Lump in the Throat

Continued from: Never a dull Moment

Cassandra Goth 

12.10.2024 - Sunnybrook Hospital, Toronto, Ontario

As I crept silently into the sterile hospital room, my heart heavy with concern, I was struck by the sight of my dearest friends, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief as they slept uncomfortably on whatever surface they could find. 

And there, in the center of it all, lay Russell - the only positive male role model I had ever known, the only man I had ever come to like. It pained me to see him hooked up to all that machinery, I felt a lump in my throat, threatening to choke off my breath. 

I reached out a trembling hand , gently stroking Russell's forehead, feeling the clamminess of his skin beneath my fingertips. 

The doctors had told the girls that he was in a medically induced coma, his body kept in a state of suspended animation while it worked to heal itself from the inside out. 

As I sat on his bed, holding his limp hand in mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still with us, still fighting to hold on despite the darkness that threatened to consume him. 

"Russ, it's Cassie," I whispered, leaning in close as to not wake the others. "I know you can hear me. I know you're still in there somewhere, listening to everything I say."

My voice cracked, and hot tears began to roll down my cheeks as the weight of my emotions finally overwhelmed me. "I...I wanted to thank you, Russ, one last time...for everything you've done for me," I managed to choke out between sobs, my grip on his hand tightening. 

"It was you, all along, who gave me the courage to go to London and find Carley. You saw something in me that I didn't even see myself, and pushed me to embrace it, to become the woman I was always meant to be." 

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself as the memories came flooding back - the night he consoled me like a father would, as I navigated the heartbreak of saying goodbye to Carley. 

"Hell, my own parents won't even speak to me anymore, Russell" I continued, my voice bitter with resentment. "I guess I'm too much of an embarrassment to their precious, aristocratic, country club circles, just because I have tattoos, because I married a woman. 

"But you...you never judged me. You accepted me for who I am, and you loved me anyway. You've been more of a father figure to me than my own flesh and blood ever was." 

At that, I broke down completely, my shoulders shaking with the force of my sobs as I buried my face into his hospital gown, letting the tears flow freely. 

I was praying with every fiber of my being that he could hear me. 

"Daddy! I don't want you to go...I need you!" 

Cassandra L. Goth 

Continued in: Our Anchor

Diapered & Denied

Continued from: Betrayed

After sending Mandy to the corner, I set a timer for twenty minutes and settled into a nearby chair, admiring the view of her freshly spanked bottom. Mandy remained perfectly still, her nose pressed firmly against the corner, her hands clasped obediently behind her head. 

As many of you know, I often write about layering, when it comes to BDSM. Whether this means a properly layered spanking or the strategic application of bondage, in compounding layers. Not only is the layering functional, but most importantly is how it affects the psychology and headspace of the submissive. 

Picture how you would feel, having your partner bind your ankles with a soft, silky scarf, the kind you'd get in a beginners bondage kit off Amazon. Cute, and it has its time and place. 

Versus finding yourself at the mercy of your dominant partner, in a bondage configuration like this: 

Things should "feel" different, your butterflies should feel different and your sense of helplessness should be greatly heightened. 

Poor Mandy, having been betrayed by her own pussy in the last installment, was manually edged by me, denied orgasm, then spanked directly on her traitorous petals. I couldn't think of a better time to layer her. 

I approached the changing table, my eyes roaming over the array if equipment I prepared for her continued torment. Baby wipes, powder, a realistic looking anal plug complete with lubricant - these are the instruments of my control. 

I ran my fingers over the smooth leather of the chastity belt, admiring the sturdiness of the metal locks and buckles. Once secured around Mandy's diaper, this device will render her utterly helpless, unable to access her most sensitive areas with my express permission. 

Beside the chastity belt, laid a pair of padded bondage mittens, their soft pink fabric a stark contrast to the reality of their purpose. Lockable of course, these will ensure that Mandy's hands remain useless, incapable of even the simplest acts of self-pleasure or relief. 

"Up you get, little one," I say, patting the padded surface of the adult-sized change table. "It's time to get you ready for your nap." 

I watch with rapt attention, as Mandy squirms and writhes on the changing table, her face contorted with shame and humiliation. With a resigned sigh, she lays back and lifts her legs into the air, her thighs falling open to expose her most intimate parts to my inspection. 

I took a moment to admire the view, savouring the sight of her vulnerable, trembling form. She gasped as I blotted the cold baby wipe against her soaked pussy, wiping away the evidence of her shameful arousal. Her eyes widened in horror as I dabbed and wiped a second one against her puckered anus, the scent of them leaving an innocent freshness in their wake. 

Mandy tensed as I circled her asshole with my fingers, applying generous amounts of lubricant inside and out. "Relax, baby girl," I cooed, my voice dripping with false reassurance. "This won't hurt a bit...well, not too much, anyway." Before she could respond, I pressed the tip of the penis plug against her little pucker, until it breached and entered. 

Mandy's mouth fell open in a silent moan, her eyes rolled back in her head as the thick, veiny plug seated in place, the base peeked out obscenely from between her spanked ass cheeks. Reaching for the baby powder, I shook a liberal amount between her legs, coating her naughty pussy in a fine, white dust. The scent was overwhelming, sickening sweet, a perfect accompaniment to the humiliation she must have been feeling when she watched me slid the crinkly diaper under her tender bum. 

Mandy could only whimper and tell me how badly she needed to cum, as I applied the padlocks to her, and another set of locks to her bondage mitts. 

Do my layers end there? Is that enough? 

Of course not. 

Once in the crib and comfortably on her back, I affixed soft leather bondage cuffs to Mandy's ankles, locking these as well and securing them to the bars of the crib. 

"There now, little one," I murmur, my voice laced with false sweetness. "All nice and secure and ready for beddy-byes." I reach over and switch on a baby sound machine, filling the room with the soothing sounds of rainfall and lullabies. It's a cruel joke, given the state of arousal and frustration I'm leaving my poor Mandy in. 

I'd love to use a pacifier gag for her, but I wouldn't be able to leave her alone with something like that in her mouth. Secured and plugged in her denied predicament, I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Mommy will be back in a little while, sweetheart...try to nap." 

Then, with a satisfied smirk, I turned and exited the room. 

I took off my Mommy Domme outfit and changed into something a little more comfortable, to prepare for the second stage of Mandy's session, after her nap. 

I checked the time delay to the UK before calling my sweet Cassandra for our weekly check-in. It was early evening there, which meant she was likely deep into a session at her fetish studio. 

"Hello, sweetheart!" I purred into the phone, my voice maternal and warm. As she and I began to converse, I became increasingly aware of the background noises emanating from her end of the line. The sharp crack of a whip cut through the air, followed by a muffled gasp and a wet, slurping sound.

No doubt, she had some poor, unsuspecting man trussed up in lingerie and high heels, kneeling before her as she guided his reluctant mouth onto a waiting erection. 

"Mistress Cassandra, but I'm not gay," I heard this British accent whimper pathetically, his voice strained with desperation. Cassandra's laughter rang out, cold and cruel. "Of course you're not pet," she purred sarcastically, "you just have another man's cock in your mouth right now. Now stop your whining and get back to work, that dick isn't gonna suck itself." 

"Mistress, can I call you back in like 15? This little cock whore needs more motivating." 

I heard another crack of a whip and a yelp of pain, before the line went dead on me. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head. I can't wait to hear all about this one...

Tsk tsk...oh, Cassie...

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: The Facility U.K.

 

 

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