Set, Session and Scene

Continued from: It's all in the Eyes

[F/f] [spanking] [humiliation] [cornertime] [anal]

I am going to resume my TED talk series on a few more aspects of the lifestyle that I feel are important to cover, then we are going to turn things over to Sarah Jane, who wanted to re-tell the story of her very first playdate with Mandy, orchestrated by yours truly. 

Unwinnable Circumstances

Cassandra was the queen of the head games, making silly male submissives choose between the lesser of two evils, or what they thought was the lesser of two evils. This form of psychological torture pitted her male clients into predicaments within themselves. Be fucked in the ass by Cassandra, or have another 90 days added to your chastity sentence, your choice. Sixty-nine with another male slave, or feel the bite of her single-tail whip. Then she would make them actually choose the path of their own torment, before carrying it out. 

Everyone always has a third choice too, being their safeword, but those are rarely used. 

What Cassandra won't do, however, what I won't do either, is to present an unwinnable scenario to a submissive, with consequences for failure. Take this example for instance: 

I'm going to tie up this lovely submissive, I'm going to rope-anchor the Hitachi against her pussy and then I'm going to turn it on, full blast. 

If you orgasm...you're getting punished! Then leave her to the disparity of the inevitable. 

I have electro-pads on Summer's nipples, there is a vibrating anal plug up her ass and the wand is locked onto her pussy with one of those trusty, lockable, vibrator belts. I might tell her she's not allowed to cum, even threaten her about what I will do if she does...

But am I actually going to punish her when she cums? No. This is an unwinnable scenario and I'm not that cruel, plus, it will frustrate the submissive. 

A slow and steady handjob without stopping, while a bound slave just lays there and takes it. I've told him he's not allowed to cum under any circumstance, but I still keep my pace on his cock. 

I'd totally just edge then lock him back up if this was a real scenario. If you possess the skills to do a ruined orgasm, I would suggest that as an option too. 

But let's say that wasn't the goal and I just wanted some head games at play, violently jerking him off while telling him how horrible his life is going to be if he should dare cum in my presence. He's going to fail, it is inevitable. I'll make him consume his mess, to shame and humiliate him, but I'm not going to punish him for cumming, this was an unwinnable scenario. 

Set, Session and Scene

These three terms speak to the planning phases of a playdate, based on what the submissive wants and how I intend to deliver their fantasies.

A session, is the entirety of my interaction with the submissive. A session could last for several hours or even several days, where breaks can be taken into the vanilla world and into vanilla activities, but everyone remains in role, everyone abides by rules and structure, along with official titles. 

A scene, is a specific activity performed within the session. I spoke of admin and ops in a previous post, being two different things but interconnected overall. This would be an example of two scenes within one session, complimenting one another, doing admin before I do ops. 

Let's say for instance that I'm having a session with Mandy. I have told her that I'd like her age regressed when she arrives to my house and that she will be seeing "Mommy" today, for a spanking. 

We're going to do all kinds of other stuff today but I'm starting with admin, vulnerability and humiliation to kick-off the session and this maternal-style spanking becomes our first scene. 

As for sets, this would be the breakdown of my first scene, it's very easy to organize. 

Set 1: Mandy will do 20 minutes in the corner of the living room with her bum bare

Set 2: Called from the corner for OTK hand-spanking

Set 3: Have her fetch "Daddy's" belt from bedroom, give a strapping over the arm of the couch

Set 4: Wheelbarrow pose for the leather paddle

And so on, and so on, set after set, you get the idea. 

Set 9 (for instance): Finish her in the corner for another 20 minutes, bum bare.  

I said before that admin should be real and predominately non-sexual in nature, and in this example, it absolutely was. However, Mandy needs to thank me, "properly", for her spanking, and this is now where ops begins to creep into the admin. Her humiliating attire hasn't changed, my maternal attire hasn't changed, yet I planned ahead to ensure I was in lovely, vintage lingerie, under my pinup dress. As for her, I want her to be engaged in sex acts while still in her age regression clothing. There's a taboo about it, there is a humiliating vulnerability about it, and I want her to experience and tap into this. 

We're still in the same scene, about to begin Set 10, our surroundings, our attire, has not changed and this is why it is the same scene and not a new one. She's still calling me "Mommy", as I summon her from the corner and have her crawl towards me on her hands and knees. She will be made to worship my high heels, my feet, my bottom hole and eventually go down on me to completion. This is the manner in which I want to be thanked for taking the time to spank her. 

Now the scene has ended! I've just orgasmed onto her mouth and lips and she will verbally thank me for that gift, gazing down at the floor with her little pigtails cascading down her flushed cheeks.   

We might have a soak in the Turkish bathhouse that I installed in The Facility, we might go to the kitchen together and get some fruit. The session is still running, but the first scene has ended and she has no idea how many more I may have planned.

When I'm ready to begin the next scene, I tell her what to do and where to go. In this circumstance, this is what I wanted: 

I had Mandy stripped bare and vulnerable, still sporting the effects of scene one, when I brought her to the shower where I had an enema bag prepared and hung. I lubricated her, I probed her ass with a gloved finger, then inserted the enema nozzle into her bottom hole. 

Scene number two of the session has just begun. 

I began the flow of warm saltwater water into Mandy, rubbing her pussy and breasts, tweaking her nipples and offering her supporting words as she took the full two-quarts, her sense of urgency worsening by the second. I left her alone to do the next phases of clean-out by herself, while I went off to change into my scene two attire and prepare an outfit and the setting for the next phase. 

Based on my attire alone, you can tell that we are well into the ops side of the house now. Mandy doesn't know exactly what's coming but she can probably surmise that by wanting her fully cleaned out back there, she's going to be in for some heavy anal play. 

I went with a virginal white for her, to act as a stark contrast to the non-virginal acts we were about to engage in. 

And yes, I fucked Mandy in the ass while she got herself off with her fingers. 

She was treated to two orgasms with my girl-cock in her bum, then I rode her face for awhile as she diligently returned the favour. 

End of scene two, change of outfit. 

A lot of the time, this is an easy way to think about the structure. Each scene gets its own unique outfit throughout the entirety of the session.

I began scene three in loungewear and heels, because that's exactly what I wanted to do to end-off the session.

Mandy began scene three like this, serving me drinks and sucking on my toes as I savoured my drink and her lovely mouth. 

I even treated her to a little end-of-session, celebratory drink, but with a twist: 

Booze tastes better when suckled from the toes of a Dominatrix. It's a fact! ; ) 

I'll leave you with a final scenario to contemplate and I'll continue this learning series later on, as there has been an exciting development today that I want to write about.  

Here's the final two riddles: If you're a male submissive who has his penis in a chastity cage, and you do not have control over the keys to unlock that cage...does that mean you're like always in a session? 

If you're living a domestic discipline, female-led-relationship and that video radar, speeding ticket just arrived in the mail...and you have to give it to your wife to pay, because she controls all finances in the home...and you know you won't be sitting comfortably for the foreseeable future once you show her the ticket... 

Does that mean you're just constantly within a session? Underscored by scenes, like the one described above? 

Set, Session, Scene...Lifestyle is the fourth one, the missing link. 

We'll discuss lifestyle next time. 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Spanked by Lady Jose

 

I Don't Want This!

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Guilty Pleasures

Continued from: Save the last Dance

[F/f] [lezdom] [stripper] [BDSM] [kink]

As Cassandra continues her mesmerizing dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that defies description, I find myself growing increasingly aroused. The sight of her nearly nude form, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, is almost more than I can bear, and I feel my own desire rising to a fever pitch. 

Finally, unable to resist any longer, I crook my finger at her, beckoning her closer. Like a sleek, predatory cat, she crawls towards me on all fours, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. 

As she reaches me, she sits back on her haunches, her head bowed in a gesture of submission. "Please, Mistress," she whispers, her voice low and husky with need, "let me taste you." 

Unable to deny her request after being enchanted by her dancing, I part my thighs, granting her access to the molten heat that lies between them. With a moan of unadulterated lust, Cassie buries her face in my pussy, her tongue delving deep into my folds as she seeks out the sensitive bud of my clit. 

She quickly slipped me out of my dress, then bit my bare ass, causing me to yelp and react by slapping one of her tits. Cassandra simply smiled, all while sporting a bit of crazed look in her eyes.  

She hooked two of her fingers inside me and literally led me by my pussy, over to the other couch, where she pushed me down onto my back and continued to finger-blast me. 

Reaching up, I grasp her hair, tugging her head back until she is forced to meet my gaze. "Your turn," I growl, my voice thick with desire. Our interactions were beginning to look more like a fight, but I was loving every second of it, especially when she took hold of my throat once more and pinned me down on the couch cushion. 

She straddled my face between her thighs, lowering her dripping cunt onto my face. When she made contact with my lips, my tongue darted out to lap at her swollen clit. 

Together, we writhe and moan, taking turns flipping between offense and defense, hair being pulled, faces being playfully slapped, as the strip joint soundtrack continued to boom all around us.

As our passion builds to a crescendo, we shift positions, our legs intertwined as we scissor our pussies together, grinding and rubbing against each other in a desperate quest for release. 

Finally, after wrestling around some more in a haze of pure, unbridled ecstasy, we both cum at the same time, our bodies convulsing in a series of earth-shattering orgasms that seem to go on forever.

Exhausted and spent, I laid back as Cassie took top control once again, effortlessly launching my legs back and into the air to clean me with her mouth. 

As Cassandra and I lay entwined in each other's arms, our bodies still trembling with the aftershocks, I traced my palm over her smooth, perfect ass, the marks of her spanking having long since faded. I gave her a few motherly pats on the bum helped her to her feet. "I need to get you to the airport, sweetheart." 

Anthony Bourdain once compared unhealthy, good idea at the time, fast food, to a trashy street-walking hooker in ripped stockings and shitty heels. His theory being, that sometimes, you just want that! Haha, its classic Tony!

"It's 3AM, you're drunk and stoned, and you leave your apartment to hit up the Brooklyn-style, folded pizza slice joint down the street. You know it's a bad idea, but sometimes you just need to."  

That's what sex with Cassandra is like...

I was watching that show "The Taste", again last night. The food challenge was called guilty pleasures. Anthony took a bite of the eventual winner's dish and I watched him close his eyes and say: 

"Ohhh, take me home and treat me badly!" Haha! 

Haha! That...is Cassandra on a spoon. Unlike the photo above however, she bites back! 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Enigma

Lord Impaler

Continued from: Halloween Harem

[FF/sissy] [forced feminization] [dark] [emo] [dungeon] [slave] [Dominatrix] [leather] [fetish]

In keeping with our Halloween theme this week, it seems young Cassandra and Carley have made their way to the far side of Romania. Makes sense, given the dark, gothic nature of those two and the time of year. She sent me an entry from her personal journal which I'll transcribe for all of you here, I didn't realize Cassandra can be so deep sometimes, amidst her introspection and the way she creates a nexus between herself, her feelings, and the environment around her; albeit, a bit spastic of a writing style.

She even caught me with a few tear-jerker moments. I adore this little pixie. 

Here's her journal entry:

Cassandra Goth

10.30.2024

Port of Constanta, Black Sea, Romania...

It's cold here, Mistress. The food sucks.

I have the loving embrace of Carley to keep me warm though, in this strange place.  

Actually, their cabbage rolls are quite nice, even though they have Turkish origins. I guess when the Turks invaded Romania in the 15th century, repelled by the ferocity and questionable combat methods of Vlad Dracul, they left something behind. 

Is that not one of Newton's laws? In order for humans to really go anywhere, you have to leave something behind. What shall I leave behind here, on the shores of this sea? The sky above me looks angry, the water is frigid. This is a dark place, Mistress and your cabbage rolls are better! 

Since it's almost Halloween, I learned some things about Vlad, and his marred reputation of being the bad guy. Was he? Was he not a leader just trying to protect his people, his religion and his homeland from an invading foreign ruler?  

He was the first military leader in recorded history to use biological warfare as a tactic to soften the battlefield and a compliment to his psychological warfare. 

He released people from his prisons, often afflicted with bubonic plague, rabies and tuberculosis, to infiltrate the encampments of the Turks. Apparently he even used animals for the same purpose.

Symptoms:

Red eyes, foaming at the mouth, coughing up blood, erratic behaviour

Carriers:

15th century prison rats, wolves and foxes, rodents. A bat is a rodent...

You can see how the concept of a vampire was born, through a mixture of both legend and reality. This is also the reason why Carley and I find ourselves here. We are attending a vampire party in Transylvania tonight. I'm excited! I might get a new tattoo, a sexy vampire one to commemorate this trip. 

What else did we leave behind when Carley and I embarked on this European journey? Our sissy...Mistress, we have a sissy slave. He goes by Alice and he's back in the U.K. His chastity keys however, are with me, in Romania. You taught me well, Ma'am. Should I cast them into the sea before me? Into these angry waters, as the item I leave behind? He's nice though, not like other men, he's polite and we're working on shattering the remnants of his masculinity.  

Men in general, have never held much appeal for me. Their posturing, their arrogance, their inflated sense of self-importance - it all reeks of a desperate need to assert dominance over others, particularly women. 

I collared Carley as my own, shortly after the wedding. She's submissive only to me and never to a man! With Alice we are equals, Carley and I, she is surprisingly as dominant and as ferocious as I am, Mistress. I want you to get to know her, my wife, she's my everything. Maybe one day I'll come home and convince her to stay in Canada.

I miss you, Mistress. You're like a mother to me and I love you for that. I haven't talked to my actual Mom in awhile, not since she found out about the wedding. Could you talk to her for me, and tell her I'm ok?

I don't know if I wanna come home, but it's you, it's Summer, who I miss the most. Send Summer my love, tell her I miss her too. I'm not sure I can picture a world without you two in my life.  

I miss your firm guidance and support, the kind that only you can provide, it grounds me. I spank Carley plenty, but she doesn't spank me...I don't see her that way or in that role. It's why I still need you, Mommy. I'll come home to you soon, but we kinda opened a studio over here. 

That's right. It's a "Facility" in London...kinda like yours but much darker. Carley and I are the only two Dommes at the moment. There is certainly no one called "Mommy" in our place, people are usually crying for their Mommy though. 

From the moment "Alice" entered our domain, Carley and I knew that we had found our perfect plaything. His wide-eyed innocence and eagerness to please made him the ideal candidate for our brand of transformation. With the skills you taught me, we guided him through the process of feminization, watching with glee as he shed the trappings of his masculinity and embraced his new identity as, Alice, our sissy secretary. 

The chastity device was the first step, a symbol of his complete and utter submission to our will. We've had him locked for 70 days now, Mistress, with five minutes of supervised release, once a week for cleaning and shaving. 

We carefully curated a collection of lingerie for him, hosiery, pencil skirts and blouses designed to accentuate his new role as our sissy secretary. 

Remember when I was your secretary, Mistress? I miss those days too, things seemed simpler back then. Alice doesn't quite look as good as I used to in this role, but it's a start for him, the little breast-forms he wears in his bras are cute.  

We basically behave like it's Mad Men and he's a 1950's secretary. There's something undeniably satisfying about watching him scurry about the office, his hips swaying provocatively in his pencil skirts, his heels clicking against the floor. 

Carley and I take great pleasure in subjecting him too the same kind of sexual harassment and objectification that women have endured for generations. A firm slap on the ass as he bends over to retrieve a file, a lingering grope of his bra. 

He doesn't get to touch us, ever. He's listened to Carley and I fuck before, while he was in a cage, but he's pussyfree, everything free...not even our footwear. If Alice wants our attention it's a spanking, chores, menial tasks, or the strap-on. 

I'll reach down and tangle my fingers into his wig, forcing him to look up at me from under my desk. "Keep going, slut," I'll growl, my voice thick with lust and authority. "Show me how badly you want that raise." And oh, how he'll work for it...even though there is no raise at all, his head bobbing frantically on my dildo before I send him back to his desk, threating to fire him.  

While I may enjoy the psychological games, the mindfuckery of it all, Carley is more of a hands-on type of gal. And what she wants, more often than not, is to fuck our little sissy secretary senseless. 

Maybe it's she, who is Lord Impaler? 

It's become something of a ritual really, about twice a week. Carley will saunter into the office with a wicked gleam in her eye and a bulge in her dress pants. She'll crook her finger at Alice and off they go, disappearing into the copy room or a broom closet. 

She'll hike up his skirt and hike down his lacey panties and claim him. I can almost hear it now amidst these waves behind me, Mistress. The slap of flesh against flesh as Carley has him bent over the copier, fucking his boi pussy while his chastity cage bounces around between his thighs. 

A few strands of pre-cum dribble down into his panties, it must be so humiliating and frustrating, that this is Alice's only source of pleasure. It's a curious sight, really - the way his body betrays him, leaking that telltale fluid despite the fact he's locked up in a nub-cage. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his base desires and his need to please, to submit.

Part of me thinks he might be more interested in your style, Mistress. The princess dresses and little girl bedrooms, Mary Janes and bows. If we come home, maybe we'll bring Alice too, he'll be sufficiently emasculated by that point, as Carley and I continue to erode his former identity. 

Should I just throw his keys into the sea, and seal his fate forever? I'm thinking about it again. Then call him and break the news? We left him behind to manage The Facility U.K. - is it okay if I call it that, Mistress? I thought it would be dope to still be affiliated to you and your unique brand. I can send you a cut of our profits if you wish?  

Speaking of which, prostitution sessions are all the hype! 

Like safe, simulated, immersive experiences of playing the role of a sex trade worker. The women over here, the British women, go wild for this option! Everything from high-class, hotel lobby hooker, to literally kneeling behind a dumpster in an alley. Everyone wants to book the experience, we have a waiting list. 

It comes at a decent rate for us. Carley and I are essentially hands off, a great return on investment. We should collab on this for your own place, Mistress, just think about some male clients you really trust. 

I better go, we have to get ready to attend the party...in a castle! I guess I should feel like a princess, huh? But I don't. 

I feel like the empowered woman you made me, your perfect creation, your perfect Dominatrix...

Love always, 

Cassie xo    

Continued in: Boardrooms & Bedrooms   

  

 

The Librarian

Continued from: Update your Resume

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

As I settled into my office chair, the familiar surroundings of the Facility enveloping me in their comforting embrace, I found myself engrossed in a conversation with Mandy. The phone pressed against my ear, I listened intently as she shared her decision regarding the receptionist position I offered her. I had such high hopes for this development. HAD...*sigh*

While I had hoped to bring her on board as a permanent fixture at the Facility, I understood the constraints of her busy life as an ER nurse and dedicated soccer mom. Her responsibilities outside of our shared passion were numerous and demanding, leaving little room for additional commitments. As Mandy expressed her regret at having to decline the offer, I assured her that I fully supported her decision. 

However, there was a silver lining to this cloud of disappointment. Mandy's desire to remain a regular client and submissive at the Facility, filled me with joy. She even hinted around a Boss/secretary scene between she and I, just to make it up to me. 

Ohhh, I think I can help her with this fantasy. 

As I wrapped up the delicate conversation, I was momentarily distracted by the arrival of Summer, my beloved wife and submissive partner. She entered the office with a grace that belied her state of undress, clad only in a maid apron, stockings and towering heels. The sight of her bare back and exposed bum sent a shiver right to my pussy. 

Summer approached me silently, bearing a steaming cup of coffee as if it were an offering to a goddess. 

With practiced ease, she sank to her knees before me, her lips brushing against the polished leather of my high heels in a gesture of reverence and devotion. 

She's always quite submissive but I could sense something was up. It didn't take long before the confession escaped her lips. 

"A week old email, you say, young lady?" I mused aloud, my voice moderated into a sense of calm authority. 

"Did I not ask you to check our inbox daily, Summer Addison? We have quality service standards at this Facility for a reason, for the sake of our clients." 

Summer's eyes remained downcast, her shoulders trembling slightly as she awaited a punishment she knew was inevitable. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," she quivered from her lips. "It actually wasn't one email Ma'am...it was eighteen of them." 

"I'm sorry, eighteen, you said?!" I hissed from my lips while cupping her chin into my hand. 

"Go and fetch the riding crop from the other room, Summer Addison, and put on your whipping outfit." 

(For caning or cropping punishments of Summer, I make her wear black shapewear that frames her two bum cheeks perfectly and covers areas too high or near her tailbone that I wouldn't want to target. Plus, the constricting garment lifts her bum more fleshy and rounded for me)

Look at those perfect little mounds! Ohhh she's in deep shit.

The act of punishing my lovely wife never failed to stir a complex array of emotions within me - the satisfaction of maintaining order and control which is what she needs and wants, tempered by the tenderness I felt towards her. When Summer returned, prepared as I had asked, she knelt and presented me with the whip. I accepted it with a nod of approval. "Good girl," I murmured, my voice laced with a mixture of sternness and affection. 

I had her stand and face the wall for a little while, to anticipate what was coming, before finally breaking the awkward silence. 

"Alright young lady, bend over the desk please, you know the drill." Summer moved to comply, her body gracefully folding over the polished surface of my desk, her predominately bare bottom presented vulnerably to my gaze.

"Eighteen strokes, I believe, will suffice to remind you of the importance of diligence in your duties," I declared, my voice steady and authoritative." Count them aloud for me, please." With that, I raised the crop, the supple leather whispering through the air as it descended to meet Summer's waiting bum. 

"One. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

I obliged, the crop finding its mark again and again, each stroke painting a new line across her porcelain bottom. 

"Thirteen. Thank you, Ma'am, may I please have another?" 

The final five strokes were delivered with measured precision, her bum cheeks were a canvass of crisscrossed welts, angry and red, standing out starkly against her pale skin. 

"Shhh, it's over now," I soothed, helping her to stand upright as I pulled her in for a hug. 

"You did beautifully, my love," I whispered, drawing her closer to kiss her forehead. "Now, let's see about those emails." 

With Summer now forgiven, I guided her to the chair, watching with a mixture of satisfaction and sympathy as she gingerly lowered herself onto the seat, her welted bottom making contact with the unforgiving surface. 

As she began to sift through the neglected emails, the room fell silent save for the gentle click of the mouse and the occasional rustle of fabric as Summer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Minutes passed, the monotonous task of sorting through correspondence stretching on until suddenly, Summer's posture changed. She sat up straighter, her eyes widening as they scanned the screen. 

"Ma'am," she began, her voice tentative yet tinged with hopeful excitement, "there's an email here from a young woman named Skylar. She says she's a librarian, 28 years old, and she's inquiring about administrative positions at the Facility."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this timely development. 

"Is that her? Make that bigger for me, honey," I guided Summer's hand to the mouse to hover over Skylar's profile picture. 

"Oui, Madame...I guess dis is her..." Summer cheerfully chirped, while holding back a giggle. 

"Does she know what we DO here?!" 

I blurted out in partial laughter, ashamed of myself for being so judgey. 

"A librarian huh?" 

Little Skylar is actually kinda cute, probably naïve, innocent, maybe four or five cats at home? I can't bring myself corrupt this little thing...can I? 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo   

Continued in: Don't Judge a Book by its Cover