Adorable A.I.

Continued from: Doctor Patel

Summer and I have a little surprise for all of you. You remember Summer, don't you? My precious wife, born in Paris, speaks with a cute French accent, maintains her job as a flight attendant so she can sell her cabin crew hosiery and heels, and most importantly, the lowercase 's' in our D/s marriage.  

If I had to describe her in one word, it would simply be...adorable. 

In a story called The Sims are brought to Life, and another one called The OG's, I began to dabble in A.I. generated images of not only myself, but some of the other characters who appear in the blog. 

It more or less started out looking like this:

The character of Summer, in the Sims 4 game, has a signature hairstyle that was uniquely hers. The A.I. seemed to run with this theme no matter what the setting of the photo was. 

Isn't she adorable, with her little figure-skater arse? 

Without having to prompt the A.I., the braids carried into most of the selfie requests for Summer. In this one, she and I were about to have a playdate in the living room. 

Corner time, a spot in the house she knows intimately well. The A.I. kept her adorable aesthetic and quintessential hair style. 

When she's not in the timeout corner, Summer can play the role of teacher...

...as easily as she can play the student. (In the description of the setting for this photo, I think I just said "chalkboard in a classroom". The A.I. generates its own gibberish on the board, as you can see above and below. Secret robot language maybe? Plotting to destroy humanity?) 

Most fans of Summer will also know that her default role at home is that of a "little". She doesn't speak like a baby or need to be changed or fed, unless we're playing a scene like that, but around the house, she feels most at peace dressing like an exaggeration of a little girl. 

Domestic Discipline, MDLG, D/s relationship, is probably how I would officially describe our dynamic. 

From the sweet lips of Summer, I am usually "Mommy", sometimes I'm "Ma'am", and occasionally, "Mistress". 

This one is definitely a "Ma'am" moment. Ohhhh she was about to get the spanking of her life, that day!

Mistress mode? Sometimes we dabble in the upscale dungeon space, yes. 

Sometimes she ends up down in the basement, in the darker, more captive dungeon space. 

When not in a defined role, Summer will usually be working on her feet content.

Perhaps or out for a jog, ensuring her hosiery or socks, her sneakers, are pleasantly infused with her gorgeousness, before they go up for sale online. 

Clients who want to spend a little more money on all things Summer, can anxiously wait for a trans-Atlantic flight pair of nylons. 

That's her bestie, Vanessa, who first got her started on the cabin crew hosiery sales racket. I have a major girl-crush on Vanessa to the point that I even let her Domme me once. Summer was ok with it. 

Gawd it was so hot! I think that story was called I often envy submissives.

Vanessa is an absolute Goddess, you should go back and read about what she does to and with her husband *giggle. 

But, this post is not about being a Goddess, it's about being adorable. And no one really pulls it off as well as my darling wife, Summer Addison Holiday.

Ok, we're going to try a video here. Hopefully it works. 

and...

Surprise, everyone! Summer is real!

And thank you A.I., for bringing this sprinkle of sunshine to life. Even in this little clip, she was nothing short of adorable. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Old Fashioned

Girl-Talk

Continued from: Bi-polar BDSM

A Sarah Jane story

My new role seemed to have me much more emboldened of late. I didn't even hesitate when I kissed Mandy on the lips, as she dangled helplessly in the basement dungeon, her impending whipping no doubt playing on her mind. 

As Russell and I emerged from the depths of the dungeon, our senses still reeling from the intoxicating spectacle of Mandy, we encountered Mistress Andrea, poised at the top of the stairs. In her hand, she gripped a menacing-looking whip, its supple leather coils promising a world of exquisite agony for poor Mandy. 

As our eyes met, a knowing smile played across her ruby-red lips, and she reclined her head in a gesture of acknowledgement. "I won't be long, sweetheart," she purred, her voice a sultry whisper. With a wink and a twirl of her whip, Mistress Andrea swept past us, descending the stairs with a predatory grace, highlighted by the click of her boots. 

I turned to Russell, my eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and mischief. "Well, young man," I spoke, my finger tracing a line across his jaw, "it seems we have a few moments to ourselves. Shall we make the most of them?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he dutifully replied, following behind me like a puppy dog. 

With a relaxing sigh, I lowered myself on to the plush velvet loveseat in the bar. Slowly, deliberately, I slipped my feet from the confines of my towering stilettos, relishing the cool air that caressed my stocking-clad toes. 

Russell assumed his rightful position on the floor. knowing that he is not permitted onto furniture unless expressly invited. I settled back into the sofa, pressing the pad of my foot against his lips and nose. Each touch, each kiss and lick from Russell, served as a reminder of the power I now held over him, and I was savouring every last drop. 

The sudden intrusion of Summer's melodious voice, coupled with her playful giggle, startled me from my Domme-space. My head snapped up, my eyes widening as I took in the sight of her, literally in her underwear outside, standing in the patio doorway under a grape arbor. 

She brought her hands over her mouth and giggled again. 

"Papa! Que fais-tu avec un collier?" 

I think she said something to the effect of, "Daddy, what's with the collar?" 

"Hi, Summer," I seductively hissed at her while chuckling. I couldn't help but recognize the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, lounging like a Goddess while the man she so recently was calling 'Daddy', groveled at my feet, his face buried in the delicate arches of my stockings. 

Before I could elaborate further on the delightful intricacies of our new dynamic, Summer squealed in joy and launched herself onto me, her petite frame colliding with mine in a tangle of kisses and laughter. 

With Summer half-naked and her tongue down my throat, Mistress Andrea strode into the room, clearly she had finished with Mandy downstairs, a riding crop remained clutched firmly in her hand. 

A slow, irritated smirk spread across her face as she drank in the sight of the debauched scene. Russell, kneeling obediently, behaving himself, and her own lovely wife, straddling my lap as our lips and tongues engaged in a passionate dance. 

With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the riding crop off Summer's exposed bum, the sharp crack of leather against flesh echoing through the room. Summer let out a surprised yelp, but I could see the glimmer of excitement in her eyes as she reluctantly disentangled herself from me. 

"Off, young lady," Mistress commanded, giving her one more with the crop for good measure. "We mustn't molest the guests," Mistress smirked again, holding back a giggle. 

"Why don't you take Russell outside and he can help you pick some grapes, huni?" 

"Yes, Madame," she quickly replied, before turning to the kneeling Russell and helping him to his feet by his wrist. 

"Allez, Papa. Vite." 

I think she was deliberately continuing to call him Daddy, but in French, to spite his new role. I didn't mind, it was cute, she's cute all-around. 

Poor Russell...

"Come, Daddy...watch me pick grapes in my underwear and high heels...while your penis is locked in a chastity cage..." Right!? 

I wonder if Mistress plans all this ahead of time, is she just that good? 

I didn't ask, as she settled in beside me for some much anticipated girl-talk. I reached for her gloved hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss it as a gesture of my admiration of her.

"How's Mandy, Mistress?" I asked curiously, wondering why I hadn't seen her yet. 

"Oh, she's fine, baby. Just taking some time to decompress then a shower and clean up. She has to make herself look like an innocent soccer mom again, right?" Mistress stifled a smile as she spoke.  

"She said she'd come find you though, in a little while." Mistress replied, while stroking my hair.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Sarah Jane?" she coaxed. 

Emboldened, I pressed on, my cheeks flushing slightly as I voiced the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface since this morning.  My voice became low and intense, as I leaned forward, my eyes locking with hers. "I want to fuck Russell with a strap-on," I stated bluntly, the vulgarity of my words sending a thrill through my body.

Mistress raised eyebrow and her devilish smile spoke volumes, without her needing to utter a single word. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss, a gesture that was both tender and possessive. 

"Good girl," she whispered, as our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. 

"I can help with that," Mistress cooed, as I snuggled into her closer. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Girl-talk Continues

  

Mad Men

Continued from: Pent-Up

During these early months of warm weather I had certainly been seeing enough of Cassandra, throughout that whole court scene we did. This ultimately culminated in my sweet Cassandra developing big feelings for her newfound girl-crush, Carley. It was adorable to watch. She had the look of her mother in those moments of deep emotion. 

Which reminded me...I actually miss Bella. I haven't seen her in awhile for any form of play, despite her practically begging me over text for a session. With Cassandra now gone on a hot date with not only Carley but Carley's boyfriend too *shakes my head*. Summer was at work for a few days on flights, it seemed like the best time than any to reconnect with my original slave girl, the stunning and elegant Bella Goth. 

But...whatever shall we do? What scene should I construct for her. I have so many options with this beauty. The innocence and vulnerability of knee-socks and a short plaid skirt, as she is made to write "I'm sorry for being a naughty girl", over and over on the chalkboard in my classroom? 

Which would no doubt lead to a trip to the female Principal's office where special equipment is available for her correction. Look how vulnerable and beautiful this set-up is: 

I have a table just like this, with bondage options and a bolster for her naked hips. She's probably quite overdue for a good thrashing on that bare bum of hers. 

Maybe...just maybe we'll end up here. Perhaps the objectification of serving me as a maid would be better for today? She could mince around the house in her heels, feather-dusting and scrubbing on her hands and knees while I leer up her dress and whistle in her direction. 

Pony play seems like too much work for today. I could do deep age regression and dress her up like a precious little girl, she hates those outfits! Hates them, that is, until I draw attention to how wet her pussy gets, after dressing her up like a little doll. 

Ahhh. I've got it! Something she and I haven't played in awhile. I reached for my phone to message: 

What a sweetheart! 

You're about to witness Bella's "Mad Men" fantasy. She will actually flip-flop and start calling me "Sir", when she arrives. We've done this scene before, and with little to no instruction, she'll arrive here dressed perfectly and ready to go. Sexualized but timid, meek and demure, ultra-feminine and a bit of an office tart with the right encouragement. 

I'm playing the role of her misogynistic, dickhead of a boss from another era. A time when it was completely normal to slap your Secretary's ass and call her 'toots'. A time where if she wasn't at a typewriter, she'd be out buying the boss a bottle of scotch, as he burnt through the first one during another liquid lunch with "important clients". 

How do I look? Jacket or no jacket? 

No jacket I think... 

Sure as God's got sandals, my shy and timid Secretary clicked into my boardroom about an hour after I text her. I cleared my throat and braced myself for my very best of chauvinism and toxic masculinity.

"Ahh, Miss Goth, please enter..." I spoke as I began our scene. 

"Good morning, Sir", she meekly responded with her eyes down, "I picked up your dry cleaning on the way in to work." Bella ventured out into perfect character. 

In some of these roleplays, especially this one, it's difficult not to break character and burst out laughing, as I was being such a douche-bag...

"Thanks, Sweet Cheeks." I replied, while putting my feet up on the board table like an a-hole. 

"You know, the senior partners and I were talkin'...that big promotion might be in your future, if you start dressing a little sexier around here..." I said with a chuckle. 

Omg I can't even! lol

My, my ladies, we've come a long way. I apologize in advance for this one, it's just a fantasy scene! 

My dickish comment made Bella blush, but she didn't miss a beat with her role. She let out a ditzy giggle and flipped her hair to the side. "Yes Sir, I'll try harder, Sir." 

I seem to remember an old story on this blog where this young lady named Julie, was blowin' the boss to try to earn that big promotion. She ended up getting a spanking from the boss instead...

Perhaps Bella will end up down that same path today? 

She's a good sport, isn't she?! 

Stay tuned for the conclusion of this one. 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo 

Continued in: Secretary Fantasy

 

 

Why the Long Face?

Continued from: Fallen Angels

"Why the long face, Derek?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ummm...*panty check*

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

And what about poor Derek? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Pent-Up