Family Meeting

Continued from: There Must be Order

[F/mff] [F/ff] [littles] [Mommy] [Daddy] [DDLG] [cornertime] [spanking]

As I stood before my family, my heart swelled with a sense of purpose and determination. I knew that I had to establish the rules and boundaries of our unique dynamic, to ensure that we could all coexist harmoniously under one roof. I took a deep breath, my gaze sweeping over Summer and Sarah Jane, who sat obediently on the floor like two little girls waiting for story time. 

"I am Mommy or Ma'am," I declared, my voice ringing out calmly, my eyes boring into each of them in turn, daring them to challenge my authority. "And Russell is Daddy or Sir," I paused, watching as the girl's faces lit up with arousing delight. 

"That makes us sisters!" Summer whispered into Sarah's ear while the two of them giggled. 

I cut their antics short, "there will be rules," I stated, my voice carrying a note of finality, leaving no room for argument or negotiation. "And as always, strict consequences for those who fail to abide by them," I gazed down at the girls yet again, ensuring that they understood the gravity of my words.

"This applies to everyone," I added, my eyes glaring briefly to Russell, my eyebrow raised pointedly. I knew that he, too, needed to be held accountable, to understand that his role as Daddy came with its own set of obligations and limitations. He would not be immune to my consequences by virtue of his dominant title and role within our dynamic. 

"As much as I love you both and have assumed the role of head-of-household," I said, my voice warm and affectionate as I addressed Sarah Jane and Summer, "it is important that you understand that Daddy has disciplinary authority over you as well. He is your protector, your guide and your mentor, and it is his duty to ensure that you behave in a manner befitting of the young ladies you are."

I let my words sink in, watching as their eyes widened with a mix of excitement and arousal. "To that end," I continued, "Daddy's belt will always be hung on the back of his bedroom door, serving as a constant reminder of his authority and your obligation to obey him, much like my hairbrush, which is always displayed on my dresser." 

I could see the colour rising in their cheeks, their breath quickening at the mention of the belt, and I knew that the thought of being disciplined by Daddy held a certain sexual appeal for them both. 

"But remember," I cautioned, my tone growing stern, "punishment in this household is not a game, nor is it something to be taken lightly. You two are no strangers to being over Mommy's knee, what have I always told you two about punishment spankings?" 

The girls looked a bit puzzled, trying to remember the various rules and mantras that accompanied all the facets of a D/s lifestyle. 

"Daddy, help them out, please," I urged. 

"A true spanking doesn't begin, until you're wishing it was over," Russell declared out loud, his voice gritty and raspy. 

"Yes, Mommy," Sarah Jane and Summer chimed in unison, their faces filled with a combination of arousal and dread. I could see the wheels turning in their minds, no doubt conjuring up vivid fantasies of being bent over Daddy's knee, their tender bottoms and glistening pussies bared and vulnerable for all to see. 

I knew that the thought of being disciplined by him, of submitting to his firm yet loving guidance, was enough to send shivers of anticipation surging through their bodies, their panties dampening with arousal at the mere prospect. 

With a gentle wave of my hand, I dismissed Sarah Jane and Summer, sending them off to play in Sarah Jane's room. "Go on now, you two," I encouraged, my voice warm and indulgent. "Go off and colour or play dolls, but remember - keep your clothes on and hands to yourselves!" They nodded obediently and gave us both hugs, one by one. 

"Thank you Mommy, thank you Daddy," they both sweetly cooed, before scampering off, their excited laughter echoing through the hallway as they disappeared up the stairs. 

I watched them go with a fond smile, my heart swelling with love and pride for our little unconventional family. 

But there was still one more matter to attend to, one more piece of business that required my immediate attention, given all the temptation that was swirling and brewing in the home like a humid storm. Turning back to Russell, I held out my hand, the rigid black chastity cage balancing menacingly in my palm as I worked the gold key into the lock to separate the two pieces. 

"I believe it's time for us to have a little chat about the autonomy of that penis of yours...or lack of autonomy, rather." 

His eyes widened in surprise, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks as he realized what I had in store for him. 

"Come here, darling," I commanded softly, undoing his jeans and hiking them down to his ankles. "It's not that I don't trust you, Russell," I spoke softly as I worked the base ring around his testicles. "It's those two I don't trust," smiling and gesturing to the staircase that the girls just scampered up. 

"Now," I explained, as I fitted the inescapable tube over his flaccid shaft, "this isn't a permanent fixture. I am going to be holding both of these gold keys but that doesn't mean you'll never be unlocked. You may ask me to unlock you anytime, Sarah Jane can too, but there might be terms that come along with such freedom." 

Russell dutifully replied with a "yes, Ma'am," as I locked the brass mechanism and retained both of the keys. 

"Gold, huh?" Russell remarked, as he surveyed the two keys in my palm. 

"Yes, huni, gold suits you," I praised with affection. "And something tells me, 2025 is going to be a golden year for us."  

"Now be a darling and go run a bath for me, there's a 1997 Knight's Valley in the cellar, a glass of that as well please..."

"Oh...and on your way to the en suite, 'Daddy,' tell the girls to stop jumping on Sarah's bed," I smiled and winked at him as he said, "yes, Ma'am," before hurrying off. 

"Daddy, look what I can do," Summer's cheerful voice echoed down the staircase. 

I giggled to myself and shook my head at the absurdness of our new family and its dynamics, imagining the possibilities of the coming year.  

I think this will be a golden year for us indeed. I'm looking forward to all the great things we'll get up to in 2025! 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: National Treasure

  

It Will Heal

Continued from: The Goth Girls

[F/ff] [spanking] [hairbrush] [cornertime] [humiliation] [mother-daughter] [OTK] [family taboo]

I sat upon the edge of the wooden chair, creating a steady base by bringing my knees together, as I surveyed the scene before me. To my left, Cassandra sat primly in the other chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed steadfastly on the corner of the room. She was the picture of obedience, of submission, her ridiculous schoolgirl uniform a stark reminder of her childish behaviour. 

In front of me, stood Bella, her mother, a woman of fifty-odd years, dressed in an equally absurd outfit, her face a mask of humiliation and embarrassment. 

"Isabella," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I'd like you to pull down your panties and lay over my knees. Now!" For a moment, she hesitated, her hands trembling at her sides, her bottom lip trembling. But with a resigned sigh, she reached beneath her skirt, hooking her thumbs into the waistband on her panties and slide them down to her ankles with a whisper of satin against skin. 

With one last despairing glance at her daughter, she turned to face me, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of Cassandra's sobs. "Not like this. Not in front of her." 

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. With a single, imperious gesture, I beckoned her forward, patting my lap in invitation. I took her hand in mine, guiding her gently but firmly over my knees, arranging her body so that her bum is raised high in the air, her skirt riding up to expose her vulnerable bum and pussy. 

Her hand flew back after the first volley of smacks, instinctively trying to cover her exposed bottom. I reacted quickly, seizing her wrist and pinning it to the small of her back. 

With each transition of position and each escalation of implement used, I relived her of another article of clothing. 

My initial thought was to spank her bare naked, in front of her daughter, for the added psychological effect. But, I decided to keep her in just her knee socks and Mary Janes to amplify her innocent vulnerability and humiliation. 

As I continued to punish Bella, I was acutely aware that Cassie could hear every cry, every promise to be a good girl, every desperate plea that escaped her mother's lips, and I could only imagine the conflicting emotions that must have been coursing through her. 

On one hand, there must have been a sense of vengeful satisfaction, as she heard my hairbrush cracking down against her mother's bare bum. But also, a fear and trepidation as she realized it will soon be her turn. 

As she laid sobbing across my lap, her bum a deep, angry shade of red, she clutched my hosed ankle and begged for the spanking to conclude. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice hoarse and ragged from crying. "Please, I'll be good. I'll make things right with Cassie." 

I helped her to her feet and arranged her in the corner to swap places with her daughter, moving the time-out chair to a very public presentation below the window. 

Cassandra received the exact treatment in the same fury of punishing severity. A hand spanking, a strapping on the bed with pillows under her hips, and back over my knee for the hairbrush, all the while, relieving her of the protection of clothing. 

The odd time, I would scold Bella who stood quietly in the corner with her nose to the wall. "Hands on your head, don't even think about trying to rub that sore little bottom of yours, Isabella." 

I delivered the final strokes of the hairbrush to Cassandra's upturned bum, each impact landing with a resounding crack. I allow her a moment to collect herself and steady her breathing, before helping her to her feet. 

"Go and join your mom in the corner, hands on your head," I instructed her, my tone firm and maternal. 

"I want you two to think long and hard about why you're standing in the corner with spanked bottoms and the choices you two have made to bring you to this moment. You may speak to one another during your time-out, but under no circumstances are you to move from that corner. I'll be back in thirty minutes." 

Cassandra nodded mutely, her lower lip trembling as she turned to obey my command, and took up a position beside her mother. 

Satisfied that they understand, I turn and exit the room, closing the door softly behind me and setting a timer on my phone. Thirty minutes. That should give them amble opportunity talk and reflect upon their behaviour, upon the events that led them to this humiliating and painful predicament. 

Exactly thirty minutes later, I reenter the room, my heels clicking in a commanding cadence against the hardwood. "You may turn and face me," I instruct, my voice calm and measured. 

(I asked the A.I. for knee socks, glossy Mary Janes, hands on heads and otherwise, bare naked. This is the best you're getting I'm afraid)

"And you have my permission to rub those sore bottoms if you feel the need." 

Their hands protectively drop from their heads to cup and massages their tender, inflamed bums as they both squeaked out a, "I'm sorry, Ma'am." 

I look at the two Goth women before me, their faces streaked with tears, their bodies trembling with a mixture of pain, humiliation and emotional exhaustion. 

"It will heal, girls," I tell them, my voice gentle but firm. "The soreness will fade, the welts and bruises will disappear. But what of the welts and bruises you've inflicted on each other? The apology you owe is not to me, it's to each other, as your relationship will heal, just like your bums will." 

I waited patiently, expectantly for one of these previously stubborn Goth women to break the silence, towards reconciliation, to towards healing. 

I watched as Bella reached out to her daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace, their naked bodies pressing together, their breasts and nipples meeting in a strangely intimate and taboo manner. Tears streamed down Bella's face freely as she held Cassandra close as she whispered the only words Cassie needed to hear. 

"I love you, Cassandra." 

Cassandra stood rigid in her mother's arms, her body tense, uncertain, as if unsure how to respond. But then, slowly, I saw her shoulders relax, her arms lifting to encircle her mother's naked back, returning the embrace with equal fervor. 

"I love you too, Mom," she murmurs, her own voice thick with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything."

They clung to each other, their bodies shaking with sobs, their tears mingling, washing away the pain and anger and resentment that had built up between them over the years. It was a beautiful moment that filled my heart with warmth and hope. 

I picked up my hairbrush and ran my hand over the smooth expanse of the backside, smiling at its simplicity. I opened my dresser drawer and tossed it in with the others. 

Feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment, I left the room without saying another word. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: There Must be Order

  

 

The Goth Girls

Continued from: Our Anchor

[F/ff] [spanking] [hairbrush] [cornertime] [humiliation] [mother-daughter] [OTK] [family taboo]

As I surveyed the scene before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of deep satisfaction. Russell and Sarah Jane had settled comfortably into our home, their presence bringing a new energy and vitality to the space that often feels empty and cavernous when it's not bustling with clients. 

Summer and I had gone out of our way to ensure that they felt welcome and at ease, providing them with everything they needed to begin the process of healing and rebuilding. With Cassandra still here, we felt like a little family again. I had a warm tingling in my heart, bringing them under my roof as the matriarch and head of household (HoH). 

But like any family, it is not immune to problems at times, and there was one lingering issue that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness - the ongoing rift between Cassandra and her mother, Bella. It had been months since the sudden and secret wedding in England, and the two had scarcely exchanged a word or message in all that time. 

Cassandra has always regarded me as a mother-figure to her, but I can never be a replacement of her actual mother. It was up to me to intervene, and make things right between these two, even if it hurts a little. 

I slipped away to a quiet corner of the piano lounge and secretly accessed my phone. I had to play this one a little cloak and dagger, in order for it to work, so I made up some excuse to get Bella over to the house, without Cassandra knowing. 

I sort of eluded to Summer to make herself and our guests scarce for a bit. She cooked up a plan to take Russell and Sarah Jane shopping for clothes, both of their wardrobes and all of Sarah's DDLG, specialty and submissive wear was destroyed by the fire. Of course the two of them were bouncing off the walls at the prospect of shopping for age regressed clothing together. Russell just followed along like a Dad, taking two excited, pre-teen girls to the mall.

With Bella on the way, I tried to broach the subject with Cassandra yet again and immediately she got her back up, until suddenly, I heard the front door and asked Cassie to follow behind me. 

The moment Bella stepped through the doorway, I could feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. Clad in her signature red satin dress, her legs encased in dark hose and her feet perched atop towering heels, she was the very picture of elegance and sophistication. 

But the icy glare she directed at Cassandra told a different story altogether - one of simmering resentment and barely contained hostility. 

"Mother." Cassandra greeted her, her voice dripping with venom as she spat the word from her mouth. 

I attempted to calm Cassie's ferocity and ushered the two of them to a nearby couch. Sitting together, like two bickering siblings with me towering over them, I tried to calm the waters as best I could, but I knew that drastic measures were called for. 

Both women had experienced my firm hand before, submitting to the stinging correct of my hairbrush, my strap. But never had I punished them together, in the same room, forcing them to witness each other's humiliation and surrender.

I knew that it was precisely what was needed to break the cycle of resentment and hostility that had taken root between mother and daughter. Only by stripping away their defenses, by reducing them to their most vulnerable and childlike states, could I hope to guide them towards a place of forgiveness and understanding. 

I stood dramatically and slammed my high-heeled foot against the floor, shocking them to attention. 

"Enough! This ends now!"

"Cassandra Leigh, Isabella Octavia, get yourselves up to my room this minute!" 

To my satisfaction, the Goth women immediately bowed their heads in submission, their voices soft and compliant as they responded in unison, "yes, Ma'am." 

"In your underwear, facing the wall," I added, as the two of them scurried up the grand staircase and out of sight. 

I took my time, letting them stew in their shared predicament, before my heels eventually connected with the hardwood staircase slowly, deliberately, a commanding strut. 

I found them as instructed, wearing their undergarments only and standing shoulder to shoulder in my bedroom, facing the wall. Their previous bickering had morphed into a nervous silence that I quickly broke. 

"The two of you are going to get a spanking, right in front of one another. A good, hard, bare-bottomed spanking, the likes of which is long overdue, ladies." As I spoke, I could see their bodies tense and shoulders lurch forward as they remained silent with their heads bowed in shame.

Clutched in my hands, were two school uniforms, almost identical in style and vulnerability. The skirts were impossibly short, a length that would barely cover their plump asses, the tops were tiny too, a size too small for the ladies. Completing the ensemble were knee-high socks in a crisp white, and shiny black Mary Janes with buckled straps. 

"If you two are going to insist on behaving like a pair of petulant schoolgirls," I declared, my voice laced with disdain, "then you're going to be treated like that." With that, I tossed the outfits onto the bed, watching with amusement at how horrified they both were. The two Goth girls were not strangers to being taken over my knee while dressed in such vulnerable attire, but again, never together in the same room. 

"Go into the bathroom and strip, you two," I ordered aggressively. "Then put your uniforms on and report right back to this corner!" 

I was being so demanding in my tone that I didn't hear so much as a peep of protest out of these two, about the embarrassment of the situation, about the uniforms. I think they realized just how real this spanking was going to be, and suddenly, they were on their best behaviour. 

In dramatic fashion, I positioned two straight-backed, wooden chairs into the middle of the bedroom, strategically close to my dresser, which housed several hairbrushes and my leather strap. 

As I waited outside the bathroom door, I could hear the muffled sounds of movement and whispered conversation coming from within, the telltale signs of Cassandra and Bella struggling to come to terms with their predicament. 

"Sit!" I hissed, as the two Goth girls emerged from the bathroom in their crisp white knee socks, staring down at their glossy Mary Janes in shame and humiliation. 

I circled them like a predator, scolding them the entire time and reminding them about the loving bond only family can provide. "All this fighting and bickering stops today, and we'll stay in this room, spanking you one-by-one, until you're ready to accept that, ladies." 

With my final threat of what was to come, I had both women stand for me. 

"Cassandra Leigh, put your chair in the corner of the room, sit down and face the wall," I commanded. 

"Isabella, pull your panties down to your knees and get over my lap." 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: It Will Heal

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

 

Why Choose BDSM?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.