Betrayed

Continued from: Why choose BDSM?

"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

 

Caesar Sunday

Continued from: Teacher's Pet

A Sarah Jane story 

One would think that after such an emasculating and helpless scene for poor Russell, watching Mandy and I in our schoolgirl outfits, completely having at one another, that I would just stow him away in his own shame and humiliation when we got home. 

Quite the opposite actually. We went for dinner. We giggled and laughed as we spoke of the scandalous scene from each other's perspectives. Apart from his caged penis and the subject matter of the dinner conversation, we would appear as just another normal couple on a date night. 

I think I will get a cage though, for the end of my bed, especially if Mandy comes to visit and she and I want to play uninterrupted. And for other scenes and sessions at home, it'll be good for Russell to be shackled and just idle for me, waiting to be used at my whim. Perhaps one of those collapsible crates I can store under my bed until needed? And a few sturdy padlocks...hmm.

Anyway, yes...that was Saturday afternoon with Mandy, then a Saturday night dinner with just Russell and I. It was also the eve of our first maintenance Sunday with ME in charge. He got the wooden spoon over my knee as a punishment, during this first week of our FLR. Then he got a soothing spanking and slippering over "Mommy's" knee at bedtime, a little later in the week. But this would be our first Sunday maintenance spanking. The first ritual to define all future Sunday's in our FLR, the pressure was on to deliver.

From my own experience on the receiving end, I knew I had to properly layer him, that the spanking should be long rather than hard, but enough of an impact that he would be feeling it for a few days. I knew implement selection was important, having been taught at the Facility to always try for hand, leathers, woods, hand, in that order, and to use a variety of positions and furniture to really draw this session out. I was more than ready.  

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

Sundays were always special in our household when it was me who was receiving the spanking - it marked the end of one week and the beginning of another, a perfect time for reflection, reconnection and of course, weekly discipline. This particular Sunday was momentous, as it would be our first official maintenance spanking since formalizing our FLR contract. 

Throughout the day, I could sense Russell's growing anticipation and nervous energy, as he did not know when it was coming, this was by design. He was acutely aware he would be getting a spanking today, he just didn't know when and I intended to keep it that way.

We went about our usual Sunday routines - a leisurely brunch, some chores around the house, a walk in the park. But there was an undercurrent of tension, a delicious sense of inevitability hanging in the air.

As the day wore on, I deliberately avoided mentioning the impending spanking, watching with amusement as Russell grew increasingly fidgety and distracted. I knew his mind was consumed with thoughts of what was to come - the exposure, the vulnerability and a very lengthy trip over my knee.

After a satisfying dinner, I finally broke the silence. "It's time, Russell," I said softly, yet firmly, using his full name like a mother would call her misbehaved son. "Upstairs to the spanking room, please. Undress completely and wait for me in the corner, nose to the wall." Russell's breath caught slightly, but he obeyed without hesitation, squeaking out a "yes, Ma'am", before making his way upstairs. 

Caesar has spoken! 

I gave Russell ample time to prepare himself, both physically and mentally, allowing him to marinate in anticipation for a full twenty minutes in the corner. When I decided it was time to make my entrance, I slipped off my casual flats and stepped into a pair of shiny, nude patent heels, relishing the click of the stilettos against our hardwood floors as I ascended the stairs. The heels, paired with my form-fitting jeans and nude pantyhose underneath, created a striking union of modern maternal authority and feminine allure. 

My outfit could definitely be “Mommy” for this session, but I was going with the seriousness of “Ma’am” tonight. 

As I entered the upstairs office, the sight of Russell standing obediently in the corner, fully exposed and vulnerable, sent a thrill through me. I took a moment to neatly arrange some implements on the desk, before pulling the straight-backed chair into the center of the room. Maintenance is not the time nor place for crops, floggers or whips. My implement selection was domestically oriented, hairbrushes, rulers, spatulas and spoons, with a few leather paddles and straps from the impact play realm of kink. 

I made my way to the chair, sinking into its firm embrace with a satisfied sigh. I pressed my knees together to create a sturdy base, as my jeans rode up on my ankles, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of my delicate, hosed ankles.

"Come here, young man," I purred, patting my lap invitingly. Russell turned from the corner, his eyes downcast as he approached and whispered out an embarrassed, about to be spanked as an adult, “yes, Ma’am.” I guided him gently over my knees, positioning his body so that his caged cock rested snugly between my denim-clad thighs. 

"You know this is for your own good, huni, I know you need this." I cooed to him in maternal fashion as he settled over my lap. I began spanking him with a steady rhythm of firm swats, using only my palm. I took my time, allowing the warmth to build gradually across his bare bottom. I didn't say much during this warm-up phase, allowing each smack to echo through the room as he squirmed lightly. 

I would alternate cheeks, making sure to pay some attention to his upper thighs. My form was perfect, bringing my hand high above my head before delivering each smack. I’d do a volley of twelve hard ones, then back right off to twenty-five light ones, ensuring I was colouring the entire area.

As Russell's skin began to take on a delightful rosy hue, I reached for the first of several leather paddles I had laid out earlier. The supple hide smelled wonderful and it felt weighty in my grip, as I brought it down sharply against his already tender cheeks. Again, I cycled between short bursts of hard, followed by longer and lighter, rhythmic volleys of soft to moderate strokes. 

Towards the end of his warm-up phase, I asked him to surrender his arm to me, which I pinned behind his back. I did some gentle rubbing and cupping of his bum, like being wrapped in a warm blanket, then really let him have it with my palm, like being plunged into an ice bath. This rollercoaster technique seemed to add another layer, and underscore his helplessness and vulnerable state. 

After several sets like this, I decided it was time to move to the next phase of his discipline. Rising from the chair gracefully, I took Russell's hand in mine and led him from the office, into the bedroom.

In the center of the floor, I had positioned the ottoman bench, a plump, inviting pillow at the ready, to bolster his hips. 

I guided Russell to stand beside it, then pointed firmly at the cushioned surface. "Over you go, huni," I instructed, my voice a sultry mix of authority and affection. "Pillow under your hips, please." Russell complied without hesitation, draping his well-warmed bottom over the soft mound, presenting his bum beautifully for the continuation of his maintenance. 

With Russell positioned obediently over the ottoman, I took a moment to admire the view. His reddened bum, already bearing some deep colour, looked absolutely delectable, lifted and presented before me. For dramatic effect, I closed the bedroom door with a soft click, as if to shield curious ears downstairs or in another room, from what was about to occur.

Standing tall in my heels, I could feel the female dominance coursing through me, reminding my throbbing pussy that this was definitely the role for me. I reached for my belt, slowly drawing the leather through the loops of my jeans. The metallic jingle of the buckle filled the air, a precursor to the symphony of sensations I was about to conduct. 

Doubling the belt over in my hands, I savoured the weight and suppleness of the leather, smoothing it in my palm to prepare it - soon it shall be dancing across Russell's bare bum.

With the belt firmly in hand, I stepped closer to Russell, trailing my fingernails over his sit spots. "Twenty-six, young man," I murmured, my voice low and commanding. "You will count each one aloud and thank me." 

Without further warning, I drew my arm back and delivered the first searing stroke, the leather cracking against his skin with a resounding snap. Again, this wasn't a punishment strapping, the strokes were measured, not severe. 

"One, thank you, Ma'am!" Russell breathed out. I paused only briefly before delivering the second lash, and then the third, each stroke eliciting a gasp and a dutiful count from my devoted submissive. By thirteen, I switched sides of the ottoman, to ensure the strapping would be evenly distributed. I watched with satisfaction as Russell's bottom bloomed an angrier shade of crimson with each impact.

I deepened the whole experience with some wooden hairbrush, over my knee, and concluded with my palm, the most intimate and reconnecting form of OTK.  

By this point, as the spanking was starting to become challenging for Russell, I started using more dialog, telling him that it's okay to need this, it's alright if he needed to cry. The tears never came this time, but I wanted to make sure he knew it was alright, if he needed to. This is what Sunday maintenance was all about, to empty his cup that could be full or filling. 

I kept him over my knee and wrapped my arm possessively around his waist, a move that would certainly elicit feelings of helplessness within him. Holding him firmly, I applied some pink baby lotion to his throbbing bottom, in soothing, maternal fashion. "You did very well, Russell," I cooed to him, "your spanking is over now." 

He shifted onto his knees before me, crouching low to kiss each of my high heels, before I ushered him back up and nuzzled him into my breasts. 

"Thank you, Ma'am," he mewled out softly, his voice trembling with vulnerability. 

I helped Russell to his feet, steadying him as he found his balance. Pointing to the corner of the bedroom, I instructed, "nose to the corner, please. Some time to reflect on this Sunday and every Sunday that will follow. "We'll do," I hummed to myself in mock, internal debate. "Hmmm...twenty-five minutes today, young man."

Russell moved obediently to his designated spot, the vivid redness of his freshly spanked bottom on full, humbling display. 

As he settled into his corner, I couldn't help but admire the sight of him - naked, vulnerable, and beautifully marked by my female dominance. I set the timer on my phone for twenty-five minutes, the digital numbers glowing brightly as they began their countdown. 

I kicked off my high heels and climbed onto our king-sized bed, propping myself up against the headboard with and sighing in contentment. Reaching for my tablet, I settled into read more of Miss Julie's e-books, occasionally glancing up to monitor my submissive's posture and demeanor. I felt like an absolute Goddess, I was loving everything about this moment!

Sarah Jane 💟

(If you don't know who Miss Julie is or haven't read her e-books, I strongly recommend that you do)

Strict Julie Spanked  

A link to her blog is above. 

Links to her amazing e-books are in her menu on the blog.

Continued in: Ma'am to Mistress

   

 

 

 

What Katie Did

Continued from: Roses are Red, Summer is too

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

 

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

 

  

 

Dealing with a Spoiled Brat

Continued from: The Cum Brat

A Sarah Jane story

Hi everyone, it's Sarah again. I'm going to be grounded to my bedroom after I post this so I'll type slowly and take my time when I describe my spanking to all of you. Yet I've just realized this is a horrible predicament because it's very uncomfortable to sit right now. 

I'd rather be on my tummy on my bed, sobbing into my stuffie. 

"Mr. Bun Buns" was my cuddly companion throughout my age regressed phases of this journey I've been on. I spent a lot of time holding his little ear while standing in the corner with my pull-ups at my knees and red bum on display.

But what to do now?? *foot stomp*

Sit here and stall and dawdle and endure the pain of sitting? Or finish my task quickly to be grounded to my room?  Grrrr! 

I'll begin with a revelation I had. 

Doesn't it suck when something you despise doing, or having to do in my case, turns out to serve its intended purpose? Thirty minutes in the time-out corner sucks! It's boring and the slight elevation of my Mary Jane heels makes my feet hurt and I'm humiliated and dressed like a little girl and it just plain sucks! 

As the agonizing minutes tick by and the humiliation causes my pussy to betray me, the boredom forces me to begin thinking about why I'm in the corner in the first place. 

Intended purpose of cornertime? That's 1-0 for Daddy. 

I thought about a specific request he had for me the other day. It was the on the 16th of August. He sent me this awesome bdsm video of two slave girls in a dirty factory-type setting. One poor girl was gagged, presumably with her own panties and tape. She was crotch-rope tied, her nipples were clamped and she was strung up in a bondage pose with spreader bar, forced onto her toes. 

Her friend, I assume these two were abducted by their male captor together, is being presumably "forced" to practice her deepthroating skills on a dildo. She is likely under threat to keep going on the dildo, lest she wind up like her friend, strung up and beaten. 

So as the video started for me, this was the initial scene: 

The girl on the left had her nipples clamped and affixed to her dildo stand. This was a nice move I thought. Trapped by her own nipples!

The girl on the right. Her crotch rope is tied to her ponytail to keep her head up and forward. Way more shameful! She can't hide from her punishment now. Her nipple chain seems to be around her neck, causing pressure and tugging if she moves too much. 

The strung-up girl is spanked and whipped with a belt the entire time. She screams her way through the whole torturous scene while her legs shake from her tip-toed position. 

Her friend, now covered in her own drool and slobber, deepthroats that realistic cock, the entire time. It's a long video. It's 18 minutes long and my Daddy knows this is exactly the sort of treatment I crave and want. This is the style of maledom I like. I wanted to take the place of both of these women, as I watched this. 

Daddy allowed me to masturbate while I watched the full length of this video. I was also, shockingly, permitted to cum at will, provided I recorded the times within the video that I orgasmed. 

*blush* I'm embarrassed about the next thing I want to say...

I came five times while watching this clip! The first one occurring at the 2:42 mark. My second orgasm, which was heavy and shuddering, at the 5:28 mark. Then, like the spoiled little cum-brat that I am, I came three more times! Five orgasms Daddy gifted me. I really was his spoiled little girl. 

Intended purpose of cornertime? Self-reflection? Dammit....2-nothing for Daddy.

He keeps my orgasms controlled so I am in a perpetual state of arousal, on edge and ready to serve him. My orgasms, when permitted, are like a gift to me. And now I just had five in a row, didn't journal about my previous ones then even forgot about one and when it occurred. 

I took for granted these lovely gifts. I took advantage of how kind my Daddy is to me. Fuck!

3-nothing Daddy. Acceptance of consequences!

This is when the fear of the spanking sets in, while I was in the corner. I knew it was going to be long and severe. This was right around the time my thirty minutes was coming to an end and I was called to Daddy's side, to face him for the first time. 

Of course I was bawling. 4-0 for Daddy. The cornertime was long enough to reach the self-pity phase, apologetic phase and begging for Daddy to not be disappointed with me. Bawling at him to please spank me, because I know I'll be forgiven afterwards. Spank me long and hard, just don't be disappointed in me! 

See how sucky this is! When you realize this process works. Sucky cornertime achieved its intended purpose! This sucks! 

Well. I got what I had coming to me and I know I deserved it. I got hand-spanked first, followed by the strap, two hairbrushes, a dozen with the cane then finally, Daddy's belt. I was a frantic mess by the end. 

Snot, tears. I was cough-crying. Daddy held me close to tell me I was forgiven and I sobbed into his shoulder, apologizing for being a spoiled little brat. 

Then, with the scent of pink baby lotion enveloping the room and enveloping my nostrils, I was about to undertake another agonizing thirty minutes in time-out, displayed and shamed. This is the point Mistress walked in on us, and asked what was up. 

I heard Daddy telling Mistress why I got a spanking. My face burned with embarrassment from my corner, when he revealed to her that I masturbated myself to five cummies! I heard words like spoiled being used, brat and ungrateful, when he told her about the journal I failed to do. Daddy was clearly still fuming with me. Then I heard Mistress speak. 

"This is actually good timing. I have something to talk with you about. Does Sarah Jane need to be punished further?" Mistress asked Russ. 

"Yes!" I heard my Daddy reply. He didn't even hesitate. 

Then the two of them began to whisper, which was humiliating and annoying. They were likely whispering about me! I heard Summer's name spoken. I heard the term hall-pass. That was about all I could extract from their whispering. 

Mistress clicked out of the room and the final minutes of my cornertime came to an end. When Daddy released me I crawled on my hands and knees over to him. His pants were off and his cock was in his hand. My ritual was so drilled into me that nothing had to be said. 

"May I please suck your cock Daddy?" I said as I looked up at him. 

"Yes you may young lady," was his reply, adding a touch of youthful vulnerability for me. 

"Thank you Daddy." Was my next response, followed by a gentle kiss to the tip of his penis before taking him into my mouth. 

I love when it grows in my mouth Daddy! 

As I sucked him off he calmly spoke. He didn't ask me anything, as my mouth was full of his dick, he just told me what was going down. 

"Summer wishes to join us for a playdate." He said. 

"Since you've lost some appreciation of how good you have it and the lovely gift of orgasm that Daddy grants you, you're going to be taught a further lesson young lady." 

I could only groan onto his cock. Not knowing what this new punishment would entail. 

Daddy wasted no time in telling me. 

"When Summer joins us, you're going to watch me fuck her." He bluntly declared. 

I groaned onto his cock again in desperation. Not really knowing if it was a jealous groan or a groan of pure arousal at the thought of this upcoming humiliation. 

I didn't have long to process what was just said, as Daddy was now blasting his load into my throat. 

Once I swallowed everything down and cleaned up his cock, I kissed the tip once again and simply said, "thank you Daddy." 

Was I thanking him for his cum? Was I thanking him for my spanking? Or was this my implied consent about his statement that he is going to fuck Summer and force me to watch? 

As I sit here typing, I think it was all of the above. I deliberately didn't say anything further in that moment. 

Once I hit this post button, I have to go to my room. I'm grounded for the night. To lay on my tummy and think about watching my Daddy fuck Summer. 

*pout* 

sarah jane 😔

 

Continued in: I often envy submissives