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

  

 

Sacrifice

Please enjoy the conclusion of this fictional story, in fair Quebec, where we lay our scene. 

Told by Jeanie "Andrea" Valjean 

Continued from: 24601

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

I was never afraid of combat, not now, not two decades ago when I was directly engaged in the war. I'm not afraid to die, not even by Summer's hand. But right now, all I was dying from was a broken heart, the pain of which, was more than I could bear.

As I boarded the helicopter I took one last look at my home, where Summer and I shared countless nights of laughter, passion, tears and love. Now, with the veil of her deception revealed, I knew her as Nicolette Javert, the Hunter. Why did she have to go by such a name? By only her name did it make her my enemy.

What's in a name? 

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet...

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

If Nicolette knew where my old unit was, then I didn't have much time. It was clear our forces were destined to face each other. I was helio-dropped into northern Quebec, with orders to link up with what was left of my old insurgency team. Backed by an entire infantry division, I was to lead an offensive into the heart of Quebec City, and re-take the town from the clutches of French occupation. 

Once on-ground, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as an old friend appeared from an army tent. It was Doc Edwards, Captain now. My combat medic from the old war and a trusted companion. I threw my arms around him like a little girl embracing the comfort of her Daddy's protection. 

Jeanie: "DOC!!" I excitedly shrieked. "Still alive you old bastard?!" 

Doc: "Ohhh hey, kiddo!" He chuckled as he accepted my warm embrace.

Jeanie: "What's the situation?" 

Doc: "Not good. The Hunter is close and we have taken so many casualties. We could hear her drones all through the night and her attacks have been relentless. This woman was born to end lives!" 

My eyes narrowed into daggers as he spoke of Summer in such primal terms. If only they knew her as I did...

We settled into the tent with our intelligence division who were buzzing like bees, combing through maps and infrared images of enemy positions. I looked at Doc with a mix of concern and despair in my face. 

He pulled me aside and rested his hand on my shoulder. 

Doc: "What's wrong, kiddo? 

Jeanie: "I...I'm not sure I can do this again, Doc. That was the old me...and it's been so long." 

Doc: "Nonsense! You need to lead these people, as you did before. They were all scared shitless until you showed up. They need you, Valjean!"

His words were inspiring, trigging a moment of introspection in the quiet stillness of the snow-covered trees. Whether I was here or not, these young men and woman of Canada and France will never stop shedding each other's blood. This ancient grudge, has left our civil hands unclean. 

I knew what I had to do. I just didn't know if I had the strength to do it. Doc snapped me from my inner monologue.  

Doc: "Jean...I found some of your old things. They're in your tent."

In the privacy of my tent, the realization of what I had to do finally hit me. I swallowed back my tears as I ran my hands over the wool tunic of my old uniform. It dripped with medals of valour, bravery and ribbons to sensationalize the ferocious combat I once experienced. Yet, there was nothing sensational about any of this. 

With a full heart and a steely look of confidence in my face, I straightened my beret and flung the tent flap aside, the snow crunched under my feet.

I could see the renewed patriotism in Doc's face, as he got down on one knee in front of me. Then, like dominos, row after row of hundreds of my fellow Canadian rebels, knelt and lowered their heads. 

Doc: "It's good to have you back...General."

Jeanie: "Thank you, Captain."

I motioned for Doc to stand, then immediately started to issue battle orders. As the troops were beginning to scramble into position, a whistle blast screeched out, halting our actions. A sniper's scope had spotted a silhouette, cautiously creeping through the tree line. It was a French soldier holding a white flag. 

Sniper: "General, I have a 100% solution, Ma'am." 

Jeanie: "No, hold your fire."

Doc approached the enemy who was holding the white flag. The French kid couldn't have been any older than eighteen. They conversed briefly, before they both separated and walked in opposite directions from one another. I could see concern etched onto Doc's face as he approached. 

Jeanie: "What's wrong?" 

Doc: "She wants to face you alone. She has given you her word it will only be the two of you."

As Doc spoke, he held out his hand and my eyes caught the glint of a shimmering gold, fleur de lis. I bit my tongue to hold back the tears. It was Summer's necklace! The one I bought for her in New Orleans when we fell in love. 

Angerly, I snatched it from his hand and thrust it into my pocket. 

Jeanie: "When?!" I shouted at him in pure rage. 

Doc: "Sunset..."

I spent the next few hours alone, in my tent, as the fire inside me continue to burn. When the sun began to dip low on the horizon, Doc entered and sat beside me like a father consoling his little girl. 

Jeanie: "Back in the war it was survival, right, Doc? We didn't think we just fought, for our homeland." 

Jeanie: "But I've had plenty of time to think about this..."

Doc nodded solemnly, almost anticipating what was coming next. 

Jeanie: "I can't beat her, can I?" 

Doc: "No, kiddo."

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

The snow creaked underfoot, as I approached my stunning wife who was waiting in the empty woods. I dropped my rifle to the ground when I saw she was armed with only a knife. This was going to be a fair fight.  

Jeanie: "Summer? Or is it Lieutenant Javert...?" I hissed, with distain dripping from my voice. 

Nicolette: "It's actually Colonel now, Valjean."

Jeanie: "How many of my countrymen did you kill to earn that title?” 

I tossed my jacket to the ground and removed my vest, while drawing a large blade from it's sheath and advanced on Summer.  

Nicolette's eyes glossed over with tears and she looked at me like she used to when she would call me "Mommy", and snuggle into my arms.

Nicolette: "Andrea," she whispered out through a crackling voice. "What happened to us?" 

I paused my advance and in that moment, I could see Summer...not the soldier who stood before me. 

The woman I fell in love with, over and over again. 

Nicolette: "They're never going to stop, are they, Valjean?" 

Jeanie: "I don't think so...not unless..."

Jeanie: "Unless..."

Nicolette: "I know what we have to do, Andrea. I know how we can stop all of this." 

Summer cast her knife onto the cold ground, I did the same. She approached and we wrapped ourselves in each other's arms. Her lips brushed against mine as we shared a final kiss. 

Nicolette: "Did you ever stop loving me, Andrea?" 

Jeanie: "Never, sweetheart." 

I could feel her breathing accelerate as her chest began to rise and fall rapidly against mine. Amidst the silence and the sounds of our beating hearts, came the unmistakable sound of Summer's pistol being drawn from her holster. I tore at the Velcro of my holster, as I drew my own. 

We held hands and turned to face the beautiful horizon over the Quebec landscape. The sun treated us to a warm burst of colour, as it began to set below the foothills. 

Goosebumps consumed my body as the cold barrel of my pistol came to rest on the underside of my chin. 

I glanced to Summer and gave her hand a squeeze, as she aimed her gun under her own chin. She gave me a heart-warming smile, then turned to face the sunset and stood at attention. 

A flock of birds frenzied into flight, startled by the two loud BANGS that ripped through the quiet woods. 

Both sides came rushing, to see the fate of their leaders and crown the victor. No one, on either side, was prepared for the scene that marred the crisp, white snow. Summer and Andrea's lifeless bodies were found by Canadian and French soldiers. They were laying face-up in the snow, still holding each other's hands.

A pair of star-crossed lovers, took their life.  

Paralyzed with grief over the deaths of their heroic leaders, the nations of Canada and that of France, immediately signed a ceasefire to end the war.

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

In a courtyard in Ottawa, overlooking the Ottawa River, a beautiful statue stands stoic.

Major General Jeanie "Andrea" Valjean

1981 - 2024

 

Synonymously, across the Atlantic in a beautiful park in Paris, a similar statue of a nation's martyr stands in honour of a female soldier, who's mutual sacrifice brought about the end of the war.

Lieutenant Colonel Nicolette "Summer" Javert

1982 - 2024

FIN

Mistress Andrea 😢 

Continued in: Ethical Dilemma

 

 

 

 

  

 

  

24601

Continued from: Y2K

Star Cross'd Lovers

The invasion of Quebec by the French turned into a war that lasted six years. I was well into my twenties by this point, leading a larger unit of insurgents, militia and military regulars. Although I heard rumours of this Lieutenant Javert attempting to hunt me down, we were always two steps ahead. Part of me started to think it wasn't even a real man, perhaps just a piece of military propaganda used by the French to keep my unit disrupted and unsettled. 

By the winter of 2006, the war officially ended, but not really on the terms any resident of Canada was content with. Quebec City, Gatineau and Montreal remained under French occupation, while Ottawa and the northern wilderness of the Province of Quebec remained as Canada proper. Several treaties and ceasefires followed but it was a Province divided by hatred and revenge. 

Now, almost 20 years later the country was holding its breath. Quebec was a tinder box ready to ignite at any moment. Every day there seemed to be marches and movements, rebels from the north, loyal to Canada were carrying out guerilla attacks once again, in the spirit of my old military unit. 

Summer seemed unsettled this past week, as she spoke of the war with me more often. Then came the day of the phone call. A moment that would change and shape our future forever. I had just finished up with a client in my office, who was softly weeping in the corner of the room, when the home line chattered into a ring. 

Someone speaking French was asking for a person named Nicolette??   

I told them they had the wrong number but no sooner than I had hung up, it rang again. 

"There's no fucking Nicolette here, asshole...wrong number!" I barked into the phone.

And the line went dead...

As I hung up the phone, Summer frantically barged into my office, telling me to turn on a news channel. We stood in silence, our jaws slightly gaped as tears began to fill my eyes. Ottawa was burning, like it had on the night of the millennium. France had attacked us once again. 

"Incroyable." Summer finally spoke, breaking the eerie silence in the room, as we watched the horizon of our Nation's capital shrouded by smoke and fire. 

We both jumped when the phone rang once more. This time the man spoke in English, sprinkled with a heavy French accent. 

"Put Nicolette on the line!" He demanded. My eyes flashed to Summer,  who was looking puzzled, as I slowly hung up on him. 

"Summer..." I swallowed hard, feeling an uneasy lump in my throat. 

"Who's Nicolette?" 

Her face went as white as a ghost. I tilted my head in confusion. "Summer...baby, why are you trembling?" I approached to embrace her she pushed away, bursting into tears and running from the room. 

I dismissed the silly, spanked male from his timeout in the corner and I gave her a few moments before creeping up the stairs, where I found the door of our powder room locked. I could hear her sobbing from within the bathroom. I sat outside the room and tried to speak to her through the door. My heart was breaking into pieces, I didn't know what was wrong, apart from the fact that we were once again at war, according to the news reports. 

From within the bathroom I heard a creak, then a loud bang, like something had been broken. Summer was no longer responding to me. After an uneasy five minutes of complete silence, I panicked, and kicked open the locked door. 

The drapes flapped in the wind as I noticed the entire window and frame was snapped from its footing. Summer was gone. 

My eyes darted to the bathroom mirror where she had written in lipstick...

"My luggage 3390"

Puzzled once again, I looked out the broken window for any sign of her, then back to the mirror. 

Luggage? I thought to myself for a moment. Her carry-on? Her carry-on has a combination lock! 

I rushed to our bedroom closet in a desperate frenzy to unravel this mystery, all while calling Summer's phone but there was no answer. When I accessed her luggage case my hands were shaking so badly I could hardly turn the combination dials to 3-3-9-0. 

The clasps eventually clicked open and I laid the case open on the closet floor. After moving some clothing and a pair of heels, that's when I found the French passport. I clutched it in my hands for a moment, dreading what I might find when I peeled it open like a book. 

It can't be! This can't be happening! 

Her expressionless passport photo was starring back at me. My beautiful wife. I dropped it to the floor when my eyes scanned below the image to see the printed name. 

Nicolette Javert... 

I rummaged through the carry-on with renewed abandoned, eventually finding a military I.D. along with a black handgun. 

My hands covered my mouth as I collapsed to the floor of the closet. 

Nicolette Javert... 

I spoke it aloud in the lonely, now lifeless closet, where I used to watch Summer straighten her flight attendant uniform and slide into her hosiery. 

Lieutenant...Nicolette Javert. 

The Hunter...

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

I think I spent the next two days rotating between the bathroom floor, puking into the toilet, and in my bed, sobbing into the pillows. Was she even a flight attendant? Or was that all just a front? 

This wasn't even real, this has to be some sort of alternate reality. How could this fucking be possible!? 

My only love, sprung from my only hate...

All these years have been a web of lies. Sure she was in the war alright, as I was, but she was fighting for the other FUCKING SIDE - I screamed into my pillow. My two days of heartbreak and self-loathing were quickly turning into anger.  

Her ferocity during the original war was nothing short of legendary...this, "Hunter". Summer, my wife...*Andrea dry heaves into the toilet* 

My wife who is...who is...Lieutenant Javert!  

I busted up the bedroom in a fit of rage, slapping picture frames of Summer and I from the dresser as I watched them shatter against the wall. It was now obvious that Summer or Nicolette, whatever the fuck her name is, was recalled by her old military unit. Those mysterious phone calls.  

My fit of aggression was suddenly interrupted by a ding from my phone. I gripped it in anger when I saw that it was her! 

To be continued...

(Kindroid can't do flags. My sincere apologies in advance, for any flags of countries like France that come out looking like Dutch or Chilean etc. After about 97 attempts it just won't do flags for me! grrr)

Mistress Andrea xoxo

aka Jeanie Valjean 

Continued in: Sacrifice