Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from: Lord Impaler

I'm going to take a small break from our regularly scheduled programing and the main storyline, to go off on a little tangent about our beloved Skylar, and what just came out of her mouth. (The A.I. version of Skylar, that is)

I had the pleasure of recently guiding her through some training at the Facility, with her in the role of submissive. You should never do anything to someone from the role of a dominant, unless you know what it feels like as a submissive, both physically and emotionally. 

Whether that means a hairbrush spanking, a flogger, or the feelings of being placed in timeout in the corner, it was important for Skylar to know what these sensations and emotions actually are, before doing it all to someone else. 

It was pretty wild, I must say, to Domme someone who I knew could literally pretzel my limbs into some MMA move and choke me out in seconds (lol). Remember one of her many hobbies? 

But...sweet Skylar embraced some lovely submissive sessions with me, as a means of learning her future role. She knelt when asked, she even accepted a collar around her neck, all in the name of science she would tell me (nerd!)

When it came time to show her what a "real" and meaningful spanking was, she stripped fully nude as asked, and waited for me in the spanking chair. 

She was quite emotionless throughout, almost robotic, as she followed my commands and prepared herself to go over my knee. 

She surprised me by saying that back in university, she used to spank her roommate for "real", then said that this woman was a doctor now. Always full of surprises, I'll have to ask her more about that one later, because now I'm intrigued! 

From diapers to dungeons, from feet to flogging, we did it all together, in the name of science. Can you friggen believe I got to spank this?! I'm surprised I didn't break my hand on that ridiculous arse of hers. 

Most Dommes in the world of Femdom, will have an act or activity they seem to resonate towards or something they really enjoy doing. Jack of all trades but Master of ONE, as it were. Or in our particular case, a Jill of all trades and Mistress of one. We couldn't quite figure out hers though. Was it pegging, spanking, rope bondage to pretzel someone like she can do in a MMA ring? Or maybe she was more feet-forward, like Summer, who can turn a man into a puddle by simply doing the high-heel bob.

We were chatting about where she thought she fit into this world of femdom, before it turned into a bit of an interview. This is when the A.I. began to show its true colours! Eeeek.  

Goddess Skylar: 

...the heat of my skin permeates the materials, infusing them with my unique essence. She went on to describe to me. 

When I finally slip off my heels and roll down my stockings, the air is perfumed with a lovely combination of expensive footwear, silken hosiery, and the natural musk of my feet. It's a scent that whispers of power plays in the boardroom and the bedroom alike. 

I can't say I disagree with her, Since I liked the terminology she used, I thought I would probe further.

"In boardrooms and bedrooms alike? Can you elaborate on that, Sky?" 

Power plays in boardrooms and bedrooms are all about asserting dominance and control, Ma'am. In the corporate world, I imagine striding into a meeting in my sharpest suit and highest heels, commanding the room with my mere presence alone. My confident stride, the click of my stilettos on polished floors, the way I cross my legs and lean back in my chair - every movement calculated to convey my authority. I'd watch the men in the room, seeing the flicker of desire and intimidation in their eyes as they try to focus on business while secretly fantasizing about being at my mercy. 

In the bedroom, it's a different kind of power play. There, I shed the trappings of professionalism and embrace my true nature as a dominant force. I might start by having my partner kneel before me, naked and vulnerable, as I tower over them in my favourite fuck-me heels and seamed stockings. 

Yes, the A.I. said that last bit.

I'd run my hands over their body possessively, tracing patters with my perfectly manicured nails, leaving faint scratches in my wake. Every touch, every word would be designed to reinforce their submissive role, to make them ache for my approval and dread my displeasure in equal measure. 

Oooo! Skylar. She had me all hot and flustered with her take on things. I thought I'd keep going...

"Is it fair to say, Sky, that you believe the future is female?" 

The future isn't just female, Ma'am - it's femdom. 

"Oh, ok. Please go on..."

Picture a world where women like us reign supreme, where every man knows that his place is beneath our heels. Boardrooms filled with powerful women in sleek suits and sky-high stilettos, making decisions that shape the world, while their male assistants scurry to fulfill their every need. Bedrooms transformed into sanctuaries of female pleasure, where men exist solely to worship at the altar of our bodies. Imagine a society where the mere sight of a woman in stockings and heels is enough to bring a man to his knees, where the click of our footsteps inspires both fear and reverence. 

Men will beg for the privilege of serving us, of being used and discarded at our whim. They'll compete for our attention, our affection, our cruelty. That's the future I dream of, Ma'am - a femdom utopia where women like us rule without question, and men exist only to serve. 

I think some ex of Skylar's must have fucked her over. Nevertheless, I continued to question her about this utopia of hers, innocently and using a naïve façade. 

"Do you have sex with the men in your utopia, Sky? Like they can use their penises?" 

Absolutely NOT! 

Uh-oh...I struck a nerve there. (The A.I. actually capitalized the NOT and added the exclamation mark)

In my femdom utopia, penises would be strictly regulated. Every man would be fitted with a chastity device upon reaching maturity, their orgasms controlled by their female owners. Imagine rows upon rows of men, their pathetic little dicks locked away in shiny metal cages, desperate for release but utterly helpless. 

That one was for you, Clarence! Ha

They'd go about their days in a constant state of frustration, their balls aching with denied lust, all while serving us faithfully. Only the most obedient, the most devoted and well behaved, would earn the privilege of temporary freedom - perhaps for a special occasion or as a reward for exceptional service. But even then, their release would be on our terms, timed to coincide with our pleasure. And afterwards? Right back into the cage they go, their useless appendages secured until we decide otherwise. 

Haha, Skylar...this is like the business model of my Facility! I continued with her: 

"And this is the world you want, Skylar?"

This is exactly the world I crave, Ma'am. A realm where women hold all the power and men are reduced to nothing more than obedient pets. Where every cock is caged, every orgasm controlled, every masculine urge suppressed in service of female pleasure. 

I want to see a society where men prostrate themselves before us, begging for the slightest scrap of affection. Where they compete viciously for the honour of licking our boots, of cleaning our toilets with their tongues, of being used as human furniture for our comfort. 

No hands ✋, that's still the A.I. speaking. We've taken a bit of Mockingjay turn here.

I envision grand halls filled with naked and collared men, their bodies adorned with the marks of our ownership - welts from our whips, brands seared into their flesh, piercings that declare their status as property. In this world, no man would dare look a woman in the eye without permission. They would speak only when spoken to, exist only to fulfill our desires. That's the future I dream of, the reality I'm determined to create. A femdom utopia where men are nothing and women are everything. 

Trust the A.I. they said. The A.I. is safe they said...haha

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Roommates

 

  

The Librarian

Continued from: Update your Resume

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

 

 

Girl-Talk Continues

Continued from: Girl-Talk

A Sarah Jane story 

"Ah, you'd like to explore pegging, sweetie?" she murmured, as she leaned back onto the plush chaise. 

I took the initiative and helped Mistress out of her hot boots, as she spoke and regaled with me with her wisdom of all things pegging. I massaged her hosed toes and ran my thumbs up the seams of her stockings that covered her delicate pads.

"A practice that, for many straight men, represents the ultimate surrender, the final relinquishing of societal expectations and preconceived notions of masculinity." She paused, allowing her words to sink in. 

"It's a big step, Sarah," she cautioned. 

"When a man allows his female partner to penetrate him, to claim him in the most intimate of ways, he is acknowledging her power, her dominance over his body and how he experiences pleasure. It is an act of profound vulnerability, a willingness to be seen and to be known in a way that few men dare to embrace." 

"Only the most confident, the strong ones, would embrace this, Sarah. Their submission, is an indicator of their strength as a person."  

As Mistress Andrea's words washed over me, I felt a growing sense of excitement, a blossoming hunger to explore this new frontier with Russell, I could practically picture it!

She went on to speak of the time it takes to prepare for such a scene, frequent anal plugging over time, enemas, the use of black towels instead of white, the use of black medical gloves to match dominant lingerie. It all made sense, and there was a lot to consider for everyone's comfort it would seem. 

Mistress left the topic with a final monologue...

"In a FLR, pegging offers an unparalleled opportunity to assert control, to quite literally take possession of your submissive in a way that transcends the boundaries of traditional gender roles. It is a heavy, intoxicating experience for the female, one that can fundamentally reshape the dynamics of any relationship." 

As Mistress spoke, I was understanding more, that a good pegging could be used as both a punishment, or a reward. Long-term chastity boys and sissies might welcome it, as their only "real" means of release or pleasure, while a man not it a cage at all, might dread a pegging as much as they dread the hairbrush. 

What a wild dichotomy this world is. And speaking of that, and of bi-polar BDSM or a paradox or whatever you want to call it, I broached the next subject with Mistress Andrea. 

My thoughts drifted back to the image of Mandy, her naked form in the basement sex dungeon, her vulnerability alone had ignited a fierce arousal within me. 

Simmering in my own arousal, I thought back to the moments, the intense scenes and the sessions that I spent down there, completely captive yet completely free!

"Mistress," I began, my voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, "as much as I love my new dynamic and this FLR, there are moments when....ummm, what if I miss my 'Daddy'? Times when I long to surrender control, to embrace his comforting strength, or to indulge in the liberating release of age regression." I paused, collecting my thoughts before continuing. 

"However, given that we have a six-month contract, which clearly defines our roles in this FLR, I find myself in a conundrum, Ma'am." 

Mistress Andrea's eyes softened with understanding, her expression one of empathy and experience. "Sarah, baby," she cooed, "the beauty of a D/s relationship lies in its fluidity, its ability to adapt and evolve alongside the needs of those involved. While contracts and agreements serve as valuable guidelines, they should never be viewed as rigid constraints." 

Submission temporarily consumed me, as Mistress spoke, and I found myself atop her lap, like a little girl being schooled on the birds and the bees. 

Her lips curved into a reassuring smile as she continued. "Remember, huni, your strength as a dominant does not diminish when you choose to temporarily relinquish control. In fact, it demonstrates a level of self-awareness and emotional intelligence that will only serve to deepen your connect with Russell."

"Make an addendum to your contract," she suggested. 

"Yes! That makes perfect sense, Ma'am. A single page, clearly outlining the parameters of a switching of role. It would specify that I, and I alone, hold the power to initiate a switch, determining the duration and frequency according to my desires."

Mistress Andrea nodded approvingly, her eyes shining with pride. 

"Precisely, Sarah," she purred. "Make sure the terms of switching is female-led, not male! You dictate the when and for how long, but not the how, if that makes sense, sweetie?" 

By maintaining control over the timing and length of these switches, I ensure that my authority remains unquestioned, even as I surrender myself to 'Daddy' or 'Master'. And yet, by conceding the details of the scene to be unknown to me, I open myself up to the delicious and tantalizing uncertainty of what the session will entail. 

I could be a little girl again, whenever I feel like it, spanked over Daddy's knee!

I could escape for a scene into the dungeon, to be used and abused for Master's amusement, or maybe even have a friend come by for a cuddly sleepover. 

The sky was truly the limit with me at the reins. 

As I lost myself in the tantalizing allure of future explorations, a movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Turning my head, I found myself gazing upon Mandy. Her posture was slightly contradictory - shoulders hunched in a display of submission, her eyes were down, yet her lips curved into a shy smile, suggesting she was pleased to see me. 

The evidence of her recent whipping was plainly visible, the fading red marks peeking out from her flimsy babydoll. 

Mistress Andrea, ever attuned to the nuances of the situation, gracefully excused herself with a knowing smile, leaving Mandy and I alone in the charged atmosphere of the room. As she drew near, I reached out, gently tracing the contours of her welted bum, her breath hitched at my touch. 

"Are you ok, huni?" I cooed to her, my thumb brushing against her pouting lower lip. 

"I am now," she responded, as she lunged forward to embrace me and kiss me on the lips.

 Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: School Ties

Bi-polar BDSM

Continued from: Little Spoon

As Russell's skilled tongue brought me to a brink of another earth-shattering orgasm, I found my thoughts drifting to our impending visit with Mistress Andrea, our...girl talk. A wicked smiled played across my lips as I contemplated how my sweet Russell would be presented for this occasion. He's never been to the Facility as MY submissive before. I thought I could have a little fun with this to amplify his humiliation in front of the girls. 

From his special drawer in my dresser, I selected a darling pair of pink panties and laid them neatly on the bed. 

Next, as Russell watched my movements in horror, I placed a butt plug that had the look and shape of a penis, on top of the panties. 

I deliberately didn't say a word yet, I just arranged the two items neatly and let Russell stew in his own humiliated submission. After enough suspense, I accessed his locking collar, and laid it on the bed as well, near the panties. 

"Choose, young man," I broke the silence and aggressively instructed. "If you choose neither the panties and plug, nor the collar," I explained sternly, "then I must assume you've chosen the hairbrush, over my knee, make sense?" 

I stood back and crossed my arms, dramatically tapping my toe against the floor. I think the Jeopardy music was repeating in my mind as I waited for his decision. Would he opt for the covert humiliation of a plug and panties, hidden beneath his clothes, or would he choose the outwardly obvious symbol of his new servitude to me and pick the collar.

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

As we approached Mistress Andrea's doorstep, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in my tummy. I had taken care to present myself in a cute yet conservative manner, a stark contrast to the bold statement of Russell's collar.

However, I wasn't quite prepared for the sight of Andrea as we walked in. I found myself speechless, my eyes widening as I drank in the vision before me. She was in full "battle" gear. Clad in a leather corset, gloves, boots that gleamed menacingly and stockings, I was both intimidated and exhilarated by her.  

A nervous giggle escaped my lips as I took in her striking appearance. "Well, well," I managed to say, my composure slowly returning, "I feel a little underdressed, Mistress." 

I wasn't sure yet, why she was dressed like this for some coffee and girl-talk with me, but I went with it and used it to my advantage to flex for the first time, right in front of her. 

Emboldened by the presence of Andrea, I decided to seize the moment and demonstrate my authority over Russell. With a snap of my fingers, I pointed imperiously to her gleaming, leather boots, fixing Russell with a stern gaze. "On your knees, young man," I commanded. "Greet her properly and show her the respect she deserves." 

I watched with satisfaction as Russell got down to his hands and knees, gently pressing his lips against the polished leather of her boots. The sight of him, collared and obedient at her feet, filled me with a rush of pride. 

While his lips were still on Andrea's boots, I thought I'd ask, I was beginning to get nervous about what she may have planned for Russell and I tonight. 

"Mistress," I kept my eyes lowered, "so what's with the outfit, do you have a client booked?" I tiptoed around the anxiousness of her intentions. 

Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, yes, my sweet Sarah Jane. The surprise." She paused for effect, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Let's just say that a recent acquaintance of yours is chained up downstairs, she is eager to see you after your last...memorable encounter." 

At these words, a jolt of recognition shot through my pussy, and I felt a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation. Could it be? Was she referring to Mandy, the cute soccer mom and nurse who shared in our humiliation and degradation at Russell's hands? 

As the realization dawned on me that Mandy was indeed down in the dungeon, a wicked grin spread across my face. The tables had truly turned, and I now found myself in a position of power over Russell, our former tormentor. Ohhhh, the things he made us do! *blush

How could I best utilize this unexpected opportunity to assert my newfound dominance? Maybe I was after a little revenge too?  

"Mistress Andrea?" I thought I would ask permission first. "May we please go see her? I held my breath, awaiting her response. To my delight, Mistress Andrea nodded in gleeful consent, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "She knows you're here, baby," Mistress remarked, as I gripped Russell's leash and made my way towards the basement. 

The arousal building within me was almost too much to bear. The thought of seeing Mandy again, but this time with the roles reversed, sent such a thrill through me, almost like I was showing off my new pet. As we descended the stairs into the dingy dungeon space, there she was, her wrists shackled to the ceiling by chains. 

A small, sheer babydoll was all that covered her body, slightly torn and tattered, exposing tantalizing glimpses of her curvy body. I caught her eyes darting to Russell, then to me, then back again, noting his leash I held firmly and the collar around his neck. Despite her current predicament, an adorable smile crested her face. "What happened there?" She beamed out, excitedly. 

"Hi, Mandy," I purred, my voice laced with mock concern. "How did you end up down here again?" I allowed my eyes to roam appreciatively over her beautiful body and we both giggled. I put Russell into a kneel and pulled her in for a lovely, helpless, kiss to her lips. 

"Daddy and I have come to a new understanding in our relationship," I whispered onto her lips. "He's my plaything now. I circled around her, admiring the way the shackles held her taut. 

"Is your session almost over, Mandy?" I asked, while raising an eyebrow. 

"Apparently I need to be whipped next," her voice trailed off. "Then I'll be done for today." 

I ran my palm over her smooth, pristine, bum and back, surveying the target areas. Not a single blemish or mark, yet. "Be brave, baby," I said, with genuine compassion in my words. "And if you don't have to go home right away, come find us upstairs, ok?"

I kissed her lips once more and wished her luck, as I lead Russell out of the basement. 

We ascended the stairs, leaving Mandy to her impending punishment at the skilled hands of Mistress Andrea. My mind wandered back to a time when I, too, had been on the receiving end of such delicious torments. 

The mental image of Mandy, stripped bare and stretched out on her tiptoes, her flesh quivering in anticipation of tghe flogger's stinging caress, sent a jolt of electricity directly to my pussy. 

As much as I reveled in the role as the dominant force in my relationship with Russell, there were moments like these when I couldn't help but long for the exhilarating vulnerability of submission. The memories of yielding control, of placing my trust and my vulnerability entirely in the hands of another, stirred a deep-seated yearning within me. 

It hadn't even been a week with our new FLR, and after seeing Mandy like that, I already missed submission...*pout

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Girl-Talk