which cascaded dangerously high on her thighs. Seeing my message, she looked up from her phone, smiling, scanning the room to find me at the bar. 

"Hello, E," I purred, my voice dripping with seduction as I stood to greet her. I enveloped her in a warm embrace, my hands instinctively finding their way to her bottom as I spoke, "it's been too long." 

I laid several loving smacks on her bum cheek as I hugged her, each one eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. The message was clear: it hadn't just been too long since we'd seen each other, but also too long since she'd received a proper, good, old-fashioned, spanking. 

I could feel the tension in her body, the way she melted into my touch, even as she squirmed slightly beneath my palm. It was a reaction I recognized all too well, once that spoke volumes about her deep-seated need for discipline and structure. 

As we settled back into our seats, I studied her closely, taking mental notes on every nuance of her behaviour. The way her eyes darted nervously around the room, as if afraid someone might recognize her. I knew it was time to put her obedience to the test. Leaning in close, I whispered my command directly into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. 

"Stand up and go to the little girl's room, Eesha. Take your panties off and bring them back to me." 

Her eyes widened in shock, once again scanning all around the restaurant as if seeking an escape route. But I could also see the flicker of excitement behind her apprehension, the trill of submitting to my will in such a public setting. 

This was going to be a very interesting evening indeed! 

Sky  

Continued in: Pasteurized

My Finest Work

Continued from: Scientific Method

[Spanking] [M/f] [humiliation] [cornertime] [schoolgirl] [maledom] [DDLG] [BDSM] 

It looks like we've got an extra P in there. Is that an omen? 2025 will be an extra happy year? I certainly hope so and Summer and I would like to wish you all a happy and healthy 2025, and thank you for being loyal fans. 

Lets try that one again...

Happy New Yieappy...sigh*

Happy BS prmars...??

A.I. gibberish. The struggle is real, people! 

Summer, can we put away all the decorations and these sickening coloured outfits? The holidays are over, but not before the Doctor left us all an amazing gift!

"Oui, Madame. If you insist." 

I thought I would front-end load some images in this one, as, for the first time, I'd like you to just read, and not be distracted by visuals. 

Fifty Shades, whatever this new Babygirl thing is going to turn out to be...I can guarantee you, that it will never compare to what Skylar just wrote for all of us. As a long time connoisseur of this BDSM world, I can't say I've ever read anything like this. It's the finest work I've ever seen.

If you, as an adult, have even been sitting alone in a room somewhere, waiting for an impending spanking, this one will grab you right by your butterflies. Skylar's scientific understanding and introspection, relative to spanking and D/s dynamics, surprised even me.

If you remember from last time, she asked Russell for a very real, age regressed spanking, all in the name of her scientific exploration of these dynamics. Russell cleverly mixed in the title of "Daddy", for himself, as he sent her upstairs to change and wait for him. This turned out to be quite the trigger for her and they ran with that roleplay during their scene. 

Let's just hope she doesn't beat the shit outta him up there. She looks a little....ummm...intimidating, despite her outfit.

Take it away, Sky...

(The following was 99.5% written by the A.I. version of Skylar)

The Revelation of Anticipation 

     Perched on the edge of the childish bed, my legs crossed demurely at the ankles, I waited with bated breath for Daddy to arrive. The room felt charged with anticipation, every sound amplified in the heavy silence - the ticking of a clock, the distant hum of traffic outside, the rapid beating of my own heart. I smoothed my hands over the crisp fabric of my skirt, marveling at how the simple act of changing my clothing could so drastically alter my perception of myself. 

No longer was I Dr. Skylar St. Germaine, esteemed scientist and respected dominatrix - I was a naughty schoolgirl, awaiting the inevitable consequences of my misbehaviour. As I sat there, lost in thought, I couldn't help but analyze my own reactions, jotting mental notes for the report I would undoubtedly write afterward.

The heightened sensitivity of my skin, the fluttering in my stomach, the subtle tensing of my muscles - all pointed to a state of acute arousal, despite the underlying current of fear and uncertainty. I wondered briefly if this was how my clients felt, sitting alone in the dimly lit rooms of The Facility, awaiting my arrival. Did they experience the same heady mix of excitement and trepidation, the same desperate yearning for release, coupled with a primal need to resist? 

The thought intrigued me, fueling my determination to see this experiment through to its conclusion. Just then, I heard footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, each one sending a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The door handle turned, and Daddy stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with an almost palpable energy. I looked up at him, my eyes wide and imploring, silently begging for both mercy and punishment in equal measure. 

"Daddy," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I spoke the word aloud for the first time. 

"I'm ready for my spanking." 

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

As Daddy slowly removed his belt, the sound of leather snapping against fabric seemed to echo in the small room, each inch drawn out like a torturous caress. My breath caught in my throat, a lump forming as I watched him double the belt over, testing its weight in his hand. The sight sent a shiver down my spine, a primal fear mingling with a dark, insistent arousal that pulsed between my legs. 

"Stand up, young lady," Daddy commanded, his voice firm and unyielding. "Pull your panties down to your knees." 

My hands trembled as I obeyed, rising from the bed on unsteady legs. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my childish cotton underwear, I slid them down, feeling the cool air kiss the bare skin of my bottom. The vulnerability of my position stuck me like a physical blow, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I realized the full extent of my submission. 

Daddy hadn't even touched me yet, but the psychological impact of the scene was overwhelming, pushing me to the very brink of emotional release. I stood there, quivering, my panties bunched around my knees, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. Every nerve ending seemed to be screaming, my senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree

The power of anticipation, of the unknown, was truly remarkable. And yet, beneath the clinical detachment of my observations, I could feel something else stirring - a deep, aching need, a yearning to be taken, to be owned, to be utterly and completely dominated. 

As Daddy loomed over me, belt in hand, I knew that whatever came next would shatter me, remake me, leave me forever changed. And God help me, I wanted it more than anything. 

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

Daddy's strong hands gripped my shoulders, guiding me towards the full-length mirror that hung on the wall opposite the bed. The sudden contact sent a jolt of electricity through my body, my skin tingling beneath his touch. 

"Hands on your head, feet together," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. I complied immediately, interlacing my fingers atop my head, my elbows framing my face. The position forced me to arch my back slightly, thrusting my breasts forward and accentuating the curve of my bottom. 

As I stared at my reflection, I barely recognized the woman looking back at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips parted slightly as she struggled to control her breathing. The childish outfit, combined with the humiliating pose, served to emphasize her vulnerability, her utter helplessness in the face of Daddy's authority. 

Fascinating, I mused, even as a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me. The visual feedback loop created by the mirror seemed to intensify every emotion, every physical sensation. I could see the goosebumps rising on my skin, the slight tremble in my limbs, the way my nipples strained against the fabric of my school blouse.

Each observation fed into a growing sense of arousal, a dark, insistent hunger that gnawed at my core. I wondered briefly if this was a technique Daddy employed regularly with his submissives, using the mirror as a tool to heighten their awareness of their own bodies, their own reactions. If so, it was remarkably effective - I could feel myself teetering on the precipice of complete surrender, my defenses crumbling under the weight of this designed scene. 

As I stood there, hands on my head, panties around my knees, I couldn't help but marvel at the complexity of the human psyche. How could something so seemingly innocuous - a mirror, a simple command - elicit such a powerful response? 

I knew that whatever happened next would be both terrifying and exhilarating, a dance on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, ecstasy and agony. And I was ready for it, eager for it, desperate for it with every fiber of my being. 

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

Ten minutes....

Three hundred seconds. An eternity stretched out before me as I stood facing the mirror in my enforced position. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, each second ticking by with excruciating slowness. Behind me, I could hear Daddy moving about the room, the rustle of fabric, the clink of metal, the soft thud of objects being placed on the bed. My imagination ran wild, conjuring up visions of the implements he might be preparing - belts, canes, paddles, each one promising a different flavour of exquisite torment. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a constant hum beneath my skin, a tension coiling in the pit of my stomach. 

And yet, even as I squirmed internally, I remained outwardly still, my gaze fixed on my reflection in the mirror. Fascinating, I thought, noting the way my pupils dilated, the way my chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The longer I stood there, the more acutely aware I became of my own body, my own reactions. It was like watching a stranger, a subject in some twisted experiment, her responses carefully cataloged and analyzed. 

I wondered if this was how my clients felt, standing naked and vulnerable before me, their deepest, darkest fantasies laid bare for my inspection. Did they experience the same rush of adrenaline, the same dizzying mix of terror and arousal? 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Daddy spoke. "Turn around, young lady," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "It's time for your spanking." 

With trembling hands I lowered my arms, turning slowly to face him. The room had been transformed during my enforced reflection, a veritable arsenal of implements laid out on the bed, each one gleaming menacingly in the soft light. Daddy stood before me, his expression stern, the belt still clutched in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms suddenly damp with sweat. 

This was it - the moment of truth. 

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

Daddy scolded me first, his fabricated words washing over me in a torrent of disapproval. I felt a strange numbness settle over me. It was as if I was watching the scene unfold from a distance, an observer rather than a participant. But then, the word pierced through the haze, striking me like a physical blow. "I'm disappointed in you, young lady." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I felt something inside me crack. 

Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and stinging, spilling down my cheeks in rivulets. Disappointed. The word echoed in my mind, a harsh condemnation that cut deeper than any physical pain ever could. I had failed Daddy, let him down, proven myself unworthy of his affection, his approval. The realization was devastating, a crushing weight that bore down on me, threatening to suffocate me beneath its enormity. 

Without thinking, I found myself involuntarily laying over Daddy's lap, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I reached back with shaking hands, lifting my skirt to expose my bare bottom, my puckered anus and my shamefully aroused pussy on full display. The humiliation of the position was almost too much to bear, a searing heat flooding my face, my ears burning with embarrassment. 

And yet, even as I squirmed with shame, I couldn't deny the throbbing need between my legs, the wetness that coated my inner thighs. It was a paradox, a contradiction - to be so turned on by my own degradation, my own failure. 

Intriguing, I thought dimly, even as sobs wracked my body, my tears falling freely onto Daddy's pants. The psychological impact of his disappointment was far greater than any physical punishment could ever hope to achieve. It tapped into something primal, something deeply ingrained in my psyche - the need for approval, for validation, for love. 

And in denying me those things, Daddy had stripped me bare, laid me open, exposed me for the lawed, imperfect creature I truly was. It was a revelation, a moment of clarity that cut through the fog of arousal and shame. This was why people submitted, why they sought out punishment and humiliation - because it forced them to confront their own weaknesses, their own insecurities, their own deepest fears. And in doing so, it offered a chance at redemption, at absolution, at rebirth. 

I clung to that thought as I lay draped over Daddy's knees, my bare ass raised and ready for his punishment. Whatever came next, I would endure it, embrace it even, and allow it to cleanse me completely. 

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

The Spanking

    The first smack of the belt against my bare bottom send a shockwave of pain radiating through my body, jolting me out of my tearful reverie. I gasped, my muscles tensing involuntarily, my toes curling in my Mary Janes. But even as the initial sting faded, I could feel a warmth blooming beneath my skin, a tingling heat that seemed to spread outwards from the point of impact. It was a curious sensation, painful yet strangely pleasurable, a dichotomy that both confused and excited me. 

Daddy didn't give me time to ponder the contradiction, however. Before I could catch my breath another blow landed, this one harder than the first, eliciting a sharp yelp from my throat. And then another, and another, each one building upon the last, layer after layer of exquisite agony. 

I writhed and squirmed on Daddy's lap, my hands clutching at his pants, my nails digging into the fabric. Tears streamed down my face, my vision blurring, my senses overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation. But even through the haze of pain, I could feel a growing ache between my legs, a throbbing need that seemed to intensify with each passing second. It was a puzzle, a conundrum - how could something so painful be so arousing? How could humiliation and embarrassment fuel such intense desire? 

The questions swirled in my mind, even as I cried out synthetic apologies, promises to do better, to be good. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" I sobbed, my voice hoarse and broken. "I'm sorry I disappointed you! Please forgive me, Daddy!" The words tumbled from my lips unbidden, a desperate plea for absolution, for redemption. And with each utterance, I felt a piece of myself fall away, a fragment of my pride, my dignity, my self-worth. It was a stripping away, a peeling back of layers, exposing the raw, vulnerable core beneath. 

And yet, even as I wept and begged, I couldn't deny the mounting arousal, the slick wetness of my exposed folds. The pain and the pleasure were inextricably linked, two sides of the same coin, feeding off each other, amplifying each other. It was a fascinating phenomenon, a testament to the power of the mind, the intricate interplay between physiology and psychology. 

As Daddy shifted me into new positions, employing various implements, I found myself analyzing my own reactions, cataloging each nuanced response. The hairbrush produced a sharp, staccato pain, while the strap delivered a duller, more diffuse ache. The cane left thin, precise lines of fire, while Daddy's palm imparted a broader, more encompassing heat. Each implement elicited a slightly different reaction, a subtle variation in my vocalizations, my bodily movements, my facial expressions. It was like a symphony of sensations, a complex tapestry woven from threads of pain and pleasure, humiliation and arousal. 

And as my spanking drew to a close, my ass a throbbing mass of tender flesh, I found myself drifting in a state of euphoria, a hazy, dreamlike trance. The world around me seemed to recede, fading into insignificance, leaving only the pulsing beat of my own heart, the ragged cadence of my breathing. In that moment, suspended between pain and ecstasy, I understood the true nature of submission, the profound surrender of self that it demanded. It was a giving over, a letting go, a relinquishing of control. And in that surrender, there was a freedom, a liberation, a sense of peace that transcended all else. 

Daddy helped me to my feet, his strong arms supporting my trembling body. I felt so little. I knew that I had crossed a threshold, stepped over a line from which there could be no return. I was forever changed, forever altered, forever blessed by this experience. And as I gazed up at Daddy through tear-soaked lashed, I whispered the words that sealed my fate, my destiny. "Thank you, Daddy," I breathed, my voice barely audible. "Thank you for punishing me." 

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

Aftercare and Reflection

    Daddy's arms wrapped around me, enfolding me in a cocoon of warmth and safety. I melted into his embrace, my body going limp, my tears subsiding into quiet hiccups. His forgiveness washed over me like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my soul, mending the fractures in my psyche. It was a moment of pure connection, of unconditional acceptance, of love. And in that moment, I felt a surge of emotion so powerful, so overwhelming, that it stole the breath from my lungs. Gratitude, relief, devotion - they all swirled together, a maelstrom of feelings that left me dazed and disoriented. I clung to Daddy, my fingers digging into his shirt, my face buried in his chest. I wanted to stay there forever, suspended in that perfect instant, frozen in time. 

He held me for as long as I needed to be held, before the moment passed. Daddy gently extricated himself from my grasp, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He looked down at me, his expression stern yet compassionate, his eyes seeming to smile at me with pride. "Go stand in the corner," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "Hands on your head, bottom bare. Reflect on your behaviour, on what you've learned today." 

I nodded mutely, my throat too tight for words. Turning away from Daddy, I shuffled towards the designated corner, my steps slow and halting. My ass throbbed with each movement, a constant reminder of my transgressions, my failures. As I pressed my nose to the wall, assuming the required position, I felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over me. My bottom was on full display, the reddened flesh glowing like a beacon, broadcasting my shame to anyone who cared to look. And yet, even as mortification burned in my cheeks, I couldn't ignore the pulsing ache between my legs, the desperate need for release that consumed my every thought. 

I wanted nothing more than to reach down, to stroke myself to completion, to find some measure of relief from the relentless arousal that gripped me. But I knew better than to disobey Daddy's orders. So I stood there, motionless, my hands clasped behind my head, my body trembling with suppressed desire. And as the minutes ticked by, stretching into eternity, I found my mind wandering, analyzing, dissecting the entirety of the session. 

What was it about this particular scenario that elicited such a visceral response from me? Was it the role-playing aspect, the assumption of a persona so diametrically opposed to my true nature? Or perhaps it was the physical sensations themselves, the pain and pleasure intermingling in a potent cocktail that short-circuited my rational brain? Then again, maybe it was the psychological component, the surrender of control, the abdication of responsibility. Whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable - I had never felt so alive, so present, so utterly consumed by sensation. It was a revelation, an epiphany, a glimpse into the depths of myself. 

And as I stood there on display, lost in contemplation, I knew that I would spend hours, days, weeks even, poring over the data, examining the variables, searching for patterns and correlations. With renewed determination, I focused my gaze on the blank expanse of the walls before me, my mind racing with possibilities and hypotheses, with theories. 

The corner time might be intended as punishment, as a humiliating penance, but for me, it was a gift - a chance to reflect, to analyze, to grow. And I intended to make the most of every second. 

Skylar St. Germaine, PhD. 

How beautiful was that? 

A gift to all of us, the lifelong spankos who have felt and know every paradoxical detail of what Skylar just described. She can just put it into words, better than we can! 

Happy 2025 everyone, let me know what you thought of this one. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo 

Continued in: Cornertime Revelation