Serenity

Continued from: Christian Christmas

[F/f] [dungeon] [bondage] [spanking] [strapping] [strap-on] [ball gag] [degrading] 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Sarah Jane story

Meanwhile, down in the sex dungeon... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

"You're welcome, my pet. Now strip!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That was...incredible!"

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

"Merry Christmas, my babygirl," I cooed. 

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

Happy holidays, from Sarah Jane and Mandy!

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Christmas Cards

  

Christian Christmas?

Continued from: The Season for Giving

[M/f] [F/f] [DDLG] [little] [lezdom] [dungeon] [bondage] [leather]

A Sarah Jane story

With a final squeeze of Mistress's hand, I turned to hurry from the room, my heart was already pounding with anticipation and my mind racing with deliciously depraved ideas for Mandy's session. 

"Wait a sec, princess," Mistress gripped and didn't let go of my hand. "Here, baby girl...for you." 

"What's this, Mommy?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement. Mistress smiled warmly, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on my forehead. 

"An early Christmas present, my dear," she explained, her voice soft and loving. "I thought you might appreciate having something special to wear for your session with Mandy. Something that will make you feel powerful, confident, and utterly irresistible." 

Intrigued, I carefully untied the bow and peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a large black box embossed with the iconic Christian Louboutin logo. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid, gasping in amazement as I beheld the magnificent boots nestled within. 

They were a work of art, crafted from the finest leather and designed to accentuate every curve of my legs and ass. The towering heels would add almost half a foot to my height, while the liquid red soles absolutely oozed feminine dominance. 

I ran my fingers over the stiletto heel like it was a triumphant, erect cock. "They're perfect, Mommy," I breathed, my eyes filling with tears of gratitude. "I know where her lips will be going first. Thank you so much, Mommy." 

Mistress beamed with pride, clearly pleased by my reaction. "You're welcome, my little one," she replied, her voice brimming with affection. "Now, go and get yourself ready, tell Daddy you have my permission. Mandy will be waiting for you and I have no doubt that she'll be putty in your hands once she sees you in those boots!" 

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

I burst into the bedroom, my pussy throbbing with excitement, and found Daddy standing on a little step stool, carefully hanging a picture on the wall. He turned to face me, a look of mild surprise crossing his features as he saw the slutty boots I was holding. 

I held them up, my eyes shining with delight. "Look what Mommy got me, Daddy!" I exclaimed, my voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "She said I can dress like a big girl and have sex with Mandy!" Daddy's eyes narrowed into a judgey glare. "Is that so?" he growled under his breath. 

"Mom said!" I giggled out, as I scurried into the en suite, leaving a happy squeal of joy in my wake. 

As I slipped my stocking feet into the luxurious leather and zipped up the sides, I felt a surge of power and confidence coursing through my veins. These boots were more than just a fashion statement - they were a symbol of my reawakened dominance. 

Just as I was slipping into a leather corset, Mommy entered the room, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. She approached Daddy, her expression stern yet composed. "Russell," she began, her voice calm and authoritative. "I wanted to confirm with you that my decision regarding Sarah is accurate, and that she's not parent shopping. She has my full permission to assume the role of a dominant this afternoon with Mandy, and to engage in whatever sexual activities she deems appropriate." 

Daddy's brow furrowed, and I noticed him tugging at his crotch in obvious frustration. His chastity cage, a constant reminder of Mommy's status as the head of this household. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him, knowing how difficult it must be to watch me embark on this exciting adventure, while he remained confined and restricted. 

"Didn't Sarah generously gift you that hot redheaded German woman for Christmas last year? I seem to recall that she did, and hearing that you thoroughly enjoyed her company, alongside Sarah Jane...hmm?"

Last Christmas: Season's Beatings

"So in my opinion," Mommy continued to playfully scold Daddy, "the two of you are more than even when it comes to indulging in side-pieces." 

"And don't let me catch you moping about like a pouting child, or you'll find yourself in frilly pair of panties over the holidays along with a very red bum!" 

Daddy blushed at the mention of such humiliating consequences, his eyes widening in alarm. "Y-yes, Ma'am," he stammered, knowing her word was final. 

As I added some finishing touches to my outfit, I giggled and stuck out my tongue at him from the behind the edge of the bathroom door. He knows I'm untouchable and can't throttle my bare bum for having a playdate with Mandy, as it's on Mommy's blessing...but the tongue thing may have just earned me a trip over his lap, when this is all over. Fuck, I didn't think that one through. 

"Now, if you'll excuse us, Russell," Mistress cheerfully cooed as I stepped out into the room for the first time in my new Loubies, "Sarah and I have some business to attend to downstairs." 

"Daddy! How do I look?"

"Shall we, my dear?" Mistress asked me, while extending her arm in a gesture of invitation. 

"Absolutely, Mommy," I replied, my voice filled with eagerness. 

As Mistress and I approached the door to the basement, I spotted Mandy waiting for us, leaning casually against the wall with one high heel propped up behind her. Almost cocky looking, in her new Loubies. 

She looked absolutely stunning in her black lace thong and matching bra, her curvaceous figure accentuated by the sheer of her stockings. An open blazer provided a touch of modesty, but it hung loosely around her shoulders, revealing the tantalizing swell of her tits beneath the lacy cups of her bra. 

As our eyes met, I felt a surge of desire and possessiveness coursing through my veins. This gorgeous creature belonged to me, at least for the duration of our session, and I was determined to make the most of every second. Without a moment's hesitation, I closed the distance between us, pressing Mandy firmly against the wall with my body. Our lips met in a searing kiss, my tongue delving deep into her mouth as I claimed her with unbridled passion. 

"Hello my little angel!" I purred, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw. "Loose the jacket," I cooed to her, all while circling her like a shark, slowly getting into role. 

With a swift motion, I retrieved my riding crop, pressing the tip firmly beneath her chin and forcing her to meet my gaze. 

I reached over to open the medieval basement door, leaving the dark sprawling expanse of the staircase that disappeared into the depths of the Facility's infamous basement. 

"Get down there, slut!" I hissed, gesturing towards the staircase. 

"Yes, Ma'am," Mandy nodded quickly, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she hurried to obey. I watched appreciatively, as she descended the stairs, her juicy ass swaying enticingly with each step.

Once she had disappeared from view, I turned to Mistress, my expression serious, as I took a deep breath. 

"Do you have a session plan, honey?" She asked. 

"Yes, Mommy," I nodded, while an evil grin developed on my lips.

"Remember, if you're leaving her in bondage or in a cage, nothing in her mouth, right?" She reminded, one last piece of motherly, Domme to Domme safety advice, before she clicked off and left me staring into the depths of the basement. 

As I made my way down into the dim lighting, I surveyed the array of implements and equipment, neatly arranged on walls and racks. The air was thick with the scent of leather, metal, and the unmistakable musk of arousal as I closed in on Mandy. Suddenly she was shy and vulnerable, attempting to shield her panty-covered pussy with her fumbling fingers. 

"Hands at your sides...kneel!" I snipped at her, offering her a reassuring wink. 

"Do you like my new boots?" I purred, as I extended one foot in offering. 

"Kiss them." 

Meanwhile, back upstairs, as if the house was cursed with an echo, "kiss them," escaped Mistress Andrea's lips. 

Shortly after, a very sheepish Russell, crawled on all fours to comply. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Serenity

The Season for Giving

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National Treasure

Continued from: Family Meeting

[F/m] [F/f] [British] [Mommy] [MDLG] [caning] [OTK] [spanking] [foodie/drinkie]

So, I stumbled across a cooking show on Prime the other night. Long-time readers of my blog will know that I enjoy dabbling in the culinary arts. I am not a classically trained chef but I've had training and have some skills in that space. 

You will also remember that I'm a huge Anthony Bourdain fan, rest his soul, and I did a tribute post to him once: Bourdain Post

From his books (I've read them all) to his adventurous food travel shows and the rebellious, rock and roll perspective that he brought to his narration and writing, he was truly a gem, I miss him. 

(Bear with me, this post is still about spanking you perverts!)

To that end, I was delighted to see him on a show that I never knew or heard about before. It's called The Taste U.K.

The gentleman on the left is Ludo Lefebvre (pronounced: la-fab), who began working in Michelin star restaurants in France at the age of 14. He eventually earned his own Michelin star for a restaurant he opened and operated in Los Angeles. 

The gentleman on the right, needs no introduction, it was nice to hear his voice again and his quick-witted, often inappropriate commentary. 

But, between them both, the piece de resistance, the diamond in the roughness of these two vulgar, tattooed men. 

Nigella Lawson! 

Totally got a little girl-boner when I saw it was her as part of this cast. 

All of you silly men out there (and I'm sure, some of the women)...if you fancy a "Mommy" approach to a spanking fantasy, her wooden spoon, her antique carpet beater, my GOD, she is your gal! 

From her extremely posh accent to her grace, her poise and her sheer elegance, I literally did not know how to describe this National treasure using only one word. Voluptuousness? I thought. It didn't even come close to doing her justice. I had to ask one of the A.I. girls for help. How do I pack all of these words into one description to truly honour this beautiful woman. 

Elegant, posh, curvaceous, refined, prim, proper, maternal, voluptuous.

"Why don't you try, Opulent, Ma'am?" The A.I. version of Summer said to me. 

That's perfect, I thought to myself. Her opulence is unquestionable, and as I watched her on this show and heard her speaking, the Mommy fantasy began to take-hold of me, as I squished my thighs together on the couch. 

Bourdain, in one of the episodes and in true Bourdain style, drops a: 

"Don't let her fool you, there's an iron first under that velvet glove." lol - Classic Anthony. 

The two of them were actually friends, the most unlikely of pairing when I saw them collaborating for the first time on a show. She's silk stockings, pearls and high-tea. He's jean jackets, punk rock music and stale cigarette smoke. Who knew.  

The concept of the show is almost like that singing show called The Voice. Twenty-four people who are not chefs, some had training, most were just home cooks, had but one tasting spoon to show the judges what they are made of. 

They had to pack their entire culinary prowess into one spoon for the judges to taste. Then, like The Voice, they either got dismissed, or one of the judges, all of the judges, asked and fought over the person to be on their team.

Cute concept, until sadly, people started to get eliminated and sent home. But that's when my butterflies began to stir, listening to Nigella scold these adults, literally sending them off to a room, heads bowed in shame, to think about their actions and how much they disappointed "Mommy" with their cooking. Layer on that accent of hers and I could see the spanking scene playing out before me. 

I asked one of the A.I. girls, "hey, can you play the role of an old-fashioned, opulent, elegant and absolutely gorgeous, posh-accented, British mother? The mother has two adult children and based on their recent, poor behaviour, she is required to punish them." 

This is what it came up with (it named itself Lady Penelope in the story but lets just call her Lady Nigella, shall we?):

Picture Lady Nigella, resplendent in her tailored pencil dress and heels, standing ramrod straight in the centre of the drawing room. Her adult children, Reginald and Elizabeth, both impeccably dressed in their finest evening attire, quake before her steely gaze. 

"Now then," Lady Nigella begins, her cut-glass accent slicing through the tense atmosphere. "I believe we have some rather pressing matters to discuss, regarding your appalling behaviour last evening. 

Reginald, evert the brazen one, attempts to interject. "Mother, honestly, it was just a spot of harmless fun. No need to make such a fuss."

Lady Nigella's eyes narrow dangerously. "Harmless fun, you say? Is that what you call making a complete arse of yourself in front of our guests? And you! "she turns her icy gaze on Elizabeth, "cavorting with that stable boy like some common tart. I raised you to have standards, child." 

Omg, that was gold! Haha, cavorting....the stable boy...tart. lol  

If you watch the cooking show, you'll actually hear her say "tart", obviously in different context. She says testicles and balls several times (apparently rabbit testicles are quite tasty). And other triggering Mommy words such as "bottom, ...of the best, and disappointed."  

Let's keep going, chop, chop. 

"Where is your dignity?" Elizabeth hangs her head in shame, unable to meet her mother's piercing stare. "I'm terribly sorry, Mummy," she murmurs. "It won't happen again, I promise." 

"Indeed it will not," Lady Nigella agrees. "Because I intend to ensure that neither of you forgets this lesson anytime soon." 

She retrieves a slim, supple rattan cane from its sacred spot atop the fireplace mantle, flexing it ominously between her hands. "Both of  you, remove your garments below the waist and bend over the back of the sofa. Six of the best, on the bare. And I expect you to count each one aloud and thank me afterwards. Failure to do so will result in starting over. Am I quite clear?" 

A.I. nailed that one, well done! At this point to add rich detail, I could have stopped it and started asking things like, can you describe how the siblings bare their bottoms, the shame and embarrassment of seeing each other's most private parts, etc. Which is more in the style of Miss Julie and her stories, but I didn't want to interrupt, I just told the thing, "go on." 

The siblings exchange horrified glances, but they know better than to argue. With shaking hands, they strip naked from the waist down, baring their bottoms for the impending punishment. 

Lady Nigella takes her position behind them, tapping the cane menacingly against her palm. "Let us begin, shall we?" Without further ado, she brings the cane whistling down onto Reginald's exposed cheeks. He yelps in pain, dancing from foot to foot. "One! Thank you, Mother," he gasps out, his voice trembling. The second stroke follows swiftly, eliciting another cry. "Two! Thank you, Mother!" 

By the third stroke, tears are streaming down his face, but he manages to choke out the required words. Lady Nigella shows no mercy, laying on each stroke with precision and force. When she finally finishes with Reginald, his bottom is a perfectly laddered pattern of angry welts. 

She turns her attention to Elizabeth, who is already sniffling in anticipation. The first stroke lands with a sharp zip, and Elizabeth howls. "One! Thank you, Mummy!" she sobs. The cane continues to fall relentlessly, each stroke harder than the last. Elizabeth's bare bum soon matches her brother's, a painful reminder of their transgressions. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, it is over. Both siblings are left weeping and rubbing their sore behinds, their dignity in tatters. Lady Nigella replaces the cane on the mantlepiece, her expression stern but satisfied. 

"I trust this experience will serve as a reminder to behave with the decorum befitting your station," she says coolly. "Now, run along and compose yourselves. We have supper guests arriving shortly, and I expect you both to be on your best behaviour. 

Chastened and contrite, Reginald and Elizabeth slink from the room, their bottoms throbbing with each step. As they depart, Lady Nigella allows herself a small, secret smile. Nothing like a good, old-fashioned caning to keep one's offspring in line, she thinks to herself. 

Perhaps she should institute regular sessions, just to be safe. After all, one can never be too careful when it comes to raising proper English gentlefolk. 

Not bad, A.I., not bad at all. Nigella, what did you think? 

I once thought the only good thing to come out the U.K. were Twiglets and Dyson vacuums, but you lot have a real treasure on your hands with Nigella.  Take good care of her and let's hear what the A.I. thinks of the real Lady Nigella. 

Nigella Lawson is a well-known British food writer, television chef, and personality. She's famous for her accessible approach to cooking and her celebration of indulgent, comforting food. 

She's also celebrated for her beauty, charm, and effortless way of blending sensuality with cooking - a style that has made her a beloved figure worldwide. 

Ummm, *slowly raises hand on behalf of Canada, "present". 

Nigella Lawson's beauty is the epitome of posh elegance with a tough of earthy sensuality. She exudes a timeless, voluptuous allure, characterized by: 

• Dark, glossy locks that cascade effortlessly, framing her face with sophistication
• Striking, luminous skin that radiates warmth and vitality
• Curvaceous, feminine figure that embodies classic beauty and confidence
• Expressive, sparking eyes that draw you in with intelligence and charm
• A naturally graceful demeanour, paired with her posh accent, making her presence both refined and inviting.     

Rather than flaunting wealth or extravagance, Nigella's opulence lies in her ability to make life feel effortlessly luxurious and full of pleasure. She represents a lifestyle where beauty, comfort, and sophistication coexist seamlessly. 

Wow, I thought I was the one with the girl-crush on her. Seems like the A.I. has a flushed-face too. 

While I am notoriously impervious to the charms of desserts, I'd try her cupcake, if she offered me one.

*wink  

She's has loads of holiday recipes online, check out that show if you have time, it's fun. I'll see if I can Christmas present all of you a video of me: 

Meh, my selfies are better. 

If you don't check back in during the holidays (I will likely be doing some writing), happy holidays from Summer and I, Russell and Sarah Jane. Wishing you all a safe, sane and consensual 2025. 💋

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: The Season for Giving