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

Betrayed

Continued from: Why choose BDSM?

[F/f] [diapers] [chastity] [spanking] [cornertime] [OTK] [MDLG] [humiliation] [adult baby] [age regression ]

"Oh, Mandy," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. Mistress moved a straight-backed chair into the middle of the room, before taking a seat and patting her stocking tops. "You look absolutely adorable. Now come here and get over Mommy's knee. It's time for your spanking, little girl." 

My cheeks burned with shame, as I looked down at the attire I was in, a 45 year old woman, forced into such vulnerable clothing and about to be spanked. The outfit was a tactic, using humiliation as a form of adult discipline, a constant reminder of my utter powerlessness in this place. 

As I shuffled forward in my ridiculous Mary Jane heels, tears were already filling my eyes. With shaking hands, I reached beneath the hem of my absurdly short dress and grasped the waistband of my little girl panties. Slowly, deliberately, I slid them down my thighs until they pooled around my knees, leaving my bare bum exposed and vulnerable. 

As I approached Mistress Andrea, seated regally in the sturdy wooden chair, I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze. Instead, I focused on the array of implements laid out and ready for me - hairbrushes, a wooden spoon, a female slipper, and a thick leather belt. Each promised a unique brand of pain and degradation, and I knew from experience that Mistress would not hesitate to use them all!

With a final, shuddering sob, I draped myself across her lap, my feet coming off the floor as she adjusted me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, the subtle rise and fall of her breath, as she prepared to administer my spanking. 

Without warning, it came, a barrage of sharp, stinging smacks with her palm. Mistress settled into a steady rhythm, alternating cheeks as she peppered my bum and thighs. The spanking was not overly severe but it was quite lengthy. She layered me perfectly, hand, leathers, a female slipper, followed by the dreaded hairbrush and wooden paddle. By the time I was paddled, she had removed my dress fully. The repeated impact of my fleshy cheeks, always seemed to create a numbing sensation, the perfect opportunity for Mistress to layer me deeper with the wooden implements, ensuing I'd be feeling and seeing the effects for days to come. 

She finished up with a hand-spanking to even out my colour and allow for that intimate re-connection. As I lay draped across Mistress Andrea's lap, my ass throbbing and raw from the sound spanking, I felt her hand begin to move in slow, soothing circles. Her touch was gentle, almost maternal, as she stroked the inflamed skin of my bum. When her fingers grazed the swollen lips of my pussy, I couldn't help suppress a moan, my hips instinctively arching towards her hand.  

Shame flooded through me at the realization that, even after such a humiliating ordeal, my traitorous pussy still craved her touch. As if sensing my inner turmoil, Mistress lifted me up to sit on her lap and whispered in my ear, her hot breath tickling my neckline. "It's perfectly natural for a grown woman to need discipline sometimes. There's no shame in admitting that you need to be spanked, to be reminded of your place." 

Her words sent a shockwave right to my pussy, equal parts degrading and comforting. How could she make something so utterly humiliating and painful sound almost...normal. As she continued to stroke my fiery bum, her fingers occasionally dipping between my legs to tease my clit, I felt tears welling up in my eyes once more. But this time, they weren't tears of pain or humiliation - they were tears of relief, of gratitude for the release she had granted me. 

"Go ahead and cry if you need to." Mistress encouraged, her hand never ceasing its hypnotic caressing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. Mommy is here for you, Mandy." And with that, the floodgates opened. Sobs wracked my body as I surrendered to the overwhelming emotions coursing through me - shame, guilt, desire, and a strange, twisted sense of belonging. Through it all, Mistress held me close, her strong arms wrapped around my trembling frame as she rocked me gently back and forth.

The fact that I was wearing a ridiculous little girl outfit, my panties pulled down around my ankles and my ass glowing red from a thorough spanking, only added to the perverse sense of comfort I felt. Eventually my tears subsided, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers, thanking her for spanking me and desperately seeking her approval. Mistress responded eagerly, her tongue slipping past my parted lips to explore the depths of my mouth. 

As we kissed, her hands began to wander, tracing patterns along my thighs that sent shivers of pleasure through my body. When her fingers finally reached the apex of my thighs, I gasped into her mouth, my hips bucking involuntarily as she entered my swollen folds. To my utter mortification, I realized just how wet I was, my arousal coating Mistress' probing digits as she began to finger me. 

"My, my," she purred, breaking the kiss to regard me in a scolding manner. "Look how wet you got during your embarrassing spanking, young lady!" Her words sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over me, and I felt my cheeks burn with shame. How could I possibly explain the twisted desires that lurked within me, the perverse thrill I derived from being punished and degraded like a naughty little girl? 

I could only whimper in response to her scolding, as she withdrew her hand from between my legs. To my horror, she brought her glistening fingers to my lips, pressing them insistently against my mouth. "Open up, young lady," she commanded, her tone becoming firm and strict. "Taste how wet you get from being punished." I obeyed, my tongue swirling around her invading fingers, lapping up every last drop of my shameful juices. 

Just when I thought I couldn't bear any more humiliation, Mistress abruptly withdrew her hand, only to bring it down sharply against my exposed pussy. I yelped in surprise, my hips jerking forward as she delivered another stinging slap to my sensitive folds. "Bad pussy! Bad pussy's don't get to cum," she scolded, punctuating each word with a swift spank to my crotch. 

Before I could even catch my breath, she stood hauled me to my feet, dragging me across the room by my earlobe to the far corner. "Stand here," she ordered, spinning me around to face the walls. "Keep those panties at your knees. I want your naughty bottom on display." 

A grown woman, humiliated and degraded, forced to endure the indignities of a misbehaving brat. I could feel her eyes boring into me from across the room. She lounged on the spanking chair, casually scrolling through her phone, as if my suffering was nothing more than a mild diversion from her daily routine. Every so often she would glance up, her gaze raking over my red bum with a mixture of amusement and disdain. 

"Remember, Mandy," she called out, her voice dripping with maternal sweetness. "No moving, no talking, or you'll find yourself back over my knee for another spanking." 

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

Should I change into something even more Mommy-ish, maybe like this one, remember this outfit? 

And perhaps in the next installment, we can get Mandy the soccer mom, into a nice comfy diaper, what do you think, everyone? 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Diapered & Denied

 

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Continued from: The Librarian

[F/ff] [FF/m] [female supremacy] [sci-fi] [lezdom] [spanking] [Goddess] [athlete] [academic]

As Summer delved deeper into the email from Skylar, her excitement was filling the room. "Oh, Mistress," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "what if we set up a sort of casting couch situation? Like a porn audition! We could have her masturbate for us or something. It would be so hot!" 

I threw my head back and laughed heartily. "Jesus Christ, Summer." lol. "Reason number 68, why I love you." 

"My darling," I replied, still chuckling, "while your idea certainly has its appeal, I must remind you that this young lady is a librarian seeking an administrative position, not an aspiring porn star."

Summer's cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, her sheepish grin only adding to her cuteness. 

"Oh, oui. Of course, Ma'am. I got a little carried away there, didn't I, please forgive me?"

"Is she on Insta-face or Tik-book, or whatever those apps are called, can you DM her?" I asked, while acting like someone clueless, not from Skylar's generation. (cuz I'm not)

With a thoughtful nod, I turned to Summer, my decision made. "Alright, my love, let's extend an invitation to this young librarian. Send her a private message inviting her over for a glass of wine and a chat tonight. Keep it casual and friendly, but make it clear that we're interested in discussing her potential role at the Facility." If we're not interrupting her gaming or anything...

The doorbell chimed precisely at seven o'clock, announcing the arrival of our anticipated guest. I smoothed my hands over my fitted black dress, ensuring every detail was in place before opening the door. There, standing on our threshold, was Skylar - and she was exactly as I had envisioned her. Petite and unassuming, her mousey features were accentuated by oversized, black-rimmed glasses that seemed to swallow her delicate face. She clutched a worn cardigan around her frame, the fabric bunching awkwardly over her track pants as she hugged herself in a display of vulnerability that was almost painfully endearing. 

"Welcome, you must be Skylar?" I greeted her warmly, stepping aside to allow her entry. "Please, come in." Her eyes darted nervously around the foyer as she stepped inside, probably assuming there would be metal cages hanging from the walls, illuminated by cauldrons of open flame. I watched her carefully, noting the way her shoulders hunched slightly, as if she were trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable.

"Thank you for having me, Mistress...um, I mean, Ma'am," she stammered, her cheeks flushing red. 

"Please, follow me to the sitting room, my wife, Summer is just finding us a bottle down in the cellar, is red ok?" 

She simply nodded and smiled. 

As we walked, I couldn't help but steal glances at our young librarian, my mind already spinning with possibilities. Her vulnerability was indeed adorable, but beneath that shy exterior, I sensed a flicker of something more - a curiosity, perhaps even a longing, that called to the dominant within me. 

I knew instinctively that Skylar was ripe for guidance, for molding into the submissive she was meant to be. Only time would tell, but as I ushered her into the sitting room where Summer awaited, I felt a surge of anticipation. This was going to be a most interesting evening indeed, which I would later come to learn, was the understatement of the year!

As Skylar settled into the plush loveseat, her initial nervousness seemed to dissipate, replaced by a surprising air of confidence. Summer and I exchanged curious glances, our interest piqued by the transformation unfolding before us. With a graceful gesture, Summer handed our guest a glass of wine, which Skylar accepted with a demure smile. As she took a sip, her eyes met mine over the rim of the glass, and I detected a glint of something unexpected - a spark of ambition, perhaps, or a hidden desire. 

"This is sort of like an interview, Skylar," I said to her, my words attempting to reassure this timid little thing. "We offer rather...unique services here at the Facility and we need to ensure you're not like a crazy cat lady, right?" I chuckled at my own joke, attempting to lighten the atmosphere a little. Sadly, it didn't quite work the way I planned.  

Skylar pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at the floor as she spoke. "I have a cat...his name is Gary." 

God, she was so innocent and adorable, I could have eaten her up right there! 

Setting her glass aside, Skylar leaned forward, her demeanour shifting from timid to determined in an instant. 

"Ma'am, Miss Summer," she began, her voice steady and clear, "I must confess that my interest in joining the Facility extends far beyond mere administrative duties. You see, I have long been fascinated by the dynamics of female dominance, by the power and beauty of women asserting their natural superiority over men." 

Summer and I stared at her, our jaws slack with shock at this revelation. Never in my wildest imaginings had I anticipated such a bold declaration from the seemingly shy librarian. Skylar continued, her words flowing with increasing passion, "I dream of having men groveling at my feet, of commanding their obedience and devotion. I want to explore every facet of this lifestyle, to push boundaries and discover the true extent of my own dominance." 

As Skylar's revelation hung in the air, she casually lifted her wine glass to her lips once more, taking a measured sip of the rich, crimson liquid. I watched, transfixed, as she swirled the wine gently, allowing it to coat the sides of the glass before bringing it to her nose. With a delicate sniff, she inhaled the bouquet, her eyes closing briefly to process her senses. When she opened them again, they sparkled with appreciation. "1991 Chateau Latour," she remarked meekly. "Very nice, Ma'am."

I felt as though the earth had tilted beneath my feet. I turned to Summer, my eyebrows raised in a silent expression of disbelief. Who was this woman, this enigma wrapped in a frumpy cardigan and track pants? How could someone who appeared so unassuming, so utterly ordinary, possess such refined tastes and hidden depths at her age? She wasn't even born when that vintage was bottled! 

As I grappled with the mounting surprises of the evening, Skylar reached into her worn book bag, rummaging through its contents with a slight frown of concentration. After a moment, she withdrew a crisp sheet of paper, holding it out to me in an awkward manner. 

"Here, Ma'am," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand. "I put together a little CV for you." 

I accepted the document, my curiosity piqued by her confident demeanour. I quickly scanned its contents, my eyes widening as I reached the section labeled Education: PhD in Astrodynamics. 

"Forgive my ignorance, my dear, but what exactly is a PhD in astrodynamics?" I asked, genuinely becoming more intrigued by this little pixie, as each minute passed. 

"Umm...Ma'am, I hold a doctorate from U of T. My thesis focused on how propulsion ratios affect steering outcomes in aeronautical use under reduced gravity loads." She rolled this off her tongue like she was talking about the weather. 

"Skylar, sweetheart...you're a rocket scientist?" I remarked bluntly, my tone tinged with surprise and admiration.

"I was," she replied.

Summer, who had been relatively quiet and in shock throughout most of this exchange, finally spoke. "It sounds like you don't need us honey, you should be working for like...NASA." Summer's casual remark hung in the air for a moment before Skylar responded, her voice barley above a whisper. 

"Actually, Ma'am," she said, adjusting her glasses with a shy gesture, "I already worked for them once." 

"But I did the math, Ma'am, and the money is considerably more attractive here," she sheepishly suggested, raising her hands to gesture toward the Facility as a whole. 

The revelation hit Summer and I like a physical blow, leaving us both momentarily speechless. A rocket scientist who had worked for NASA, now sitting in my living room expressing a desire to explore the world of female domination? It was almost too much to comprehend.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing that my next words might be difficult for Skylar to hear. But I had to test the waters, to help her shed the layers of insecurity and self-doubt that I can't believe she holds within her. 

"Skylar, sweetheart," I began gently," please forgive me for what I'm about to say, but I believe it's important." I paused, allowing the weight of my words to settle before continuing. "Down the hall, we have a changing room stocked with attire more befitting a dominant woman. Clothing that will help you embody the powerful, confident persona I know lies within you." As I spoke, I saw Skylar's body language retreat. She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. 

"Oh, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice dropping into self-deprecation, "I couldn't possibly. I'm so frumpy and gross right now." 

My heart ached at her words, at the pain and insecurity that radiated from her. I rose from my seat, moving to kneel beside her chair. Gently, I took her hands into mine, uncrossing her arms and forcing her to meet my gaze. 

"Listen to me, Skylar," I said firmly. "You are not frumpy, and you certainly are not gross. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, brimming with untapped potential." I squeezed her hands reassuringly. 

"I want you to go that changing room," I continued as I softened my tone, "and I want you to choose an outfit that makes you feel powerful, sexy, and in control. Trust me, my dear, sometimes female dominance starts from the outside in." 

Skylar's hazel eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of insecurity or judgement. Finding none, she nodded slowly, a tentative smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

Twenty minutes passed in a blur of conversation and distraction. Summer and I were engrossed in discussing Skylar's impressive resume. Speaks five languages, lived in Brazil, NASA, volunteer, and so on and so on. I was so engrossed by all of this, that I didn't hear the slow, timid click of high heels against hardwood, coming down the hallway. 

Summer's nails dug into the tender flesh of my thigh as she let out an audible gasp. I was jolted back to awareness. Startled by Summer's claws, I looked up, my eyes following Summer's wide-eyed stare, as Skylar walked into the room. 

Oh, my fucking gawd!! 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: The Future is Female

 

What Katie Did

Continued from: Roses are Red, Summer is too

[F/f] [OTK] [severe spanking] [cornertime] [humiliation] [hairbrush] [tears]

I am in no way, shape or form affiliated to the vintage lingerie brand titled, "What Katie Did". It just so happens to be the name of this post, based on a client of mine named Kate. 

The lingerie however, is one of my favourtite brands. It's 1930's 40's and 50's pinup style, dresses too. The stockings, the seamed ones, the fully fashioned ones, are simply divine. Anytime a client of mine needs to be spanked by "Mommy", the collection from What Katie Did are my go-to styles.

Kate, on the other hand, is a new-ish client of mine. I find her to be quite a fascinating individual, based on the type of service she wants from me. I thought she was worthy of a post, my darling Katie, as I refer to her when she's with me. 

Picture like a Diane Lane...Aged beautifully, elegant, sharp and seriously feminine! Her experience shines brightly, in the odd strand of platinum-silver, that now runs through her hair. She doesn't dye it. She wants her level of maturity on display. This is essentially how I would describe Kate. 

I'm not 100% sure what she does for a living but my instincts tell me that she is some manner of corporate powerhouse. A CEO, a CAO, maybe the Director of a finance or legal department. She absolutely oozes corporate power, but comes to me to be spanked. 

I get it...I understand why she wants and needs this type of escape, given her vanilla role. I'm not sure if it was topping from the bottom originally but she basically told me exactly how she wanted her appointments to go. I obliged her, she tips well!

She only ever books with me over her lunch-hour on a weekday. Like visiting a therapist or dentist, like booking a massage. It's in her calendar, it's once a month and she is always on time. 

Kate graciously brings me an overpriced coffee, which she sets on my desk like an apple for the teacher. She mutes her phone and sets it on my desk also, along with her purse.

She of course greets me with a smile and a "Hello, Ma'am", but beyond that she doesn't say anything else. Kate just walks to the corner and parks herself in timeout. Sometimes I lower her dress-pants to her ankles, sometimes I just let her be. 

30 full minutes. This is what Kate asked of me, to strictly enforce 30 full minutes in timeout. I hear her breathing change around the ten minute mark. Deep inhales and deep exhales, as she stands motionless in her stilettos. 

Her panties always stay on for her spanking. If she's not in a tiny little thong which she usually wears, I will wedgie her panties up her bum crack so my target area is predominately bare. Her pussy and bottom hole have always been covered, upon her request. 

She wears a wedding band...maybe that's why? Maybe her hubby allows these sessions for her provided her modestly is maintained? I think she wears the pants at home though. Her hubby is probably a sissy maid to her. She reeks of female dominance...just not in these particular moments, and that's exactly why she needs these particular moments.  

The level of spanking on a severity scale of 1-10, Kate wants an 11. Bathbrush, the strap, hardwood paddles, canes, hairbrushes. She wants me to take her to "yellow" every time, but will never say "red". She believes it shouldn't be her decision when her spanking ends. 

Remember faint-of-heart people, this is what she has asked for:

Once per month, on her lunch break, without fail, she leaves my office with a bum that looks like the above and sometimes a tear-stained face. 

She is quite the trooper. Sometimes she doesn't even cry, she just silently takes it. 

When I declare "that's enough till next month", she drops to the floor and kisses my footwear while thanking me. Sometimes she's bawling...sometimes she's fully composed. Kate wanted this as part of her ritual for some reason, to lower herself to the floor and kiss my high heels. 

Then, just like her arrival, she walks herself to the corner and parks her nose against the walls. I start the timer again...for another 30 minutes if you can believe it! Her request. 

30 minutes in the corner, 30 minutes of spanking typically and 30 minutes in the corner, once a month! This is how she spends her lunch break. A truly intriguing woman! 

When the timer finishes she dresses. She holds me tightly and says, "thank you", and off she goes. It's somewhat mysterious. Like I want to know what happens after she leaves me or see her back at work, squirming in her seat. Her spankings are so severe that she'd be feeling the effects for a week, and seeing the marking and bruising for two weeks. 

Does her hubby see her bum and become horrified? Aroused? Does Kate get sexually aroused from this? Probably...but likely not in the moment. So mysterious! 

After our embrace she un-mutes her phone, grabs her purse and coffee...and boom, back to corporate power-fem. 

I end with a "see you next month, Katie". But not spoken as a statement. I frame it as a question, always open to her consent to continue or not. 

"See you next month, Katie?"

"Yes Ma'am, I'll be here, thank you Ma'am". 

And I kiss her forehead...

I'm not sure what Katie did, to feel she deserves such treatment each month. 

Maybe it's just the greatest possible escape a corporate adult could ever hope for. 

I admire her nevertheless!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Machine Learning

 

Uniformity

Continued from: Is it Gay?

There had been quite a bit going on, leading up to the holidays, through the holidays, then Summer and I vacationing in France for a stint. In our absence, Cassandra let her wild-side shine through and had gone rogue. She was building a stable of sissy-slaves and doing God-knows-what to some other male clients of hers. I was feeling like I needed to right the vessel, restore some order and get back to the basics of what we do best at The Facility. 

"Good morning Mister! You're here for your spanking?" 

Could you imagine!!? The gut-twisting butterflies of being looked up and down by these women?

Some silly male, standing there fully naked in front of these four, covering his junk with his palms. His head would be lowered, occasionally glancing at their boots while feeling his face burn with embarrassment. The head-girl in all black, makes him choose which disciplinarian it will be for this session, herself included of course. They are equally strict, their scolding can reduce you to tears and each of them know exactly what you need.  

Uniformity. That's what I needed to restore at The Facility. Everything else would fall into place once order was regained through our high and tight conduct, professionalism, pride in one's appearance and attention to detail. No matter what language you speak, the appearance of uniformity is interpreted as authority. Once you walk through the doors of my Facility, you better believe that authority will be generously available.  

Summer was always at-the-ready to help with the clients. She brought along her bestie, Vanessa, or Goddess Vanessa as I like to call to her (major girl-crush of mine!). Cassandra...well...she needed a little more convincing to "get in line". 

Nothing that I couldn't handle though. She was definitely due, overdue even. A little too big for her britches as of late. 

I donned my very best, vintage "Mommy" look, dressed Cassandra like a little girl, and roasted her backside until she was sobbing uncontrollably. 

Tears, snot, mascara runs, and frantically trying to rub away the effects of my ebony hairbrush. Problem solved. Cassie was brought back under a bit more control. She told me a few days afterwards it was much needed.

With our new-found uniformity, working as a team and looking like a team, the girls and I got The Facility back on-track. Jan-March is a busy time of year for a Professional Disciplinarian. It's like my "tax season". Haha. Business was boomin'. 

Think about all the New Years resolutions, dry-Febs, new gym memberships and trendy diets. Many of my clients want my unique form of "extra motivation", to stick to their goals. Before long my Facility was once again buzzing with business. The sounds of straps and paddles meeting bare flesh could be heard behind the closed doors. Female voices cracking and crying out, "I'm sorry, Ma'am," and the bass of male voices bawling out "Mommy, nooooo!"

Domestic scenes, writing lines on a chalkboards, mouth soaping, office scenes, we did it all. 

Noses were once again in corners, right where they belong!

We were once again doing the world a service, for those strong enough to admit and seek-out what they know they need. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: 50 Shades of Red