The Facility

I woke up tangled in Andrea’s arms, our bodies warm and sticky from the night before. The tent smelled like us — sweet roasted marshmallows from last night’s s’mores, the smoky scent of the dying campfire, and the unmistakable musk of sex that still clung to our skin and the sleeping bag. I nuzzled deeper into her chest for a moment, breathing her in, but the familiar knot of guilt was already twisting in my stomach.

I knew I’d earned this.

Andrea stirred, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Good morning, my sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep. But there was that edge beneath the affection — the one that told me discipline was coming.

“I… I know I was being a brat last night,” I whispered, my voice small. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

She held me tighter for a moment, then pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “We’ll deal with the rest when we get home. But right now, you need a reminder. Go on, baby. You know what to do.”

My face burned as I crawled out of the sleeping bag. I was still wearing my little American flag bikini top from yesterday, but nothing else. With shaking hands, I tugged my tiny cut-off jean shorts down to my knees, then stood up awkwardly and waddled out of the tent — bare bottom completely exposed to the cool morning air. The loon called out across the lake as if mocking me. Every step made the shorts bunch further down my calves until they finally fell off me, and the breeze kissed my pussy and freshly sensitive skin.

I made the long, humiliating walk down the path toward the big willow tree, my hands instinctively trying to cover myself before I forced them back to my sides. Andrea watched from the tent flap, silent and maternal.

When I reached the tree, I had to choose my own switch.

I searched the hanging branches, heart pounding. Too thick and it would leave welts for days. Too thin and it would sting like a hundred bees. I finally settled on one that felt right — flexible, whippy and green. With my bottom still bare to the world around me, I began the mortifying task of stripping the leaves away, one by one. The morning air felt cold against my bare bum and between my legs. I could feel how exposed I was. How vulnerable.

When the switch was smooth and ready, I took a shaky breath and called out, voice trembling:

“Mistress Andrea… I’m ready for my switching, Ma’am.”

She emerged from the tent in her bright neon yellow bikini and simple black flip flops, looking every bit the caring but strict lover I adored. She approached slowly, taking the switch from my hand and inspecting it with approval.

“Good girl,” she said softly, running a hand down my back. “Wrists up.”

I obeyed. She bound my wrists together with soft rope and secured them to a strong branch above my head, pulling me up until I was balanced on my tiptoes. Facing the lake. Completely stretched and presented. In the distance, I could see a lone canoer paddling across the water. I prayed he didn’t have binoculars.

Andrea stepped behind me. I felt the cool tip of the switch trace lightly over my bare bottom.

“Twenty-six strokes,” she said calmly. “You will count each one and thank me. This is because I love you, Jade. Because you need it.”

Swoosh! Snap!

“One… thank you, Ma’am,” I gasped.

The switch stung sharply, but not brutally. Andrea was precise — loving, even. After every few strokes she would pause, rub my lower back gently, and murmur reassurances. “You’re doing so well, baby… This is for your own good… I’m so very proud of you.”

By the final strokes I was dancing helplessly on my tiptoes, pulling against the ropes, soft cries escaping around the growing stripes on my bottom and thighs.

“Twenty-five… thank you, Ma’am… Twenty-six… thank you, Ma’am!”

When it was over, Andrea dropped the switch and wrapped her arms around me from behind, kissing the back of my neck as I trembled.

“My good girl,” she whispered, holding me tight. 

I was still stretched up on my tiptoes, wrists bound tightly to the branch above my head, my bare bottom and thighs stinging from the twenty-six crisp strokes of the willow switch. The thin, whippy branch had left delicate red lines and a warm, throbbing heat across my skin. I could feel every welt, every stripe, as the morning breeze kissed my exposed flesh.

Andrea stepped close behind me. Her hand pressed firmly against my lower back, forcing my hips to tilt outward. My bum jutted backward, my cheeks parting slightly in this humiliating position. I whimpered into the cool morning air.

Then came her fingers. God, I was mortified. She was doing a “wet-check”.

Two warm, confident digits slid between my legs from behind, gliding along my slick folds. I gasped as she explored me slowly, deliberately. I was soaked — shamefully, embarrassingly and involuntarily wet. My inner thighs were slick with my own arousal, my pussy clenching greedily around her exploring fingers.

Andrea let out a low, mock-disapproving hiss.

“Jaden Isabella Nolan… you naughty little girl,” she scolded gently, her voice warm but stern. “This was supposed to be a punishment. You’re not supposed to be dripping like this after a switching.”

I moaned softly, my face burning with humiliation.

She withdrew her fingers and gave my welted bottom a firm, possessive squeeze.

“You’ll still be going over my knee when we get home for a proper spanking, young lady. But clearly this situation needs to be dealt with right now.”

My heart raced as I heard her walk back to the tent. When she returned, she was carrying two things: my own bikini bottoms from the night before — the gusset visibly soaked with my dried arousal — and her large, realistic strap-on harness with its thick, veined dildo.

She stepped behind me again. Without a word, she balled up the damp bikini bottoms, inner gusset first, and pushed them firmly into my mouth. The taste of my own excitement flooded my tongue as she secured them in place. I moaned around the humiliating gag.

Andrea pulled my bikini top up over my breasts, letting them flop out heavily, exposed and vulnerable. Then she buckled on the strap-on, the realistic dildo now jutting out obscenely from her hips.
She gathered my hair gently but firmly, pulling my head back so I was forced to look straight out across the lake. In the distance, I could still see the lone canoer paddling slowly.

“Eyes forward, baby,” she whispered lovingly against my ear. “Let them see what a needy, well-punished girl you are.”

The thick head of the dildo pressed against my soaked and swollen folds. I was so wet it slid in with almost embarrassing ease, stretching and filling me completely in one smooth thrust. Andrea’s hand closed around my throat — safe, steady pressure that made my head spin with submission and lust.

Then she fucked me.

Hard. Deep. Possessive. Each powerful thrust made my exposed breasts flop and bounce embarrassingly. The sound of her hips slapping against my freshly switched bottom filled the morning air, mixing with my muffled, gagged grunts. The willow stripes burned hotter with every impact as she drove into me again and again, claiming me completely.

My orgasm built fast and thunderous. My legs trembled on my tiptoes, my bound wrists pulling uselessly against the rope. When I finally came, it crashed through me like a wave — my pussy clenching hard around the thick dildo, juices dripping shamelessly down my inner thighs as I cried out around my own soaked bikini bottoms.

Andrea held me through it, keeping a grip around my neck and kissing the side of my cheek tenderly as I shook and whimpered.

When it was over, she stayed buried inside me for a long moment, letting me feel full and owned. She stroked my back and whispered soft praises against my skin.

Eventually she pulled out slowly, leaving me displayed exactly as I was — wrists bound high, bikini top pulled up with my breasts hanging out, jean shorts tangled around my calves, mouth stuffed with my own arousal-soaked bottoms, freshly switched and freshly fucked, my juices still trickling down my thighs.

I hung there, breathing hard, reflecting on everything.

Switched. Tits out. Gagged with my own wet panties. Fucked senseless in broad daylight by the woman I adored.

And somehow… I had never felt more loved.

Jade xo

Disclaimer: All text prompts going into A.I. systems to create some of the content of this story along with requests for A.I. images appearing in this story, clearly state that everyone involved is an ADULT, above the legal age of consent.