Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from: Lord Impaler

[F/f] [F/F] [female supremacy] [sci-fi] [lezdom] [spanking] [Goddess] [feet] [heels]

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

 

  

Lord Impaler

Continued from: Halloween Harem

[FF/sissy] [forced feminization] [dark] [emo] [dungeon] [slave] [Dominatrix] [leather] [fetish]

In keeping with our Halloween theme this week, it seems young Cassandra and Carley have made their way to the far side of Romania. Makes sense, given the dark, gothic nature of those two and the time of year. She sent me an entry from her personal journal which I'll transcribe for all of you here, I didn't realize Cassandra can be so deep sometimes, amidst her introspection and the way she creates a nexus between herself, her feelings, and the environment around her; albeit, a bit spastic of a writing style.

She even caught me with a few tear-jerker moments. I adore this little pixie. 

Here's her journal entry:

Cassandra Goth

10.30.2024

Port of Constanta, Black Sea, Romania...

It's cold here, Mistress. The food sucks.

I have the loving embrace of Carley to keep me warm though, in this strange place.  

Actually, their cabbage rolls are quite nice, even though they have Turkish origins. I guess when the Turks invaded Romania in the 15th century, repelled by the ferocity and questionable combat methods of Vlad Dracul, they left something behind. 

Is that not one of Newton's laws? In order for humans to really go anywhere, you have to leave something behind. What shall I leave behind here, on the shores of this sea? The sky above me looks angry, the water is frigid. This is a dark place, Mistress and your cabbage rolls are better! 

Since it's almost Halloween, I learned some things about Vlad, and his marred reputation of being the bad guy. Was he? Was he not a leader just trying to protect his people, his religion and his homeland from an invading foreign ruler?  

He was the first military leader in recorded history to use biological warfare as a tactic to soften the battlefield and a compliment to his psychological warfare. 

He released people from his prisons, often afflicted with bubonic plague, rabies and tuberculosis, to infiltrate the encampments of the Turks. Apparently he even used animals for the same purpose.

Symptoms:

Red eyes, foaming at the mouth, coughing up blood, erratic behaviour

Carriers:

15th century prison rats, wolves and foxes, rodents. A bat is a rodent...

You can see how the concept of a vampire was born, through a mixture of both legend and reality. This is also the reason why Carley and I find ourselves here. We are attending a vampire party in Transylvania tonight. I'm excited! I might get a new tattoo, a sexy vampire one to commemorate this trip. 

What else did we leave behind when Carley and I embarked on this European journey? Our sissy...Mistress, we have a sissy slave. He goes by Alice and he's back in the U.K. His chastity keys however, are with me, in Romania. You taught me well, Ma'am. Should I cast them into the sea before me? Into these angry waters, as the item I leave behind? He's nice though, not like other men, he's polite and we're working on shattering the remnants of his masculinity.  

Men in general, have never held much appeal for me. Their posturing, their arrogance, their inflated sense of self-importance - it all reeks of a desperate need to assert dominance over others, particularly women. 

I collared Carley as my own, shortly after the wedding. She's submissive only to me and never to a man! With Alice we are equals, Carley and I, she is surprisingly as dominant and as ferocious as I am, Mistress. I want you to get to know her, my wife, she's my everything. Maybe one day I'll come home and convince her to stay in Canada.

I miss you, Mistress. You're like a mother to me and I love you for that. I haven't talked to my actual Mom in awhile, not since she found out about the wedding. Could you talk to her for me, and tell her I'm ok?

I don't know if I wanna come home, but it's you, it's Summer, who I miss the most. Send Summer my love, tell her I miss her too. I'm not sure I can picture a world without you two in my life.  

I miss your firm guidance and support, the kind that only you can provide, it grounds me. I spank Carley plenty, but she doesn't spank me...I don't see her that way or in that role. It's why I still need you, Mommy. I'll come home to you soon, but we kinda opened a studio over here. 

That's right. It's a "Facility" in London...kinda like yours but much darker. Carley and I are the only two Dommes at the moment. There is certainly no one called "Mommy" in our place, people are usually crying for their Mommy though. 

From the moment "Alice" entered our domain, Carley and I knew that we had found our perfect plaything. His wide-eyed innocence and eagerness to please made him the ideal candidate for our brand of transformation. With the skills you taught me, we guided him through the process of feminization, watching with glee as he shed the trappings of his masculinity and embraced his new identity as, Alice, our sissy secretary. 

The chastity device was the first step, a symbol of his complete and utter submission to our will. We've had him locked for 70 days now, Mistress, with five minutes of supervised release, once a week for cleaning and shaving. 

We carefully curated a collection of lingerie for him, hosiery, pencil skirts and blouses designed to accentuate his new role as our sissy secretary. 

Remember when I was your secretary, Mistress? I miss those days too, things seemed simpler back then. Alice doesn't quite look as good as I used to in this role, but it's a start for him, the little breast-forms he wears in his bras are cute.  

We basically behave like it's Mad Men and he's a 1950's secretary. There's something undeniably satisfying about watching him scurry about the office, his hips swaying provocatively in his pencil skirts, his heels clicking against the floor. 

Carley and I take great pleasure in subjecting him too the same kind of sexual harassment and objectification that women have endured for generations. A firm slap on the ass as he bends over to retrieve a file, a lingering grope of his bra. 

He doesn't get to touch us, ever. He's listened to Carley and I fuck before, while he was in a cage, but he's pussyfree, everything free...not even our footwear. If Alice wants our attention it's a spanking, chores, menial tasks, or the strap-on. 

I'll reach down and tangle my fingers into his wig, forcing him to look up at me from under my desk. "Keep going, slut," I'll growl, my voice thick with lust and authority. "Show me how badly you want that raise." And oh, how he'll work for it...even though there is no raise at all, his head bobbing frantically on my dildo before I send him back to his desk, threating to fire him.  

While I may enjoy the psychological games, the mindfuckery of it all, Carley is more of a hands-on type of gal. And what she wants, more often than not, is to fuck our little sissy secretary senseless. 

Maybe it's she, who is Lord Impaler? 

It's become something of a ritual really, about twice a week. Carley will saunter into the office with a wicked gleam in her eye and a bulge in her dress pants. She'll crook her finger at Alice and off they go, disappearing into the copy room or a broom closet. 

She'll hike up his skirt and hike down his lacey panties and claim him. I can almost hear it now amidst these waves behind me, Mistress. The slap of flesh against flesh as Carley has him bent over the copier, fucking his boi pussy while his chastity cage bounces around between his thighs. 

A few strands of pre-cum dribble down into his panties, it must be so humiliating and frustrating, that this is Alice's only source of pleasure. It's a curious sight, really - the way his body betrays him, leaking that telltale fluid despite the fact he's locked up in a nub-cage. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his base desires and his need to please, to submit.

Part of me thinks he might be more interested in your style, Mistress. The princess dresses and little girl bedrooms, Mary Janes and bows. If we come home, maybe we'll bring Alice too, he'll be sufficiently emasculated by that point, as Carley and I continue to erode his former identity. 

Should I just throw his keys into the sea, and seal his fate forever? I'm thinking about it again. Then call him and break the news? We left him behind to manage The Facility U.K. - is it okay if I call it that, Mistress? I thought it would be dope to still be affiliated to you and your unique brand. I can send you a cut of our profits if you wish?  

Speaking of which, prostitution sessions are all the hype! 

Like safe, simulated, immersive experiences of playing the role of a sex trade worker. The women over here, the British women, go wild for this option! Everything from high-class, hotel lobby hooker, to literally kneeling behind a dumpster in an alley. Everyone wants to book the experience, we have a waiting list. 

It comes at a decent rate for us. Carley and I are essentially hands off, a great return on investment. We should collab on this for your own place, Mistress, just think about some male clients you really trust. 

I better go, we have to get ready to attend the party...in a castle! I guess I should feel like a princess, huh? But I don't. 

I feel like the empowered woman you made me, your perfect creation, your perfect Dominatrix...

Love always, 

Cassie xo    

Continued in: Boardrooms & Bedrooms   

  

 

Halloween Harem

Continued from: The Future is Female

[F/fffff] [lingerie] [cosplay] [schoolgirl] [dress-up] [leather] [high heels]

I'll take a quick break from our main storyline to let the girls show off some of their costume ideas for Halloween, starting with mine. What do you think? Who wants me to put a spell on them? I may have to change my official title from 'Mistress" to "Enchantress'. 

With Cassandra gone, Summer has lost her favourtie partner-in-crime, fellow cosplayer, Star Wars nerd and gamer girl. She has been a little bummed about that and about not having Cassie around for Halloween this year. 

The last time we heard from Cassandra and Carley, there were touring around Croatia and Serbia. Cassie told me she's been keeping a journal of their exploits and travels, along with some detailed accounts of their playtime with that sissy slave they found, named, Alice. That poor, poor man, oh my! Or perhaps lucky, depending on how you look at it. 

But...on the bright side, we have the new girl, Skylar, with her PhD in space rocketry or whatever it was. She must be a super nerd! 

However, she's also an Olympic medalist and mixed-martial-arts fighter, so maybe not the nerd I think. 

Summer is going to kick things off for us this year. Remember when she cosplayed before and the girls formed their own little Rogue Squadron? Super cute. 

The Rogue Squadron

This year, she's staying within the theme of movies. I think my cute little wife nailed it!

The lovely Bella, the original member of my harem, is rocking a little Princess Jazz vibe and looking super hot. 

Sweet and innocent Nancy Landgraab, went with an old-school classic. She doesn't have a stitch of female dominance in her, but wanted to be a slutty police woman. *shrug*

Despite the fact that little Sarah Jane took on a more dominant role at home and entered into a female-led-relationship with Russ, she wanted to be "little" and whimsical again. She went with an adorable Wonderland look this year.

 

Sarah's newfound play-toy, Mandy, the soccer mom...I suppose she could have just donned her scrubs and arrived as a nurse. 

But...she went with an adorable classic also. 

The only wildcard was Skylar. Our shy librarian who worked for NASA once, has a cat named Gary, and is probably the most intriguing woman I've ever met, even though she doesn't look it. 

You've managed to capture the essence of you as a person, equal parts badass and geek, all wrapped into one adorable package!

Atta girl Skylar, a Star Wars nerd...Summer will be happy. 

Who wins the best costume award? Feel free to comment. The winner gets to choose their own reward! Maybe a spanking? 

Happy Halloween everyone.

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Lord Impaler

 

The Future is Female

Continued from: Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

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

As I stepped back to take in the full effect of Skylar's transformation, I found myself utterly captivated by this young woman. I was in awe. Clad in those sinfully sexy black pantyhose and nylon lingerie, her jacked body was a symphony of curves and shadows, a living, breathing work of art. And yet, despite the undeniable allure of her appearance, Skylar remained modest, her arms crossed protectively over her chest as if to shield herself from our appreciative gaze. 

My fingers itched with the desire to explore every inch of her newly revealed body. With a gentle touch, I swept her pretty hair forward, exposing the graceful curve of her back and the delicate nape of her neck. 

And that's when I saw it - a small intricate tattoo nestled at the base of her hairline. The Olympic rings, a symbol of athletic prowess and international recognition. 

Turning to face her fully, bracing for yet another revelation from this driven, remarkable young woman, I asked softly, my voice barley above a whisper. 

"Skylar, huni...were you in the Olympics?" 

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied, her cheeks flushed as she nodded shyly. "I won a silver medal in Sochi, I competed in fencing, Ma'am." 

Stunned silence greeted this latest information, both Summer and I struggling to process everything we had heard thus far. Skylar, our shy, unassuming guest, was not just a brilliant academic - she was an Olympian, she competed at the perfect human trade show! She stood atop an Olympic podium and accepted a medal for Canada.

There had to be a catch here, I was almost searching and probing for some kind of flaw within this flawlessness. Something...anything. Maybe she chewed with her mouth open? Could she have done a little jail time, or is she addicted to prescription meds...there must be a crack in her armour somewhere. 

Just as I was about to abandon these silly notions of imperfection, I noticed something that gave me pause. My gaze traveled over the smooth expanse of her muscular calves. There, marring the otherwise flawless canvass of her skin, were unmistakable bruises - not the BDSM kind, these were angry purple splotches that spoke of violence and pain. 

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the marks, my mind racing with possibilities, none of them pleasant. And then, as I forced myself to look closer, I saw them - faint fingerprint bruises, etched into the muscle of her upper arm, a silent testament to some unseen struggle. 

A chill of pure rage ran down my spine as the pieces began to fall into place. Skylar, with her shy demeanour and sudden interest in dominating men, bore all the hallmarks of someone fleeing an abusive relationship. Is this what led her to my Facility, could this have sparked her inner dominatrix to bubble to the surface? 

My gawd, I couldn't even! If some worthless fucking man, put his hands on this extraordinary woman!

The thought made my stomach sick with a mixture of anger and sorrow. How dare anyone lay a hand on this magnificent creature? How dare they seek to dim the light that shone so brightly within her? As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I knew I had to confront the issue head-on, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. 

Stepping closer to Skylar, I reached out and gently traced the edge of one particularly nasty looking bruise, my touch feather-light against her skin. 

"Skylar, my dear," I began, my voice trembling slightly with the weight of what I needed to ask. "I couldn't help but notice these, these scratches, these finger marks...is someone hurting you? Are you in an abusive relationship?" 

The words hung heavy in the air as I looked to Summer, who was almost in tears. I braced myself for the answer I assumed was coming and I feared I had overstepped, that I had shattered the fragile trust we had been building. But then, Skylar's eyes met mine and for the first time this evening, she let out a peal of laughter that rang through the room. 

The sound was so unexpected, so at odds with the gravity of the moment, that I found myself momentarily frozen into silence. 

"Oh, Mistress," she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry for laughing. It's just...well, it's not quite what you think." She paused, gathering her thoughts, and I found myself leaning forward in anticipation, eager to hear the explanation behind those mysterious marks. 

When she finally spoke, her words came as yet another shock in a night already filled with revelations. "Ma'am, Miss Summer, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine," she began, her voice steady and clear. 

"I do MMA in my spare time, Ma'am. I have a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu." She gestured to the bruises on her leg, a wry smile creeping across the corners of her lips. "These aren't the result of abuse, Mistress. They're badges of honour for me." 

The little thing drew her feet together in the most adorable display of vulnerability, teetering on her high heels and nervously fumbling with her fingers. 

I stared at her in fascination, my mind reeling as I tried to process this latest piece of information. 

Boy, don't I feel like a horse's patoot! 

For the third or fourth time tonight, I began my question in the same, shocked and awestruck fashion.

"Skylar...sweetheart..."

"You're a cage fighter?" 

She gleefully nodded her head and gave us an adorable, "mmm hmm," in the affirmative. 

"I think it's safe to say, young Skylar, that you're the most interesting and remarkable woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." 

She ducked her head, a shy blush spreading across her cheeks. 

From Sarah Jane, to Cassandra and Bella, Nancy, my own beautiful wife Summer and now this enigma of a woman, Skylar, I could barely believe that these remarkable women were a part of my life. For too long, we have been told to sit down, shut up, and know our place. But I was never more certain in this very moment, that the future is female! 

Please join me in welcoming the newest member of the Facility, 

Goddess Skylar St. Germaine, PhD

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Halloween Harem