Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Continued from: The Librarian

[F/ff] [FF/m] [female supremacy] [sci-fi] [lezdom] [spanking] [Goddess] [athlete] [academic]

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

 

The Librarian

Continued from: Update your Resume

[F/ff] [female supremacy] [sci-fi] [lezdom] [spanking] [Goddess] [athlete] [academic]

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

 

 

Update your Resume

Continued from: Non-derogation Clause

[F/f] [FF/sissy] [leather] [dungeon] [secretary] [bondage] [femdom] [strap-on]

Summer and I returned home after our little masquerade as civil lawyers, for the sake of Sarah Jane's blossoming female-led-relationship, both content that she and Russell will have plenty to keep themselves busy for the foreseeable future. 

As I stepped into the familiar surroundings of my Facility, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The scent of leather and the faint echoes of past sessions hung heavy in the air, a warming reminder of the countless hours I had spent within these walls, dominating and correcting adult men and women from all walks of life. 

With Cassandra and Carley somewhere in Europe, and Summer still working as a flight attendant, the responsibility of managing the Facility and its clients, fell squarely on my shoulders once again. A bittersweet smile played on my lips as I looked at the picture Cassie had sent me from Budapest - her dark features underscored by the city's iconic architecture, her eyes sparkling with the joy of newfound love. 

Her absence left a void not only in my heart, but in the daily operations of the Facility. It was more than just a fetish studio; it was a sanctuary, a haven for folks to escape, where they could safely and consensually explore the farthest reaches of their desires. Cassandra, once just my receptionist booking appointments, later rose to the rank of a Goddess Dominatrix, and was instrumental in creating these experiences for my clients. I needed to fill this void once again. 

Two weeks ago the girls were in Prague, embarking upon their extended honeymoon. They treated me to a rather...ahem...spicy little selfie from their hotel room, where I noticed Carley appears to have been collared by my little Cassandra.

Maybe lay off the weed a little bit, you two. You look stoned...

Prague, with its Gothic architecture and rich history, provided the perfect setting for explorations of a darker nature. Cassie would text me and regale me with tales of underground clubs, where the air was thick with the scent of leather and latex, where the crack of whips and muffled cries formed a symphony of sensual delights. 

Cassie's descriptions of Europe's kink scene were nothing short of breathtaking - elaborate bondage apparatus that push the boundaries of human endurance, public displays of submission that blur the lines between art and BDSM. Through it all, one thing became abundantly clear: Cassandra had found her element. Her dark enthusiasm was oozing through her messages to me. 

She spoke of these European city's embracing the heavier aspects of BDSM with a fervor that was both inspiring and slightly concerning. The extreme punishments, the elaborate tortures scenarios - these were elements that had always existed on the fringes of my Facility, but hearing Cassie's firsthand accounts brought them into sharp focus. I just hope she is being safe about it all. The last text exchange I had with her, she and Carley were in Belgium.

From their hotel room, they sent me a selfie with some ridiculous dude in the background. He was bound and ring-gagged, his mouth forced open in an obscene manner, gaped and ready to accept god knows what. It appeared to me that he was a sissy already, or the girls got their hands on him and forcibly feminized him. 

Either way, I hope this fellow knows what he's getting into. 

I responded to her selfie with a "LOL"...followed by a, "who the eff is that?!" 

The petulant Cassandra ended up just snapping another photo and sending it to me with the caption, "say hello to Alice," with two eggplant emojis behind it. 🍆🍆

Young people who communicate via symbols, does that mean they're both going to fuck this guy, the eggplants? 

Kids these days, with their emojis! I dunno. Either way, Alice...whoever you are...I hope you know what you've just signed-on for! 

I just shook my head and set my phone aside, re-contemplating the need for a new receptionist / assistant. My thoughts inevitably drifted to Mandy, the delectable soccer mom who had recently begun frequenting the Facility. She was one of those clients I really looked forward to seeing, her deep submissiveness and eagerness to please was a perfect cocktail for the role Cassandra once held in her earlier days. 

I've seen Mandy in her nursing scrubs...cute. 

But the mental image of her clad in form-fitting professional attire, sent a shiver of delight through my body. Her curvaceous figure, accentuated by tailored dress pants and pencil skirts, would undoubtedly prove irresistible to the chastity boys, as she "checks them in" to the Facility. 

The thought of her juicy bum, encased in grey tweed...delicious!

I could already envision the effect she would have on our clients, their eyes drawn helplessly to her swaying hips as she moved about the lobby, her every gesture imbued with an unconscious sensuality. 

But beyond her physical allure, Mandy possessed qualities that made her uniquely suited to the role. Her nursing background spoke to a compassionate nature, a genuine desire to care for others that would translate beautifully into the world of adult spanking. Additionally, her own journey into submission has given her a deep understanding of the dynamics at play within her role. 

As I weighed the possibilities, I found myself growing increasingly excited about the prospect of brining Mandy on board, even though she now has a unique relationship with Sarah Jane. Though neither woman identified as lesbian, the bond they shared through their own submission was intense, a friendship and lust for each other that defied conventional labels. 

I don't think Sarah has chosen to collar Mandy as her official sex slave, yet; she has her hands full with Russell for now. Plus, that may complicate things if I decide to offer Mandy the job at the Facility. I had better get my hands on Mandy before Sarah does. Sorry, darling. 

I had witnessed the electricity that crackled between these two during their recent sessions, the way Mandy's body responded to Sarah's touch as if it was a finely tuned instrument. I know that Sarah intends on including Mandy in her sessions with Russell, forcing him to watch and twitch in his cock cage as she fucks her right in front of him. Awesome move, girl! 

Maybe the blossoming chemistry between Sarah and Mandy is a direct result that they haven't bound themselves to formal titles or collaring ceremonies. Their bond seems more pure and innocent, rather than the rigid roles that BDSM can often create. 

Brining Mandy on board would not only benefit the Facility but would also provide her with a new avenue for growth and discovery. Under my guidance and mentorship, who knows, maybe she'd become a Dominatrix one day? I do have a knack for empowering women and letting them see the beauty of the Goddess that remains hidden beneath. The work of art was always there, like a sculptor, I just smoothed out the rough edges. 

Mandy the Dominatrix, can you imagine that? Apparently her bum already "won the internet", as a fan once remarked. Could you imagine kneeling before this? 

Phew...my face just went flushed. 

Well...I think I've talked myself into this one, an easy decision. It's time to tell sweet Mandy to update her resume!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo 

 

Continued in: The Librarian

 

 

   

   

Non-derogation Clause

Continued from: Addendum

[FFF/m] [M/f] [F/m] [FLR] [spanking] [cornertime] [OTK] [chastity]

A Sarah Jane story

Mistress Andrea cleared her throat delicately, drawing our attention back to this clause at the bottom of the page. 

Poor Russell could do nothing but listen from his timeout corner, spanked, locked in chastity and utterly mortified that his Sunday maintenance had become so "public", with the inclusion of my two stunning, fabricated attorneys'. 

"A non-derogation clause," she explained, her voice smooth and professional, "is a provision that ensures the core element of a contract remains intact, regardless of any addendum or temporary modifications," she continued, her gaze now descending upon Russell in the corner. 

"The clause guarantees that Russell's orgasm control remains exclusively under Sarah Jane's jurisdiction, even during periods of role reversal. Essentially, it preserves the fundamental power dynamic of the FLR, ensuring that Sarah's ultimate authority is never truly compromised." 

Mistress smiled, a hint of wickedness in her expression as I spoke. 

"Quite ingenious, Ma'am, thank you for preparing this document, but may I clarify something with you?"

I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks as I posed the question, my voice tinged with a rare note of uncertainty. "So, let me see if I understand this correctly, Mistress," I began, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. "Under the terms of this addendum, I could find myself draped over 'Daddy's' knee, my bottom bare and vulnerable, squirming helplessly as his firm hand rains down upon my tender bum?"

"Or perhaps, dressed in the frilly finery of a little girl, my innocence feigned as I'm subjected to humiliations beyond my wildest imaginings."

I paused, swallowing hard, my breath coming a little faster at the thought. "I might even find myself naked and shackled in a dimly lit dungeon, at the mercy of 'Master's' cruel implements and relentless cock, my body pushed to the very limits of pleasure and pain. 

"And yet," I continued, my voice growing stronger, more confident, "despite all of this, despite the illusion of submission, the reality of my FLR remains unchanged. He may fuck me senseless, reduce me to a quivering, pleading mess, but he cannot, will not, cum without my express permission, is that correct, Ma'am?" 

Mistress Andrea nodded, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Precisely, my dear," she confirmed, her voice rich with approval. "You understand perfectly. The non-derogation clause ensures that, no matter how convincing the illusion of his dominance, his cock cage, the use of his penis for a sexual purpose, and his permission to cum, remains under your absolute control." 

 

I leaned forward, closer to Mistress Andrea, my curiosity piqued by this tantalizing prospect. "And what, Madam Counsellor, would be the consequences should he fail to control himself?" I asked, my voice a sultry purr. "If, in the throes of passion, he were to accidentally cum without my blessing? Surely such a transgression would warrant severe punishment?" My mind drifted toward the possibilities. 

My daydream was cut short as Mistress Andrea snapped her fingers at Summer, who fumbled into her briefcase to reveal a second document. With Russell still listening from his timeout position, Mistress cutely cleared her throat once more as she studied the new page. 

"Should the submissive party, hereinafter referred to as Russell, achieve orgasm without the express permission of the dominant party, hereinafter referred to as Sarah Jane, he shall be subjected to the following disciplinary measures:

Russell shall receive a punishment spanking of no less than thirty minutes in length, administered by Sarah Jane who shall use any implements and positions of her choosing. The spanking shall be witnessed by both Mistress Andrea and Miss Summer, to ensure it is carried out properly.

Oouff, that would be embarrassing! 

Following the spanking, a time of reflection in a designated corner shall commence. This time shall be no less than thirty minutes in length and no greater than one hour. Notwithstanding any article of clothing worn by Russell during this punishment, the buttocks shall remain bare and displayed during this time. 

Following corner time, Russell shall be confined to a chastity device if one is not already in place, for a period of three months, during which time the keys to said device, will be held in trust by Mistress Andrea. 

Throughout this period, Russell shall devote himself fully to Sarah's service, attending to her needs and desires with utmost diligence and respect. 

You can tell Mistress has written official Spanking Court rulings before, *giggle. Remember when she was the judge, jury and executioner all at once? She looked so cute yet menacing enough to make my butterflies swirl...and I wasn't even on trial that day! 

Story Link: The Spanking Court 

As Mistress Andrea finished reading, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. The idea of asserting my dominance 24/7, but holding the clause to switch roles when I wanted and dictate for how long, was deeply arousing. I could have my 'Daddy' and my pet! 

And the thought of him locked away even during these role reversals, his pleasure entirely at my mercy and control...well, it was enough to make a girl giddy with power!

Wish us luck. We love all your comments and support. I better come up for air and let Mistress Andrea use her own blog for awhile, before she tans my arse! 

Until we meet again, everyone xo

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Update your Resume

  

 

 

Addendum

Continued from: Ma'am to Mistress

[FFF/m] [F/m] [FLR] [spanking] [cornertime] [OTK] [chastity] [humiliation]

A Sarah Jane story 

As the gentle rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, I stirred from my sleep, my body pressed against the warmth of Russell's peaceful form. 

My eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of my beloved boy, his masculine frame clad in the frilly pink panties I had insisted he wear to bed the night before. It was the second Sunday since the beginning of our FLR contract (female-led-relationship). 

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face as I recalled the significance of the day ahead. Maintenance Sunday, our sacred ritual was upon us once again. My gaze drifted down to Russell's groin, where the outline of this chastity device was clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of his panties. Fourteen days had passed since his penis last felt freedom, and his mounting frustration filled me with a sense of profound satisfaction. 

As Russell began to stir awake, I guided his head between my thighs. "Good morning, my pet," I purred, my voice thick with sleepy desire. "I require your tongue this morning." 

Over the past two weeks I have been deliberately using language like this, eloquent and Goddess-like. "Go down on me or, lick my pussy," has its time and place, but "I require an orgasm to start my day," is much better. The word "require" leaves little debate as to my status as his Queen. 

Obediently, he nuzzled against my pussy, the warm breath of his French kiss sending shivers of electricity through my body. 

As the last tremors of my orgasm subsided, I gently stroked his hair, a silent acknowledgement of his devoted service. "Very good, my sweetie," I hissed in satisfaction. "Prepare my coffee please, and remain in those adorable panties only, I'll be down shortly." 

I tiptoed up behind Russell, as he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing my coffee with the utmost care and attention. I cupped the cheeks of his panty-clad bottom to give it a squeeze, before fixing him with a stern yet loving gaze. 

"Young man," I began, strict and authoritative. "I have decided that we shall not delay your maintenance spanking. Last week's drawn-out anticipation, while effective in building tension, proved to be somewhat disruptive to our daily routine."

"Therefore, once you have finished your coffee, you are to head upstairs and shower. After this, put your delightful, pink panties back on and wait for me in the corner of the spanking room, is that understood?" 

Russell's eyes widened slightly at my pronouncement, a flicker of nervous excitement dancing within their depths. "Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. 

During his shower, I took a moment to transform myself into the epitome of feminine authority. Slipping into a figure-hugging pencil skirt, I paired it with a crisp white blouse that accentuated my curves. Black seamed stockings and towering stiletto heels completed my ensemble, lending an air of power to my appearance. 

I swept my blonde hair into a severe bun behind my head, not a single strand out of place, and perched my reading glassing upon the bridge of my nose. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror was one of a woman in complete control, which I couldn't help but realize was the paradox of my recent internal conflict and my longing for submission. 

As I entered the spanking room, my heels clicking authoritatively against the hardwood floor, I was greeted by the sight of Russell standing obediently in the corner. One by one, I laid out some implements on the desk, several hairbrushes, a strap, a belt, and with a final satisfied nod, a box of tissues, just in case. 

The final smacks of this Sunday's maintenance landed upon Russell's bare bum. I allowed my hand to linger, cupping his heated flesh possessively. 

Gently, I helped him to his feet, steadying him as he regained his balance. With a tender smile, I guided him back to a corner of the room, positioning him on his knees this time, with his nose to the wall. "There you go, my sweet boy," I cooed. "Bottom red, panties down, just as Mommy likes." 

I sat back down in the spanking chair, the room was deathly quiet, and checked the time on my phone as a secretive smile spread across my face. From downstairs, I heard my front door, followed by approaching footsteps, the unmistakable click of high heels against my staircase. 

I watched as Russell's body tensed, his shoulders rising as he fought the urge to turn and investigate the source of two sets of high heels, power-strutting into my home office. 

In the doorway, stood the striking figures of Mistress Andrea and Summer. Both women were dressed as I was, in corporate power attire, their outfits chosen to emphasize their feminine dominance. 

As they entered the room, their eyes immediately fell upon Russell kneeling in the timeout corner, his bare bottom on display, his panties pooled around his ankles. I could see the initial shock register on their faces, quickly replaced by amusement and appreciation. 

Stepping into her role, the reason she and Summer made this surprise visit today, Mistress extended her hand to shake mine. "Good morning, Sarah, I'm your retained counsel, Miss Andrea," she remarked, with a smirk playing across her face. "This is my personal assistant and associate counsel, Miss Holliday," Mistress spoke firmly as she continued her act. I, of course, played along for Russell's benefit, or detriment, however you wish to look at it from his current state in the corner. 

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," I gestured towards the plush armchairs arranged in the opposing corner of the office. As they settled themselves, their eyes remained fixed upon Russell, drinking in the sight of his humiliation. 

"As you can see, we were just finishing up our weekly maintenance. Isn't he a sight to behold?" I purred, my gaze sweeping appreciatively over his exposed form. My attention turned back to Mistress as she started to get down to business.  

Mistress Andrea reached into her briefcase, extracting a crisp manila folder with a flourish. "As your official counsel, it's our duty to ensure that all aspects of your...unique arrangement are properly documented. This is the addendum you asked us to prepare for you, Miss Sarah, is that correct?" 

I nodded in approval as I perused the one-page document, my eyebrows raised in surprise. The document outlined several new clauses. As I read, I couldn't help but clench my thighs together to quell the ache, as a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine.

Terms of Switching Roles

This was the delicious looking title at the top of the addendum. 

The idea of temporarily reversing our roles, of surrendering control to Russell for a designated period, had my heart pounding out of my chest. It would be the best of both worlds! 

My manicured fingers reached the bottom of a page. where I scanned a section with the title of: 

Notwithstanding

I looked up at Andrea, slightly confused as I read the sub-heading:

Non-derogation clause 

"Madam Counsellor," I asked softly and submissively, "what's a non-derogation clause?"

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Non-derogation Clause