Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 22

Seamus sighed. This, he thought, is weird. He’d found that he enjoyed disciplining girls. Chiaki had taught him that. She’d begged him to assume control of her, and when he’d complied it had been overpoweringly erotic.

He didn’t think he was a sadist, because he didn’t want to hurt her. Or any girl. He wanted to give her hurt, for her pleasure, and to give her guidance, so she could relax for a while and let him lead, confident that he’d be doing it for her. 

So the thought of Yua, in the classroom’s storeroom, waiting for him to come and finish her caning, was a turn-on. Of course it was. 

Also, he liked fucking girls, or young women. And Yua had signalled in every possible way, and some he’d never have thought of himself, that she wanted him to fuck her. That, surely, he argued with himself, was a good thing. And so it was odd that he was determined that she wasn’t going to have him. 

He wondered about his motives. If he was a stickler for morality, he wouldn’t be living with Chiaki. Or tolerate her living with him. So was his determination without any moral basis? What if he simply wanted to disappoint her? Because he felt she was spoiled.

“Ah well,” he said aloud. He stood up and went to the storeroom, where temptation, intelligent, beautiful and ruthless, awaited.

Yua had prepared for his arrival, he found. She had removed her panties, which he’d taken halfway down her thighs, completely. They lay on the desk, on top of her school skirt, also removed. Yua was bent over that desk, his cane lying at her side. Her perfect little ass was bare raised, her breasts and face pressed down on to the desk’s hard wood.

Her thighs were parted, so he could consider the respective pleasures and potentials offered by her pussy and her tight little bud.

He said, “Yua, I…” He shook his head. He could see the side of her face. She had smiled. He said, “You want me to cane you and then fuck you, don’t you?”

“Hai, Sensei! Please.” She arched her bottom up just a little more. 

“Would you like it if I just caned you and didn’t fuck you?” 

The smirk was gone. “Oh no. That wouldn’t be nearly as good. That would be bad.” 

He took the cane from the desk then, and stood to her side. “Then that, my girl, is how it’s going to be.” 

And he swung the cane, hard. She knew that he was no longer fooled by the performance she’d made the first time he’d caned her. So when she yelped, surprised and stung, he took it as a compliment. And swung the cane again, aiming at the softer flesh of her lower buttocks.

She yowled, and her white socks left the floor, kicking in pain. She said, “You should do this. Beat me all the time when you fuck me, sensei.”

Seamus gave her four more strokes. She swore at each one, and offered to fuck him, and suck his cock. But each stroke branded her beautiful bottom, and he said nothing. But after the sixth stroke, Seamus said, “Get up, Yua.” 

“Hai, Sensei!” She raised herself from the desk using her hands. She turned to face him, her legs crossed, her pussy lightly, blackly furred, under the edge of her shirt. She said, “Would you like something, Sensei?” 

Seamus knew that they both knew what he’d like. He said, “Yua, you’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Oh no, Sensei.”

“That’s a breach of school rules, and you know it. Take off that shirt.”


Sinful Sunday: Holmes and the single girl


Even in a simple one-subject photo, there is information. There’s the hand, that can’t help but be there, in possession. 

There are the vertical stripes on that arse, that tell the expert eye that Arethusa was getting the cane, recently, while giving head for her Master. 

There’s the fact that the stripes aren’t very hard, that indicate that she was really very good at giving head. 

“Yes,” said Holmes. “Apart from the obvious facts that the girl has superior fellatio skills, is sexually submissive, left-handed, likes red rather than white wine, and frequently gasps when she sits down, I can tell you nothing whatsoever about her.”

The Poor Girl’s Opera (contains father issues)

Did you know there’s a whipping scene in Wagner’s Das Rheingold

It’s very loud in the Georg Solti recording, where the recording supervisor, John Culshaw, commented that the whip they used to make the cracking sounds was “absolutely terrifying”. And he’d been to a British public school in the 1940s, so he can’t have been easily scared. 

Anyway, I should say that the whipping scene in “Das Rheingold” is interestingly grotesque, but completely and utterly not sexy. It’s between two dwarfs, and they’re brothers. 

Nice hat. Astrid Varnay as Brünnhilde.

But if you were looking for a bdsm scene in a Wagner opera, I’d recommend the Daddy-daughter confrontation between Wotan and Brünnhilde at the end of Die Walküre. It begins with Wotan furious because his daughter disobeyed him, and determined to punish her.

She begs, reminding her father why she did what she did, and inadvertently reminding him of why he loves her: she’s the best of him. So he still punishes her, but he changes it to make it something positive, intended to benefit her. And they reconcile with one of the hugest and most overwhelming orgasms in all music.

If you were a Dom on the prowl (rrrowl!), you could do worse than hang about in the lobby after a performance of Die Walküre, There’ll be some very good looking women there, as well as the ones who look like James Thurber drawings. Find a woman you fancy who’s been weeping red-eyed buckets, buy her a drink and give her a handkerchief. So far you’re being a gentleman, but tell her to clean herself up in a very slightly command voice, and there’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll take her home.

By three in the morning you should be smacking her ass and telling her she’s a good girl really. And she should be hitting the A above the treble stave.   


Sinful Sunday: Cuffs keep you warm


When a girl isn’t going anywhere, for a while, she needs cuffs to keep her warm. 

These are official police cuffs, that a Domme from an Aussie cop. She later gave them to me, which was a nice present.  

They are cold and utterly inflexible, in feel. They say, “you are held”, in the plainest language possible. The warmth is in the our hearts, and in my hands. 


Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 21

Seamus assumed, then, that while he was caning Yua, none of his class had studied their page as he’d instructed. The book was HG Wells’s The War of the Worlds.

So he set them an essay on the Momotarõ myth, in which Momotarõ was sometimes born to rule over lesser people and sometimes an evil invader who slaughtered peaceful natives. The essay had to compare the Momotarõ stories to the The War of the World‘s treatment of imperialism.

“You can write it in Japanese if that’s easier. But if you try to write it in English you automatically get an extra grade. Yua!”

“Sensei?” She turned her face from the wall to face him, while keeping her body more or less in place. The welts on the sides of her buttocks, where the panties did not cover her, were bright and somewhat raised.Her thighs were slim, but soft. He could not help but think of how they would feel, wrapped around his upper thighs, or raised to hold his waist. 

He suppressed that thought and said, “Yua, you start a grade down from everyone else. But if you get anything less that a B+, I’ll cane you every day for a week. Understood?” 

Her eyes widened. That meant she would have to work hard. She said, “Hai, Sensei.”

He turned back to the class. He knew from their occasional inattention that Yua, behind him, was wriggling, but he ignored that. Finally the bell rang and the class filed out. Except Yua. She knew they still had business, she and him.

At last they were alone together. Yua stood silent and stil, with her hands on her head, expectant. “Come here, Yua.”


When she reached his desk, smiling, sure of her power and victory, he made her turn around. He tugged her panties down, to inspect the damage. She had been well and prettily striped. He took the cane and put it between her upper thighs, close to her cunt.

“Don’t touch this with your hands, and don’t let it fall. Carry it for me while you go into the storeroom. And wait for me. Go!”

The cane between her thighs waggling as she walked, Yua went. She left the door open.

Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 20

Seamus had told Yua to get up, now her caning was done. Yua stayed bent over the chair, staring up at him. He walked back to her, cane still in his hand, and smacked her bottom again. “Up, girl.”

She did not get up. She moved, slowly, voluptuously, from side to side after he’d smacked her striped bottom.

He wasn’t immune to her display, though he knew he wasn’t the only audience she was playing for.

He’d told the class to keep their eyes on their books, but he doubted if there were not a boy, or girl, in the classroom who wasn’t watching, though their heads were bent studiously down. Yua said, “I can’t get up, Sensei. I hurt too much. Could you help me?”

He said, in warning, “Yua.” But he reached down to take her by the shoulder. She grabbed his hand in both of hers, and pulled it to her face. Her mouth opened and she took his thumb, sucking, then running her tongue slowly from the tip to the flesh of his hand. He smiled, realising he had been trapped.

That action, with her mouth on his thumb, had made him a promise. A promise of great promise. There was no doubt that she would suck his cock with great enthusiasm and skill. Of course he wanted that, and at the same time he wanted her not to have whatever she wanted. Including him.

He withdrew his thumb, now wet, and pulled her up, stopping her from pressing her body against his once she was upright. 

“Stand in the corner, Yua. Hands on head, until this class is over. It seems you need another lesson.”

“Hai, sensei.” Another lesson was fine with her. She walked, skirt swishing, to the corner, and took up her position, nose in the corner. 

He hadn’t asked her to, but she lifted her skirt, to display her pantied bottom, stripes emerging from both sides of her panties. She was enacting The Schoolgirl in Disgrace.

 She was a poor English student, but she could supplement her inadequacy at that language with other kinds of communication. Snd, he knew, she usually got what she wanted.

Still, Seamus switched his attention away from her and her challenges with something like relief. He called on one of the brighter boys to explain the passage he’d just read.The boy said, “Hai, sensei. The passage I read … It was on page 148… Ah,” Seamus realised the boy hadn’t read it, and that he was embarrassed by his own reaction to Yua’s display.

Seamus stared at him, giving him long enough to wonder if he was next to go over that chair. At last he said, “Pay attention, from now on. That was a warning.” The boy swallowed, and nodded.

He heard an amused sound from Yua, behind him. He ignored it.

Sinful Sunday: Glee

Bedtime is not always time for sleep. Or even relaxation. 

Arethusa would watch me while I caned her, unless I’d told her she wasn’t allowed. When I was naked, she liked the way my cock would get a little harder and sort of bounce with every stroke. “It’s glee,” she said. “You think you’re being so wicked, and you love that!” 

Arethusa was often “naughty”, but she was very seldom wrong.



Wicked Wednesday: In the Realm of the Sensei 19

The rest of that day’s class was uneventful. Yua sometimes opened her legs to flash her panties and inner thighs at him, but he ignored that. If it got worse he’d deal with it.

School life travelled smoothly for a while. In the next couple of weeks he found sometimes had to repeat the lesson, with some of the rowdier boys. At least they presented him with no temptations when they presented their backsides for the cane.

But a few weeks after the first time he’d caned her, Yua brought no homework and squirmed voluptuously, standing beside his desk. Seamus said, “Well? Homework?”

“I’m sorry, sensei. I did it, so well. But on my way to school today there was a dog. It chased me and I dropped my homework. I went back later, but …”

Seamus looked up at her, in disbelief. “The dog ate your homework?”

“Hai, sensei.”

In a way he was impressed. It was a traditional Western excuse, but not a Japanese one. She must have done at least some reading in English. But he said, “A dog did not eat your homework, Yua. I warned you about stupid excuses. Fetch a chair, and bend over it. Bottom facing the class, so they can see you being punished.”

So Yua walked to her desk, still squirming with every step, knowing he couldn’t help but watch her, picked up the chair and returned. She bent tightly over the chair. As an afterthought, she lifted her skirt above her waist, so the cane would impact across neat, modest white panties. 

Seamus gave her one hard smack across that poised target with his hand. She wiggled, knowing she was a temptation. Then he walked to the hook on the wall from which the cane hung, in warning to all his students. He lifted it, walked back and stood a little to her side. He lined the cane across Yua’s bottom, then lifted it. He turned to face the class.

They gazed, unblinking, the girls mostly at him and the boys mostly at Yua’s plumply perfect bottom. He said, “Take out your book and turn to page 148. If I see anyone watching, they’ll come up and get the same.”

There was a sudden flurry, books being removed from satchels and placed open on the desk. All eyes were on page 148.

He said, “If you disrupt lessons, if you don’t do your work, if you are insolent like this silly girl, this is what you get.” And then he swung the cane down, hard across tight panties.The sound was loud enough to make several of them wince, and even Yua gave a little grunt.

She was no longer making a performance of being caned. She knew that he knew she’d been acting. Still, she squealed when she received the fourth and sixth strokes, so he knew he was reaching her.

She’d expected to take just six strokes in front of the other students, before he gave her more in the storeroom after class.

She made a sound of genuine grief when he gave her the seventh stroke and she realised he wasn’t stopping at six. After she’d taken ten strokes, with bright red cane-lines showing at the edge of the panties, he said, “That’ll do, Yua. For now. Get up.”

Yua looked at him, still bent over. Imploring. She put her skirt back into place, disappointing some of the boys and, Seamus had to admit, him too. But she did not move.


Swimming Pool, un film par François Ozon

Swimming Pool is is partly a psychological thriller, and partly a meditation on the process of artistic creation. Like all good French films, it spends a lot of its run time with the camera staring at the naked body of an incredibly beautiful woman, in this case Ludivine Sagnier. It ends with you questioning and arguing in the bar afterwards about whether anything you just saw on screen “really” happened. So I recommend it.

Unlike Ludivine Sagnier’s character, who almost certainly deserves it, my diving beauty, Arethusa, has just been soundly spanked. So all is well. The world is safe.