Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Continued from: The Librarian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She simply nodded and smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was," she replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, my fucking gawd!! 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: The Future is Female

 

My Little Ponies

Continued from: The Stuffie or the Whip?

A Sarah Jane story 

With trembling fingers, Mandy and I began to undress, peeling off our frilly socks, ruffled panties and pastel dresses until we stood naked before him, our bodies exposed and vulnerable. 

He reached into his pocket and withdrew two sets of cold, metal handcuffs. He tossed them carelessly on the floor by our feet, the harsh clatter a stark contrast to plush, soft surroundings of the nursery we had just rejected. 

"Put them on," he commanded, his tone seeming unimpressed. 

Mandy and I scrambled to obey, fumbling as we secured them around our wrists, the teeth clicking into the locks to seal our fate. Next, Daddy produced two sets of ankle shackles, the gleaming metal a perfect match to the handcuffs that now adorned our wrists. He tossed these at our feet, the longer chains jingling as they hit the floor. 

"Those too," he barked, watching intently as we hurried to comply. 

I knelt down, my movements hampered by the cuffs, and wrapped the cold steel around my ankles. The chain connecting them was just long enough to allow for a shuffling gait, a cruel reminder of our captivity. 

With a jerk of his head, Daddy indicated us out of the room and up to the door leading down to the basement dungeon. "Down you go," he growled, his voice laced with dark promise. Mandy and I exchanged a quick glance, equal parts fear and excitement warring in our expressions. We shuffled forward, the chains of our shackles clattering with each step, as we made our way towards the dark rooms.

Daddy followed close behind and with a final ominous click, he locked the door behind us. We were once again dungeon sex slaves, as per our mutual request. 

The room Daddy led us into was dimly lit, a flickering bulb casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. In the center of the space stood a weathered wooden platform, and atop it, the imposing figure of the wooden pony. Its sharp, angled spine promised both pleasure and pain in equal measure. 

In the far corner, a narrow vertical cage loomed, its bars barely wide enough to contain a human form. The message was clear - one of us would suffer upon the wooden pony, while the other would be forced to watch helplessly, anticipating their own turn. 

Daddy, approached Mandy first, who was kneeling submissively, looking ashamed. 

He ushered her over to the cage, helping her inside and locking the door with a resounding clang. Mandy gripped the bars, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and morbid curiosity as she watched Daddy turn his attention to me. I'm sure in that moment, Mandy was picturing what things would have been like if she chose the pink stuffie and what she might be doing that didn't involve being locked into a narrow, metal cage. 

Daddy guided me to the stage and the wooden pony that was on it, his grip firm on my upper arm as he helped me to straddle the cruel device. I rose up onto my highest tiptoes, my muscles straining as I tried to keep myself elevated above the sharp edge. Daddy took his time adjusting the height, ensuring that the vaulted spine of the pony rested just an inch away from my exposed cunt. 

He secured a ring gag in my mouth, effectively muffling any cries or pleas that might escape my throat. I began to drool from the gag as I struggled to maintain my balance atop the pony, my calves beginning to burn with the effort of staying on my tiptoes. 

I had chosen this path, rejecting the innocent pleasures of the nursery room for the darker delights of the dungeon. Instead of rocking on a horse upstairs, padded and protected by the comfort of a crinkly diaper, we had opted for the biting sting of the wooden pony downstairs. 

The cycle of the predicament continued, a never-ending dance of agony and ecstasy. Each time the pain in my calves grew too intense, I would lower myself onto the pony, gasping as the sharp edge dug into my clit. Up and down I went, trading one source of torment for another, my body glistening with sweat and my mind reeling from the intensity

After what felt like an eternity, Daddy finally called a halt to my torture. Twenty excruciating minutes had passed, each second stretching out into infinity as I battled the dual agonies of the predicament. 

With shaking limbs, Daddy removed me from my perch, my pussy throbbing and swollen from the relentless stimulation. 

He unlocked the slave cage and pulled Mandy out. I was ushered inside to take her place. Mandy was next to ride the wooden pony, as Daddy adjusted the height to ensure maximum tiptoe height. At probably the ten minute mark, her cries filled the room as she struggled to find her balance, her toes straining to keep her lifted above the cruel edge. 

As the minutes ticked by, the throbbing ache in my cunt began to subside, replaced by a growing hunger that demanded to be satisfied. I squirmed in the cage, my fingers slipping between my thighs to tease at my swollen folds, desperate for release. Just as I was on the verge of cumming, Daddy unlocked the cage door and hauled me out,.

I was bent over, my hands on my knees, my ass raised obscenely in the air. I heard the rustle of latex and the click of buckles as he prepared Mandy for her next task. When he finally revealed her to me, my breath caught in my throat. Encased in a sleek black straightjacket with her tits exposed, her arms were rendered useless. Her eyes were hidden behind a large blindfold, her mouth stuffed with a harness gag. Protruding from her mid-section was a giant strap-on cock. 

Without a word, Daddy pushed Mandy forward until the tip of the dildo brushed against my soaking wet pussy, Mandy could do nothing but obey, thrusting her hips forward in a humiliating parody of fucking. 

The massive dick stretched me wide as it sank into my cunt, filling me completely. Eventually Daddy got us down on the floor, and I was soon moaning around his erect penis as he began to fuck my face in a beautiful display of spit-roasting.

I couldn't hold out much longer, being treated like such a dirty whore had me right at the edge. My inner walls clamped down around the invading toy as wave after wave of orgasm crashed over me. I came hard, my screams of ecstasy muffled by Daddy unloading his own cum into the back of my throat. 

I was trussed-up in the same gimp-ish outfit Mandy was made to wear, and next thing I knew I was being forced to fuck her, while Daddy whipped my bare bum for encouragement. 

It was an intense session all-around. Mandy and I ended up bare naked and left in the basement dungeon, shackled by the wrists, to spend some time reflecting on our degradation. 

Eventually we were released and able to return to the upper floors of the Facility and shower and tidy up. Mandy and I found ourselves in cute matching panties and little baby-tees, for some much-needed snuggle time and aftercare with Daddy. 

My mind drifted to the boring suburban mom outfit that Mandy showed up in - yoga pants, t-shirt, hoodie. Such a contrast from the sexy latex and leather she'd been parading around in earlier. As we curled into Daddy and talked of all the depraved experiences of the last few days, he began to ask us how it went. 

"It was intense, Sir, thank you for your time and attention in Mistress' absence," Mandy replied. 

Daddy chuckled, "Well we aim to please here. Glad you could join us." He then turned to me. "And what about you, my pet? Enjoy putting on a show for me with your new friend?" I smiled up at him as he stroked my hair. 

"Always happy to entertain Daddy. Though I do hope I can have you all to myself next time..." 

Daddy's face darkened when I said that right in front of Mandy. He turned to her and said sternly, "Mandy would you please excuse us for a moment? I need to have a word with Sarah Jane in private." 

Mandy nodded nervously and scurried out of the room. As soon as she was gone, Daddy cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Rude!!" he scolded. "What the fuck was that, Sarah? How dare you disrespect our guest like that, making her feel unwelcome with your jealously!" His voice was low and dangerous. 

"You're going to regret that comment, tomorrow. It's your maintenance day as it is, young lady." 

With that, he released my chin and I ran out of the room bawling like a little child, quaking in fear over what I had coming. 

Sarah Jane 💟

P.S.

The ending of the story was not headed in this direction at all. The A.I. that was helping me to write this one, actually dropped that line out of the blue. Look: 

Thanks A.I. ! 

Tomorrow I'll be getting a belt whuppin' out in the woodshed, because of you!! 

*pout*

Continued in: So I may be forgiven

Her Dark Rooms

Continued from: Heathrow

A Sarah Jane story

Good evening, good morning, good afternoon, whichever applies to you; it's Sarah Jane. Let me get all of you quickly caught up on the last few days. After that kiddie pool incident with Summer and I, and my "Daddy", Russell, having a heart-to-heart with Cassandra, she was laser-focused to get herself to London, England to find her lover, Carley. 

Cassie's reckless impulsiveness must have been slightly infectious, as Summer volunteered to help her on her quest for love, followed by Mistress Andrea who "signed-on" to this trio next. The three girls are flying out this afternoon and Daddy and I are now at the bar, in Mistress Andrea's Facility, feeling kinda out of place. 

 

Daddy, for the second time this entire visit, was about to tell Mistress that we best be on our way home and as he was about to do so, she gabbed for his hands saying, "SHIT!....Shit, shit..." in a bit of a panic. 

Just as they were about to walk out the door, luggage in tow, Mistress suddenly froze, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh shit," she gasped, her eyes widening with realization. "I completely forgot about Mandy." She turned to face Daddy and I. "Mandy is a newer client of mine. She's booked for a multi-day session beginning tonight! I can't possibly cancel on her now." 

Mistress paced back and forth, her mind clearly racing for a solution, as the limo to the airport pulled into the driveway. Then, she stopped and embraced Daddy's hands. 

"Darling, I need you to take over this session for me. Mandy is into some pretty intense stuff - you'll have to use my dark rooms - torture, forced orgasms, consensual non-consent. I know it's a lot to ask but I trust you."

From my seat at the bar I felt a wave of heat hit me. My face first, followed by my pussy as I hung on the words that just escaped her lips. Mistress was definitely speaking my language! And who is this, Mandy??! 

I crossed my little fingers and chanted internally, "Daddy, please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, Daddy!" 

My internal praying was interrupted by an assist from Mistress, who turned to me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. 

"Sarah Jane, my dear, I think you may be able to help with Mandy also. You're no stranger to the heavier side of BDSM. 

I felt a rush of excitement course through my veins at Mistress' suggestion, my heart was pounding in my chest. As most of you know, Daddy keeps me predominately "little" and dressed like this most days. You don't whip or torture or electrocute someone dressed like this, right?  

The opportunity to indulge in some heavier play, to push the boundaries of pleasure, pain and consent, was almost too good to be true. I pictured the room in my mind - dimly lit, damp and dingy, filled with the scent of leather and earth as I pull against my chains. 

My daydream dispersed as my attention flipped back to Daddy, who was now trying to sort out how this whole dynamic would play-out. 

"But Mistress," he began, his voice laced with concern, "how will this Mandy girl, react to having a male dominant? She's obviously going to know that I'm not you. And including Sarah Jane in the scene too, as another submissive?"

Mistress confidently waved away his worries with a dismissive gesture. "Sweetheart, Mandy is true submissive at her core. Her desire for intense, dark play overrides any preferences for gender or number of participants. She craves the experience itself - the sensation of being tortured, broken-down, and used against her will. Trust me, once she's in that headspace, it won't matter who's wielding the whip."

Mistress' words alone already had ME in that headspace as I was shamefully soaking through my panties. 

She then checked her watch and huffed. 'We gotta go you two, you got this! We don't want to miss our flight," she said, gathering Summer and Cassie and helping them into the limo with their baggage. 

"Russell, pop into my office and find Mandy’s file on my laptop. Her hard and soft limits are in there, her safewords and there's an image of her face. She'll be here within the hour." 

With that, Mistress disappeared into the limousine, leaving Daddy and I alone with our thoughts. 

I followed Daddy into the office and sat on his lap as the screen illuminated to life.

Once her file was opened, I leaned in closer, curious to see the woman who would be sharing my Daddy's attention, grrrrrrrr! When her image appeared on the screen I couldn't help but gasp softly, she was undeniably cute, with her heart-shaped faced and expressive chestnut eyes. 

However, as I studied the photograph more closely, I noticed a hint of sadness, or a longing in her gaze that tugged at my heartstrings. Despite the initial twinge of jealously that threated to rise to the surface - I found myself drawn to her vulnerability. 

I was suddenly consumed with another daydream, the thought of being "forced" to go down on Mandy, to bring her to the heights of pleasure and transform her sadness into erotic bliss. Perhaps between Daddy and I, we can help her confront whatever demons lurked behind those lone, distant eyes. 

Sarah Jane 💟

 Continued in: Soccer Mom

 

Aggravated Anilingus

Continued from: Ethical Dilemma

"That was the evening that Cassandra and I succumbed to our baser desires, our passions igniting like wildfire as we found ourselves entwined on Mistress Andrea's plush bed. The dim lighting, the soft music and the booze, it all seemed to be conspiring against us, tempting us further down the path of debauchery." 

"I felt Cassandra's tantalizing tongue, dancing across my skin, her gentle caresses leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her lips claimed mine, our tongues intertwining as we devoured each other's hunger."

"It wasn't long before we surrendered fully to our cravings. And that's when...that's when it happened..."

*Trails off*

"Stop stalling Miss Chapman, and show us on the doll where she touched you, where she put her tongue." 

Let me rewind a little...hehe...

Our first trial in the new courtroom space! It was great fun, especially when my bailiff, Summer brought these two in. I should have known! Carley and Cassandra...my tattooed angels who are not so angelic right now. 

*snickers and murmurs from the body of the court*

"ALL RISE!"

Cassandra Leigh Goth... 

Carley Chloe Chapman...

The court is ready to accept your pleas. You both stand accused of one count of lewdness, and one count of participating in aggravated anilingus.   

Miss Goth, on or about the 4th day of June, 2024, did, for a sexual purpose, place her tongue into the bare anus of the co-accused, Miss Chapman.

Miss Chapman, you stand accused as a party to the offence, that on or about the 4th day of June, 2024, did allow, for a sexual purpose, the tongue of Miss Goth to enter your bare anus.

How do you plead? 

Let the court register, both accused parties have entered a plea of NOT guilty. 

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

<Two days earlier>

As I slipped silently into my chambers, a subtle thrill coursed through my veins, sensing the air heavy with anticipation and a nose of feminine arousal. Cassandra and my newest protégé, Carley, lay tangled on my bed, their bodies swathed in candlelight, their urgent whispers and gasps mingling with the shadows. 

I halted just beyond the doorway, drinking in the sight of them lost in passion, oblivious to my presence. The room looked like a crime scene, with various dildos and dongs strewn about, whips, discarded high heels and booze bottles.

Cassandra's deft hands mapped Carley's curves, her fingers weaving into her wet folds, before slapping her pussy sharply. Her lips met Carley's most intimate area, a kiss so fervent it seemed to suck the oxygen from the room. 

Carley's porcelain skin glowed in the flickering light, her raven tresses splayed across my pillows like a dark halo. Her body arched upward, accepting Cassie's exploratory tongue with reckless abandoned, and I found myself ensnared by their forbidden intimacy. 

As I stood transfixed, Cassandra's boldness reached new heights, her tongue delving deep into Carley's secret places, her fingers grasping Carley's hips to hold her steady. A low guttural moan escaped Carley's lips as Cassandra began to languidly tongue-fuck her bare asshole, the sight of which stirred my insides. Carley's body trembled beneath Cassandra's ministrations, her back arching deeper in silent invitation. 

For one fleeting instant, I debated whether to interrupt their clandestine affair or permit them to reach the pinnacle of their pleasure. But as the head Mistress of this esteemed Facility, duty compelled me to intervene - after all, rules existed for a reason. No fucking in my bed unless I'm directly involved! 

When they began to co-ride a double-ended dildo, right on my duvet in a scissor pose, I could no longer remain a silent observer. I was tasked with maintaining order in this sanctuary of perversion. 

As I stepped forward, my stiletto heels clicking on the hardwood, Carley and Cassandra's gazes snapped toward me, their faces etched with guilt and trepidation. The air was heavy with the scent of spent passion, the sheets crumpled and bearing evidence of multiple orgasms. With calculated composure, I surveyed the room disapprovingly, raising an eyebrow to underscore the tableau of shame before me. 

The two little vixens cowered beneath the blankets and held one another, a pitiful attempt to salvage what remained of their dignity and conceal their nudity from my strict gaze.

I cleared my throat, my tone measured and detached. 

"You both will stand trial before the Spanking Court, charged with aggravated anilingus." The phrase hung in the air, its gravity settling upon them like a mantle of shame. 

The atmosphere thickened, heavy with the promise of retribution, and I reveled in the intoxicating aroma of submission, now wafting from these two devious pixies. 

With a deliberate slowness, I turned to leave before pausing at the threshold. "Tomorrow morning, I expect you both to report to the jailer. You will present yourselves voluntarily for arrest and processing. Failure to comply will result in...severe repercussions."

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: The Crown

 

Ethical Dilemma

Continued from: Sacrifice

Good news everyone! Summer and I were never in a war. France did not invade Canada, in this century anyway. And Summer and I did not kill ourselves out of pure love, in the Canadian wilderness... 

Dear readers, 

If you hadn't noticed, a number of my posts were pulled down, including my epic adventure story that had little to do with BDSM and spanking. 

I pulled these posts down myself...all the Tara Gregory and her step-daddy stories (which were great) and a few others that involved A.I. images. 

Let me tell you why...as this was an ethical dilemma.

Since I started my facility and various fetish studios, men and women alike seek out my services for a variety of fantasy purposes. Usually they want to be humiliated, degraded, objectified and debased, especially the women, and in some cases, completely dehumanized. 

BUT! This is all done on their consent, in a safe environment where they can explore their darkest fantasies, with the option of a safeword to stop everything. And we should never judge them for what they are into and there should be no shame in it, fair? 

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

This is adult film star, Cherry Torn: 

She's quite popular in the kink sites, she's had a variety of hairstyles over the years and I've always liked her, especially the noises she makes when under pain and orgasmic duress.  

This video in particular was delightful!

Here, Cherry finds herself in some dirty factory, all trussed up and being fucked directly in the ass by her Domme's strap-on. It looks like a punishment fucking for a naughty slave girl. I think her Domme's name is "Chanta" - she's awesome too.

During Cherry's sodomy, she's drooling from a very dehumanizing ball gag and making her lovely grunting sounds, as her anus struggles to accommodate the thrusting invader. 

(I love this gag btw, Sarah Jane, listen up! You’re getting one of these and you’ll be getting exactly this treatment!) 

Cherry is an adult film star, she may even have an agent or a team. She would have consented to this film and photo shoot, she probably even knew what it entailed and was likely paid handsomely for her performance. There would have been paperwork and contracts. I'm sure the rights to the original video and images belong to the film studio, to do with as they please. Cherry would have consented to this also...

What Cherry did not consent to, was someone on the internet farming her images from scenes like the above, then creating their own A.I. images of her in French Maid outfits, schoolgirl outfits or other compromising material. I think this recently happened with the likes of Taylor Swift and some other celebrities, so real in fact, that their friends and P.R. people were like: 

"Were you actually in a gangbang in Nashville last weekend, Taylor?"  

Additionally, this is now happening to more vulnerable teens and school-aged students as a new form of bullying and blackmail. 

One could argue a caveat emptor...let the buyer beware. Ye who uploadeth their own likeness to the internet, taketh on the associated risks in doing so. "You're already all over the internet, naked and being fucked because you're a porn star, what's the harm in a few more generated images?" 

I once agreed with this...completely. Especially with that "look at me" culture that started with Facebook and people were photographing themselves with their breakfast choice each morning and posting it online. It was irritating and unnecessary and that was definitely a too bad, so sad situation...you put yourself out there. 

But, all of this was before A.I. image engines became so real that Taylor's vagina was probably sore, upon seeing her own likeness riding some randomly generated dick.  

Mark my words, laws will be coming soon. To protect the innocent and more vulnerable from this. Or to protect the continued objectification of women, a word I used at the beginning of this post in a positive context. Again, the key here is consent.

So...much to my dismay and that of my readers, I had to say goodbye to the avatar of Summer, of Tara Gregory, of Tyler Scott and a few others. My avatar is safe, it was made with a combination of my own likeness and a rich description of myself, to arrive with such images as: 

As for the rest of the girls, they all got a little makeover, come have a look...

The beautiful and elegant, Isabella (Bella) Octavia Goth, my Latin stunner and devout sex slave. 

Her avatar was created safely and ethically from this image: 

To get this result: 

I understand they look a little more "cartoonish" than my image, but at least I'm not exploiting some random woman. 

I can still work with these. 

My beautiful wife Summer, the flight attendant. Summer Addison Holiday. Her new likeness was ethically created from this image: 

And the drumroll results: 

Would you like to know how Summer keeps her bare feet as smooth as silk, to accommodate her foot fetish sales and hosiery selling racket? Play beach volleyball two nights a week and run barefoot in the sand... 

We can work with this new avatar, everyone, can't we; for future blog posts? 

Some dungeon action maybe, with Summer in a bondage cell? 

Or perhaps you like her in her default role that she personifies around the house, severely age regressed and frequently spanked over my knee?

Last but certainly not least (for now), Cassie. Cassandra Leigh Goth, who is the 21-year-old daughter of Bella Goth. Recently she's earned the title of Mistress Cassie at my Facility. Her avatar was ethically sourced from this image: 

The A.I. took the above and generated the below: 

She looks like her mother doesn't she, just way more bitchy!? Ha.

She's gonna end up in the courthouse / judicial wing of my Facility if she doesn't tidy up her attitude though!

What do you think everyone, can we live with this? I'll continue my blog and my writing using the new A.I. girls above, the A.I. me and the Sims 4 animations and stills. 

Some sissy fans on Redditt have sent me A.I. images of themselves and their consent to use them in this blog too. Carley, the Tattooed pixie from the previous story, her creator advises she's synthetic, and not an actual person's likeness...so she's good to go. 

I might re-do the France invading Canada three-part story because I loved it so much. I already have the new version of soldier Summer, ready to go. ;)

Thank you all for your continued support, loyalty and understanding through this adjustment. Remember, this is all about protecting women and doing the right thing, in the face of technological advancements. 

Mistress Andrea xo

P.S. Read Mo Gawdat - Scary Smart. Yes I've plugged this book before...it's worth it, trust me.   

Continued in: Aggravated Anilingus