Serenity

Continued from: Christian Christmas

As I stood before the Christmas tree, admiring this powerful man on his hands and knees, kissing my recently unwrapped Loubies, all felt right with the world once again. 

"You may stand, young man." I announced graciously, extending a hand to assist him in standing. Once he was upright, I gestured towards the nearby coffee table, where an array of colourful wrapping paper and ribbons lay waiting. 

"Be a dear and help me with the rest of the girl's presents, won't you?" I requested, my tone playful yet commanding. 

As we worked side-by-side, two more Christian Louboutin boxes were produced from beneath the tree. I reached for one of the boxes, then the other, carefully lifting the lid to show Russell its contents. Inside, nestled amidst tissue paper, lay a pair of glossy black Mary Janes with a lower heel, their patent leather surface gleaming in the soft light of the tree. 

Then the second pair, featuring a darling double strap design, lending them an air of youthful innocence that seemed almost at odds with the sophisticated elegance of the red soles. 

"I must admit," Russell remarked, "I wasn't aware that Loubie produced Mary Jane styles. Aren't these like four-thousand dollars a pair?" 

I chuckled softly, "not quite...well, Sarah's boots were." 

"So...business is going well then, Ma'am?" Russell sheepishly asked, almost with a touch of jealously in his voice. 

I explained that yes, in fact, business was going quite well of late. Between the Facility U.K. sending a cut of their profits our way, and Vanessa and Summer's foot fetish racket, things were quite financially comfortable of late. 

"Summer sold a pair of her Loubies that she wore on flights for like two years," I giggled as I spoke, "to some gentleman on the west coast for twelve grand." 

"Oh, is that all?" Russell chuckled. "She has quite a gift that girl." 

As we finished wrapping the two Loubie boxes, I carefully placed them under the tree with a smile. "I'd like Summer and Sarah Jane to wear these Christmas morning, Daddy, when they're in their little velvet dresses." 

They'll look simply adorable in their white tights and Christmas dresses, I thought to myself , all while humming a holiday tune. 

My mind quickly changed direction, as I began to envision what must be happening in the basement this very moment. A significant contrast from Mary Janes and opaque tights... 

A Sarah Jane story

Meanwhile, down in the sex dungeon... 

I had Mandy right where I wanted her - on her hands and knees, her tongue diligently tracing the contours of my new Christian Louboutin boots. As Mandy's tongue worked its way up the shaft of my boot, I could feel the heat of her breath, sending a delicious shiver up my spine. 

My body thrummed with anticipation as I lifted one booted foot onto a nearby surface. With a firm grip on Mandy's hair, I guided her head between my thighs, forcing her face into the damp heat of my pussy. 

As Mandy worked her magic, the supple leather of my riding crop whispered through the air as I brought it down on her bare ass. "That's it slut," I purred, my voice dripping with sadistic glee. "Worship your Mistress with that lezzy little tongue of yours." 

After a few more sizzling strokes of the whip, Mandy redoubled her efforts, her tongue delving deeper into my slick folds. I could feel the familiar tightening in my tummy, the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. As the pressure mounted, I increased the frequency and intensity of my strikes, steadily whipping her bare butt as her tongue took me over the edge. 

As the last tremors of my orgasm faded away, I released my grip on her hair, allowing her to slump back on her haunches, her face glistening with the evidence of my pleasure. 

"Thank you for your cum, Ma'am," she breathed out deeply, as I patted her on the bum. 

 

"You're welcome, my pet. Now strip!" 

Mandy wasted no time in obeying, her fingers trembling with eagerness as she shed what little garments she had left. With a satisfied nod, I took her by the hand and led her toward a narrow, flat bondage bench with a bolster pillow in the middle. 

"Up you get, huni," I instructed, watching her with predatory interest as Mandy climbed onto the padded surface, arranging herself face down with her hips elevated by the strategically placed bolster. The sight of her, naked and vulnerable, her ass raised invitingly towards me, sent a fresh wave of desire pulsing through my clit. 

I tied her wrists and ankles off quite tightly, stretching an presenting her naked body perfectly, along the length of the padded bench. Approaching the bench, I ran my hand along the beautiful mounds of Mandy's sit spots, admiring the almost blank canvass that had already been kissed by my riding crop. 

"Such a bad, bad girl, I purred, my voice a sultry purr. 

Reaching the nearby wall, the click of my Loubie boots echoing off the stone walls, I selected a sturdy leather strap and rested it on the small of Mandy's back. 

"You're getting a strapping, young lady, on the bare," I hissed. "I expect you to count and thank me, after each stroke. We'll be doing twenty-five per side." 

Without warning, I brought the leather down across her presented ass cheeks, the sharp crack of impact filling the air. It was music to my ears. Mandy yelped in surprise, her body jerking against the restraints that held her in place. 

I settled into a steady rhythm, administering twenty-five lashes of the strap from the left side of her body, before switching to the right side to administer the same. Mistress taught me once, that this is the way you keep colour even, when using something that connects with both bum cheeks, in one stroke. 

I marveled at the way Mandy responded to the strapping, as if she was melting into the punishment bench, surrendering herself completely to the sensations. 

Once helping her off the strapping bench, I guided her towards another station in the dungeon. This particular apparatus featured a padded surface for her to kneel on, with various point of restraint and bondage. 

As I assisted Mandy into position, returning her Loubies to her feet, I couldn't help but admire the her body moved with fluid grace, even in her weakened state. 

While reaching for a ball gag that would silence her cries of pleasure and pain, I noticed something remarkable. As I slid the rubber sphere between Mandy's parted lips and tightened the straps around her head, I saw her eyes flutter closed, a look of utter serenity washing over her features. 

It was as if, in that moment, all the stress and weight of her vanilla life simply melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and freedom. This was a feeling I knew all to well. 

I could feel Mandy's eyes following my every move, as I clicked over to a lovely display of floggers and selected one from the rack. Satisfied with my choice, I turned back to Mandy, a wicked smile playing at the corners of my mouth as I swooshed the flogger through the air. 

I brought the whip down on Mandy's tits and nipples, landing with a sharp string that drew a muffled gasp from behind her gag. I continued with a second lash, then a third, alternating between swift stinging strokes and slower, more sensual caresses, until Mandy's chest was flushed like a sunburn. 

"So responsive, so eager to please your Mistress," I purred, setting the flogger aside and letter her watch me attach a strap-on harness around my hips. "And now, it's time for your reward."

Mandy's muffled screams dripped from the dungeon walls, as I plunged the dildo into her soaking wet cunt and set a punishing pace. With one hand firmly gripping Mandy's hair, I lifted her head, forcing her to gaze into a mirror in front of her. 

"Look at yourself," I commanded, my voice low and husky with desire. "Look at the wanton slut you've become, the desperate little whore who lives to serve me!"

The moment the words left my lips, calling Mandy a slut and a whore, her body erupted in a violent orgasm. The humiliation and degradation proved to much for her to bear, pushing her over the edge into a realm of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. 

Her pussy clamped down around my strap-on like a vice, pulsing and spasming as I slowed my pace, praising her and calling her my babygirl.

I got Mandy all unhooked and rid myself of the strap-on. We collapsed onto a mattress on the dungeon floor, our bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. 

Despite the rigidness of our roles in a scene - mistress and slave, domme and submissive, top and bottom - there was a warmth of camaraderie between us. As we lay there, entwined in each other's arms, laughter bubbled up from deep within us. 

"Holy shit!" Mandy, breathed, her voice still hoarse from screaming through the gag as she came. 

"That was...incredible!"

I pounced my little frame on top of hers, giggling and showering her with kisses as her toes curled in her Loubies. 

"Merry Christmas, my babygirl," I cooed. 

"I'm so glad this world exists Sarah, and that I get to escape to it with you."  

Happy holidays, from Sarah Jane and Mandy!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Christmas Cards

  

The Season for Giving

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Never a dull Moment

Continued from: Fire & Ice

In the dimly lit basement of Cassandra and Carley's Coventry townhouse, the air thick with the scent of leather and female arousal, a symphony of tortured moans and muffled screams filled the room. As a centerpiece, perched precariously atop a wicked wooden pony, was a naked young woman, her body trembling with agony as the weight of her petite frame pressed down upon the edged wood of the device. Her most sensitive areas - her delicate pussy and tender asshole - bore the brunt of her body weight. 

A bit gag had been forced between her teeth, rendering her cries for mercy into little more than pathetic, drooling whimpers, while electrodes attached to her stiffened nipples, delivered intermittent shocks. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her carefully applied makeup and leaving streaks of mascara trailing down her flushed cheeks. 

As the pitiful moans and choked cries of the woman on the pony faded into the background, becoming little more than white noise, Cassandra turned her attention to her next victim - a pale-skinned Irish lass with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. The girl was bound to a whipping frame, wearing only stockings, her porcelain skin glowing like moonlight in the dimly lit dungeon.

"Now then, my pretty little bitch," Cassandra purred, circling the spread and bound woman, a riding crop twirling ominously in her hands. "I understand that you've been sent here by your husband? Is that true?" 

The girl nodded miserably, her lower lip quivering as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes, Mistress," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the muffled cries of the woman on the pony. "I've been arguing with my husband, talking back to him when he tries to discipline me. I know I've been bad, and I want to be better. Please, Mistress, help me learn my place." 

Cassandra smiled indulgently, reaching out to strokes the girl's bum cheeks which already bore some fiery welts. "Of course, my dear," she said, her voice laced with false sympathy. "That's why you're here isn't it? To learn the true meaning of obedience and submission. And I promise you, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect, docile little wife your husband deserves."

The girl yelped in pain, her body jerking against her restraints as a vivid red welt bloomed across her pale bottom. 

"Count them," Cassandra commanded, her voice hardening as she prepared to deliver another stroke. "And thank me for each one." 

As Cassie attended to her whipping, close-by, another scene of debauchery was unfolding. There, bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, stood Carley - a striking vision of tattoos and piercings, her lean, slender body clad in nothing but stiletto boots and a harness of black straps that accentuated her every curve and contour. 

Around her waist, protruding obscenely from between her legs, was a massive strap-on dildo, its thick shaft glistening with male saliva as it bobbed menacingly in the air. Kneeling before her, was a man dressed in the trashy attire of a streetwalker - fishnet stockings, a leopard-print skirt, and a halter top with falsies. His lips were stretched around the tip of the cock, his cheeks hollowing with each desperate suck as Carley gripped his head with both hands, using his throat like a cheap fuckhole. 

Beside them, standing rigidly at attention and possibly impaled anally on some bondage apparatus, was a second man. A ball gag filled his mouth, reducing his protests to only grunts. Over his eyes, a blindfold rendered him completely helpless, unable to see the degrading spectacle that certainly awaited him. But even without the use of his senses, he was acutely aware of his displayed state and the humiliation he was being subjected to - for encasing his limp, useless cock, was a bright purple chastity cage. 

I knew there was never a dull moment at the Facility U.K. I knew I would be interrupting something insidious, but as Summer and I sat huddled together in the cozy cabin, our minds still reeling from the events of the day, I picked up the phone to call Cassie. 

"Hello, darling," I said, forcing a smile that I hoped would translate through the phone. "How are things across the pond?" But before Cassandra could respond, I heard a chorus of sounds in the background - muffled whimpers, pleas for mercy, and the unmistakable crack of a whip against flesh, it was clear she had a few "guests" over. 

"Oh, you know me, Ma'am," Cassandra replied breezily, her voice dripping with amusement. "Always keeping busy, always finding new ways to torment my lovely pets. But enough about me - tell me about your romantic little retreat, is my favourite little biotch, Summer, looking after you? She better be, that little tart." 

I hesitated, unsure of how to even begin explaining the horrific turn our trip had taken. But before I could muster the words, Summer took the phone from my hand, her own voice shaking with emotion as she spoke. 

"Cass, something terrible has happened," she said, as tears spilled down her cheeks. "There was a fire - Russ and Sarah's house burned down, and Russell...he's in the hospital. They won't let him breathe on his own yet, Cass. It's really bad." 

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "A fire?" Cassandra repeated, her hand reaching for the wall to steady her weakening knees. 

"Russell is in the hospital? Oh my god, I'm coming home. Right now.”

“I'll be on the next flight out.”

“Tell Andrea I'm coming home!" 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Lump in the Throat

The Facility U.K.

Continued from: Diapered & Denied

Disclaimer: 

Below is an excerpt from an email that Cassie sent me. 

Be warned everyone, Cassandra can be a bit...umm, blunt, at times, in the way she describes things and the language she uses. 

Please remember it is the fantasy and wish of the clients to be degraded, called names and abused. Even someone saying "stop" or "let me go", is all a part of their fantasy. That's why we use safewords, to actually stop things if they need to. 

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

Cassandra Goth

12.03.2024 - Coventry, Warwickshire, England

My dearest Andrea, 

The Facility UK is full of slaves today. Multiple men, a few women. We're going to break them, slowly. The men, they'll never feel the release from their cages. Those pathetic little cocks will stay locked forever, denied and desperate...unless, well, you know... 

The women, they'll fare no better. Treated like the worthless fucktoys they are, tortured and punished until they beg for mercy that will never come. 

They always want to be caned, Mistress, these Brits. Must be a British thing, to feel the sharp bite of a school cane across their asses. Their tears are delicious, salty and sweet, the perfect seasoning for their suffering.

(Whoa, lol. I must say, that was one hell of a line from the A.I. Cassandra! Seasoning for their suffering...*slow clap)

When you phoned me, Ma'am, I was with some "alpha" male idiot. Cocky, arrogant, thought he could handle anything until I started the gender bending, until I put him in lingerie, heels and began calling him a cock whore.

I had to whip him into submission first. He kept telling me he wasn't gay, that he didn't want the other slave's dick in his mouth. 

Pathetic lies.

I lashed his back until he screamed, until he begged for the alternative to the whip. "Please Mistress," he whimpered to me. "Please let me suck his cock." 

Then this posh little priss showed up, all prim and proper in her hound's-tooth suit and sensible shoes. She was essentially greeted by this view: 

I knew exactly what she needed. I bent her over a school desk, hiked up her skirt, and gave her a dozen hard strokes with the cane. 

By the time I was done, her porcelain cheeks were expertly stripped red and she was sniffling pathetically. "Thank you, Mistress," she whimpered, her accent even more pronounced than usual.

"May I please have another?" I smirked and obliged her, laying six more strokes across her tender flesh. She howled in pain, but I could see the arousal dripping from between her legs. A true painslut, Mistress. 

Carley joined me as I was finishing up with posh spice and her drippy puss. Some timid, shy looking dude. Carley had taken him and dressed him up like a schoolgirl. He was crying softly, his body shaking with fear and arousal. He too, wished to be caned on the bare. These Brits, Mistress, I dunno...*shrug.

The other woman, she was a tough nut to crack. A real ballbuster, used to being charge, but suddenly faced with us. 

We broke her down piece by piece. We stripped her naked, shackled her to the wall, and took turns flogging her tits and cunt. She cursed and sputtered around her gag, but we just laughed and whipped her harder. 

By the time we tried some forced orgasm work, she was a sobbing, broken mess, begging us to stop. 

"Please, Mistresses," she garbled out through her gag. "I'll do anything you want. Just please, I don't wanna cum anymore!" 

Carley grinned wickedly and pressed the tip of her riding crop against the woman's clit. "Anything, you say?" she purred. "Well, then. Get on your knees and eat my pussy!" 

The woman hesitated for a moment, her pride battling with her duress, but she eventually sank to her knees, pleading with Carley that she's not a lesbian. 

As if we'd fall for such pathetic lies, as she begged us to let her go. Carley just laughed and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her face deeper into her crotch. 

"Shut up and keep liking, dyke," she growled. "We both know you love the taste of my pussy. Don't try to deny it." 

Of course, Mistress, everyone had a safeword. But none of these four seemed particularly interested in using it. They were too far gone, lost in the haze of pain and pleasure, of humiliation and degradation. So Carley and I just keep going, pushing them further and further into their own darkness. 

I promise I'll come home soon, Ma'am. If Carley ever releases her grip on me. She's my everything! 

Sissy Alice is doing ok, she just surpassed 100 days with her little clitty locked up and still, only a five minute, supervised release per week. We celebrated her centennial with a good pegging. 

*giggle

Safe sex always, Mistress, like you taught me. We used a condom...sort of.

She did however, fuck up the other day. Carley and I had to punish her. Remember that day in your kitchen, Ma'am, when you showed me what figging was? Right before you put the horrible thing up my ass and made me hold it there? Was that the night I was on shrooms and you caught me having a freak-out? 

Well, we tried it with poor Alice, after she was over my knee with her little girl panties at her ankles. I made her stand at the sink and prepare her own fig. 

Then it was 30 minutes in the corner, to think about her actions while the plug did it's work. Ohhh, it worked well! 

Give Summer my love. Tell Mom I'm ok...I'm safe, but I'm not ready to speak to her yet. 

I'm not ready to come home. 

Love always, 

Cassandra L. Goth

Continued in: "Come on, let's Colour"