Little Spoon

Continued from: Tucked in by "Mommy"

A Sarah Jane story

After finishing up the text convo with Mistress, I gave Russell about an hour, while I read some Miss Julie content, before heading upstairs to alleviate the pressure in his poor bum. An hour plugged, without a re-lubrication, is more than enough time to provide suitable humiliation, frustration and to train his little bottom hole for future use. 

He was permitted to attend the bathroom in private and remove the penis-plug, returning to me so I could unlock the baby pink, leather cuff set from his wrists and ankles. When he reached for his satin pink nightie, to pull it off over his head I stopped him dead in his tracks. "Not so fast, young lady," I snapped. "These are the jammies you will be sleeping in tonight." 

His bottom lip began to pout in protest, as he mewled out a desperate, "but, Mommy...please!" 

With a quick motion of my hand, I accessed the dreaded ebony hairbrush that laid in wait on my dresser, specifically poised and at the ready for moments such as these. I ran my palm across it's smooth, unforgiving backside, tapping it firmly against my open hand. 

"So you were saying...you'd be happy to sleep in your pretty pink jammies, young lady?" I asked, my voice dripping in unspoken threat. He lowered his eyes, sensing impending danger and with a defeated sigh of submission, "yes, Mommy," escaped his lips. 

I set the hairbrush back in its place, and we both crawled into bed, maneuvering myself to ensure that I would be the big spoon tonight. 

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

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the bedroom as I stirred from my slumber. My arm was draped possessively around Russell's waist, holding him close to me as I spooned him from behind. I reveled in the feeling of his soft babydoll and panties, the delicate fabric doing little to conceal the firmness of his chastity cage beneath. 

With a contented sigh, I began to explore his body with my hands, tracing lazy patterns across his chest and stomach. Russell squirmed in my grasp, a soft moan escaping his lips as I found his sensitive nipples through the thin satin of his nightie. I pinched and rolled them between my fingers, delighting in the way his body responded to my ownership, his breathing growing heavier with each passing moment. 

My other hand drifted lower, cupping the bulge of his caged cock through the satin thong. "Good morning, my little one," I whispered, my lips grazing the shell of his ear as I spoke. "Did you sleep well, all safe and secure in Mommy's arms?" 

"We have quite the day ahead of us. Mistress Andrea has invited us over for a visit." I felt Russell tense slightly in my arms, no doubt processing the implications of being in Andrea's presence for the first time, as MY submissive plaything. 

"But first, let's get you out of these adorable jam-jams, Mommy wants to start her day properly." With a final lingering caress, I released my hold on Russell, allowing him to sit up and begin the process of removing his feminine attire. The sight of his chastity cage, snugly locked around his cock, never failed to send a thrill of ownership through me.

"Go start the shower, young man," I instructed, my voice laced with authority. "I want you waiting for me in there, on your knees." 

As Russell scurried off to obey my command, I reached for the nightstand drawer, my fingers closing around the familiar shape of the strap-on dildo. For a moment, I hesitated, considering the possibility of claiming him fully, right there in the steamy confines of our shower. The thought of watching him surrender to me completely, of feeling his body yield to my thrusts, was almost too tempting to resist. 

Yet, even as desire coursed through my veins, I knew that such a monumental step deserved more consideration. Reluctantly, I placed the harness back in the drawer, deciding instead, to seek counsel from Mistress Andrea. Our upcoming visit presented the perfect opportunity to discuss this significant milestone in our dynamic. He doesn't even realize how close he came to being pegged this morning.

*Sigh...

Entering the bathroom, I was greeted by the sight of Russell kneeling in the shower, the hot water cascading over his submissive form. Steam billowed around him, creating an ethereal atmosphere that only served to heighten my arousal. I stepped into the shower, positioning myself directly in front of him, my legs spread in silent command. 

I tangled my fingers into his wet hair, gripping tightly as I guided his mouth to my waiting pussy. "Lick my pussy, young man," I ordered, my voice cutting through the sound of the falling water. "Worship my cunt with that talented tongue of yours. Don't stop until I'm cumming onto your lips." 

Each flick and swirl sent waves of pleasure right to my toes, building steadily towards an inevitable climax. I held his head firmly in place, using him for my own gratification. As the last ripples of my orgasm subsided, I gently guided Russell to his feet, as my hands reached for the loofah, lathering it thoroughly before turning my attention to his cock cage. 

I took great pleasure in meticulously cleaning every inch of his locked-up penis, ensuring that the cage itself was cleaned as well. I couldn't help but smirk as I felt Russell's brief attempt at arousal, his cock straining futilely against the confines of the chastity cage. 

Emerging from the steamy shower, I allowed Russell the privilege of drying my naked body, his touch gentle and careful as he patted my skin with the soft towel. 

As he completed his task, I sauntered over to the bed, selecting a pair of pristine white stockings from my drawer. With deliberate slowness, I rolled them up my legs, relishing the silky caress against my skin. I reclined on the bed and spread my legs like a huge slut, revealing my glistening pussy. 

I crooked a finger at Russell, beckoning him closer. "Come, young man," I purred the sensual command. "Your Mistress requires another orgasm before we depart."

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Bi-polar BDSM

 

A Minor Annoyance

Continued from: Now you may call me, Ma'am

A Sarah Jane story 

It had been a few days since Russell and I signed our female-led-relationship contract, and things were going smoothly so far. His chastity cage was locked securely in place, a constant reminder of my authority. I predominately work from home so I take great pleasure knowing Russell leaves the house in the morning locked, and returns home locked, as both keys to the device in my possession, behind an additional layer of security he does not know the combination to. 

I also made some small changes around the house while he was at work, to reflect our new dynamic - a vase of wooden spoons and spatulas sat prominently on the kitchen counter now, implements of opportunity to be accessed at a moment's notice. 

One of MY belts, not his, now hung from the back of our bedroom door, a silent sentinel, watching over things. 

On my dresser, my sturdy wooden hairbrush was displayed like a trophy, and my rubber-soled slippers waited patiently by the bedroom door. 

Each item represented a tool of feminine dominance and maternal correction, yet I hadn't had cause to use them...yet, and we had not made it to a maintenance Sunday...yet. 

As the days passed, I found myself growing increasingly eager to feel Russell squirming over my lap, his bare bottom turning red under my firm hand. The anticipation was building, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would need to assert my dominance with a thorough spanking. 

On a random Tuesday, after Russell left for work, I made my way to the kitchen, eager for my morning coffee. However, as I approached the Keurig, I was met with an irritating sight. The water reservoir was bone dry, and Russell's used pod remained in the machine. Very poor Keurig etiquette if I do say so myself. Right up there with someone microwaving maple oatmeal or fish, in the communal workplace microwave. 

There's just unwritten rules in a society, right? 

A wave of minor annoyance washed over me, quickly replaced by a spark of excitement. This was the perfect opportunity to exercise my authority and remind Russell of his place in our dynamic. 

I reached for my phone, snapping a picture of the empty reservoir and offending spent pod. With a smirk playing on my lips, I composed a message to send to Russell at work. 

"This is how you left it for me?" I typed, attaching the incriminating photo. 

My thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, savouring the anticipation of his reaction. This little infraction would provide the ideal excuse for the spanking I had been itching to administer, and I couldn't wait to see Russell's face when he realizes the consequences of his actions. 

As I hit send on the initial message, a wicked grin spread across my face. I knew Russell would be in some high-touch meeting with the executives, squirming in his seat at work, anxiously awaiting my next communication. I decided to twist the knife a little further, my fingers dancing across the screen as I composed a follow-up text. 

"We're going to have a little 'chat' when you get home, young man," I typed, my tone dripping with mock disappointment. I could almost hear the nervous gulp and imagine the look on his face amidst his senior leaders and peers, his stomach twisting into knots and wondering if the rest of them knew he'll be getting a spanking tonight. The thought of him spending the entire day dreading our impending discussion filled me with a great sense of power and anticipation. 

As the day wore on, I found myself growing more and more excited for Russell's return. I wanted to set the perfect scene for our little chat, so I took great care in selecting my outfit. I chose a vintage 1950s, housewife dress that hugged my curves, pairing it with delicate pearls, bold red lipstick, and sheer hosiery that accentuated my legs. I slipped into a pair of sky-high heels, the click against the hardwood floor filing me with a sense of power and confidence. 

I surveyed my reflection in the mirror - a perfect blend of classic femininity and modern dominance. Turning my attention to the vase of wooden spoons on the kitchen counter, I carefully selected the one that would serve as my instrument of correction. I left it resting in the vase, a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. 

As the sound of Russell's car pulling into the driveway reached my ears, I positioned myself near the entrance, a warm smile playing on my lips. Despite the welcoming façade, we both knew the truth - in this household, I was the one in charge, and Russell was about to receive a firm reminder of that fact. 

We exchanged pleasantries, our voices light and casual, as if nothing were amiss. However, I could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes as he took in my dramatic appearance - the cinched waist of my vintage dress, the shimmering pearls at my throat, the towering heels that elevated me above him both physically and metaphorically. 

I watched as his gaze drifted past me, widening slightly as he noticed the straight-backed, armless chair positioned in the center of the living room. The absence of our usual coffee table was a glaring omission, replaced by this ominous piece of furniture that seemed to dominate the space. 

My voice was calm yet commanding as I issued my order. "Strip," I demanded, my eyes boring into his. "I want you completely naked, right down to that locked up cock of yours." Piece by piece, his clothing fell away, revealing his vulnerable form. 

He stood and lowered his eyes before me, utterly exposed save for the chastity cage that encased his manhood. I nodded towards the corner by the front door. "Go stand there and think about why we need to have a chat tonight," I directed, my tone still calm but strict. "Hands behind your head, nose to the walls." Obediently, Russell assumed the position, his bare skin prickling with goosebumps. 

Even though our FLR contract was signed several days ago with rules and consequences set, I was vague enough to use the term punishment generically. I had not dug deep into the different forms this could take. Russell knows all of this anyway, but I thought I would flex my dominance and humiliate him even further, by plainly explaining his current predicament. 

"Cornertime is an integral part of our discipline routine, young man," I matter-of-factly explained, my voice steady and authoritative. "Before and after every spanking, you will be positioned in a designated corner of my choosing, bare-bottomed and nose to the wall." 

"Pre-spanking cornertime allows you to contemplate your misdeeds and anticipate your impending punishment. Post-spanking cornertime provides and opportunity for reflection, to feel shame and acceptance of your corrected state while on humiliating display to the rest of the room." 

"During cornertime, you are forbidden from speaking, fidgeting, or attempting to cover your reddened bottom, young man. The duration of your timeouts will be determined by the severity of your offense and my discretion." 

I paused for a moment before continuing my preachy monolog, taking in the sight of his trembling form in the corner. It was a lovely view from my perspective. 

"A common length for your cornertime, young man, typically will range from fifteen minutes to one hour, depending on the circumstances. For minor infractions or routine maintenance spankings, I will usually be giving you a quarter-hour of contemplation both before and after the punishment."

"However, for more serious transgressions or particularly intense discipline sessions, I may extend the cornertime up to sixty minutes on either side of the spanking." 

I knew from my own experiences to always use a timer, and that the unpredictable duration adds an element of psychological tension, which will keep Russell on edge and fully focused on his penance. 

With my rant complete and my fifteen minute timer nearing its end, I stood and heel-clicked out of the room and into the kitchen. I reached for the wooden spoon from the vase and made certain Russell could hear me clanking it from the glass and against the other wooden utensils. 

Its weight was solid and reassuring in my palm, I knew that this was only the beginning of the lesson I had in store for my naughty little "boy". 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: The Struggle is Real

 

Sign Here, Initial There

Continued from: What do you say?

A Sarah Jane story 

The morning light filters gently through the curtains as we stir awake, our bodies still tangled in the aftermath of last night's explorations. I feel Russell shift beside me, his lips already forming the words "Good morning, Ma'am." But I silence him with a single finger pressed to his lips, my eyes locking with his. "No, not yet," I murmur softly, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. His eagerness to address me by a formal title is endearing, a clear indication that we're on the right track. But there is still work to be done, boundaries to establish, and roles to solidify. 

 Gently pulling away from his embrace, I sit up, stretching cutely before turning to face him once more. "Go make me a coffee, please," I instruct, my voice firm yet affectionate. "And bring it to the upstairs office. You'll wait for me there, understood?" He nods, his eyes wide and attentive, hanging on my every word. "Oh, and one more thing," I add, my gaze trailing appreciatively over his naked form. "You'll remain in your underpants only while you wait. I want easy access to what is mine." 

A faint blush colours his cheeks at my words, but he doesn't hesitate, rising from the bed and padding off to fulfill my request. 

I rise from the bed, taking a moment to select a suitable outfit for this occasion. Something powerful, yet feminine; authoritative, yet alluring.  

As I stand before the mirror, surveying my reflection, I can't help but feel a surge of power coursing through me. The lace panties leave little to the imagination, the delicate, sheer fabric clinging to my curves like a second skin. The corset cinches my waist, emphasizing my hourglass figure, while the intricate lacing at the back hints at the restraint and control that is about to define our dynamic. 

And the heels, those glorious sky-high heels, elevate me both literally and figuratively, adding inches to my height and cementing my status as the dominant force in this relationship. 

I retrieve the ottoman from the end of my bed and pull it across the hall into the office. There, I position it carefully, creating an impromptu queening stool. I go back to my room to collect my laptop, as I hear the soft pad of Russell's bare feet approaching, followed by the rustle of fabric as he settles himself in the chair I indicated, to await my arrival. 

A slow smile spreads across my face as I picture him there, his nearly naked form a testament to his submission, his eagerness to please me in every way. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and strode towards the office door. Each click of my heels against the hardwood floor is a declaration of intent, a warning of the power that approaches. 

I allow him a moment to appreciate the view, to let the reality of his position sink in, before crossing to the desk and setting down my laptop with a deliberate thud. Turning to face him fully, I meet his eyes, my own burning with intensity of my desire, my need to claim him utterly and completely. 

"Well, young man," I purr, my voice a sultry invitation and a stern command all at once. "Shall we begin?" 

With a flick of my wrist, I gesture for Russell to approach the ottoman, my makeshift throne. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the leather restraints dangling from my fingertips, but he doesn't hesitate, holding out his wrists to me. 

Once secured to the ottoman, I give the restraints a final tug, ensuring there's no give, no escape from the fate I have planned for him. With a graceful movement, I settle myself onto the ottoman, lowering my barely-clad bum onto his upturned face. 

The deliberately selected panties were ultra-sheer, he is so close, but teased by the delicate shrouding of fabric. I can feel the brush of his nose against my bottom-hole, a delicious tease that sends shivers of pleasure rippling through my core.

To a fly on the wall, the situation would appear like so: 

Leaning forward, I reach for my coffee, brining the mug to my lips and inhaling deeply, savouring the rich aroma before taking a sip. 

Setting the mug aside, I turn my attention to my laptop, my fingers flying over the keys as I begin to type. 

FEMALE-LED-RELATIONSHIP

(FLR) 

CONTRACT

1. The Dominant party, Sarah Jane, henceforth referred to as, "the Mistress."

2. The submissive party, Russell, henceforth referred to as "the submissive." 

3. The contract shall span a minimum duration of six months, during which time both parties shall fully commit to their respective roles

4. The details agreed upon in this contract cannot be changed, removed or edited until the maturity date of the contact, six months from the date in which it was signed by both parties.

5. Once signed and all sections have been initialed by both parties, the submissive shall only ever address the Mistress as "Mistress", "Ma'am" or "Mommy", as per her discretion.

6. Once signed and all sections have been initialed by both parties, the contract will be in effect immediately. 

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

I really need to get me one of these for the office. This is going to be a very long document!

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Now you may call me, Ma'am

Brutal Tenderness

Continued from: Tiptoes and Tears

A Sarah Jane story

With my ass and thighs still throbbing from the brutal belt whipping, I barely had time to catch my breath before Daddy was hauling me to my feet, his grip tight on my upper arm. He dragged me over to where Mandy was bound and bent over, her pussy lips deliciously on full display. 

With a thick leather collar around my neck and Daddy controlling my leash, he pulled me closer to Mandy and forced me to lick her pussy and asshole, saturating her most intimate of areas with my saliva. 

With the taste of Mandy's pungent asshole still lingering on my tongue, I watched in mute horror as Daddy retrieved something from a nearby drawer. In his hand, he held a strange contraption. It was a dildo gag, with a smaller, penis-shaped end designed to fill my slutty mouth, while a larger, more realistic cock protruded obscenely from the other side. 

I shook my head frantically when the gag was thrust between my teeth, the rubbery shaft filling my mouth and pressing against the back of my throat. I gagged reflexively, my jaw aching as he buckled and padlocked the straps behind my head. 

Tears of humiliation streamed down my face as Daddy led me by my leash to a kneeling position behind Mandy, lining me up so that the protruding cock aligned perfectly with Mandy's exposed pussy.

At his command, I leaned forward, the silicone dick sliding easily into her wet depths. The situation was degrading in the extreme, my face buried in another woman's most intimate places. I could smell the musky scent of her arousal and could feel the heat of her body as my nose came to rest on her asshole. 

I began to move my head back and forth, the thick silicone cock sliding in and out of her pussy with each motion. The sensation was surreal. With each thrust, my nose dabbed the puckered ring of her butt hole, the contact sending shivers of revulsion and unwanted arousal through my body. 

Behind me, I could hear the whistle of the flogger cutting through the air, followed by the sharp sting as it connected with my upper back. The pain was exquisite, each lash from Daddy, urging me to fuck Mandy harder, to burry my nose deeper into her anus. 

"Faster, you little slut," he growled, punctuating his words with another stroke of the whip. 

"Make her cum all over your pretty face." 

I could feel the lens of the video camera trained on us, capturing every degrading moment for Daddy's amusement. The thought of him watching me like this, reduced to nothing more than a human fuck toy, sent a fresh wave of shame and arousal washing over me. 

As Mandy's orgasm subsided, her body shuddering with the last vestiges of pleasure, Daddy finally took pity on me and removed the gag from my whorish mouth. But my relief was short-lived as Daddy grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back into Mandy's bum crack. 

"Get that lezzy tongue of yours inside her butt," he hissed. his voice dripping with cruel amusement, as he knows I am not even remotely lesbian. 

On shaking arms and knees, I crawled closer to Mandy's glistening asshole. I tentatively extended my tongue, tracing around the contours of her delicate pucker. At first I was gentle, almost hesitant, but Daddy's impatient slap to my ass spurred me to greater boldness. 

I stiffened my tongue, pushing past the initial resistance until I breached her tight ring of muscle. The sensation was overwhelming and the tightness of her bum hole enveloped my tongue as I went in deeper. 

Without warning, Daddy plunged his cock into my dripping pussy, filling me completely with a single, brutal thrust. 

Each powerful stroke drove my tongue deeper into Mandy's asshole, as I was relentlessly fucked from behind. I could feel the first stirrings of my own orgasm building low in my tummy. As my pussy clenched around Daddy's cock, Mandy's asshole gripped and squeezed my tongue. The depravity of this act had me right at the edge, as I felt Daddy empty his balls into my willing depths. 

The sensation of his hot cum filling my insides, coupled with the forced-bi, taboo thrill of having my tongue up Mandy's butt, sent me spiraling over the edge into my own shattering release. 

As I collapsed to the floor, my body spent and my spirit broken, the last echoes of my amazing orgasm faded away. I found myself cradled gently in Daddy's arms. His touch was tender now, a stark contrast to the brutal intensity of our earlier encounters. I leaned into him, seeking solace in his warmth as he stroked my hair with surprising gentleness. 

"Shh, it's alright babygirl," he cooed, his voice soft and soothing. "Daddy's got you now." The words sent a wave of goosebumps across my naked body. Behind us, Mandy nuzzled closer, her lips resting on my neck as she also sought comfort in the aftermath of our intense scene. 

Daddy's hand drifted lower, massaging his cum out of my swollen pussy and feeding it into my mouth with his two fingers, a possessive ritual that made me squirm with delight. 

"I think someone's ready for her special outfit," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone that made my cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

"What do you say, princess? Are you ready for your knee socks and bows?" 

I bit my lip, torn between the urge to hide my face in his chest and the undeniable thrill that raced through me at the thought of being dressed like this in front of Mandy. 

Mandy lifted her head in confusion as she tried to make sense of the drastic shift in dynamic. "I don't understand," she said softly, her gaze flicking between Daddy and me. 

"Would you like to help me get her ready?" he asked, already leading us upstairs to the "pink room" in the house, a space adorned with colouring books and stuffed animals. Mandy nodded eagerly, her hand finding its way to grip mine in a caring embrace. 

Together, they began to dress me, slipping the adorable cuteness over my head and pulling on matching panties. Crisp white knee socks and shiny black Mary Janes completed the look, transforming me from a wanton sex slave into an adorable little girl. 

While they fussed over me, straightening my bows and brushing my hair, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. In this moment, I was free from the weight of adult responsibilities, free to simply exist in the love and care of my Daddy. And though part of me still struggled with the humiliation of my situation, I couldn't deny the profound arousal that filled me as I surrendered to Daddy's gentle touch.

As Daddy finished dressing me, I turned to Mandy with a shy smile, my heart fluttering nervously in my chest. "Do you want to try it too?" I asked softly, my voice barley above a whisper. 

Mandy hesitated for a moment as she considered the offer. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her pride and her desire to experience this strange new age regression kink. 

Finally she nodded, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Okay," she whispered, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "I'll try it." 

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I took her hand, leading her to my princess armoire that held my collection of little girl clothes. I rifled through the hangers, searching for the perfect outfit for my little dolly. My fingers brushed against a soft yellow gingham dress, its skirt adorned with white lace trim. 

"This one!" I exclaimed, pulling it out triumphantly. "It'll look so pretty on you!" 

With my final touches of ribbons for her pigtails, Mandy giggled nervously as she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her eyes widening with a mixture of shock and wonder. 

"Oh my god," she whispered, her hands tracing the soft fabric of her dress. 

"I look...I look like a little girl." 

I nodded eagerly, bouncing on my toes with excitement. "You look adorable!" I gushed, clapping my hands together. "Now come on, let's go play." 

Hard to believe isn't it? Yesterday this woman was shopping for back-to-school shoes for her kids. 

Now look at her...it's such a wonderful escape! She's just too embarrassed to realize it yet.

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Thumb Suckers

Oily Hufone Heit

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